A Tan Cat and the Whitney
The weather is getting chilly.
Winter sweaters have been pulled out. Summer cotton and linen pants dutifully put in vacuum-sealed bags and stored in the nooks of the house. In these parts, outside NYC, space is a valuable commodity so little houses are common and very expensive. Our little house has enough room for us, a few books and the expanding waist of El Gordo (who is having a harder time jumping now that he resembles a walnut more than a kitten).
Bentley has also prepared himself for the chilly weather. He put away his summer basket and pulled out the old beach blanket he uses in the winter. He told El Gordo, "I am off to the grocery store!" Tucked a few dollars in the pocket of his jacket and pranced off in the direction of Stop and Shop. There he bought some winter supplies: canned tuna fish, cat nip and a racy magazine called "Cat Show: everything you need to know." The trot back to the house was windy and his fur fluffed in the breeze. It was too cold too soon for this cat. As he came in the house him and Fatty ate all the groceries for winter reserves that he bought, they leafed through the dirty kitty magazine and then splashed out on the lady's computer desk to start working on their Jersey Tan....yes, even cats are tan in New Jersey during the winter.
Chris Christie isn't the only one going around looking like an orange, Bentley will make sure of that!
In other news: we visited the Whitney Museum of American Art in NYC this weekend and walked about 7 miles till my feet cried. You see, the Whitney is 2 miles north of Penn Station, so naturally we walked seeing how gorgeous the day was. This time we took Madison Ave, instead of 5th Ave., because Madison, as you know, is much FAAAAncier and there are less tourists to block your way.
The Whitney Museum was...nothing special except for the Georgia O'Keefe paintings.
I really wanted to see those. Otherwise, it was average. Dare I say it?! But we still enjoyed some of the exhibits. Other ones were stupid...to be honest.
The museum staff jumped on tourists for using flash on "paintings" that probably looked like grandma's 3 day old garbage got pulled out of the garbage, glued on some cardboard and were elegantly framed and priced at 3 trillion dollars.
As we left the Whitney we exclaimed how fat we looked so decided to walk 4 miles down to Rocco's in Greenwich Village. I was savoring the cheesecake and coffee I would have there. Their cheesecake has more vanilla than most cheesecakes, is tall and strong, the crumbly cookie shell is full of butter and sin. The thought of that decadent cheesecake kept me walking with the purpose of a soldier in a trance thinking of his sweetheart he would eventually see again.
We walked uptown, downtown, all around town then realized we were totally and utterly lost.
I looked ahead and there was a lady walking like a horse on her 7 inch hooker heel shoes. My sore feet wondered how on earth she could possibly walk in Manhattan wearing those? Her shoes heard my shoes criticizing them and didn't like it. So her shoes stepped backwards quickly and stomped on the top of my foot like a hammer. I screamed...pretty loud...at the lady...She didn't care (like a good New Yorker) and kept walking away like a mean horse. My legs hurt horribly and soon I was limping like Gollum (lord of the rings) and feeling like an angry muffin.
Angry muffins are the worst muffins that exist. If you feel like an angry muffin, the best thing to do is to go home, take a hot bath and hide in your bed before you start destroying the world one person at a time.
The ride home was ugly...it matched my mood.
So that is what we did. And ended the weekend reading the rest of my Agatha Christie novel "By the Pricking of My Thumbs" which was surprising and terrifying! I was expecting it to give me nightmares of Killer Kate (the murderer) but instead dreamt that Kate Middleton was my best friend, so it turned out to be ok. Kate Middleton is a good best friend to have, at least in dreams. We were camping and she shared her marshmallows with me, which was nice because I didn't have any marshmallows and they are my favorite to roast at campfires.
 |
| It's flannel time... |
Winter sweaters have been pulled out. Summer cotton and linen pants dutifully put in vacuum-sealed bags and stored in the nooks of the house. In these parts, outside NYC, space is a valuable commodity so little houses are common and very expensive. Our little house has enough room for us, a few books and the expanding waist of El Gordo (who is having a harder time jumping now that he resembles a walnut more than a kitten).
Bentley has also prepared himself for the chilly weather. He put away his summer basket and pulled out the old beach blanket he uses in the winter. He told El Gordo, "I am off to the grocery store!" Tucked a few dollars in the pocket of his jacket and pranced off in the direction of Stop and Shop. There he bought some winter supplies: canned tuna fish, cat nip and a racy magazine called "Cat Show: everything you need to know." The trot back to the house was windy and his fur fluffed in the breeze. It was too cold too soon for this cat. As he came in the house him and Fatty ate all the groceries for winter reserves that he bought, they leafed through the dirty kitty magazine and then splashed out on the lady's computer desk to start working on their Jersey Tan....yes, even cats are tan in New Jersey during the winter.
Chris Christie isn't the only one going around looking like an orange, Bentley will make sure of that!
In other news: we visited the Whitney Museum of American Art in NYC this weekend and walked about 7 miles till my feet cried. You see, the Whitney is 2 miles north of Penn Station, so naturally we walked seeing how gorgeous the day was. This time we took Madison Ave, instead of 5th Ave., because Madison, as you know, is much FAAAAncier and there are less tourists to block your way.
 |
| The drivers waiting for rich ladies to finish shopping at Barneys. |
The Whitney Museum was...nothing special except for the Georgia O'Keefe paintings.
I really wanted to see those. Otherwise, it was average. Dare I say it?! But we still enjoyed some of the exhibits. Other ones were stupid...to be honest.
The ones I liked.
 |
| of course! |
The ones I didn't like
As we left the Whitney we exclaimed how fat we looked so decided to walk 4 miles down to Rocco's in Greenwich Village. I was savoring the cheesecake and coffee I would have there. Their cheesecake has more vanilla than most cheesecakes, is tall and strong, the crumbly cookie shell is full of butter and sin. The thought of that decadent cheesecake kept me walking with the purpose of a soldier in a trance thinking of his sweetheart he would eventually see again.
 |
| "Walk down Madison Ave and turn left on 40th street." |
We walked uptown, downtown, all around town then realized we were totally and utterly lost.
 |
| lost |
I looked ahead and there was a lady walking like a horse on her 7 inch hooker heel shoes. My sore feet wondered how on earth she could possibly walk in Manhattan wearing those? Her shoes heard my shoes criticizing them and didn't like it. So her shoes stepped backwards quickly and stomped on the top of my foot like a hammer. I screamed...pretty loud...at the lady...She didn't care (like a good New Yorker) and kept walking away like a mean horse. My legs hurt horribly and soon I was limping like Gollum (lord of the rings) and feeling like an angry muffin.
Angry muffins are the worst muffins that exist. If you feel like an angry muffin, the best thing to do is to go home, take a hot bath and hide in your bed before you start destroying the world one person at a time.
The ride home was ugly...it matched my mood.
 |
| Welcome to the ugly side of NJ |
 |
| "Tickets!" |
 |
| Foot propped up on the nice man's leg. |
 |
| Good idea. |
So that is what we did. And ended the weekend reading the rest of my Agatha Christie novel "By the Pricking of My Thumbs" which was surprising and terrifying! I was expecting it to give me nightmares of Killer Kate (the murderer) but instead dreamt that Kate Middleton was my best friend, so it turned out to be ok. Kate Middleton is a good best friend to have, at least in dreams. We were camping and she shared her marshmallows with me, which was nice because I didn't have any marshmallows and they are my favorite to roast at campfires.
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