The verdict is in from the cardio. While I am indeed having a metric fuckton of pvcs and they don’t feel very nice at all, the factors that would make them dangerous (heart attack, valve problems, high blood pressure, etc.) are all fine, and so I will live to be 94 and given my family penchant towards forgetfulness in the twilight years, will probably be hiding my own Easter eggs towards the end. This is reassuring. I still can’t have coffee except as a very rare treat, and I have to take up yoga and also do some cardio every day. And then we’ll see how it goes.
Tomorrow is my last day at the olive oil store. I am sad to leave it, but it is for the best.
Clapotis is inching along. I’m beginning to loathe the straight section. 8 repeats to go.
Charly is feeling left out of the bloggy goodness and wants the world to know he is ready for his close up.
Also, some more gratuitous Mittens cuteness:
And then also there is Honey:
Honey is, er. Well. See. It’s a long story. But now I have four cats. Because how could I break up this?
The way I look at it, I am preventing sibling rivalry. Yep. There’s a kitten for each kid. No arguments. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
I viked the kitten pictures from the flickr account of their current foster mama, the very kind lady who is taking care of them and socializing them until they are old enough to be adopted and come live with me. Hopefully that’ll be within a few more weeks. They’re still very small.