The people of the world can be divided into two categories (humor me): 1) the people who, when asked a question or to do something, responds Why? As in “why do you need to know?” or “why should I do that?” and 2)  those who say Why not? As in “since there is no reason to conceal that information from you, why shouldn’t I explain that?” or “what you ask could conceivably, though not conveniently, be accomplished and you seem to think it will increase your happiness so why would I not do that?” I am a Type 2 living with three Type 1’s and it is exhausting getting information and advocating courses of action while explaining everything I do and trying to  increase happiness. I think the “Why” phenomenon might be related to the “Y” chromosome, but I am not a geneticist, that is just a theory.

I am the NaNoWriMo friend everyone wants on their buddy list this year because my word count makes yours look AWESOME!

Blogging and the accompanying blog-following one does as a blogger is a time eater that puts both facebook and gmail to shame, although since facebook and gmail are in cahoots with the blogging enterprise, they really can’t be separated.

Blog is the kind of word that starts losing itself with excessive repetition.

Some days I think how wonderful it would be to give up all my writing ambitions and stick to knitting. So simple. And then I remember all the disappointing knitting outcomes. Let us never forget the hat fiasco of  ’06. Dreadful.

I love everything about my cat except his cold wet nose which he nudges  against my hands whenever they are doing something other than loving him up the eighteen minutes a day he is awake enough to care. I have yelled at him about it enough that now he just hunches over until his nose is a quarter inch from my hand and hovers there. He’s like the six year old brother who has been warned for the last time to quit touching his sister, so he gets close and says , “See? I’m not touching you, I’m not touching you…”

I don’t much care for it when he drools on my computer, farts or snags my sweater with his kneading pawclaws, either.

Why do I have a cat?