As an experiment of sorts on Sunday I went to a 300+ cat show in the exurbs. At one moment I actually saw cat hair floating through the air - a non-treat to one with the most Perfect cat allergies (Yours Truly). Rows and rows of cat cages decked out with colorful blankets and whimsical cat toys. Eight judging rings and I photographed the grand champ of the premiership, whatever the hell that means. It apparently meant any cat that is inactive, caged, oversized and way fluffy.
Tomorrow night I will (hopefully) be shooting Melissa Etheridge who I've photographed probably five times thus far in my lifetime. I think back in the day (her pre-makeup and pre-failed marriage days to Julie Cypher... and pre-faux-impregnation of Julie C. with David Crosby) her shows had more pizazz.
Back to deadlines du jour.
My plumber pal asked if I'd like to adopt his dog Henry, who was my visitor/pet for two weeks in September. I think the answer, given the epinw lifestyle, will have to be a sad and sorry No.