Memo

TO: connie's DH, specifically his heart

FROM: Me

RE: Behaving as it's supposed to

Please be aware that thumping out a conga rhythm is expressly forbidden in this hospital. It disturbs the patients, and more specifically the patient whose blood you are pumping right now faster than the drum solo in Wipeout.

Please bring the beat down to a slow foxtrot and we will allow you to shuffle right out the door. Your human, and his wife, will be ever so grateful.

If you have any questions, listen to some Frank Sinatra for the suggested tempo. Have a nice day.

Only, she got bored, and I was on the phone. So she broke the bookshelf, stripped the screw holes, broke the wood. It's... I don't know if I can fix it, but it doesn't look like it. A mostly constructed 72 inch bookshelf. It weighs three times her weight. I don't even know how she did it.

{{{Deena}}}

~ma to Connie's dh.

Oh, yikes, Connie. Much heart~ma going out.

Much heart~ma to connie's DH.

"You gotta have heart, you gotta have heart."

Welcome to the manic part of our show.

"When the odds are saying you'll never win/That's when the grin should start."

connie, slow-heartbeat~ma to the hubby. Hope they get it under control, ASAP.

{{{{Kristin}}}}

Much heart~ma to Connie's DH.

ION, I am feeling stressed and crabby over the home inspection and a wide array of small but pestiferous things. It's like being nibbled to death by ducks while there's a wolf at the door. My startle reflex is out of whack (the cat is lucky to be alive, oh yes he is) and I feel like I have road rage while sitting still.

I need to make a list of the small, pestiferous things so I can start killing them off one at a time rather than feel like they're hanging around my head in an ill-defined cloud.

The bid danger to me when I feel like this is that I'll fritter away the evening and get to the end feeling even more stressed because I haven't done anything.

Just checking in for a drive-by taunting.

I went to the Aviary and met all the birdies we've been hearing about. Aurora the barn owl LOVES Kenny and watching him go into the enclosures to pick them up is very nearly as exciting as being so unbelivably close to, oh, hawks and kestrels and toucans and EAGLES.

Oh my. There is a golden eagle who I think likes me a little, honest.

We were going to stick around for the Bald Eagle's exercise period, but the wind picked up and they decided not to fly her. In ample compensation, we got to watch from three feet away from her open enclosure as one of the trainers practiced working with him with one of the others. Oh my. You have no idea how big and strong that animal is until you see it sitting on the arm of a 5'4" woman with it's wings fully extended. THEN they took her out of her enclosure. I was, no joke, two feet from her. And she was looking at me. And she is magnificient and you know that she exerts a thousand pounds of pressure per inch with her talons and she's sitting on this little woman's arm mere feet from me because she FEELS LIKE IT.

(and if billytea isn't dead yet, as I type this I'm eating lamb)

We have serious suspicions that Kenny's a druid.