I had the distinct privilege to play in front of a bunch of feline lovers on Sunday past.
Check them out on Facebook: @purrfectadditionsinc
There were cats of all shapes, sizes, and colors, and I would be the lottery winner who would go into the shelter and take every single one of the furry friends home with me.
And they lived happily ever after.
Here are a few shots from the Holiday Bazaar held at St. John’s Church in south Dayton:
There was a lot going on including adoptions, sales of everything pertaining to cats, and I hoped they did well.
My kind of people.
The world needs more of us.
I have another show tomorrow, and then I will be shutting it down for a while after my last scheduled show on Dec. 21st.
I am totally into the Christmas spirit and I need to start buying presents and sending cash.
The twelve days of Christmas.
We discussed getting a cat from the event on Sunday, but we also then reasoned that neither of our two dogs would be amenable to such a move, so we went home kittyless.
Neither Karen nor myself have a clue what to get for each other.
It’s been like this for about ten years now.
She put a big kaibosh on any more jewelry, and she has bottles of top French scents yet unopened.
We can only give each other so many trips, and I really tore it up the first time I retired, travelling the country and carousing with my golf buddies.
For two years.
At the end of the second year, the Domestic Despot did not utter a word: she merely showed me my American Express bill under “golf trips.”
I still travelled, but my running mates and golf buddies were all getting older, and many had kids and family obligations, so we kind of stopped altogether.
I still face the same problems now.
I have made several friends here, but the average age is probably closer to thirty than seventy. The thing is, they all have jobs.
And the old buzzards like myself that I have befriended are well, old.
Hell, I’d still do ‘shrooms or some good (safe) acid if I could get my hands on some.
Karen would too; she’s cool that way.
Weathered through time, injured, diseased, and unable to keep up the pace with one-legged Maddogg, my peers also bear the weight of having families and their needs, and they are far-removed from going with me out to the bar scene where I play music.
Several hotties have dotted my audiences.
If I weren’t married.
If I were single.
If I was able.
I’d still be too old and somehow, in some as yet-unknown dimension, Karen would find a way to fuck with me over and over again.
At least that’s what she tells me.