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Cat Nap

On New Year's Day as it got near bedtime, I noticed something. Or, rather, a lack of something. Cinder had been in the house most of the day, as had the other cats, since it was cold and snowy. But whereas Dortmunder and Vin tend to spend a lot of time napping in closets or under furniture, Cinder always lets us know where he is. He flops down on the floor where we are constantly walking from kitchen to living room, or is curled up on the couch for hours at a time where the kids like to sit. The point is, it's never a mystery where he has gotten himself off to. So we looked around and concluded that he was not in the house after all. I went outside with a flashlight and found kitty prints going toward the neighbors' yard, but they had shoveled a little later than I had, and I couldn't find any more tracks. The next day there were cat prints on our back porch, so during the night he had probably come to the door there wanting to be let in. I went out and followed the...
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50

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A couple of weeks ago we went to Bear Lake with my family to celebrate my parents' 50th anniversary. It was an interesting weekend for several reasons. We had never stayed under one roof before with my family. My only sibling who is a parent is my sister, who has a two-year-old. So we were a little anxious about kids being loud and keeping people up. Katie doesn't care to spend too much time in the company of extended family, preferring the comfort of our own home. And there were just the usual stresses of fitting everything in the van that we needed for a long weekend, and the three-hour drive with them. My parents rented a very nice cabin with three floors, up on the hillside overlooking the lake. We got to catch up with everyone, as my sister and one brother had never even met James, and my other brother had only seen him once in passing when we visited Salt Lake overnight. We also spent time talking with my parents about their personal history, asking questions about t...
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Post of a Good Hell

For some reason, as I was falling asleep last night, I began to wonder what my own personal hell would be like. Here’s what I’ve come up with so far: It would be really windy, all the time, and super hot and humid. Everybody, including me, would be renamed Dakota (Sorry to anybody who likes that name, if any of those people can read, but it’s my hell, not yours). I would be forced to listen to muzak versions of really bad jazz while cashiering endlessly. I would have to wear a Hot Dog on a Stick uniform, and every customer would be buying really sharp objects like porcupines and bits of broken glass. There wouldn’t be a bar code on anything, and whenever the line got down to one person a hundred more people would come up at once and start yelling at me to speed up. What would your hell be like? [ Update : One more thing that would happen is everyone would copy me . Just kidding, Jer.]
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