Thursday, October 14.
I could have gone to FRANK , but took Mom's laundry back instead. Why, you may ask, would I pass up a chance to hang out with my friends - adults whose conversation makes sense (most of the time anyway)?
We look at art/pottery listen to music, sip adult beverages.
Why not indeed.
Because I am Firstborn, she of the short straw. (I hereby decree my superhero costume to be the Talbot's sweater with the sparkly buttons. And so say I.)
She was coming outside as I came up the walk, kind of teary eyed.
She hugged my neck and said, "Hi! I love you. That doesn't come out enough."
Huh, changing her medication time does make a difference.
She's locked her door again. And the key is where? That's right. In her room.
"I don't know who does that. I don't do it."
The cat must have done it.
"I don't have a cat."
We find someone to unlock the door, get the clean clothes situated and head out.
As we walk down the hallway she mentions she's getting a kitten. She doesn't have him yet.
What about the litter box?
"Oh you can come do that."
Gee thanks. (The Onion says it so succinctly)
Nantucket Grill is the winner for this evening's repast.
I note that we're both wearing jean jackets.
Look we're twins.
"We almost are," she agrees.
As we wait for our drinks to arrive, out of the blue she says, "I didn't do anything."
She slides her bread plate across the table - "Whee! I want one of these."
It appears you have one.
"I know that."
She gets her petite filet mignon and mashed potatoes. The tea is, as usual, good.
Must be really sweet then.
Fie on diabetes.
Fish and chips for me. She gleefully eyes my coleslaw, I hand it over. I don't like coleslaw, unless my dad makes it. Chances are I'm not eating coleslaw again.
"Mama made that." [coleslaw]
"I don't know. You're stupid. No, I am."
No need to point fingers.
"You do make your stuff done."
I try. Or I will. Or something.
Some time passes. She's eaten most of the steak, mashed, and part of the coleslaw.
"I'm going to stop eating now or I'm going to have another baby."
We can't have that.
Food continues to be consumed, per usual.
I thought you were stopping.
She copies me writing, giggles, "I'm going to keep my mouth shut."
"I'm going to die."
Explode is more like it.
"I know that."
"Last piece. I'm gonna eat it. I'm not gonna kill it."
"Okay we can go somewhere else now." Next time we are splitting that filet.
We went to Petsmart, to visit the IAR cats and visited with Silent Bob.
As we walked to the car after a nice play session I said Silent Bob was a very sweet cat.
How soon they forget, Silent Bob.