Lofty, but true?

"Bloggers are the eyes and ears of the world... They are citizen journalists who are making sure that what's important and newsworthy isn't determined by media organizations, but by people in their local communities."
=Communication World magazine, Vol. 21 no.4

That's a lot to live up to. What do you think?

Just over three years ago, our beautifully regal Bigkitty died. He'd been sick for a long time, and although he was only ten years old, we weren't left with much of a choice. I saw a cat that looked just like him yesterday, so shiny and black and handsome, and I started to cry. If you are not an animal lover, read no further, 'cuz you just won't get it.

His death was one of the most painful moments of my life to date. For that, I'm lucky - I realize this. Part of me understands why I still get so upset, why I miss him so much. It's because I'm an overly-emotional person, and because having that cat in my life changed me forever. Bigkitty was magic.

Bigkitty used to jump into bed with us at night, step carefully over Mr. Crabby, and sit by my pillow, poking my shoulder with his paw until I scooched over to make room for him under the covers. He'd swat at guests at the dinner table in an effort to purloin forbidden morsels from their plates. He left me alone when my headaches were too severe, and he cuddled up beside me when he knew it would help. He was always right. He was chatty. He stroked our faces with his paw. He forgave us for burdening him with two new kittens. When Mr. Crabby left for three months to work in another town, Bigkitty sat by the front door for three long days before finally giving up his vigil for my proffered tin of salmon.

I'm so sad today. Please come over and hold my hand.

Commuting with Crabby

I rode my bicycle to work for the first time today. It was surprisingly civilized - pretty much a straight line door to door, with a dedicated bicycle lane for half the distance. What could be easier? I was a little wobbly, but I'm quite pleased with myself.

I was very conscious of three things while riding my bicycle to work for the first time today: Tuesday is garbage day in my end of town (it was a very smelly ride); sewer grates and potholes are hard on the business district (you know what I mean); and that pizza-toed sling backs are not appropriate footwear for riding a bicycle (but are trés chic for most other occasions, non?).

And just my luck, because I rode my bicycle to work for the first time today, it's bound to rain. Stay tuned.

The Thing We're Not Talking About

We're not talking about the car accident we had on Saturday, so you won't hear anything about it on this blog. Because we are not talking about it. Period. You will not learn of the oil spilled all over the road at Jane and Rutherford, which caused us to slide and slam right into the back of an SUV, and you will not be warned about this very dangerous intersection. If we were talking about the car accident, I would tell you to not go near that intersection. Oh well. More's the pity. Now you'll never know.

We are, however, talking about my boobs, which are very sore today, thanks (and I do mean thanks) to my seatbelt. If I had teensy supermodel boobs, I might not be this sore, but I don't have small boobs. I have larger than average, very sore boobs, that do not enjoy being in car accidents.

We're also not talking about the fact that our power was out for six hours on Saturday, one year to the date of last year's blackout. I kid you not. Saturday was the most accursed, damnable day ever.