Paul Newman's Eyes, The Bones Of The Mastodon

Feeling dreamy this morning and I dreamed of Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward last night probably because of two things: scallops and cat food. My camera didn't work, it had water in it, so I didn't get a picture of those pretty blue eyes, as blue as scallop eyes, of the man whose name is now on spaghetti sauce, cookies, and cat food.
"All profits go too charity."
Pretty simple philosophy and Maurice does like his pates for kitties.

Speaking of which, she is well. Very well, constantly hungry, being a cat, lounging about, always on alert even with her eyes closed.

Now she has gone to check out the birds on the feeder.
Oh, Maurice.

I think I am going to do something with these boys and their mama today.

I ordered a cast cover for Gibson last night so that he can more easily bathe and perhaps even get in the pool. We shall see. I don't know what we're going to do together but something to get Gibson out of the house and it's hard because it's so hot and buggy outside and the mall is just boring and stupid and we don't have an aquarium. Maybe the museum. We can push him around in the stroller and gaze up at the mastodon skeleton, pretend to pilot the riverboat.

But first a walk, make my way out of this dreamy land I'm in, struggle softly through it like a newmade moth from the silk curtains of the cocoon.

Good morning.
Happy Friday.
Love...Ms. Moon