On any day ending in ‘y’ – and there are a few, seven, perhaps – I try to add a few words, syllables, phrases, paragraphs, to my meowmoir. It’s a humble little thing, but it grows by degrees, and claw marks. Routine is the answer; work, the solution. Begin yours today, my dears.
Here on Mars there isn’t a lot of call for gears – the dust tends to gum them up, but gear sculptures, now there’s a lovely thing. Also, we like our sundowners, although we tend to have them indoors away from the dust and redness, and things that make us testy, like the temperature (too hot, and too cold, really, for a koala bear, let alone a feline bear). Other than that, cheers, friends, and bottoms up, for Cissy Fwoppingham-Smythe is already breathless for her next flagon.
Never been a big fan of noughts and crosses, or other things to do with requiring opposable thumbs and forefingers. Foreclaws, now they’re a different and far more interesting proposition. Also, the posterior variety. Just ask my younger sibling, Scarface, he’ll tell you all you need to know. Just kiddin’. Really.
I am helping out a couple of earthlings today, Lorrie and Jay.
As you can see, they have just entered into wedded bliss after only 24 years of living in, well, unwedded bliss, shall we say. It helped that the Federal Govt changed its stupid Marriage laws so that everyone can now enjoy their first crockery-throwing barney together as hitched individuals. So there.
And a big shout out – SHOUT OUT – to dear Jodi for her most excellent haiku, also known as a Verandaku – and love to Wayne, too.