Yowling at the Crack of Dawn

[I fed my niece with the bottle last night for the first time. Damn, you really have to shove that thing in there. She gulped it right down with nary a drip. But, no, listen...she really is the cutest, smartest baby ever born. Her eyes are this gorgeous dark blue...lapis lazuli, perhaps? Fussy, though. Maybe she'll be an opera singer.]

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[This heatwave in San Francisco is something else again. We just don't get high 70s in November. We're all joking about global warming, but it feels like whistling in the dark...or in the light.]

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[Chris has been housesitting at this spectacular pre-earthquake flat in Ashbury Heights for the last three weeks. It ends this weekend, and I think we're both ready. While the original wood panelling and stained-glass, the modern kitchen and cookware, the cable TV, et al., have been great, the minuses have begun to wear.]

[The householders have two adorable little cats. The older one, a boy, climbs up on me and kneads my fat and purrs. The younger is a little rascally female who eats the butter if you leave it open on the kitchen counter. I grew up with cats, cats get me, I get them. Cats are fine.]

[I want to kill these cats. The householders must be masochists who go to OrganicWholeWheatGreenTeaYogaPilates or some crap before the crack of dawn, because these cats have been trained to starting yowling for food at four o'clock in the morning. Their yowling (I think the younger cat is the prime culprit) is the Essence of Yowling, not to mention Torture, especially when one has A. Slight. Hangover.]

[The cats, the fact that it's really not Chris's place, the hike up the hill; all of it means...yeah, I'm glad it's about over.]

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[Putting the "'mo" back in "emo": Just sayin' (And no, they're not gay, but who really cares? They're cute, they're local, and they sing a song about going to Lake Berryessa.)]

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