Hello, you. We've just had a sunny day in Minnesota, after almost a week of overcast skies and rain. Not once did I wish it were warmer and more summery, though, because we NEEDED the damp weather. And it's nice to have an excuse to stay in and light a candle every now and then.
I have a feeling my garden is going to explode after a couple more sunny days, now that it's nicely hydrated. I uploaded several current garden photos to my flickr account, if you'd like to see how things are going. The brassicas are looking particularly cheerful, and it seems like my lettuce and spinach seeds, which I'd all but given up on, took advantage of the cooler temperatures last week and finally sprouted.
There's just about enough in the garden now for a small salad -- some chard, some rocket, a couple of radishes, and nice, fresh herbs. If only I had a chicken to lay an egg. Why do I not have chickens yet?
My own little chicken-cat, of the Booty variety, isn't doing so well at the moment. He's been full of it recently, running around with Beany, nagging me when his one toy* gets trapped under a piece of furniture, wanting lots of affection. But most of today, he's been very lackluster and keeps retreating to the bathroom to lie on the rug. It's cool and dim in there; nice if you're a slightly distressed cat.
He IS sixteen now, so it's hard to know if it's a passing germ or something a bit more final. He's just not quite himself. So keep him in your thoughts.
The other chicken-cat, commonly known as Beany, is trying to make up for Booty, I suspect. I'm working on a quilt, and having already pieced together the rows, I laid them all out on my bed to get the arrangement just right before I sewed them together. I brought the first two strips into the other room, to the sewing machine, and I hadn't been sat down for more than twenty seconds before I heard the headboard rattle in the other room.
When I went in, I saw a frenzied Beany in the middle of the bed, surrounded by patchwork strips which were no longer carefully laid out -- at least, I don't remember having purposefully tangled most of them together, while throwing others on the floor. It was done with such intent (BAD intent) that I kind of had to laugh. Why, Beany, why?
* The cats actually have a couple dozen toys scattered around the house, but Booty is interested in only one of them. Beany's happy to have all the others.
Aww. Sweet old Booty...16! Hope he perks up a bit. My oldest guy is 11, so we definitely start to wonder a bit when he's not well. But 16! That's fantastic!
I hope Booty gets to his normal self quickly!
My "kit" is 10/11 years old (the people I got him from said he was four, and that was just two years ago!)and I know I get super worried about him when he starts to act "funny".
I hope your kitty is feeling better :)