Thelma is our cat who lets us know that every pain existent in the universe is felt: she is a compact estheometer, calculating each micron, each nanon, each googlian of despair, suffering, sorrow in this wide world. She takes all this and filters it though her soul and it exits her mouth as a tiny mew, a meow so small, that even when she's underfoot, I've been fooled into thinking that I've heard the sounds of a dying civilization from billions of light years away, just before it disappears into the event horizon of a black hole. But it turns out to just be this little kitten standing beside her empty dinner bowl.
In other news I finished a bird house to raise money for the Solarium. It was a conventional three hole birdhouse with a large central section. I'd stretched plastic over it, hammered nails, tacks and tooth picks into it, and covered it with duct tape. Then I'd painted it shiny colors and painted a mysterious figure in the back. And then I forgot to take a photograph of it before I delivered it. I suppose that I will have to take a photo at the auction this Sunday. I definitely want to post its image here as it's very wacky.
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