Ramona's Mindless love:
"Mommy, I'm going to throw myself into your arms for no good reason!"
Ramona in the tub:
Me: Have you washed your hair yet?
Ramona: No. Nor do I want to.
He's far more trouble than he's worth, but we love him. Well, four of us love him. Atticus is indifferent. Currently, Mr. Putter has a sore that needs attention, and he'll be going to the vet tomorrow. We think this nasty sore is due to his allergies. I finally found a food that is not the exorbitantly priced vet-recommended allergy diet but has prevented him from breaking out, and now I can no longer find this food in my town. Sigh. Remind me again of the benefits of pets.
I am less bluzzy tonight, but I could still use a good twelve hours of sleep. I don't think I'll get it but I can dream. I have actually dreamt of sleep. Sleep is the stuff my dreams are made of. Make of that what you will.