The Sisters fixate on the darndest things.  Last week it was killer underground volcanoes and this week it’s glass.  And water.  It fascinates the Sisters no end that glass is liquid.  Except it’s not.  No one looking at or touching glass thinks it’s liquid.  It’s hard and does not fall into a puddle in the window frame.  However, after centuries, the glass at the bottom of the window is fatter than the glass at the top of the window.  Ed insists this is correct having worked on 200+-year-old homes.

The Sisters:  Did you measure it or eye-ball it?

Ed: I’m not having this discussion with the two of you.  The last time we discussed scientific facts I was afraid to go to sleep that night thinking you’d found a way to obtain activated plutonium.  (Dear FBI – we have not.)

The Sisters:  Fine.  We have questions about water but we’re not going to ask you, Ed!  We’re going to ask Amy’s husband.  (That’ll teach him . . . )

It turns out that Amy’s husband doesn’t take our calls anymore.  We got this text: Just talked to Ed.  No opinion on water or liquid glass for that matter.

Here’s what we really want to know:  Forgetting evaporation – If you put water in a glass and wait 500 years are you left with a pool of water?  Or a really short squaty glass with water in it?  We need to know.

So I saw this and I thought it looked exactly like Ava and I. Imagine if either of us was the raccoon and that kitten was virtually any baby animal.

All we want to do it touch it, touch it, touch it. And kiss it. And maybe give its ear a little nibble. Honestly, we can’t help ourselves.

On that note, I thought you’d all enjoy a new picture of the best dressed kitty in THE ENTIRE WORLD. I finally took off the green bow he’d been wearing since Valentine’s Day. It was getting a bit threadbare, but I waited until I found the perfect collar for him. Does my most handsome boy look good in a checked bow tie or what?

The Sisters really, really loved Frozen. We love that the sisters save each other and the boys were really only helpful on the fringe. Yea, girl power.

We also really, really love Breaking Bad.

How could we not really love this?

So much boredom.

There was a guy in from corporate today (Monday) so we had to put away all our toys and pretend like we have 8 hours of work every day.

The first six hours weren’t so bad until we realized it was only 10:00.

It was agony. I have the first two discs of Breaking Bad’s final season sitting at my desk. There are five jigsaw puzzles waiting to be assembled. No one’s hair was curled. No fingernails were painted. I didn’t even work on my own laptop so no real writing got done.

It was awful.

And we get to do it all over again on Tuesday.

We’ll probably all slip quietly into comas.

So. Did you see that huge cloud of negativity hovering over the Southwestern desert this weekend. It was because I had to have new headshots taken.

Riiiiiiight

As far as I can see, this is the biggest problem with success in publishing. People seem to want a photo of you. That whole idea fills me with stomach roiling anxiety. I know you think I’m exaggerating, but I’m not. The only thing worse than having my picture taken would be if I had to have it done with a spider. Honest to Zeus, that would probably kill me.

Ava tried to make it better for me by finding artistic pictures we could try to copy. Pictures like this of Meryl Streep or this one by Julia Roberts. As much as she tried to help, this made things worse. Sweet Jesus, look who I have to try to emulate here. The only thing Julia and I have in

Yeah, this was gonna happen

common is red hair, and even then, she wears it much better than me. Hold on a second, I have to go throw up.

I’m back.

So we struggled to find a photographer which, through no fault of our own, was much harder than it had to be. We finally lit on a lovely lady who did a good job considering what she had to work with. More on that later.

We made a hair and makeup appointment. We hardly even made ourselves a nuisance at the salon since I was so freaked out I couldn’t even muster some good sarcasm. Ava had no wing man for any of her volleys.

We brought props. None of which we really used after all. One was sunglasses – see Meryl. We have a few in those. I assure you I DO NOT look like Meryl in them, but they were handy because it was super bright out. Super bright and WINDY. WTF, Nature? We also brought a gray cable knit sweater – see Julia. I will assure you that one reason I do not look anything like Julia in them was that it was 98 degrees outside and I was in a turtleneck. The reason she’s probably pulling that thing away from her face wasn’t to be artistic. It was probably because she was quickly melting. I assure you I was. MEEEEEEEELTING. That made me testy. Sorta like the Wicked Witch of the West. Undoubtedly, the similarities didn’t end there. I’m sure you can imagine how pleasant I was during the whole ordeal as I’ve already explained my anxiety, heat level and even my general contentiousness on a good day.

I brought a top hat. I thought it was whimsical. Turns out it was stupid. Ava brought a cool Frank Sinatra kinda hat. It was stupid, too. There was a tea-cup that went unused and a laptop that never made its presence known either.

Lovely Photographer took 168 photographs. We found 10 that don’t make we want to jump off a bridge. Lovely Photographer will Photoshop them and hopefully remove all the ugly. Then we’ll see what we end up with.

All I know is, I’m never, never doing this again.

Ever.

Since Ava gave you an example the other day of how she’s crazy, I thought I would do the same.

I have conversations with people who aren’t there. Not in a I see dead people sort of way. I have conversations with people I know in anticipation of seeing them later. Sadly, I’m often angry at that person and the conversation I’m having with them is often in the form of a fight.

So, let’s recap. I’m having arguments with people who aren’t there. And getting increasingly angry about it.

Sometimes this happens in dreams. I’ll wake up after a dream where I’ve been mad at my husband. I will still be angry when I see him later. FOR NO

These are intended to make you feel less INSANE

REASON. I realize this is TOTALLY irrational, but I can’t help it.

This morning at the Bank of No Forks our usual security guard had some court thing so his boss came for the beginning of his shift. I need to disclose that I can not stand this man. I don’t know why, exactly. He just rubs me the wrong way. It may have stemmed from an episode wherein he gave me unsolicited dieting advice. The man is at least 300 pounds. I don’t want to hear shit from him. Look at me, I’m getting all irritated all over again.

So let me set up today’s scene. We’re having a potluck at work for no particular reason.  I had three grocery bags, a paper bag with a giant salad bowl and tongs, a dozen daffodils, my computer bag and my monster purse. That’s a lot of crap to haul across the parking lot. As I was pulling into my spot I started working into an imaginary fight. I just KNEW that lazy bastard wasn’t going to open the door for me, so I started writing the dialogue of our fight.

By the time I reached the sidewalk, the dressing down I was going to give him was EPIC.  The man would be crying when I was done with him.  I couldn’t wait. I was absurdly excited. Adrenaline was making me jumpy.

And then the asshole opened the door.

Sigh.

Many of these cats sport an expression that says, “Go away, you bother me.”