my girls

One year ago Monday, I was driving to Akbar, decked out in a red thrift store skirt, black T-shirt that said “Denise Rossi’s Dance Ten Presents Into the New Millennium” and a scarf with owls on it. It was my idea of a cute blind date outfit, though later I would find out that my date’s first impression was, She’s wearing a skirt. Weird.

But I guess it wasn’t all bad, because there was a second date, during which I choked on empanada toppings and lost my car in downtown LA.

“God, I hope it didn’t get towed,” I worried.

“No, you just forgot where you parked it,” she assured me. “Don’t worry, I do stuff like this all the time.”

Our attempts to celebrate one awesome year of looking for our respective cars after many fun days and nights on the town were somewhat thwarted by AK’s sudden and nasty cold and my discovery that my cat Temecula probably has breast cancer.

Yeah…I’m not taking it well. She’s scheduled for X-rays and surgery on Friday, and if the vet discovers it hasn’t metastasized, there’s a very good chance she’ll recover completely and live many more years (T-Mec is only six). If it has spread…well, I’ll take that even less well.

The only good thing about being depressed and spending the day in bed eating Shredded Wheat straight from the box is that it doubles as a nice way of spending quality time with your cats.