I want you all to understand that we abuse these cats heartily, daily, and viciously. They have no recourse in their sad, pathetic little lives except to hide out in the dirty laundry.No, really. Click the photo for a larger version.

Two cats, one brain.  Click on the photo to get a larger version:

Usually we can tell which one of the brothers Fang possesses the brain at any given moment by his exhibition of intelligent behavior.  Whichever cat is awake generally has the brain.  Notable exception:  when Edmund wanders around the house yelling his kitty arias at the top of his lungs because Tenzing didn't want to play with him, dammit.

Edmund, most of the time, is too lazy to work up the effort to squeeze out a full-fledged meow, instead settling for a meaningful glance, occasionally laced with a whiskertwitch or two. Only when he is annoyed (defined as "my brother kitty will not play with me when I bite him on the ass") does he really feel the need to actually audibly voice his opinion. Today was no exception, but even without the vocalization, I got the point.

Upon showing Jody this photo of Tenzing… Jody: "Your cats are sluts." Me: "I know."

The last few days before a major trip are always incredibly hectic. The trips to the store are for items more and more random, the to-do list goes from general (make list of spices to take) to painfully specific (pick up the air mattress from Stephen because you forgot it today you nimwit). In the end I just want to whisper,
"are we there yet?"

Nope.

Lately it's been just - quiet.

I'm okay with that, I think; we've gotten past the rumble and bluster of dragon*con and birthday season, and suddenly here we are staring another set of holidays square in the face. The trees turn slower here than they do in Colorado; the deciduous trees of north Alabama are just now starting to color, and are nowhere near the yellow blaze of aspen that decorated every Colorado street corner in September.