black cloud · cats · personal crisis · prayer · thanks

The second goodbye was the hardest – farewell my Chaucer and welcome Murder Mittens

gotta check out these books100_0064

img_0187After Dante died last year, Chaucer became an only-kitty. I briefly entertained the idea of adopting another cat or two so he would have a friend…but he seemed to expand to fill up all the spaces in the house that were empty. He was already a champion reading buddy and upped his game by plastering himself down my front whenever I sat down to read. He kept up a vigorous schedule of garnering people food, doing his tricks for treats, and napping.

He napped a lot.


In April, I came home from work and found Chaucer behind the bed. He was asleep. And  wouldn’t come out when I refilled his food bowl (strangely, he hadn’t eaten anything). He would purr, if I reached behind the bed to pet him, but he wouldn’t come out. It was Good Friday.

Saturday morning, he was still behind the bed. He wouldn’t come out to eat, or eat a treat, or cheese, or bit of tuna fish I put down there with him. When I finally dragged him out and blocked up behind the headboard Chaucer just sat and cried and cried and cried until I let him get back behind the bed. He was still there when I came back from work. His food hadn’t been touched and he hadn’t used the litter box.


I called the emergency vet in tears and they told me to bring him in immediately. He peed in the carrier in the car – a very foul-smelling urine. On examination, the vet found a significant heart murmur, where Chaucer had never had one before, and a mass in his belly.


I knew, when I called the vet, that it was unlikely that I would be able to keep my Chaucer any longer. He was clearly in pain and trying to tell me it was time. This was it. The veterinary service at Bright Eyes and Bushy Tails was once again the absolute best I could wish for. They let me sit with Chaucer until I was ready for them to start the infusion, then it only took seconds for my Chaucer to be gone. The vet and his assistant sat with me while I held his little body, and his woobie, and let me tell them about the night I brought Chaucer and Dante home. Where Chaucer got his name, from a secondary character’s horrible cat in Elizabeth Bevarly’s The Wedding. That he had to have abdominal surgery to remove a blockage when he was 18 months old because he’d eaten a thread and many other things (including the spare wire for the cheese slicer – that’s radiopaque, luckily) and then got a wound infection because he wouldn’t take his antibiotics. That he would sit in the bedroom window of our old condo and watch for me to come home and if the window img_1905was open I could hear him meow down at me as I walked from the car. That he was the chattiest cat and would “talk” to you or at you. That he would pat the pantry door and meow when I asked him where the treats lived then do a trick to get his treats. That he thought the treat dispenser was the meanest trick of ever. That he would loudly haunt the kitchen while I cooked. That he thought he was a people and liked to sit at the table during mealtimes. That he ate Golden Grahams like they were going out of style. That he was obsessed with Clean Sheet day. That he had a love affair with my desk lamp. That one of his main objectives was to sneak into the closet and hide in the laundry hamper. That he hid whenever I had handymen into do work in the house while Dante would try and make friends with them, the reverse of what happened with friends. That he made excellent blanket nests. That he was the loudest barfer on earth. That he was an absolute stoner on catnip. That he was the best snuggler. That he was the best cat I could have ever wished for. They were so kind.


It was very early on Easter Sunday when I paid the bill and drove home to a house that was miserably empty. It was too quiet – not the quiet of “the cat is sleeping” or “the cat is silently getting into trouble.” This was a quiet that was stark and empty and eerily silent. I hated it. Nobody yelled at me to feed him when I opened the door. Nobody talked shit to the birds and squirrels in the backyard. Nobody yowled at the top of his lungs while dragging his woobie around the house (his woobie was a ratty blue puffball on a spring that he liberated from a toy when he was a kitten). Nobody tried to drink out of my coffee mug at breakfast (or water glass or wine glass or beer, etc etc etc).



c75f7a9c-1694-45d3-bec2-d2587216c9e8And I couldn’t write about it. Every time I opened this draft I would start sobbing and have to stop. It has taken months to get it all written down, to give Chaucer a tribute that he deserves because he really was the best cat. A snuggly weirdo who photographed well in the social media era. I loved how much he made people smile. I have thousands of pictures of my silly goofball. The outpouring of good wishes carried me through the first weeks. And I felt guilty, that grieving Chaucer was almost paralyzing. It hurt more than grieving Dante and that didn’t seem fair. It just…sucked…on a spiritual level, that I only got to have my Chaucer Stinky-pants for fifteen and a half years, that I couldn’t keep him forever.

