When I took those pictures I thought they were cat prints. Now I'm not so certain.
I forgot it was supposed to snow last night so when I woke up this morning I was all WTF? The cats are acting like it's Mardi Gras and our roof is Bourbon St.
We ventured out earlier and I hobbled around the grocery store cussing under my breath and trying not to break out into a cold sweat. Yeah, shoes hurt that much. Made green beans and meatballs and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies and am now thanking the clothing gods for the invention of elastic waist bands.
Mama may (heh) come up for Christmas. She called last night and asked me to look up airfare. Before that she went off onto to some tangent about a friend of hers whose husband is a man of somewhat standing in their community and how he takes anti-depressants but her friend *whispers* about it when it's discussed. Mama said she doesn't understand why the hell she whispers. "Why doesn't she want anyone to know?" she asks me. So I'm trying to explain to her that for a lot of people, medical issues are a very private matter. Particularly mental health issues. So then Mama's all, "Well I take them and I don't care who knows." And I'm 7 states away, rolling my eyes when I remember that I've publicly blogged all about my sprained brain. So I changed the subject. These oatmeal chocolate chip cookies are the best I've ever made. See how easy that was.
Finished reading "Mystic River" yesterday. John and I saw the movie in the theater when it came out and I remember we both agreed that it was really good, but the ending was so cold and just... wrong. Now, after reading the book, I'm realizing that the story is Dave Boyle's frickin' story and Clint Eastwood gave it to Sean Penn. And Sean Penn did a kick-ass job. But Tim Robbins won the Oscar, people and even THAT isn't justification for taking the story away from Dave Boyle. What I'm saying is... the book was better than the movie.
Reading Dennis Lehane's "Shutter Island" now.