Can You Find the Plastic Bunny?
Last year hubby and I were in a garden store and looked at each other saying, simultaneously, "Can we get the bunny?" So we don't have garden trolls or saint statuary in our front yard, but we do have the bunny. Our feral friends knock him over on occasion, but he doesn't seem to mind the snow. And he looks darn cute hiding among the stuff poking up now. Crocus are in full force, and daffodils appear on deck. Tulip leaves are showing too. Yay!
Reasons, other than flowers, to be happy:
1. Got my tax crap done. All that's left is to see the accountant man.
2. Hubby is loving school and has a new spring in his step. He is learning to restrain mice and charm cats.
3. I love my novel (this week). I'm getting to know its anorexic character Hannah all over again. I realize how subtly condescending my narration has been, and that I really wasn't on her side until now. For once I am SURE the changes I'm making are improvements.
4. Wilbur and I went to Manhattan together and didn't wreck the car. He is seeing a specialist for his skin problems (she's GREAT) and is getting over his fear of the veterinarian. He enjoyed his big-city adventure, we got to walk through Madison Square (not the stadium, but the park), see dogwalkers with big packs, dogs wearing shoes (what up with these Manhattan dogs anyway?), a police horse (damn, that dog is BIG, I think I'll bark at it), and a whole lotta big buildings. Wilbur walked around the vet's 'hood with his nose in the air, city dog to the core. And in the car, he sat beside me in the rush hour traffic, a good little copilot. No freakouts, no panic attacks, no crawling in my lap in the driver's seat. Hooray!
5. Trader Joe's has arrived in NYC, finally, with a big store in the old Palladium. Now this ex-Californian won't have to go to Long Island for a fix. I went on opening day, last Friday, took one look at the line, and realized I'm not the only ex-Californian in this town. But I'll be back.
6. All six feral cats made it through the winter and are hanging out on sunny afternoons in our back yard.
7. Vince is cute as hell. See below. He's working us, and we're susceptible. If he moves inside, he'll get fat for sure.