Freedom and Determinism

Hey. It's me! Waiting for pathology in the offices of the world's tallest Mohs surgeon. I think this will be a quickie. But while I'm waiting, with a bandage on my face and a drippy nose, might as well catch up on the weekend.

It rained this weekend, which was glorious. The boy kitten thanked me for putting his favorite blanket on the sofa. Mrguy has been consulting Key Ideas in Human Thought, one of our best pre-Internet reference sources.

Saturday was Irish genealogy club day. Two hours of good times, hints, things to pursue. 

And then, a little jaunt with the rev. We went for a rainy ride and some hot tea in Sugar City, where mrguy and I got married. That's her fetching elbow on the right, and the bridge in the distance on the left. We drove past the old old place. They've painted it blue. In the window? One of the many neighborhood cats in windows in that town that are distantly related to our old cat, nose. Nose and eyes were, themselves, spawn of a neighborhood ragdoll, mrbrownballs. We didn't get nose until we moved into the house next door to this one, so it's nice that it's now populated with one of his mishpocheh.

Speaking of which, Sunday was a bagel and lox feast at the house of that nice guy's brother. We got to talk a little bit by ourselves, but mostly the day was spent in stories of their close-knit community. They were so lucky to have one another, and it seems like that nice guy's mom was one of the neighborhood's adhesives. She drove the kids, she edited the newsletter, she was the person who connected and networked, before that word existed. I wish I'd known her better, which is the desired achievement of every memorial.

Her friend had a psychic connection with the livingroom carpet.

The spreads were divine. I even ate my first chopped liver.

And now...we wait.