Is it just me, or are the days just flying by? I can’t believe it’s Saturday already. It’s the book-reading demon‘s birthday today, so we’re celebrating with dinner out. Despite his new reading habits, he’s not getting bookish gifts this year—I’m not very good about remembering things like birthdays or anniversaries (both mine and other people’s), and didn’t realize until Wednesday that his birthday was on the weekend. So it was a mad dash to find some time to do some gift shopping, once with Dylan and then once by myself. No time for a leisurely browse through the bookstore, either physically or online. He’s getting clothes and cooking magazines instead.
My daughter Hayley is the producer and director of photography (DOP) of the short film JOY, which will be premiering at the RUFF (Ryerson University Film Festival) on May 1. This year RUFF will be screening at Ryerson Theatre, a larger venue that also screens TIFF films. Very exciting stuff!
It is such a sad sight to behold whenever one of our cats has to wear the so-called “cone of shame”. Both of them get so depressed when they have to wear the cone, and I can’t blame them, as they lose their ability to perceive through their whiskers, which they count on a lot for day-to-day kitty navigation through the world.
Unfortunately though, I’m not the only one coming down with the itchies around here. Hobbes began scratching at both his ears last week (vet says it’s allergies from the seasonal change in weather—apparently he sees a lot of this among pets at this time of the year. Another who knew? thing for me). The resulting sores ended up getting infected, so now he’s on antibiotics and steroids. We had to put the cone on him the first day to stop him from scratching more.
This is him looking down sadly at me the whole time I was working on Thursday night. He never sits facing that direction on normal days, but of course he had to remind me how sad he was. When he wasn’t moping around on the back of my office chair, that is.
Luckily he’s healing up quickly. We put the nasty cone back in the cupboard, where hopefully it won’t be needed again.