Yeah. When I said you wouldn't hear from me for a few days, I just meant because I'd be too depressed to write anything funny. I wasn't planning on going to Michigan. Although I would like to get back there again soon.
So I am still too depressed to write anything funny, but I figured I'd write an unfunny post, because why should this be different from any other day?
My uncle has stabilized, but I feel weird about splaying all the details of his illness all over the Internet. Seems like it's not my place to say.
At any rate, I obsessed over my photos until I finally found one of Uncle Jim where you could actually see him. I started wondering why I haven't taken more pictures of him, but I figured it was because he has always been around, like clouds or grass or Jerry Lewis. You don't think about taking pictures of stuff that's always there. You just take it for granted.
Okay, I'm no Diane Arbus. It's out of focus, but it was in a dark reception hall at his son's wedding. Still, it captures his handsomeness. He is next to my mother, who will be annoyed that I cropped her out of the picture.
I also found this picture while I was poring over my photos:
Let's not only celebrate the in-focus stylings of my photography skills in the Uncle Jim photo, but let's all take a moment to appreciate my equally abundant photo cropping skills, as evidenced by my nice left-hand corner in this picture.
At any rate, I do not know why I was feeding Mr. Horkheimer a gallon of vodka lo those many (three) years ago when poor Hork was still alive. Perhaps this explains his demise. I do like my earnest expression, like feeding vodka to the cat is a serious matter.
Anyway, in all this sadness and gloom and drunk felineness that is my life, I know it has been many days since you have witnessed my current feline, which sounded kind of dirty, so without further ado I bring you more Henry pictures.
Despite appearances to the contrary, Henry does not spend all his time on the couch. I just only have the camera when he's on the couch, is what I think it is. He is usually playing in that sideways-spider-kitty way that kittens play. All. the. time.
But as you can see, Winston is over his initial hostility and even Francis has allowed him to eat from the big-cat dish and has stopped hissing, mostly because whenever Francis hissed at the kitten, Tallulah ran over and acted rabid and showed all her teeth and basically scared the pee out of Francis, which works for me.
Okay, my intellectually stimulating Star Magazine is calling my name. And my name is Shallow.