....but I really am not fond of poetry.
But this is a random post. So bleh.
One of our cats returned last week. We had a set of triplets for a while; marmalade shorthair with some white blotches, and almost identical markings. The only way we could tell them apart was by their front paws and their upper lips. One, Lucky, has an orange "long-sleeve" on his right front leg and a "short-sleeve" on his left, and an orange moustache; the second, George, has his "sleeves" reversed, and is clean-shaven; and the third, whom I could never figure out a fitting name for and whom my father disrespectfully dubbed "Loser" because we suspected he was gay, had two "short-sleeves" and half a moustache, like someone had shaved off the right side in his sleep as a prank.
Their mother was a small marmalade with dark fiery orange eyes, named "Paco" because my mother and my sisters, who are terrible at names, found her in a culvert outside a Taco Bell and decided that "Taco" was a terrible name. My mother later told me that she always thought those eyes with that fur made Paco look demonic. I thought she was beautiful.
Poor "Loser" went missing after a while—not that I really blame him—so for about a year now it's just been Lucky and George. But I've been away at college for two years, so I miss a lot of the important news, like stuff on whether or not that high-school auditorium will EVER be rebuilt or why we now have twenty-odd banks and yet no industry in this blasted town, or what's happening with my cats. So I was never told that George had disappeared also.
I found out when I came home at the beginning of May, though. I figured he'd wandered off to set up his own territory, and to partially appease the skittishness he'd inherited from his mother. I think I was wrong; he showed up about four days ago, rather emaciated and very much hungry, so my current theory is that my next door neighbor, who hates us for having animals that can run over his lawn (which he is kind of obsessed with), and who was the primary catalyst for the decision to give my Laborador/Border Collie away nine years ago, decided to abscond with the cat and abandon him somewhere out in the wilderness near the local Air-Force base, and the poor guy has been making his way back ever since.
But he's home again, and turning into more of a lap-cat than he used to be, so that's nice.
My mother is currently crashed upstairs with a massive sinus infection, which she describes as "a ci'derblok id by dose". She wanted me to read to her last night—a chapter from Ted Dekker's Red—which made me feel really bad because it was rather close to the end of the book and I haven't read the book yet. She looked like she needed to crash though, so I offered to put on some Mozart instead. That and she said that "I Want You To Want Me" was tormenting her, so "The Marriage of Figaro" seemed like a better alternative.
It's been raining every other day here this week. I am rather pleased; this means we'll have a colorful fall this year. (^_^)
Waiter-training is over, so now when I work next I will not earn minimum wage, but instead $2.13. Wah-hoo. Plus I have to take an ABC test in the next town so I can serve alcohol. Good thing is, it's good for five years at any restaurant. Bad thing is, it's sixty-damned-dollars of my own money. Good grief.
Soooooo yeah. Fun times ahead.
Star Wars paper TBA. That's a massive beast, dude. About ninety-odd branches just in the first fourth of Episode IV, and most of those are not binary.
