I’ve promised my bereft, twinless Godzilla that I will read him “Balto,The Bravest Dog Ever” tonight, to cheer him up. Why is he so sad? Because someone STOLE his brother, if you can believe that. They just picked him up, and took him away. As to what kind of a person would do that kind of thing, I can’t even postulate. Oh, wait, it was Bill, I remember now.
Thank you huge to Connie Williams for sending the book. That was a lovely thing to do.
I had a fabulous time last night, eviscerating a worthy opponent at the chess board, discovering that the Armenian lover who made me Pisco Sours decades ago was leaving out the egg white, and learning something hugely important and interesting that I have completely forgotten. It’s in there, though, which means that whatever it is, I own it, and it’s somewhere in my memory.
I haven’t seen Orangelina properly since she shed her skin, but hopefully soon. Mating season is over, the yard is stuffed with beautiful baby Desert Spinies, she’s on her own time now. I see Alexander from time to time; their lurks are contiguous.
I am happy to report that Bryan Ferry is looking very well, covering the new issue of Hunger magazine. Doriot and I are not, shall we say, dreading to meet him. This is perhaps my favorite Ferry ever, which faintly shocks me.
In a quote from the article, he says, “Occasionally people come along who are just so good at what they do and so convinced that what they are doing is right, and it sounds and looks so different that it shocks people.”
Word! I must attempt to find a copy.