Normal

This ought be my baseline 'image' of good housekeeping! The only other chair, beside the dining tables', is my easy chair, so you're welcome to occupy. There's only the kitchen and living rooms as full-sized dimension, the sleeping quarters a cubby hole. Other areas still need work, but I love going out.

And so I am presently. The French Corner of some forty-five years ago, after a change-over of uncertain date of at least 2010, is now The Flower Child. A brung to you establishment, but still a corporate affair. Meals are ordered at the register and they bring it. One could make company policy absurd... a couple of slices of pot roast and 'heirloom' carrots... $18. Meanwhile, I'm savoring my mother's pot roast and red cabbage. Potatoes!

I come here for two reasons. The first because I've just got a new lap tap. The hot-spot protocols are good here, where they are not at such as Denny's. Going to get some help there. And, what can I say, the girls are intriguing. Both the staff and the walk-ins. My, my; have been in Phoenix forty-five years and it's always news to me.

I still have that notion of meeting someone. Kismet. Fill in the blanks.

Scenery

Well, I've got nothing but good things to say about wish you were here. You: anybody? (Someone something intriguing like you.) Preferably a fan, but not too much, the home teams out of contention. Seems a lively place. Mixed crowd. Zippide-do-da. Wonderful day. Who won... I forget already.

My Dad had an Impala. It was white with black roof. I learned how to drive in it. There is terminal story here, but not the time or place to impart. Nice vehicle there.

Up early this morning. Plenty to do around here. Tidy up. So go I every thing in it's place. Am going to pot the Christmas tree. (Did you notice how the tree lots did not liquidate stock? Plastic, if at all? Festivus poles.) Other arrangements to be had. Might as well do the laundry.

Whatever is the game tonight, I'm going.

Christmas Spread

Repast with neighbors.

 

Felix navidad.

Not To Be Confused with Orinthology

Need an answer...

Has a tuft?

https://youtu.be/fsAMAIaas94?feature=shared

Way beyond my ken.

Wise Guys

Flaco...get a load of this guy! The late Flaco.

How wise is one to be!

A diet of urban fare. The rats, the pigeons, the little old ladies? Wandas?  Give it a rest.

Sikh Temple

Just an old cat. Any old cat. But still a cat. What's with Old Possum?

The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
    It isn't just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there's the name that the family use daily,
    Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey—
    All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
    Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter—
    But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that's particular,
    A name that's peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
    Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
    Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum—
    Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there's still one name left over,
    And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover—
    But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
    The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
    Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
        His ineffable effable
        Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.

https://gutenberg.ca/ebooks/eliotts-practicalcats/eliotts-practicalcats-01-h.html#chap011