Getting home late from a historical event, my first-ever photoshoot.
Yes, it's true, I'm giving up the freelance writing/editing dream for modeling.
Once the guffawing stops, I'll continue.
Oh, OK, I don't have time to wait, it's past bedtime. Will save the wrapup thoughts about that for tomorrow: short version, I need a professional headshot.... One other comment: the photographer was amazing and awesome and great (and so is her shy dog, Max -- I found the canine equivalent of Sucio!), so if any Bostonites ever need a photographer.... I'll get links to her stuff tomorrow.
To rewind, here are a few notes from the morning:
One of the gatos barfed on my (stupid) parking ticket. One of the rare times gato barf pleases me. If I could barf on command, maybe I'd add to it.
So, gatos. They seem to be cyclical in their interactions and in who gets possession of what. Right now, Willa's got the bed again. And Sucio isn't hanging out with us at night. Which means the couch is awash in Sucio fur -- it's like an extension of him, really. He's even parked his little security-blanket bag of catnip on there (this melts me).
I'm parked on the couch for my morning writing, and am rewarded with furry bookending -- there was even tandem purring for a bit. Best coworkers ever, I gotta say. It's true, they never have any good gossip, but they're nearly always adorable. And I can kiss them freely with no worries about any harassment claims.
A good find: I fit into my orange shorts. I forget I own them every year, until warmth makes me go digging. We set a record yesterday with 90 degrees, it's low 60s today, but just scabbing-over knees prefer fresh air. No boxing tonight, picture taking (gaaaaaaaaa), so they more time to heal before they get more action.
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