Stacy Horn

Okay, I watched maybe five minutes. Based on my one brief snapshot, they both did well by their candidate. I wish that every time Pence lied and said that Trump hadn’t said what Trump most assuredly did say, Kaine had said, “What’s almost as disturbing is your lying to my face, the moderator’s face, and to the faces of every American, because we know you know that Trump said X.”

Passed by on my way to the dentist. It does seem like a horribly barbaric practice.

Regardless of whatever his diagnosis turns out to be, Finney is still acting as he always does. He’s certainly feeling up to stalking mice, which is what he’s doing in the picture here. (Our building has a mice problem, which is not problem from the cat’s point of view, of course.) That’s the biopsy site on his right hip. It’s a sad, lumpy mess even though they removed a ton of the mass that was there, so I’m not feeling particularly hopeful. But I’m curling up with him and enjoying the time we have now. Oh God, I sound so pathetic, but I do love them so.

It’s hard to see, but I loved this sign in a window in the West Village. It says: Hill Yeah! I don’t know how we can face the rest of the world if we don’t elect her.

I used to drum in a band called Manhattan Samba. The band still exists, and most of the people in the photo still drum, but it’s been a while for me. I still love my former bandmates though, thank you Maddie and Hamilton for hosting this dinner party! (Damnit, I think I’m kinda tall, but once again, here is proof that I am not. Not that it matters, but it’s always a surprise.)

It can’t be today. I’ve got work to do, and social plans I can’t cancel. But tomorrow we can laze about and take it easy. Here’s a shot from this summer, showing business as usual at our house. Finney is sleeping on my work, and Bleecker is sleeping on the router (which must be warm).