mitch's fuzzy balls

Saori and I are walking down a quiet street somewhere off Main. Nice day today, slight breeze and the cherry blossoms are snowing soflty around....Sometimes when we go for walks we try our best to befriend the neighbourhood cats. Especially Saori, who loves animals so much we have banned her from watching "March of the Penguins" (she really couldn't handle it, believe me). Today we meet Mitch, a smallish adorable black tom-cat with a white patch just under his face that makes him look like he's wearing a tiny scarf. We both do our standard make-friends-with-cats posture, which means we squat down and put out our hands and make kissy noises. He approaches happily — in fact— he can't decide which one of our extended hands to go to first. We pet him and he is soon rolling around on the sidewalk, loving the attention. As he's rolling we see his balls. They are about the cutest things you have ever seen: small, round, fuzzy, perfectly symmetrical. I can't resist, so I touch one (he doesn't seem to mind). They kind of feel like grapes with hair. My sister and I are squeeking and sqwaking about how cute his balls are when a young fellow with groceries approaches down the sidewalk. He says, "Comon' Mitch," and turns into a nearby house. Mitch, as we now know his name, follows excitedly. We are kind of embarrassed, although we are unsure as to whether said owner saw us feeling up his cat.

I'm not a cat pervert, please. Don't think poorly of me. Mitch seemed just fine with it, really.

tuxes and fried chicken

I took my father to go rent a tuxedo this morning, for my sisters upcoming wedding.
My father is normally reluctant to do anything like this, especially anything to do with clothes or fashion.
He definitely has his own style, however, complete with standard gwg's, mac shirt and some kind of shade of brown sweater.
That's how he's dressed this morning to go try on his tux. I insist he gets a traditional, two button number. He lingered first near a long-jacketed tux that was quite elaborate. He agrees on the traditional, but doesn't like the vest and tie on the dummy because he says it doesn't 'CONTRAST' well enough. WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY DAD?! So he chooses a darker grey vest, with a platinum coloured tie and kerchief. He actually looks really great in the tux. He did some poses and danced around a bit, pretending to be Fred Astaire. He said the shoes are "tooooo shiny!!!" but he's gonna wear them because they're part of the ensemble.

After we rent the tux, I'm supposed to take him for breakfast (instructions from my mother before we left the house). I ask him what he wants for breakfast, and he says: "FRIED CHICKEN." Okay... He says "There's a place, by the stationary store...you know that one? CHA-CHU...CHACH. Churches Chicken. And the stationary store is Staples. So I take him to Churches and he orders two pieces of chicken and a coffee and sits down to eat his "breakfast." I get an orange juice and sit across from him, watching his fingers get all sticky as he eats. When he's all done, he says to me the following, which I will never forget, not for a million years:

"You know dat Kentucky Fried Chicken? It's one dolla more for two pieces. Here, it's 4.59 for two piece. There, it's almost six buck for two pieces. And if you go to New Westminster Key you can get two pieces of chicken for 2 dollas!" His eyes are really, really wide.

I have to ask.

"How much fried chicken you eatin' Dad?"

"Not much. That's why I like it. Just every once in while."

TYLENOL PM

So...let me tell you of a discovery we've made (Adrienne and I) about a drug that is currently unavailable in Canada called Tylenol PM. It's something I would recommend to all my friends. It's round. Blue on one side, white on the other. It says "Tylenol PM" on it quite modestly. After you take it (take 2, really), about an hour after, you begin to feel a bit hazy and dreamy and foggy but in a really fantastic way. Like your joints become lubricated. Suddenly your neck doesn't feel so tight, your wrists aren't so sore, and even typing feels good. You get in bed and you kind of float into sleep — right before you doze off you get the strong sensation that you are on an airmattress, and it's the height of summer, and you're floating down a river somewhere in Keremeos.

It's really worth the drive across the border, folks.

rabbits nocturnal

kevin asks this morning over breakfast
(me in the middle of sudoku, him reading watership down)

"are rabbits nocturnal?"

i say
(as i pull our laptop with wireless internet connection a bit closer)

let's see...

"Rabbits are actually "crepuscular", meaning they are most active in the twilight hours of both sunrise and sunset."

how beautiful!
i read on:

"This is because before becoming domesticated, rabbits evolved as a prey species for thousands of years. Evolutionarily it was safest for rabbits to leave the safety of their burrow and forrage for food in the transition between day and night when the light is dim. This is the time when nocturnal (night) predators such as owls can't see well because of too much light, and when diurnal (day) predators such as foxes, can't see well because it is too dark. Smart bunnies!"

indeed!

adrienne is a bunny, so that makes sense...

xomby out.