I like this guy

What do you do when you like someone and you feel like you could grow to like them even more, but you know you don't have a future with that person? Eventually, even I can become attached to someone. Very quickly someone can become attached to me. When, why and how do you decide to stop or go forward?

In this blog I call my new friend Anwar, because I usually don't use people's real names. He reminds me of Nicola. Do I like him for himself, or because he reminds me of Nicola? Thus I mused aloud. He said he didn't care, just as long as I liked him.

Frankly, I can't help but begin to appreciate him as a unique individual.

I haven't even finished blogging about Nicola yet.

I wish I were asleep, but I've compromised my stomach with too much chocolate. Now I must stay upright in posture, entertaining myself by setting down these thoughts.

I be Illin'

Sick to my stomach, I shouldn't be awake. But I ate too much chocolate so here I sit, too sick to sleep. Every time I hang out with my certain friend I over-eat. Now I understand why people take medicine like Alli (Ali? Alli?) I used to think that, if people didn't want too much of the wrong kind of fat in their diet they could just decide not to eat it -- just refuse to put it in their food. And that's how it was when I did the cooking. But when you're a guest you're off your game.

Two weeks ago I actually let some guys feed me out of a deep fryer. I felt like I didn't have a choice. I was busking (playing guitar for donations) in front of a restaurant and the friendly cooks and service crew pooled their money to give me a tip. They also brought me fish and chips. Now, how could I turn that down? A week after that it was pizza on a date. And now, chocolate en masse. There must be some strategy for taking your diet on the town with you.

That being said, my friend -- I'll call him Anwar to protect his true identity -- is a pretty good host. It is I who need to learn to refuse too much of a good thing.

The Late Great Pumpkin

What a great orange cat I had. Pumpkin came to me when he was maybe 4 or 5 months old, just a little guy, and he made two mouse catches right away. He knew all about how to be a cat because his mother's owner gave her time to raise him.

Once he brought down a squirrel!

Mighty hunter, yes. But we loved Pumpkin just for being Pumpkin.

The cat loved and played with the dogs. When he was little he used to hide in a coke box and have the dogs push him down the stairs in it -- wee!

Once when I was cuddling Pumpkin and our Ginger Girl puppy shed salt tears for wanting to be included, both Pumpkin and I immediately showered our puppy with affection.

By the way, Pumpkin preferred to live at my Mother's house, not at my house.
This I say in case anyone familiar with my household is wondering what dogs I could be talking about.

Pumpkin passed away this summer, hit by a car.