Bad cat

This is wicked Pilly.

She used to be our cat, and then she became Grandpa Tom's cat some time after Hurricane Katrina. Tom needed a cat, Pilly needed an owner tolerant of miscreant pets – it was a match made in heaven.

That's Nathan's arm she's biting.  No idea what the offense was.  Knowing Pilly, perhaps none.

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Sparkly!

"Mommy," Berry asks, "Who is that lady on our fridge? The one with the red dress?"


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Absence

Six weeks down. We won't talk about how long there is to go...


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Inconsiderate

"Mommy," Berry says, "you know what I really don't like about birds? Is when they DIE, and lie down on the road."

Dead birds have such a nerve.


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Mmmmmojitos

I made these mojitos from scratch – simmered the simple syrup, squeezed the limes, even picked the mint from our garden – and they were fabulous.

I didn't drink all four of them myself, but if I hadn't had guests I might've been tempted. Nathan is usually chief mojito maker, but it looks like this is one of the valuable skills I'm gaining in his absence.

Cheers!

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