There’s been a little radio silence around here, both on the blog and on the podcast. (I’d hopped to have a new episode up by this week but the essay isn’t gelling the way I’d like. So if you have anything you would like to share on the subject of typewriters in film or on television, drop me a line.) On the one hand, life has been happening and there hasn’t been a lot of time to write, but on the other, it’s mostly boring every day stuff (Work. Knit. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.) and didn’t seem worth posting about.

Today Missouri and I went house hunting, checking out several condos that fit into our budget. Now we’re just trying to decide which is the best for us, and if we want to try proceeding within the next month or if we’re better off waiting a few extra weeks, though that puts us closer to the unpredictable-but-always-crappy weather that passes for winter in central Ohio. The one we both liked the best was actually the handyman special that needed the most work…more work that we could afford. The other three are all basically clones of each other in the same subdivision. We’ll see how it goes.

But that’s not the new addition I was referring to.

Meet Athena. She came home with me this afternoon. A good friend found her on the side of the road (after nearly turning her into a kitty pancake). Since no one else would take her and said friend is allergic, I took her. She’s a feisty little thing and already is standing up to our labradors. Hermes, however, is less than amused. He seems to think she’s a Devil Cat, and hisses and runs away every time he sees her. Even though she’s usually hiding from him and roughly the size of his head. Right now he’s camped out under the kitchen table staring at the laundry room door, waiting for her to make her move so he can attack. Meanwhile, Athena is napping on a shelf, completely worn out by her new surroundings.

Hermes and I had a long talk about the proper way to treat one’s younger siblings. I told him that violence is unacceptable, as are excorcisms (since that’s what it usually looks like he’s trying to do). He told me I’m an only child and am therefore inexperienced on these matters, and that bloodshed is a normal part of family bonding.

…It’s a work in progress.



Hermes is not amused.(That’s one of my typewriter covers he’s hiding under, by the way.)