1. By the powers of the 86 and the 51 buses combined, I went out to Roslindale this morning and spent an entire day with my cats, plus an hour with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
derspatchel before he had to leave for work. It was wonderful. I brought them new toys, three little stuffed mice with long, enticing, feathery tails, and they loved them. There was a difficult moment with Hestia in the early afternoon when she panicked and clawed me in the side of the head—I was trying to return her to the food bowl she had been startled away from, but I fear she remembered that the last time I picked her up firmly, she was tipped into a carrier and never saw the house of her kittenhood again—but she later presented herself for petting and then fell asleep in my lap, so I believe we are all right. She has a smaller purr than her brother, but she can be just as insistent with it. By the time I fed them dinner, she was feeling confident enough to leap onto the nearest counter at the sound of the opening can and flirt her tail impatiently. Autolycus discovered sparrows in the hedges beyond the dining room windows and pitched a fit—chirruping, chattering, clawing at the glass, mentally exhorting the sparrows to teleport into his mouth. I set up my computer at the dining room table and he kept coming around to make sure I was not paying more attention to my work than to the cat. At one point I just took twenty minutes off from work to sit down on the floor and pet him while he purred like a thunderstorm and licked my wrist. I held him in my arms as I had when he was a kitten and he put one paw under my chin and half-closed his eyes. It was immensely warming. I promised them I would return soon. Coming home was trickier: the 51 was half an hour late, meaning I missed my connection to the 86 and had to wait another half-hour after sunset at Reservoir and therefore arrived home a full hour later than planned and much colder. This is undoubtedly part of the reason I feel completely wiped out. There was a glorious autumn sunset visible through the trees as the bus turned onto Weld Street, fiery as a jack-o'-lantern and all the right colors.
2. I have been meaning to post these for a few days. Courtesy oflnhammer: thousands of photographs from the Apollo program, digitized and made freely available. I love how many of these are not the famous pictures, but astronauts futzing around with cameras: spacewalks, moonscapes, waning Earths, stubbled faces, dials, gauges, windows illuminated by earthlight. Some are great, some are terrible, all amazing. Why would people want to believe we faked the moon landings? Isn't the world more interesting if it actually happened? I just wish extraplanetary exploration hadn't become science fiction again. I will probably still see The Martian (2015).
3. Courtesy ofladymondegreen: when covered by Kris Delmhorst without changing any of the lyrics, the Cars' "My Best Friend's Girl" becomes much less bitter and/or jealous and much more "Stealth bisexuals! Whoo!" And every new boy that you meet, well, he doesn't know the real surprise . . . I am enjoying this.
I really wanted to write tonight, but I might just fall over. Dammit.
derspatchel before he had to leave for work. It was wonderful. I brought them new toys, three little stuffed mice with long, enticing, feathery tails, and they loved them. There was a difficult moment with Hestia in the early afternoon when she panicked and clawed me in the side of the head—I was trying to return her to the food bowl she had been startled away from, but I fear she remembered that the last time I picked her up firmly, she was tipped into a carrier and never saw the house of her kittenhood again—but she later presented herself for petting and then fell asleep in my lap, so I believe we are all right. She has a smaller purr than her brother, but she can be just as insistent with it. By the time I fed them dinner, she was feeling confident enough to leap onto the nearest counter at the sound of the opening can and flirt her tail impatiently. Autolycus discovered sparrows in the hedges beyond the dining room windows and pitched a fit—chirruping, chattering, clawing at the glass, mentally exhorting the sparrows to teleport into his mouth. I set up my computer at the dining room table and he kept coming around to make sure I was not paying more attention to my work than to the cat. At one point I just took twenty minutes off from work to sit down on the floor and pet him while he purred like a thunderstorm and licked my wrist. I held him in my arms as I had when he was a kitten and he put one paw under my chin and half-closed his eyes. It was immensely warming. I promised them I would return soon. Coming home was trickier: the 51 was half an hour late, meaning I missed my connection to the 86 and had to wait another half-hour after sunset at Reservoir and therefore arrived home a full hour later than planned and much colder. This is undoubtedly part of the reason I feel completely wiped out. There was a glorious autumn sunset visible through the trees as the bus turned onto Weld Street, fiery as a jack-o'-lantern and all the right colors.2. I have been meaning to post these for a few days. Courtesy of
lnhammer: thousands of photographs from the Apollo program, digitized and made freely available. I love how many of these are not the famous pictures, but astronauts futzing around with cameras: spacewalks, moonscapes, waning Earths, stubbled faces, dials, gauges, windows illuminated by earthlight. Some are great, some are terrible, all amazing. Why would people want to believe we faked the moon landings? Isn't the world more interesting if it actually happened? I just wish extraplanetary exploration hadn't become science fiction again. I will probably still see The Martian (2015).3. Courtesy of
ladymondegreen: when covered by Kris Delmhorst without changing any of the lyrics, the Cars' "My Best Friend's Girl" becomes much less bitter and/or jealous and much more "Stealth bisexuals! Whoo!" And every new boy that you meet, well, he doesn't know the real surprise . . . I am enjoying this.I really wanted to write tonight, but I might just fall over. Dammit.
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