A Whimsical Witch and Conspiratorial Cats

THE GOOD WITCH.

Wicked Witch
Our niece Ericka, who lives in Southern England, loves "fancy dress" parties. To an American, that would probably entail wearing an evening gown, cocktail dress, or tuxedo. To a Brit, it means wearing a masquerade costume — like for Halloween. Ericka has been texting me for the past two days telling me about her outfit. Her dad emailed a photo this morning.

San Geraldo thought she looked great here with black hair; he didn't mention the green highlights (which I think are especially attractive). Ericka's natural hair is fairly short, and very thick and wavy. It's currently platinum blonde. I say "currently" because she works in a salon and gets free color, cut, and style whenever she feels like it. And she feels like it often. I wonder if, one of these days, she'll feel like green and black.

Ericka is much too sweet to ever be called a witch. However, she is quite an actress and she can be somewhat dramatic. I have a feeling she could easily pretend to be very convincingly wicked. (And I have a feeling her parents would agree.)

Note: I'm curious to know what sweet Ericka did to get the wicked Mardis Gras beads.


Innocent Cats
Dudo and Moose know plenty about being wicked. In fact, sometimes I think they're just pretending to be sweet. I caught them this morning sitting on the chaise lounge — in the corner of the terrace they're supposed to avoid because it leads to the apartment next door. Yes, I've built a bamboo and foliage fortress there to keep the cats out, but they're cats. I know one of these days they'll find a way through.

The boys had their backs to me and were staring hungrily at the recently returned swallows that were flitting about finding places to settle. Our terrace is obviously not a good nesting or roosting place: 1) There's too much activity. 2) There are cats. (Click the photos. You should be able to see the guilt written all over their faces.)

"THEY'RE CALLED SWALLOWS, BECAUSE WE'RE SUPPOSED TO SWALLOW THEM." 

Dudo and Moose keep hoping one of the swallows will stop by for a visit. Fortunately, both cats appear to be old enough and smart enough to know better than to jump over the wall after a bird. But they still make us nervous and we monitor them closely. When I spotted them this morning, I said calmly, "What are you two doing?" They turned. As I continued to eye them, they stepped off the chaise and pretended to be interested in the floor tiles.

WHAT? NOW WE CAN'T EVEN SIT ON THE CHAIR?!?

MOOSE, LATER: "JEEZ, A GUY CAN'T DO ANYTHING AROUND HERE! RULES. RULES. RULES."
ME: "UM, MOOSE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON THE DINING ROOM TABLE?"