The epitome of narcissism and the acme of vulgarity. Graffiti on the walls of the temple. You do you, but no thanks…

Best cat ever.

[ Like, totally deleted… ]

Pro Tip: if you stuff that box with crinkly paper, you have created cat Nirvana.

Tangled up in Blue.

Peter Pearson.

Kagi, Sider, YouTube Premium.

“I’m sorry Dave, I can’t wash that. This wardrobe is too important for you to jeopardize it.”

My recently departed puss, Alley (tuxedo, lived to 19), absolutely loved crinkly packing paper stuffed into a cardboard box. That was her great adventure, her domain, her hiding place, her happy place. We used to buy packing paper at Amazon just so we’d always have enough on hand to stuff into a box. You never saw such a happy cat.

https://kagi.com/summarizer/index.html

He is a keeper. Give him a belly scritch for me…

Resist as much as possible without getting killed. BTW, I’m an Old-White-Guy Boomer. Not all people in my generation are lining up to kiss Trump’s ass…

Graduated high school in 1975. BTW my niece has a Camden and a Corbin. My daughter is named Chelsea.

Guess when I was born… Went to school with James, William, Dan, John, Joseph, David, Elizabeth, Lisa, Margaret, Debbie, Carolyn, Bonnie, Susan, Karen, Michael, and Peter. Most of the Karens I knew were nice people. They don’t deserve the bad rap.

Yes to SH launcher. I LOVE it!

A magnificent puss, even as a little guy…

Variation, selection, heredity, time.

I love mornings because I wake up feeling optimistic about the coming day. Mornings are perfect for getting stuff done — exercise, catch up on work, and run errands before the afternoon crowds hit. The world feels fresh and full of possibility in the mornings before the stresses of the day set in. Waking up early lets me really seize the day.

My best thing happened unexpectedly on March 15, 1973. (Probably makes me the oldest person in the room.) My high school guidance counselor died in his sleep. Bummer for him, but lucky for me. Back in the ’60s, my school system had me pegged as a gifted student, which was a one-size fits all label. That tag followed me to high school, where as a green sophomore, I was assigned the “gifted” guidance counselor, Mr. Daly. Daly was also a history teacher, and greatly loved and admired. He was a retired USMC Vietnam vet, and suffered from Marfan syndrome, giving him a strange and imposing appearance. He was a force of nature, that guy. I was 15 when we first met, and I had no idea about what I would do with my life. Because of my label, Daly had it all figured out. In his mind I was on my way to become a doctor, lawyer, CEO, etc. Yeah — no thanks. I had no goals, only passions — Photography and Design. I wanted to enroll in my school’s tech classes and follow my interests. Daly squashed that idea. Wasn’t going to happen. I was heartbroken. As a kid of 15 I had no leverage, and didn’t know how I could get what I wanted. My parents were no help; “He probably knows best” was the best they could do. A few weeks later, when I came to school on the 16th of March, word was that Mr. Daly had died the previous night. While the school was in mourning, I was a pretty happy kid. My new counselor had no objections to me taking the photo and design track. :: After high school, university and some preliminary jobs, I started my own marketing communications business (then called freelancing, today gig work) and continued for 30+ years by myself. Of course the work had its ups and downs, but I was happy and always employed. :: Now I’m 66 and retired, and I always wonder what my life would be like if Mr. Daly had lived and imposed his vision on my life. Guess I got lucky. :: Rest in peace, Mr. D.

Sorry for your troubles. Had my GB out about five years ago; my gut has never completely recovered. Got to the point where I couldn’t leave the house ’cause of loose stools. (Pro Tip: learn about the Bristol Scale. It makes talking about your situation much easier with your family and doctors.) Today I have my life back: I take 2mg of Loperamide in the a.m. and 4mg before bed. Now smacking the Bristol Scale solidly (pun there) at the middle of the bell curve. Hope you can get yourself back on track!