Glad: It's What's For Thursday

In order to counteract yesterday's "Bitter: It's What's For Wednesday", I thought I should make a list of 29 things that I like.

I like:

  • the new kitten we now have since last night after a couple of friends and I kidnapped it from a guy who was trying to sell it for beer money. I am shooting for the names Doris or Lloyd, because the Palinode's suggestion of Beef Texan just doesn't fly with me.
  • hot coffee with hazelnut flavoured cream.
  • turquoise Post-its.
  • remembering that orange grove in California that we stopped at when I was eight and the tiny, orange kitten that tried to come away with us in our station wagon.
  • the following horrible slang term for women's breasts: sweater meat.
  • Maidenform brassieres.
  • watching gophers stuff their faces with tufts of grass with which to make their underground nests.
  • how the strong smell of Compound W makes my apartment smell temporarily like a factory. Vive le prolétariat!
  • the kind of wind that flattens the treetops but does not touch the ground.
  • rootbeer popsicles.
  • the Palinode's voice over the telephone. He used to do voiceover narration when his ex-employer needed a Distinguished Older Gentleman voice.
  • the world greening in spring.
  • the heater under my desk that is presently keeping my ankles toasty.
  • my special paperclip collection.
  • pigeons.
  • Miranda July's movie "Me and You and Everyone We Know". I think I am all of those people.
  • new sponges in multi-colour packs.
  • chickens, which I dreamt were made of pressed spinach last night.
  • dirigibles.
  • vintage post-mortem photography. Something about the passivity of the deceaseds' faces and the expressions of their family members hooks into my brain.
  • bunching up fresh grass between the line of my toes and the ball of my foot.
  • the smells that yellow makes me recall even if I am not that fond of the colour itself.
  • people who are kind to others whom they do not know.
  • water over stones in shallow brooks.
  • photographs in which not all of the people are completely within frame.
  • the sounds that our cats made this morning which made me think we had cougars.
  • junk. Piles of junk spark my creativity like nothing else. Give me dusty piles of forgotten things in people's attics, garbage dumps, or charitable second-hand stores, and I feel like hugging the whole mess to my chest as though they are my lost children.
  • watching big, fat worms work their way into the dirt.
  • Abe Vigoda.