1.

Clearly, I have been reduced to the reportage of idle bits of tid. I’m not sure if that makes me a bittler of tids or a tiddler of bits, but either option sounds, quite frankly, a little bit dirty.

2.

Speaking of bits of tid, and niblets, and little bits, and the like, look at who might be joining the ranks of Artichoke Heart’s House of Wayward Cats & Co. this week.

Can you stand it?

3.

Conversations With My Japanese Mother: Artichoke Heart’s House of Wayward Cats & Co. Special Edition:

JM: (Making throttling noises of disgust over the phone) Wuuchhhh! Why you so stupid like that? You already have too many Brat Cat. So out of control. You should give away one you already have to pound because you don’t know how to train properly. Such bad manner! Nobody can sit there quietly and have nice dinner party. Because you don’t punish. That Horrible Monster Cat try to poke me! I scream! Make me sick! Only good cat was one almost dead. He such well behave. Just lie there and sleep.

AH: Hee.

4.

Conversations With My Japanese Mother: Whole New Yoo Edition:

JM: I can’t wait to see you next time. I been so happy dreaming you going to be completely different. I been dreaming I going to see a whole new you!

AH: Whole new ewe? You mean like a sheep?

JM: No. Brand new. Whole new you!

AH: Whole new yew? You mean like a tree?

JM: (Louder. Because I’m obviously retarded.) No. New and improve! Whole new you!

AH: Um. Well, maybe I just won’t go, and you can pretend that someone else is me, and then think how happy you’ll be.

JM: Don’t be stupid.

5.

Apparently, an entomologist once accidentally spilled the merest bit of moth pheromone on his knee, and after that, he was forever marked. Moths would find him, and skitter and dance around his kneecap like a three-dimensional tattoo.

Whenever I think of this, I’m never sure if I want to be the marked one trailed by a cloud of moths, or if I want to be like one of the moths . . . so absolutely fixed in my certainty about who and what I wanted.

Those are for sure some tasty bits of tid.

How wonderful you are.

That kitten is seriously cute. Don't listen to mom.

That kitten is the cutest wayward bit of tid I've ever seen.

(Well, except for my own little tiddly kitbits. Who aren't so little. But I am contractually obligated to consider them cutest. But after THEM, your little guy is the cutest!)

I am so sad at the stories of your relationship with your mother. They may be necessary, and I deeply understand the stony impermeability of family.

Still, she loves you, in her own way. And you, her.

Will you be happier when she is gone? Or she, you? And if not, then ... ?

Niblet! Can't. Resist.

Oh and...

Sounds like you've read "How to train your cat to drive your mother crazy in 4 easy steps"

Brilliant! It's on my wishlist.

there is something BAD in me that wants to introduce The Evil Orlando to your mother. I don't have her photo on my blog yet, but I will, maybe tonight. I just don't have the photo that quite captures her yet. TEO I mean, not yr mom, who totally cracks me up.

The Evil Orlando would for real poke yr mom! She's a brat and ill behaved.

p.s. GET THE BLACK KITTY!

awwwww.
adorable.