Good grief, it's swallowing Volkswagens whole

[sovay]

It is my father's sixty-fifth birthday. 1952 was the year with the highest recorded incidence of flying saucer sightings in America, so we got him the most alien-looking branch of orchids in the shop. spatch and I have been designated in charge of the kitchen and are about to embark upon a program of chicken piccata and fettuccine alfredo by request. I leave you with a photograph from earlier this afternoon: Hestia catches up on her reading.



(Will she be too distracted by The New Yorker to pester us about chicken when we get home? Don't quit your day jobs.)

[edit: We got home at eleven o'clock at night to discover that someone had hinged the right-hand door of the pantry open and someone had gotten up onto a shelf from which it was possible to hook down the plastic-wrapped sachet of catnip and someone had fiended so hard she threw up on the dinner table, so, no, she did not pester us about chicken.]

Comments

[gwynnega]

In honor of your father's birthday, here is a flying-saucer themed song.

[sovay]

In honor of your father's birthday, here is a flying-saucer themed song.

That is fantastic.

[choco_frosh]

Happy birthday, your father! I am sorry you had to clean up cat vomit.

[shewhomust]

Goodness, your father is younger than I am (though not by much) - why do these things always take me by surprise? Please to wish him a happy birthday from me, regardless.

[sovay]

Happy birthday, your father! I am sorry you had to clean up cat vomit.

Thank you! It was not the best thing to come home to, but the obvious backstory of Hestia having been so high amended some of the annoyance. The brief tragic reign of Emperor Poopfoot IV was much worse.

[sovay]

Goodness, your father is younger than I am (though not by much) - why do these things always take me by surprise? Please to wish him a happy birthday from me, regardless.

I will!