Sunday morning.

Friends, Personal / Sunday, May 9th, 2004

I love Sunday mornings. I do not like the cold and rain that has fallen upon the WNY region, indefinitely. But I like the pretty wild violet looking flowers that Erin pointed out to me, scattered all over the lawn. I love the giant windows in the living room that look out to the pretty tree lined street. I very much enjoy rolling out of bed, pouring the coffee (adding Silk French Vanilla Soy Creamer) and stepping outside to find the paper on my steps. (I equally enjoy getting dressed and heading out for breakfast and reading the paper at the table. Although at home I get to watch Meet the Press- James and Mary are on, love them.) I do wish I had someone besides me encouraging me to stay cozy and safe under the blankets just a few minutes longer…but till then, my cats waking me up with little I’m hungry mews will do.

I weighed Simba Cat yesterday. He weighs between 17-18 pounds…and this is NOT with a big belly…one long muscular tom cat. Erin had a great idea. I could stand on the scale with Simba in my arms and then subtract the difference. 17 pounds of difference. My cats have adopted a weird habit of taking turns eating all the food in one dish and leaving the other one full. Weird. Sasha Kitten has a tendency to jump in the bathtub as soon as I get out…wet tub, dirty paws from sneaking into the basement…aaah. Perfect practice for kids.

Someday, I want to be told that I’m enchanting…

Erin did the craziest thing yesterday…we were both sitting on the couch in front of our huge curtainless window. I looked outside and saw a person standing at the edge of our driveway, as if they were waiting for a ride. Not two minutes later, our doorbell rings. The person is now at our front steps, book in hand…about 10 feet from uncovered window looking, plain view of two women sitting on the couch. I felt uncomfortable answering the door, only because I was still wearing my silky lilac pajamas and my dad’s old, old, old tattered bathrobe which does not close. I thought Erin would get the door…but instead? She sat there. “I’m not answering the door, it looks like they have a book in their hand.” So we sat there…and the person rang the doorbell one more time, waited a minute while we thought about ducking…then left. Balls of steel I tell you. Balls. Of Steel.

Speaking of Balls of Steel, Mary Matalin must have worn her husband out this morning, they are both a little subdued on the set of Meet the Press…I cannot cannot begin to imagine the spark that must ignite between these two behind closed doors, I bet they play footsies under the table. Sex and politics, oh the passion. Alright, alright they don’t talk about work at home….impossible…I bet every one of the children resulted from a punishing partisan squabble. And file this one in the I can’t believe I am saying this section, but subdued James with his shiny bald head and glasses…might be turning me on right now. This type gets me every time…but never James.

Whatcha talkin' bout Willis?