We begin last night, with another attempt at photographing Stella. I swear, she poses just so to get her eyes blocked by the cage bars.
They look so sweet toether, don't they? Isn't Toeffe being nice to his sister? Ha. He very slowly and deliberately bit her on the back and got booted off the desk a few seconds after I took this. (Also starring Ken's finger. Isn't it a nice finger?)
It's hard being the cat. You are forced to sleep on warm, freshly washed shirts.
Antenna topper I passed on the way in to work.
Cubeland is freshly decorated for the holidays. What can I say, the octopus was 30% off.
Co-worker's sickly plant. I don't suppose anyone knows what it is? Don't tell me it's a croton. I can smell lies. (There's a bulletin board where I regularly ask this kind of question, but every time it turns out to be yet another variety of croton. Now I'm too embarrassed to ask.) But the plant isn't doing well, and it would help if I knew what it was. Although it is not, well, my plant, I make a habit of keeping other people's stuff alive. Like this sad little plant, which I
That about sums up San Diego in December. It was cold and rainy today, and... the leaves were turning. I think this is called October in most of the rest of the country.
On the way back from lunch.
I love shallow depth of field.
No prizes for guessing the locale.
I was struck mostly by the tons of locust leaves on the ground, but the lighting of this shot is kind of fun too. This was on the walk to the bus stop after work.
So then I got home and put together this little wooden cube, which is supposed to SOLVE ALL MY ORGANIZATIONAL PROBLEMS, especially when it comes to the crap that always accumulates next to my side of the bed. Feline presence in far-too-small space is, as usual, entirely voluntary and achieved with no human assistance.
Ah, that looks more comfortable.