Yummy's owner, Dakota, not looking very happy with the flash on the camera.  

Yummy still being cute.  

Yummy being cute.  

Huh.

I quite possibly can claim that I have seen it all. Today, while driving, I spotted the ultimate in do-it-yourself creative, possibly bordering on suicidal, ways to handle a malfunctioning air conditioner. The car in front of me had installed, I shit you not, a ceiling fan on the, well, ceiling of the car. Complete with three flower shaped lights.

Ghettofied? Yeah. I'd say so.

It was also running. The driver, a hopefully already short woman, was crouching to avoid being hit by the rotating fan blades. This is one of those things it is hard to wrap your mind around. But it was certainly very interesting. I wished she hadn't tinted her windows quite so much, but I am certain of what I saw.

Now that's what I call a custom job.

moving

Moving in a few months to begin one of those elusively seductive MFA programs, where I will be lavished by the ocean breeze. Okay, more likely it will be one of those cases where I won't make it to the beach until February and then it will be a frozen spray of ocean mist. I can't complain. The program is amazing, and the town should be as well.

I am still in the phase of fantasy about this endeavor, where the stipend will be enough to live on, the students I'll be teaching will all be brilliant, and I'll find an apartment with a management company who will be only to thrilled to welcome me, my two dogs, my four cats, my two birds and my cat's pet gerbil Yummy into their community.

I never should have agreed to let my cat have a gerbil. It's the gerbil that will put me over.