Beignet was limbering up with a good long stretch, front legs thrust forward and butt high in the air. It felt really good I'm sure, although I don't practice the move myself. I tend to qigong rather than yoga.
Uma Maya was on duty high atop the cat tree surveying her domain and making sure that everyone was cued and ready for the day. Abbie Hoffman, I suppose, was high atop the kitchen cabinets to make sure he was no where near Uma.
Uma Maya was on duty high atop the cat tree surveying her domain and making sure that everyone was cued and ready for the day. Abbie Hoffman, I suppose, was high atop the kitchen cabinets to make sure he was no where near Uma.
In short, all was as it should be. How any household can function without at least a dozen or so cats is beyond me. I'll bet Napoleon kept cats.
"Good morning, Ms Wonder," I said, and then after taking a quick glance out the open window, "It's a beautiful day."
"The bluebird?" she said.
"On my shoulder," I said.
"The sun?" she said.
"High in the sky," I said, "or fairly highish, and bright certainly."
"Clouds?" she asked.
"Puffy and cotton white," I said.
"Cumulus humilis," she said or something that sounded like it.
"You're joking," I said. "Do refer to the clouds and a newly discovered variety of early human?"
"The clouds," she said, "They take their name from the latin cumulo meaning heap or pile."
"Now I know you're putting me on. A pile of clouds? This is one of your practical jokes, isn't it? You're going to run me up and down the flagpole a few times this morning."
"I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing," she said, "I learned about clouds in my aviation weather class. Cumuli are part of a larger class of clouds know as cumuliform, which includes stratocumulus, cumulonimbus, cirrocumulus and altocumulus."
"My grandmother's name was Alta," I said.
"I misspoke," she said, "I meant to say alto. Alto-cumulus."
"Oh, sorry," I said.
"Not at all," she said.
A moment of silence passed. A moment not unlike the silence that reigns on stage when one of the actors in a community play forgets the next line.
"Poopsie?"
"Still here," she said.
"Do you know everything?" I said.
"Certainly not," she said.
"Well, then you have a sticky brain, much like the sticky brain that my friend Mumps has. By the way, did you say aviation weather? You actually took a class in aviation weather?"
"Hmmm," she said.
Another moment of silence passed, one much like the first.
"Poopsie, are you, or were you ever, a fighter pilot?"
"Beg your pardon," she said with a laugh, "did you say pirate?"
"I did not say pirate and you know it but that was the funniest part of the play wasn't it?"
I probably don't need to tell you that we had gone off-topic with this reference to the play but we had seen the Durham Savoyard's presentation of the Pirates of Penzance recently and it was still entertaining us two weeks later.
"I really enjoyed the sergeant major," she said.
"You mean the major general," I said.
"Are you sure? Didn't he sing 'I am the very model of a modern sergeant major?'"
I raised a hand. I yield to no one in my enjoyment of the works of Gilbert and Sullivan and I could easily discuss these Pirates all day, but we were on a hot topic and I didn't want it to cool.
"One moment, Poopsie," I said.
"Yes," she said.
"Just one moment."
The third period of silence passed. It was beginning to look like a big morning for moments of silence.
"What were we talking about before we jumped the rails?" I said.
"You were saying that it's a beautiful day," she said.
"So it is," I said. "The snail is on the throne and all's right with the world."
"The snail is on the thorn," she said. "It's God who's sitting on the throne."
"Ah, yes, that's right," I said, "Sorry, honest mistake."
"Not at all," she said.
"Did you say, pilot or pirate?" I said. But she only winked and then another one of those silences filled the empty space.
"Good morning, Ms Wonder," I said, and then after taking a quick glance out the open window, "It's a beautiful day."
"The bluebird?" she said.
"On my shoulder," I said.
"The sun?" she said.
"High in the sky," I said, "or fairly highish, and bright certainly."
"Clouds?" she asked.
"Puffy and cotton white," I said.
"Cumulus humilis," she said or something that sounded like it.
"You're joking," I said. "Do refer to the clouds and a newly discovered variety of early human?"
"The clouds," she said, "They take their name from the latin cumulo meaning heap or pile."
"Now I know you're putting me on. A pile of clouds? This is one of your practical jokes, isn't it? You're going to run me up and down the flagpole a few times this morning."
"I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing," she said, "I learned about clouds in my aviation weather class. Cumuli are part of a larger class of clouds know as cumuliform, which includes stratocumulus, cumulonimbus, cirrocumulus and altocumulus."
"My grandmother's name was Alta," I said.
"I misspoke," she said, "I meant to say alto. Alto-cumulus."
"Oh, sorry," I said.
"Not at all," she said.
A moment of silence passed. A moment not unlike the silence that reigns on stage when one of the actors in a community play forgets the next line.
"Poopsie?"
"Still here," she said.
"Do you know everything?" I said.
"Certainly not," she said.
"Well, then you have a sticky brain, much like the sticky brain that my friend Mumps has. By the way, did you say aviation weather? You actually took a class in aviation weather?"
"Hmmm," she said.
Another moment of silence passed, one much like the first.
"Poopsie, are you, or were you ever, a fighter pilot?"
"Beg your pardon," she said with a laugh, "did you say pirate?"
"I did not say pirate and you know it but that was the funniest part of the play wasn't it?"
I probably don't need to tell you that we had gone off-topic with this reference to the play but we had seen the Durham Savoyard's presentation of the Pirates of Penzance recently and it was still entertaining us two weeks later.
"I really enjoyed the sergeant major," she said.
"You mean the major general," I said.
"Are you sure? Didn't he sing 'I am the very model of a modern sergeant major?'"
I raised a hand. I yield to no one in my enjoyment of the works of Gilbert and Sullivan and I could easily discuss these Pirates all day, but we were on a hot topic and I didn't want it to cool.
"One moment, Poopsie," I said.
"Yes," she said.
"Just one moment."
The third period of silence passed. It was beginning to look like a big morning for moments of silence.
"What were we talking about before we jumped the rails?" I said.
"You were saying that it's a beautiful day," she said.
"So it is," I said. "The snail is on the throne and all's right with the world."
"The snail is on the thorn," she said. "It's God who's sitting on the throne."
"Ah, yes, that's right," I said, "Sorry, honest mistake."
"Not at all," she said.
"Did you say, pilot or pirate?" I said. But she only winked and then another one of those silences filled the empty space.