heat-related agoraphobia

Given the current spate of humidity and obnoxious sun, I've decided to take walks of approximately 20 to 30 seconds in duration. Instead of whittling down my expanding waistline, I'll be lounging in bed reading until all of this ridiculous weather passes, and I can only say hurrah for central air conditioning. Thanks, Minion, for being bourgeois!

fresh tactic

After numerous attempts to cause the violent, yet satisfying, demise of previously mentioned squirrels, I suspect now that I have been rather too eager. Instead, my nouvelle strategy is simply to keep my mouth open at all times, and eventually an unsuspecting and yet completely deserving rodent will be caught unawares. Also, it's good for eating bees.

joyeux anniversaire, ma petite!

In an only slightly belated fashion, I wish the supremely lovely, sublime, and glorious Miss Erika a most happy birthday. One of the few to actually let me lick up her nose, Mademoiselle E. has been an inspiration, a comfort, and delightfully, one of the best subordinates I've ever encountered. Brava, darling!

reflection, literal and figurative

As I spiral into adolescence, I find myself looking in the mirror more often, examining my beliefs and quirks. Fortunately, I'm fairly close to perfect, so often it's just a chance for self-admiration. But other times I muse on such Valhallas as the Mall of America, that pantheon of leafy and well-priced delights, or on the imminent death of all squirrels within the neighborhood. Just random musings, really, which is all you've got when you can't operate the TV remote control.

pedestrian crossing

So, while I was enjoying a luxurious sojourn at the house of Grandpa Mike and Grandma Ro, who swaddle me in down pillows and fetch treats comprised of cheesy cracker combinations, Minion was off on yet another pedestrian escapade, this time involving fish. Pictured here is the evidence of her salmon wrangling, and honestly, look at the hair -- like Ronald Reagan with pigtails. Although, secretly, I do love salmon nights, so I shouldn't complain...but who would I be if I didn't? No one I'd want to know.

unbearable lightness of me

Ode to Ambrosia

In the still morning, when the sun bends
across minion bones, disemboweled toys, bits of what-the-hell,
he surveys his fiefdom,
missing, briefly, the adoration so well deserved
yet luxuriating in the quiet glory of superiority,
as sure as the sunlight,
as bright as the day.
O, to be Ambrose! To be a creature
unmatched in acumen, pomposity, and spelling.
O, to be that sure, knowing only that
fecal offerings have been left for consumption,
that petting must be continual,
and squirrels must die.
'Tis a life unequalled.

celestial being

My lax behavior in posting is entirely due to contemplation of becoming an astronaut -- as you can see here, I'm not dozing, but rather trying to mimic the feeling of floating in space amid its celestial bodies and wonders. Some might counter that the universe is not quite this cartoonish, but I feel those people are wrong. Of course.