Purple and Blue

I don't really like purple.  It is just not a color I have embraced.  I like a little bit in a quilt to brighten it up, but purple in general is just a no-way.  But, I do own a purple shirt to support the Ravens.  I can't see myself in a jersey, so I wear a purple turtle neck.  I packed it to the back of the drawer today and am sad.  We, everyone I know in Baltimore, wanted the Ravens to make it to the Super Bowl.  I still can't believe they lost.  I have been quite blue.

Ellen keeps telling me things can't be purple.  It took me awhile to figure out what in the world she was talking about, I could never find a context to the comment.  It must be something from tv, but it means that food, events, life, etc. can't be mixed.  You can have red or blue, but purple is just not right.  I wish life could be this way, but most of life is purple.  I have to say I do prefer the use of purple to black and white.  Grey is so dull, at least purple implies  a little zip.  It is interesting to watch a child change from a literal thinker to an abstract one.

Alabama and Wyoming

My Alabama book was, "To Killl A Mockingbird" by Harper Lee.  This really is all I can say, because the book's history really speaks for itself.  One article I read declared it "the most relevant book of the 20th century."  As proof I will example Ian.  We are also listening to it on tape for Ellen.  The boys are loving the book read by Cissy Spacek.  Ian keeps telling me he is trying to be a gentleman just like Jem tries throughout the book.

My Wyoming book was "Where Rivers Change Direction" by Mark Spragg.  It is a memoir of growing up in Wyoming on a working dude ranch.  His description of the horses and landscape are beautiful.   The book is a series of short stories starting when he is ten and ending as a fifty year old.  The last two stories should have been edited out, they didn't fit with the rest of the book.  Thanks to my friend Jane for the recommendation.

I actually quilted for awhile yesterday, it felt nice.  I have no idea when I will get around to it again.  I need someone to do two y-seams for me, I just can't figure it out.

Psst.......shhh Juno here again.  She, that two legged slave, still hasn't figured out my paws can type.  She also hasn't seen me do karate or play the accordian.  She thinks I  am weak and foolish, because I am getting so fat and have these tiny little back legs.  I also lick all the fur off one leg to make her think I am neurotic.  

Last year we (trust me I had nothing to do with it) adopted another cat.  Everyone thinks she is so cute and cuddly.  They talk about how sweet she is, how she purrs all the time.  They think she is wonderful, because she greets everyone at the door.  What is wrong with saying hello from under the bed?  I keep trying to convince this interloper she would be happy somewhere else. On Wednesday morning I told that OTHER cat how to get to the giant field of catnip.  I told her she would have to walk for a full day through woods and stream, but when she got there it would amazing.  I told her it was surrounded by endless bowls of food and bins of wonderful cat toys.   She set off immediately.  

I decided to really play it up.  The last two nights I slept on her spot on the bed.  I let myself be picked up for a minute.   I even made myself sit by the bathtub while my "owner" relaxed in the water.  I let her pet me even though she was wet and smelled like eucalytus.  Things were really looking up for me,  I was King Cat again.  I haven't had to share my cat food or treats.  My litter box doesn't smell like girl pee.  The big dog dunderhead is back to following me around.  All is right in my universe.

Seven o' clock this morning we were rudely woken up by a flock of black birds or crows.  Those dratted birds were making the biggest racket, as soon as they stopped we heard a little meow on the porch.  Damned if that little cat hadn't returned.  I had to go outside while my caretaker fussed and fawned over the tiny show-stealer.  I will just have to come up with another plan.