There's a New Pillow in Town, But I Can't Find the Garlic

We're at an interesting phase in Glenwood's development.  Her ear infection seems to be resolving (another visit to One Love is on for tomorrow), which may or may not be contributing to shifts in her energy and intellectual capacity.  She has utterly insane periods of the day, which are predictable:  the 5 am crazies, spurred I believe by the shadows and changing light as the sunrise starts, and the post-prandial crazies after breakfast and dinner (not that she eats, or eats in my presence, but symbolically).  She tears around the house, leaps on Timmy, meows endlesslly, runs across my desk, and generally stirs up the household.  Her meow is notably childlike.

In between periods of hysteria, I think she is mellowing.  She is more of a lap kitty, actually echoing her bathroom days, and is the fastest-to-purr cat I know.  One of my strategies to calm the early-morning crazies is to sit up in bed when I hear her on my desk, tell her to get down, and just keep staring at her while she stares at me.  For some inexplicable reason, if I stare long enough, she jumps off the desk and comes up to cuddle.  Instant purr.  That's good for maybe 20 minutes of rest.  And repeat.

So, the new pillow is a new battlefield and love nest.  Life is full of contradictions.  Here you go:

The garlic clove I bought a couple of days ago is just gone.  I've learned not to leave grape tomatoes on the counter, as they reappear in very bizarre locations and not always in great shape, but the garlic I hoped would survive.  What's so crazy is that I really, really looked for it, and the thought of where it might be makes me shudder.

Timmy's and Riley's previous mother, Emily, was in town from London last weekend, but unfortunately we couldn't schedule a good time to visit.  She wants to see Timmy, of course, and meet Glenwood.  I haven't seen Emily since Riley's death and there will be another layer of sadness.