I went out to Connecticut again yesterday, to visit La Madre and bring her some fruits and veggies, since she was running low. It was another lovely day and the barn cats were lolling about. TR asked, "How can you call them barn cats when your mom doesn't have a barn?"
This was a teachable moment. In Connecticut,we don't have stray cats, we have barn cats. These cats don't actually live in the house, but they do come into the laundry room in the evening to sleep, and they have their run of the yard. It's yet another term, like station car, that I've found myself using more often with my weekly trips to the 'burbs.
This week's artifact: my passport from when I was 10 years old! While helping Madre shred some old bills and bank statements, this popped up in a pile of papers. Why it wasn't in a more secure place, like a filing cabinet, I'll never understand. I love the photo, because it documents the beginning of a roughly 10-year period where I had more hair than head.
