He ain't heavy

Teddy sings: "He ain't heavy, he's my brother."

Then he thinks: Well, maybe a little heavy. But I don't mind, really I don't.

Only $640 for eyeglasses

In October 2009, I finally got a new pair of eyeglasses, with really nice frames and gradient bifocal lenses, for $320. The old ones were so bad, I could see better without them than with them. I just love my new glasses. When not wearing them, I usually stash them in an eyeglass case in my purse, safe behind the bedroom door, but one day I foolishly left them on the middle of the kitchen table. Also on the kitchen table that day: two baskets of prescription medication & vitamins (one for me, one for Mr. P.), a lazy Susan with salt, pepper, hot sauce, Molly McButter, and other necessities, 6 magazines, the grocery list, 2 placemats, 2 napkins, 1 pen, and 1 coaster. The value of the "also" items was altogether maybe half the value of the glasses. If you were a dog, which item would you choose? How about a magazine that you could shred into a zillion tiny pieces? Naw, that's no fun any more. How about a ballpoint pen, nice and crunchy, with a tasty filling of blue ink to stain the furniture? Naw, that's no challenge at all.

No, what Jinx chose was my eyeglasses. I heard a crunching noise and raced into the living room, but it was too late. Most of the (plastic) lenses had gone down his gullet and the frames were beyond rescue.

Today I picked up my replacement glasses, for another $320 ("My dog ate them" is not a sob story that earns a discount at Union City Eye Care).

One of my coworkers asked what became of my glasses and when I explained, she said, "Your husband is going to kill that dog." So true. And that's why I'm asking you not to tell Mr. P. If anybody kills Jinx over this incident, it's going to be ME.

Oh no, not again!

When I came home from work this afternoon, a new cat greeted me in the garage - a clean, pretty, mostly white chunkster. When I petted her, Miss Kitty and Smoky came charging out to object to sharing the affection. Then I forgot about the newcomer for a while, as I was a teeny bit preoccupied by the 7 dogs who claimed they had not been fed in at least 92 years.

When Mr. P. got home an hour later, he asked me if I had met our new boarder.

"You mean the new kitty?"

"Yeah," he said, "The pregnant one."

Oh, so that's why she's so chunky. That's just marvelous. According to Mr. P., she showed up last night, settled onto a doormat he had stashed on one of the storage shelves in the garage, and refused to leave. He says that Miss Kitty and Smoky are not at all happy about the new kitty but so far their hissing hasn't budged her.

"Just wait until her kittens arrive," Mr. P.

Oh no, not again!

Recovering from Saturday Night

Berry had quite a Saturday night, out partying with his pals. He explains:

So Zach got a text from this chick Ashley who sits in front of him in biology class telling us to head over to Brittany's house cuz her parents went to Bermuda for a week. Jake drove us there in his sister's VW bug, man it was like clowns in a circus car, me and Jake and Ryan and Justin and Carlos and Dylan and Dylan's Dark Fire Gibson he got for Christmas. Dylan never lets go of that thing, like it's his girlfriend or something, and he hasn't even taken one guitar lesson yet. Anyway, by the time we got there, there musta been 3000 kids there already, and Ashley's sister Kayla had some awesome weed and we all got baked. Man, I think I'm still baked. The last thing I remember is trying to bungee jump off the top of Brittany's little sister Amber's swing set, and then I woke up with my head stuck in the headboard of Mr. & Mrs. Wheaton's bed. So that's my story, and I'm sticking to it. Now I'm gonna take a nap, if that's OK with you?

Double Decker Dogs

Teddy and Georgie are quite fond of each other, in their own strange way. They spend a lot of time trying to piss each other off, but if I intervene and tell them to stop picking on each other, they're back at it 3 minutes later. And Georgie will actually fall asleep in the same chair as Teddy. This time, Polly hopped up and, finding no pug-shaped spot for herself, settled down right on top of poor Georgie.

Guard Post

Corporal Jinx on duty at his guard post.

No one has the heart to tell him he's facing the wrong way, away from the window. Or maybe he has eyes in the back of his head, like my mom.

Tell me you love me

Polly: Georgie, do you love me?

Georgie: Wha'?

P: Do you love me?

G (sighing): You know I do.

P: How do I know that? You never say it.

G: I don't have to say it to feel it.

P: Yes you do.

G: Aw, c'mon, Polly.

P: Just say it once. "I love you, Polly."

G: (mumbling)

P: Say it like you mean it!

G: (mumbling louder)

P: Oh thanks, I feel so much better now.

G (under his breath): Women!