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Today was going to be one of those catch up days. I had planned to be at the garage when they opened in order to get an oil change for the car. When I woke up however I was so tired I thought I would just rest a few minutes longer. I woke up an hour later.

By the time I got there cars packed the small drive area. I waited at the service desk. They know me so well there I don’t have to give them any info. “Don’t suppose I can have it done while I wait?” I queried.  “Sorry, no. pretty busy already but we can have it for you this afternoon.” I thanked the chief and called my true blue brother for a lift. I waited out front and was glad I had brought a jacket. It was sprinkling! Now if only it would rain.

On the way home I realized I had not brought a house key with me. “Oh but I left the side door open,” I said.  ‘No, it’s locked,” said Robert. “I brought back your crock pot this morning while you were out and locked the door on the way out.” So I stopped by his place to get my extra key.

Next on the list was the post office. I send out a newsletter for some friends and needed about 125 stamps. When I got to the post I realized that today is Columbus Day. The post is closed. I wasn’t the only one standing there with a disappointed look. I went over to the stamp vending machine to see what I could do. They didn’t have any rolls of stamps but I could buy books. “Well, that will do,” I thought. But then you could only buy 3 books at a time and I needed about 9. In the end I had to use three different credit/debit cards to make the purchase. While I stood at the side table stamping my letters dozens of disappointed people came in. “Is it a holiday today?” “Is the post closed on Mondays?” “Is it closed all day?” “Oh, I forgot.” “Well, that’s that,” they said.

From there I went home to mow the lawn. Walking up the drive way I saw a little face peering out between the sheer curtains of the living room. Sammy was perched on the back of the sofa staring out. But there was something different about her. I looked more closely as I came up the walk. She had something all over her head. What was it? When I came in I went over to her and took a look. She was covered in cobwebs. Emmaline’s fur was dirty and her paws black. “Now where have you two been?” I wondered. I went to the kitchen and checked the pantry door to the garage. Robert had left it ajar when he brought back the crock pot and these two adorables had been rummaging around in the dusty garage getting cobwebs all over themselves.

Tonight I found Em scratching her chin on the velcro strip of my arm band.

Books are a special item around here. I collect them about me even though there is no space for them.

When my cousin died two years ago he left a collection of small books. We gave away a good number of them at the time but I still have about 200 tiny classics and other volumes. I decided to try to find a new owner for them. (no success yet)

Emmaline, never one to miss out on anything, couldn’t decide what she liked better: rubbing on the books or inserting herself in what was left of this partially empty tray.

Can you tell who is about to get a surprise?

Sam is a very fast cat but she cannot always get away from Em. Sometimes I turn my head just in time to see Em sail through mid air, over a chair, after Sammy.

A couple of days ago I saw Em walking on her hind legs holding a button in her front paws. I wonder how long they will entertain like this before they get old and sleepy.

Happened to stop by the pet store last week on a day when they were showing kittens.

I was able to resist, but just barely.

This morning I decided to walk up the street to get a few pics of the work projects going on in the neighborhood. My brother and mother were returning from their customary early morning hike/walk/run up the great hill and back and called to me.

Apparently a little black cat had taken up residence in their backyard and Mom wanted to know what to do with it. My brother ran up to my house to get some kibble while I looked for the cat in the back yard.

There she was curled up under a rose bush. I crouched down and called to her. She immediately ran out and rubbed against me. When presented with a few kibble she hastily ate them. Mom said, “I am sorry to leave you with her but I have company coming.” “Oh, no problem Mom,” I said. “I”ll figure out something.”

Actually I didn’t know what to do either but “Dolly” (as Nikki dubbed her) followed me up the street to my house and had a good breakfast.

I decided to read and do some sketches outside but it was somewhat difficult with Dolly on my lap. Wherever I walked she followed. Then I went in for a few hours. When I came out—no Dolly. Hmmm. She was so very thin. I felt bad for her.

When Nikki came home we went outside to look for her. I called and called and then walked to the side gate, there she was. She trotted right into the back garden again for a 2 course dinner, rolled around on the patio and chased a stick in the grass.

After dinner Nikki went out to read on the porch. I peeked out the window and saw Dolly sitting on Nikki’s lap purring up a storm, rubbing her head on Nikki’s chin. We are going to try to find her owners but it is hard to locate the owner of “a black cat”!

Some time ago, an online discussion at a rose forum covered the topic of fertilizing with fish emulsion, a product made with fish oil/meal that can smell quite pungent. Someone commenting on that post mistakenly thought the term was “fish emotion” (“emotion” does sound a little bit like “emulsion” I guess).  The mistake made me laugh at the time, but the name stuck and I’m still referring to the stinky stuff as “fish emotion.”

Two weeks ago my Dad sprayed a load of weed killer behind the fence where Mom’s roses grow, trying to kill a gargantuan weed. Needless to say her beautiful roses immediately looked sick. Nikki suggested a dose of fish emulsion.

I mixed some emulsion in the watering can and began applying it to the sick roses. Somehow my foot got caught in a pile of bark and a load of fish emulsion splashed over my left hand, arm, watch, and clothes. Rats. I now smell like fish.

Once home I thoroughly washed off and cleaned my watch as best I could. I decided to go out and sprinkle some fertilizer on our plants as well. This time, spraying the water into the watering can, I misjudged the strength of the spray and it splashed out all over my ankles and good leather sandals. Rats. I smell like so much more fish.

The cats noticed it immediately when I came into the house — they clamored around me, following every step I took, falling over each other to jump on me, meowing, and hankering after my here-to-fore uninteresting sandals.

The telling of the story later that night sent my parents into paroxysms of laughter — especially since we continued to call the stuff “fish emotion.”