Shocking, I know.

Two posts a day apart??? Keep breathing, Reader. Boredom begets many a blog post.

Have I introduced you to this cat?

I didn't think I had....here he is, sunning on our stoop. He lives around our little duplex, and belongs to someone, but we don't know who. (I think he has an owner--Andrew thinks he's feral). But he loves me. I mean, seriously. Cat will be waiting in the driveway when I come home to Chapel Hill after a work week. (Andrew says he loves everyone, but I'm convinced. It's me.)

I don't know his name--sometimes I call him Basil, (with a short 'a', like the Brits), sometimes I call him Marbles. But mostly I just call him Buddy Boy or Sugar Pie or Honey Bear or Muffin Pants or some such endearment. I really don't even know if he is, in fact, a he. But what I do know is that this cat meows and meows and meows and rubs and rubs and rubs until you pet him and sit down and let him climb up and make himself comfortable in your lap. How could a cat this sweet be feral??? And how could he not want to run away and live with us for the rest of his nine lives? I think he wants to.

Now, before you go callin' me Cat Lady and buying me long denim jumpers for Christmas, let it be known that I love this cat because he is nice. Lots of felines are not nice. Not nice at all, i.e. you unwittingly reach out to pet them and subsequently pull back a bloody nub. But this kitty is a nice kitty.

So what if he faintly smells of dirt and dead animal. (It's true. Gross. I know. But hey, cat's gotta survive in the wild, right? King of the Jungle and all that. And vigorous hand washing after petting.)

I'm thinking he probably won't be coming with us when we move. Andrew already said I couldn't steal him. Durn.


For everything.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.:

a time to be born
and a time to die;

a time to plant
and a time to pluck up what was planted;

a time to kill
and a time to heal;

a time to break down
and a time to build up;

a time to weep
and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn
and a time to dance;

a time to cast away stones 
and a time to gather stones together;

a time to embrace
and a time to refrain from embracing;

a time to seek
and a time to lose;

a time to keep
and a time to cast away;

 a time to tear
and a time to sew;

a time to keep silence
and a time to speak;

a time to love
and a time to hate;

a time for war
and a time for peace.

He has made everything beautiful in its time.
Ecclesiastes 3

O, that Wisdom would place her graceful garland on my head, that I may seek and understand this time.


What ha' happened was...

Andrew got me flowers for Valentine's Day. {Awwwwww!}

Dane asked Meghan to be his Lawfully Wedded Wife! {Awwwww, a second time!}

At some point I made Ree's Meatloaf for dinner.

And took pictures of it. All whilst my husband sat salivating by. How cruel.

Andrew and I went to "Science Day" at a local elementary school to help four classes of 3rd graders "swab" the environment and inoculate agar plates. Except you can't use words like "inoculate" and "agar". You have to say "smear the q-tip on the jello".

He wears his Toms every day of the week. And I like it.

Little bird, little bird--brush your gray wings on my head...{tweet, tweet!}


Since last time

12 days is too long since my last post. Sorries all around, folks. Life on the road just gets under the fingernails and it takes a little bit to scrape all the dirt out. Rinse and repeat and such.

Andrew and I are sitting al fresco at Foster's Market in Chapel Hill with the hum of the traffic, the chirping and tweeting birds and the rotund bumble-bees' buzzing as our backdrop to this glorious sun-streaked afternoon.  There is a ginormous genetically engineered Golden-doodle nearby, smiling and drooling while his owner sips her raspberry soda and thumbs through a magazine. The conversations of nearby tables float over our heads, snippets of deals struck and prices negotiated rhythmically bobbing in the atmosphere.

It's the middle of March, Lent has begun--the season of waiting for Easter to arrive. This Spring holds so much. So much transition. So much accomplishment. So much hope. A little bit of rest for the weary. A time to get to work in a different way this go around. Something different for all this sameness. Like a childhood vacation spot revisited, geographically the same but feeling a little looser than last time.

Daylight saving time started last night, (also known as summer time according to Wikipedia), which means church was a little thin this morning, even with the ubiquity of cell phones that automatically take care of the time change. Kind of a goofy thing we made up ourselves to make the summer days longer and the winter days shorter, but I'll take it. Grilling out for dinner is much less romantic in the dark.

I have a camera full of photos to dump and post, but I just haven't gotten around to it. For all of you who read for the pictures, I promise they are coming. I just have to find the chord... :)


Winding down

The best part of my {work} day, somewhere between seven and nine o'clock.

A broken off square of Ghirardelli Twilight Delight chocolate, (At 72% cacao, this heavenly morsel is sweet enough to satisfy, but bitter enough to stop you from eating the entire bar. And really. Could there be a more perfect name for this piece of nighttime quadratical loveliness?? I think not.)...

And a hot cup of Bigelow Sweet Dreams tea. In a pretty cup, of course. (For what is tea without it's teacup? Hot, dirty water.)

Happy March, lovelies.

(Hurry, Spring, hurry!)