Last night, we watched Barack Obama’s acceptance speech in the company of friends. 1100 miles from Denver, our group consisted of about 1/4000th as many people as filled the stadium where he spoke, but we shared every bit of their joy, excitement, and fervor.
Several times during the video that introduced the speech and during the speech itself, I was near tears — not from what Obama said or the way he said it, although both were extremely powerful; but from the sheer intensity of my desire for this man to be the next President of the United States.
He must win the election. He must.
I love my kitties. I dream of a house full of happy, purring cats that play, eat, sleep — and reliably use either a cat box or the great outdoors. But for the third time, we have a cat that is breaking the rules, and I will not keep a cat that uses the house as a litterbox.
Tomorrow, I must say goodbye to my deskmate, Archie: our big, soft, lazy, always-indoors, purring, attention-demanding, striped boy. For reasons known only to himself, he’s decided that deep-pile carpet is the place to go. He’s happy, and the litterboxes are plentiful; but he’s developed a preference for carpet, and research and experience indicate that he isn’t likely to change.
I’d give up our two dogs in a heartbeat (I only tolerate them, and will never voluntarily have another). I love cats so much, and yet I must let another one go. It’s hugely unfair, and I am heartbroken.
I just registered my daughter for her senior year of high school. That meant that in addition to the usual handful of papers — schedule, lunch information, PTO forms, and so on — she received an oversize, glossy color catalog from a company that sells every variety of graduation souvenir, from gowns to announcements to mortarboard tassels.
I’m wondering how I’m ever going to get along without my girl after next year.