So I haven't updated for a few days. And a big part of it is that some religious nutbag overseas determined that yesteday was going to be the start of WWIII, so a bunch of OUR conservative nutbags decided it was going to be the start of WWIII, so I figured, do you really want to know about my cat in the face of all that?
OK, in reality I've been a little focused for the past couple days. First on the galleys for my Beowulf story, and then for a particularly problematic chunk of the day-job. Nothing major, and it looks better now, but it was a long haul to get to a good point. So let's see how things are going with other, earlier posts:
On The Plutocrats, we're still a day or two from the ruling that Pluto is/is not a planet, along with/without three other large bodies. Stay tuned
On Cats on a Plane, Gozer has settled back in with her family on the other side of the continent. The cats here, Harley and Victoria, have finally relaxed as well, but Vic is still a bit twitchy (though she's always been that way). Now that she is no longer having to watch Gozer every waking moment, Harley has taken to bringing foam balls that must be thrown and leather shoelaces that must be dragged across the floor. Both are appreciative that they're still here.
On Senators visiting Washington, I've got nothing. There was nary a peep from the media, major and minor, in the wake of Sen. Santorum's visit here, which is odd for such a popular, newsworthy guy. For all I know (or you know), he's in Alaska right now, or Japan, huxtering for more bucks. Maybe he just kept heading west, chasing the setting sun. I don't know how I feel about this, but I am real curious all of a sudden where our political leaders are spending all their free time.
No sign of the Mouse. The Steeler's hat is still cool, but it has been decided by popular vote that it goes best with my pink flamingo shirt. The "Bill" that said I should be in opera was the Reverend Bill Barker, my first minister, who also wrote Everyone in the Bible (and played the bagpipes at weddings). And one of the reasons I was howling at my baptism was that I had stomach surgery the week before and was still sore.
And the Brits are honestly making progress on their Terrorist Case, though they don't want to tell the Yanks what's going on since our White House tends to leak like a sieve when given juicy gossip. And its been dry for most of August out here, such that our lawn, which is usually one of the last to give up the ghost, is actually turning brown. And the Mariners pretty much dived out of contention, to the point that they traded beloved veteran Jamie Moyer, and despite that got a pretty good turnout for a home game on a Tuesday night (since we couldn't find any street parkiing at Tai Chi). And that's about it.
Oh, and the new date for the end of the world is 12 September. So if THAT happens, you read it here first.
UPDATE to UPDATES And Pluto is no longer a planet. I informed the Lovely Bride over breakfast. Her Comment: "And now our children will experience gender confusion".
Nope. Don't understand it, either. But the rest of you can panic now.
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