Monday, June 20, 2011

Wobble in the Orbit*

of the planet is my mother spinning in her grave, as Douglas Adams so succinctly pointed out. I now have a tattoo, gentle readers. It is the size of a Border Collie print on the inside of my right forearm, as jet black as Eddie was. As solid as the memory of his first jumping up on me in delight, paws distended and dancing. As joyful as his laughing mouth at the thought of being released from his 'run' at the League for Animal Protection. As joyful as any dog can be at the thought of running with the pack.

The unicorn meat-eating cats are able to escape me every morning now, although Minkins must come in by 10 am. Otherwise he is gone all thing that he is. Romania has joined my list of hits. I love the Iron Curtain countries, literature and culture, and am glad I am making some kind of impression there. 

I am glad to see the Arab Spring persist in Syria. It's much harder to do without any physical support and shows true dedication.

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