Last week, Ernest claimed the chair I consider mine. When I got out, he jumped in. When I wanted to sit down, I had to wrestle him out.  That’s why the photo shows Ernest lying in the chair.

The laptop is in the chair because one night several months ago, when the laptop was sitting on the floor beside the chair, its usual resting place, Ernest chewed through the cable running from the laptop to the fan beneath. The cable was hardwired, so I had to buy a new fan. The next night Ernest chewed through the cable running to the new fan. Fortunately, that cable was replaceable.

Ernest had never shown interest in any of the cables decorating our home, and he’d been peacefully coexisting with the fan cable for two years. I don’t know why he snapped.

I’ve now treated all wires and cables with dishwashing soap.

Anyway, since Ernest’s oral fixation got the best of him, the laptop has spent its nights in the chair, covered by a pillow. William sometimes sleeps on the pillow. On the day I took the photo, Ernest took possession of the chair before the laptop was tucked in.

That’s why Ernest is lying on the laptop.

While we’re on the topic, here’s a picture of the stationary bicycle I bought in January. At Academy. Brand new.

(William, I fear, though he’s neither gnawer nor clawer, may not be entirely innocent in this matter.)

When I discovered the bike’s new look, I wasn’t pleased. I’ve managed to convince myself, however, that function is more important than form. And form can be altered.

I could knit the bike a sweater. And buy Ernest a straightjacket.*


*I can hear readers saying, “What is wrong with this woman? Why does she put up with this?” For three reasons: 1. I love the cats, even Ernest. 2. They’re not generally destructive–don’t tear up carpets, baseboards, cabinet doors, so far haven’t broken any china (although I once came upon William on the verge of pushing the salt shaker off the table, so china isn’t a slam dunk,) and spend most days sleeping and being cute. 3. I don’t want a divorce.

Boomtown #2

The Boomtown Film and Music Festival went off without a hitch—at least in the view of the four Austinites there to watch David’s video.

One mini-hitch occurred at the party downtown Saturday night: the hotel shuttle stopped running at 11:00 p.m. but the party ended at 2:00 a.m. David called for a taxi at 1:00 a.m., which arrived about 2:30 a.m., and reached the hotel about 2:45 a.m. The driver said there was only one taxi available. The other one was busy elsewhere.

David also said the music was so loud that he and the two friends who were with him couldn’t hear each other speak.

I couldn’t hear them either because I didn’t attend. After insufficient sleep the night before, I didn’t feel like partying. Furthermore, my father returned from World War II profoundly deaf from bomb concussion, and I see no reason to play games with my possible genetic inheritance by allowing myself to be bombarded by zillions of decibels.

So I partied back at the hotel, lying on the bed, eating vanilla crème cookies from the vending machine across the hall, and reading Elizabeth George’s latest mystery. [Insert smiley face here.]

I’m sharing some  pictures I snapped at the festival. Most were taken before and during the red-carpet ceremony on Friday afternoon. They demonstrate, among other things, that I was right to abstain from shopping for new clothes. Jeans and sweaters were just the ticket.

Dear March

English: Daffodil Daffodil.
Colin Kinnear [CC BY-SA 2.0 (, via Wikimedia Commons
Dear March — Come in —
How glad I am —
I hoped for you before —

Put down your Hat —
You must have walked —
How out of Breath you are —
Dear March, Come right upstairs with me —

I have so much to tell —

I got your Letter, and the Birds —
The Maples never knew that you were coming — till I called
I declare — how Red their Faces grew —
But March, forgive me — and
All those Hills you left for me to Hue —
There was no Purple suitable —
You took it all with you —

Who knocks? That April.
Lock the Door —
I will not be pursued —
He stayed away a Year to call
When I am occupied —
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come

That Blame is just as dear as Praise
And Praise as mere as Blame —

~ Emily Dickinson


Image of daffodil by Colin Kinnear [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (], via Wikimedia Commons