On Long-Haired Cats and Spring Plants

I will be so glad when whatever plant produces those little sticky green balls (we've always called them 'burrs') completes whatever part of its life cycle that is. Every time Cleo comes in from outside these days she's half black and furry and half green and sticky. Which means I have to pin her down in what must appear to be a combination of an ape grooming her young and a human parent brushing tangles out of some poor mop-haired child. Neither participant enjoys this particular ritual.

Unrelatedly, stoopid school of public health e-mail has gone poof for days now, so if you've sent something to that address, I'm not ignoring you, I just have no way of knowing what I'm missing.