Saturday, October 01, 2005


And Now For Something Completely Different

A cat without a head.

Sasha still hates the knittens and still won't come in for more than half an hour or so at a time. She's never been much of an indoor cat so I'm not all that concerned. I think her main problem is that if they were big cats she would fight them and then the pecking order would be established, but she doesn't know what to do with these little things that insist on hissing at her, 'cause she knows she can't hit babies.

In the meantime, don't you think it's awfully nice of me to have put this lovely bed of washed and dried Cheviot on the table outside the front door just for her?


I doubt that stuff's ever going to be usable now.

Further update on the Social Studies curriculum, for your edification.

"Mommy, the dinosaurs died a really long time ago."
"Yes they did, honey."
"Like 20 months. Or 48. I don't know."

Dude, that's a long time.

Ah, I wouldn't worry about it. Spinning animal/human hair with wool used to be common. According to my cats, the addition of cat hair can only improve the wool.

But then everything I knit has a percentage of cat hair, whether I intend it or not.
Well aren't you a good cat mama for putting out such a nice, soft bed? Even if you brought evil wee baby cats into the house without her permission.
"Mom, what did the dinosaurs REALLY look like?" This from my son at age 4 (a very long time ago)--apparently he figured I was old enough to have first hand knowledge.

I had Cheviot ram (also a long time ago). We got some strange looks the day we brought him home in the back of the old Saab.

--Jude, whose knitting, baking, etc., contains a soupcon (you supply the diacritical mark) of dog hair.

BTW, my sister lives in Burnaby (or is it New Westminster now)--I hope your evil sitter wasn't one of her offspring.
You can always just pretend it's part cashmeire.
Thanks for the picture. I say, just be sure and dye the top bits a darker color and nobody will know...
I am tempted to send you the soup bowl my mother bought me which proudly says "everything is better with cat hair in it"-as for the subkective nature of time, my students often talk about 30 year olds the way I talk about Rip Van Winkle-finally one day, as they were chatting about how old thirty is, I said "Yeah, you know when I turned thirty I told them to get my spot ready in the musuem of natural history"
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