Don't you hate it when people talk incessantly about their cats (or their dogs or their budgies or their pythons) in their journals? When they detail every behavior, every health concern, every hairball? Well, I try to avoid mentioning them, preferring instead to write boring entries about my daughters. But, because of the wonders of digital photography, I now can share pictures of all three of them right here.

Finally bought the pansies, violas, Johnny jump-ups and such today and got them planted. Pictures will be forthcoming, although they look pretty scrawny right now. Rebecca picked out a hanging plant and a selection of four annuals (geranium, vinca, dracena, and licorice plant) for a pot of her own, along with a perennial called "Pinks" to add to one of the front beds. Now she wants a vegetable garden as well. As long as she does the weeding, I have no objections.

She and I also went to look at dogs again. The one we were interested in, Max the bichon poodle mix, needs someone to be home with him all day because he's "clingy". Chessie, the Akita/Chesapeake Bay retriever mix is a sweet dog, but is only 6 months old and needs someone to come home at lunch every day until she's at least a year. We'll keep on looking...

I went back to the gallery where I bought last week's artwork to pay for the paintings I decided to keep, and ended up bringing home 5 more. One will definitely stay, two more may, and two will go back. I really need to stay away from that place.

Dreams: I was asleep on a sofa in a living room when my cousin and his wife showed up with their dog, a bichon who, in the dream, was shaved to the skin. They had also brought along another dog, a grey poodle, which they were dropping off to see how he would work out with our family. I felt guilty about being caught napping on the sofa, although I was very tired, and tried to mumble something about not really being asleep. Why are we always so embarrassed when someone catches us sleeping? We lie when we answer the phone and we've been asleep, we lie when we answer the door, and now, apparently, we lie in our dreams.