So. Last night, when I went off to Tribeca for the Gloryhound & the Skyhawks show, I was not by myself. No, I didn't have my brother with me, or in fact anyone else human. Rather, I was accompanied by an escort of nine cats.

Not real cats, obviously. (Although imagine them all lined up on the bar, with their tails wrapped around their toes!) In fact, I was wearing the cat sweater I referred to in a previous post, because there are a couple of knitters among the usual suspects and I thought they might find the sweater funny. Mission accomplished. Although I think we can agree that my mother had to have a lot of skill to create something that silly!

( But wait! There's more! And not about knitting! )

At which point most folks didn't look all that eager to leave, but I figured my nine cats and I had had sufficient fun for one evening, so we came along home.

...if we get through the conference this spring without me turning into a raving dipsomaniac, it will be a miracle.

And now I'm off.