It's Sunday and I'm not wasn't upset about it.

You know how normally I hate Sundays? Well, my house is not only reasonably neat and tidy but the bird is entertaining herself on the curtain rod. And look at those gorgeous blue flight feathers beginning to loosen and moult on her wings so she can grow a whole new unclipped set!

My brother named the turtle after the main character in this book to commemorate New Orleans as it was. I was thinking about why the turtle we had as a child, also named by G, stuck around the way that he did and I came to the conclusion that a) he was originally a pet store turtle that someone had dumped outside so he was already in the habit of looking to people for food and b) we kept him in the house that first winter. So, I decided I can be a house turtle for the winter. I fixed him some stations around the house so he can hide from the dogs and bought him a fullspectrum sun light (also good for the bird), a bin full of cypress mulch and some fat, juicy nightcrawlers.



And the dogs, what do they think about all of this? They seem content just to have the couch/bed to lie on in the living room.

I told CPG last night that we didn't need so much to figure out which city to live in as we need to find a nice zoo to buy.

And how are things going on that front? I'm not really sure. Okay, I think. I mean, I still very much feel the same way. It's just complicated with the two cities and we can hardly keep up the pace we had going before. We still talk every day. We're just in another holding pattern until I manage to go visit him in the big city and it sucks. If we didn't live so far apart we could hang out and read the paper and be horified about the devastation in New Orleans and how just absolutely dreadfully this administration has been in its response to it and how desperately unfair it is that the head moron gets to appoint not one but TWO new justices. And we could make a harness for the bird, feed the turtle some worms and play frisbee with the dogs and I would make bacon and pancakes.

Instead, I don't know what his plans for the day are. I was feeling bouyant until I typed that last paragraph. I had decided not to blog about Katrina or Renquist. There are so many other bloggers who do it so much better there really seems no point for me to step outside of my frivolous, self-absorbed blox.