Notes to Self

-- Two hours before metalsmithing class is not really the time for a double G&T. Especially when that is immediately followed by a second double G&T. Because when 6:30 and the time to use torches and giant knifey finger-chopping machines rolls around, it is really impossible to go to that class loaded. Obviously I made the safer decision (staying at the bar), but my inner Catholic still feels guilty for skipping class. Ah, well. It was a nice night with entertaining conversation among friends. Secondary rule learned: always stay at the bar.

-- Our cat is evil. I apparently am her evilness enabler. She caught a wee mouse in our garage last night and brought it into the house -- yuck -- where we realized it was totally alive. On the rare occasions she has found mice in the past she usually will deposit the entrails somewhere as a "gift" but this time the little squeaker kept running off, live and well. This was all part of Paola's literal "cat and mouse" game in which she would let it go for a second, pounce again, chomp it for a moment or two, and then let it go and the torture would begin all over. This is not abnormal behavior for a cat (though Erin swears she knows many cats who do not cruelly play with their food), but the more disturbing part to me was my own reaction. Immediately, I was on Paola's side. I was proud of her spryness and wanted to let her slowly torment the mouse to death as she wished. It didn't even really cross my mind to feel bad for the mouse. This is my cat. Erin was appalled and caught the mouse and released it outside (where there are twenty-five strays living on our street, but whatever). I feel like this was akin to me cheering on one of my friends as they slowly strangle a veal calf in front of me. Apparently my principles go out the window when my pet wants to torture something. So much for siding with the oppressed.