AND WHEN I SEE THE SIGN THAT POINTS ONE WAY

The center for tiredness is now open. But I hope to be asleep during most of its business hours.

John, the mightest worker ever (except for maybe his wife, Melinda who is pretty mean in the getting-things-done department [one some of us too seldom visit]) came up to Brewster and helped me move the majority of my basement belongings into storage. And that would explain my persona tiredness, which, as I said, I hope to remedy soon.

Book group tomorrow night and I am far from having finished the book. Again. I considered not going, briefly, but that is not good. So, I hope to take the train (time will be the limiting factor) and and read all the way into Manhattan and out to Brooklyn.

I sat down at this desk to make a list of all the things I have to do tomorrow before I leave, but I haven't. And since hardly anyone is reading my blog anymore, I might as well bore the few of you still here by making the damn list. I mean, I am thinking about it.

1) Clean litter boxes.
2) Organize better what is left downstairs.
3) Laundry.
4) PACK.
5) Plant soon-to-be dead azalea and hydrangea.
6) Make list of all the people I know born in May whose birthdays I am on the verge of missing.
7) Invoice Ms. I.
8) If I get up early, take Cooder to get weighed.

Okay, that's enough of that.

Cooder is 15 today. I have had her since she was 12 weeks old. The first night I had her, she curled up and slept by my head, purring. And she still does that. I don't know how I will live without that as she has been so comforting to me over the years. Emmylou is a first-rate kitty, but not so cuddly and has no purr to speak of. I have given Cooder Greenies whenever she asked today in celebration of her birthday. And as it is getting late, she wants more.

Gosh, and it the 14th birthday of Julian Alessandro Cirincione Ferraro. It was his impending birth that caused me to move back to NYC from Berkeley. Sigh. And the stories begin.

Here are some snaps from the reservoir where I walked Albert yesterday. He was so anxious to get out of the car that he jumped out as soon as I opened the door, which is unusual for him. I had looked over to the passenger seat to get what I needed from my purse and when I got out and opened up the back seat, no fucking Albert. Silly dog! He's little but he is mighty and mighty stubborn. He almost pulled my arms out of the sockets to get up onto the path and get smelling!! And pooping. (Yes, I picked it up.)

By the way, the song of the day is Walk Away Renee.