I'm going to spend the time I would ordinarily take to write an entry tonight and finish moving my archives from Diaryland instead. If time permits (and the Harps don't run out), perhaps I'll update the Gallery and the About page as well.

If you'd like to read something while I slave away (and remember that I do it for you, for all of you), you're welcome to revisit last year's experience with St. Patrick, the Patron Saint of Boozy Losers. I know it's a rerun, but remember, it's the only entry I ever wrote that contains the C word. (Take note. That will be on the quiz.)

Oh! And before I go, here's the Reward Kitty! We met today over at the Lake Shore Something or Other No Kill Shelter and while I have to wait until next week to pick him up, I have a picture. He fell asleep while I petted him. Now, that's crack to a dorky girl like me.

The naming of cats is a difficult matter,
It isn't just one of those holiday games:
You may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have three different names.

His name at the home for wayward kitties is Simba, but his new first name will be Sascha (after the contest winner). I threw the Joe in there because he sort of looks like a Joe. Good old Joe. Plus, I had to butch up those two fembo names. 

Sascha Joe Simba