Distractions

I have a lot of them these days.  Most of them furry and 4 legged.

There's my two oldest cats.  And Copper.  Who, after spending 2 days in doggy hospital for what turned out to be giardia, decided to double in size while retaining a puppy brain and the inclination to mischief that goes with it. One pair of headphones, a rug, two broken lamps, and a broken wine glass later...

And 2 of the original 4 foster kittens are still with me.  Larger, but just as kittenish as Copper is puppyish.  They've made their own contribution to breakage.

And then there's still appointments and such at the tail end of my cancer treatment - echocardiograms and blood tests, a podiatrist dealing with the nuisance damage chemo left my feet with, and followups here and followups there.

And walking the dog and spending time at the dog park and cleaning multiple cat pans and feeding everybody including occasionally myself and cleaning up after everybody.

So I get distracted.

When my hair finally grew back in I found that really, really short hair is not only easier but way cheaper, so I bough electric clippers with different length guards and I've been doing it myself.  Just snap in the no. 5 guard and buzz the head.  This afternoon I pulled out the clippers and the guard, oiled the clippers, and laid guard and clippers on the sink.  A kitten chose that moment to jump up onto everything.  I put the kitten back on the floor.  Grabbed the clippers and made the first sweep across my head.  Only to realize that the kitten had distracted me enough that I had neglected to put the guard on.

Leaving me with a reverse mohawk.  Yeeaaaahhhh....that can't be combed over.  Good thing I kept my hats because the only thing to do was shave the rest of it off.

Did I mention that I have distractions?

One Can Always Hope...

Odd Bits...

...shamelessly stolen from various Facebook posts.

Sigh...

People who left years before you did and who you would probably never see again anyway...Yet stumbling on the notice of their death is still upsetting.

My Life...

...involves a lot of fur.

So Here's A Suggestion For...

... those supporting the endless fabricated Trump investigations:

How about you investigate the brown spot that's been in your underpants since Nov. 2016?  It will be hard.  You'll have to stop drumming your heels and screaming and get up off the floor.  You will have to pull that bunched material out of your crotch.  And you might actually have to put on big girl panties.

I Don't Have To...

...feed the cats.  The inside ones.  The outside ones.  The fosters. Or clean their pans.

Or juggle the exhausting puppy and his needs around everybody else's while being scared to death because I have no idea what to do with such a big, energetic puppy.

Or get to an appointment.  Although I'm sort of looking  forward to the next psuedo-chemo:  it's my last treatment and I get to ring the big bell as I leave.

I think I've tried to return to a normal life too quickly.  I took on too much too fast. Got so exhausted.  But now palmettos, the Gulf Stream, fabulous food within walking distance, and the little bit of paradise known as Folly Beach, SC, gets to work its magic.

And I finally got to see the Hunley.  All these years and I've never been able to see it before. It was just a legend when I first came to that gem called Charleston, SC. 

Now excuse me while I work through local beers while watching the surf roll in.

And, oh, there's this little Caribbean place just down the street that makes astounding posole.

I had that yesterday.  I may do their tacos for dinner tonight.