Foggy Friday

It has been unusually warm here the last few days. There is heavy fog here this morning, and Mom will have to be extra careful on the drive to her day-hunting gig.

Mom says there is a very famous poem about fog and cats, by Carl Sandburg:

The fog comes

on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

I am like the fog.

Foggy

Not much going on here today. It's foggy, but is supposed to get really warm later today. Mom can't wait. She spent a lot of time yakking with Mr Karate last night and didn't get the house clean the way she usually does before the work week starts. Mom finished the back of the black and white quilt and now it is ready to go away for quilting. Mom says she's going to give the house a good clean.

I'll be in the tent.