Cat Tales

A degree of difficulty occurs when I have to key around Thisbe's tail on the keyboard. She is in one of her "moods" today. Let me rub her tummie and fondle her paws this morning, acts that on other days are greeted with claws and jaws. Complained that the food dish was empty but didn't eat when I filled it. Just likes the idea of the dish (with food) being available. But what am I thinking? Today is not cat blog day.

Today is the day I send Festival Madness in to an editor. I think I must have gone over the manuscript at least 10 times, changing, refining, critiqueing and honing my craft as they say.

Now to get going on the California novel. I want to write it in a year--no more of these 2.5 year lengthy projects with too much time spent not writing. We'll see, we'll see.

Onward to the after Christmas sales and the after Christmas cooking, and the cleanup and all the attendant tasks, part of the process. The tree is guzzling water like a man who just crawled across the Sonora--shedding needles, too. We have the cutest little wren that visits. Don't know if she's a house wren, a winter wren or a Carolina wren. Could get out the bird book, I suppose. Goldfinches in droves on the thistle feeder. Love the winter birds.

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