Since Sunday morning I have been afflicted with the general-malaise illness young Cooper Knepp passed onto myself, his father, and Jared Smith, via a slobbery bag of Puff’n Corn. These three days have been long and foggy, pizza puke and dreamless sleep. Bleeps and bloops, Ramen soup, ceiling fan, terribly-narrated true crime television, morning pitchers of Gatorade, Kittyboys and the thousands of words exchanged have kept me company in the meantime.
Here are the gatos you’ve been waiting for, from people who not only leave the house, but travel to boot. Of you all, I am envious at this moment.
Hanna spies a kitty on her visit to the Russian Museum who looks appropriately Russian.
Chile cat, meow. From one Sister Wife to another.
Susie, the true photographer among us, made this most excellent image on the trip she and Scott made from LA to New York just before Jbro and I packed up and moved.
If that’s not art, I don’t know what is.