It’s 3:55am here, but I work third shift. Won’t get off until 7:15, and probably won’t be in bed before 10:30 this morning.
Prayers of healing for MrrrCavity. You and your clowder have my deepest sympathies on the loss of Waffle. I’m sure he’ll be waiting at the bridge for you.
My sister and I are both allergic to tomatoes (she will stop breathing), so we stick with white pizzas. (Only from places I know don’t use olive oil, since I’m severely allergic to olives – even worse than her tomato issues.) Lately we order Dominos with light garlic parmesan sauce, steak, bacon, onions, mushroom, and spinach. If we do frozen, I get a white pizza from Publix with steak and spinach.
Guess I’m boring then. I’ve always loved math. When I was a child, I couldn’t go out and actually help Daddy with most projects, (I’ve never been exactly “healthy”) so he would have me stand on the porch or somewhere shaded and call out the measurements of whatever he was doing. I would then have to tell him how much wood or how many blocks he needed. He was doing the math too, of course, but it was a way to make me feel like I was helping him, even if I couldn’t carry things or do the work. Basically, math means good memories.
I don’t think his ears are pinned, I think he’s just looking at the woman and the angle makes it look that way.
I once left mine up until the end of May. My (now ex-) husband decided that he didn’t want to take down the outside lights. Wouldn’t have been a big deal, but he got really defensive about the whole thing, even though I hadn’t said anything – he just came inside snapping that he wasn’t talking them down. I said ok, and promptly put the ornaments I had started taking off of the tree back on. If we were leaving the decorations up, we were leaving all of them up. (I turned them all on every night, too.) He finally came in one day and told me he had taken the outside lights down, so I took the tree down then, too.
My first name is Wendy, but all six of my nephews called me “Andy” as toddlers. There’s no telling what a toddler is going to change a word to. (The boys range in age from 29 to 11 now, but I still end up as “Andy” if they’re upset or excited.)
Just wanted to let y’all know that the starving boxer I was caring for, Ace, has been taken by a local rescue that specializes in boxers and bully breeds. (Yes, I made absolutely sure they were legit first, including vet references. I don’t let go of my babies easy lol) He seems to be doing well in his new temporary home. He is learning to be an inside doggie and basically learning to be a puppy. He’s only about 8 months old.
Praying for both of you