"Ou est le Chat?"

Where did Saturday go?  It moved so slowly, it moved too fast.  All the things I'd thought to do. . . .

There are more danger signs to scare me.  I almost forgot to write today.  I finished reading the news and looking at the morning's websites and was ready to move on.  Absent mindedness is a warning of something.  What?

I decided that if I was going to go mad talking to the cat, I'd not speak English.  So this early Sunday morning, I tried speaking to her in tongues.  She responded alright.  No. . . no, don't ever try that at home.  She gave me "the look," something straight out of Hawthorne.  Chilled me to the bones.

So I switched to French.  I took French in college many times and once could read a French magazine at a slow but steady pace.  Not much has stayed with me these following years.  Still, "Je parle Francais au chat."  Perhaps today I will be motivated to buy a French magazine.  I went back to look at my French primers, but they are waaayyyy too boring.  Can't they teach French through interesting conversations.

"Hello.  My name is Bob.  What is your name?

"Hello, Bob.  My name is Charlotte.  Would you like to have some fun?"

Kids would be more motivated to learn.  We all would.

My friend told me she learned Spanish by falling for a Mexican hombre.  A hotel room and a two week intensive.  She is clever that way.

My cat has an Italian name, but I've never had any Italian.  I think it would mess up my very weak Spanish.  A cat with an Italian name.  Fancy that.  I liked saying that.  I sound so cosmopolitan.

"Le chat es sur la table.  Mon chat est appelle Bella.  Elle est beau."  Sorry.  I can't get the computer to type the accent signs.

I've just changed the photo at the head of the page.  Le Chat.  It is much more apropos for this post and late spring Sunday afternoon.