These are two of my favorite pictures of Chaucer, both printed and framed on the mantel.


When I came back from vacation at the end of May, I started looking at the kittens and young cats available for adoption in various rescues and shelters. No one really stood out to me (plus it was hard to tell from the sites which cats could be adopted as pairs, since I wanted two cats again). Then I heard from a mutual friend that a former co-worker had a family member with kittens just ready to adopt. So I DM’d Lily, and we texted back and forth a bit, and yes, there were still three kittens in that litter who needed a home. I chose two of the kittens based on the pictures she sent – a fluffy beige tabby and a mottled gray fuzzball without a tail who looked to be a budding tortie. I was originally going to pick them up on Memorial Day, but it turned out they weren’t weaned, yet, so we decided to wait a few more weeks. Another gal who was also adopting two kittens from the litter offered to pick mine up as well in mid-June.


1b411e95-e7f1-4d5f-95ff-df8e1d5f9d96And so, on June 10 – a day when I miraculously didn’t get scheduled to work at the store – I drove over to her apartment and met my not-quite-seven-weeks-old babies. I indeed had a beige tabby – a boy – and a gorgeous gray-and-cream tortie girl, without a tail so someone has some Manx or something in her. They are both gloriously fluffy, so I get to try my hand with long-haired cats. The boy had (unfortunately) just finished a bath when I got there bc one of the kittens had done an oopsie in the carrier and he got into it. My girl had not (atta girl). So my new boy got to ride home wrapped in a towel and tucked down the front of my hoodie – he shivered for a while, but by the time we pulled into the garage he was purring and making biscuits. The girl napped for a bit then made peeping noises the rest of the way home. They were both a little apprehensive when I let them loose in the basement but after a visit to the litter box and a full belly of kitten chow they both passed out.


I had been musing on names for a few days, not sure if I had boys or girls or one of each. I went back to a back-up name I had when I adopted Chaucer and Dante, in case one of them had turned out female. One of the first women to write for the English stage – and make a career out of it – was Aphra Behn in the seventeenth century, author of The Rover and Oroonoko (and also probably a spy for Charles II). So my tortie girl, with her tiny torti-tude and pugnacious off-center chin patch, would be Aphra. What name would match her? I thought about other Restoration playwrights – Etheredge, Dryden, Congreve, Farquhar (yikes) – but kept coming back to the most famous playwright of all, a little earlier in the century, William Shakespeare. Strangely, it seemed to fit. So Aphra and Shakespeare came to stay (I had planned to nickname him Bard, since Shakespeare seemed like a mouthful, but that didn’t stick.)

3523cb4e-1916-4968-9df6-7cb4f035d598My house is filled with purring and squeaking again. Aphra and Shakespeare turn three months old today, July 19. I had forgotten how curious and stubborn kittens are. They jail-broke out of the downstairs bathroom about 24 hours after they arrived home, forcing me to find a better solution than the baby gate I borrowed from a neighbor (I bought a 6’x3′ sheet of plexiglass that I could put across the bathroom doorway or move back to barricade the hallway and let them have the run of the basement). I had to put no-chew spray on the electrical cords and no-pee spray in a few corners (Shakespeare had an incident of stress-peeing in inappropriate places after a few too many visitors one day). When they sit still long enough, they are the softest kittens I’ve ever petted; Shakespeare especially feels like you’re petting a fluffy cloud. They purr the loudest, rumbliest purrs for two-pound kittens. Shakespeare is a loud-mouthed goofball who gets hyper-stoned on catnip and likes to comfort-nurse on my shirt when he’s tired. Aphra is an independent little mite with the tiniest meow, freckled toe beans, and her funny little puff-ball bunny butt (she turned out to be a “stumpy” not a “rumpy”) who likes to sit on the headrest behind me and “groom” my hair. They quickly caught onto the routine of human comes home and feeds them, goes up and changes clothes, then comes back down to sit on the couch and read or watch a movie with the foot-rest up (they love lounging on the foot-rest between my knees). They come by for scratchies in between rounds of Kitten Wrestlemania, Zoomies, and naps and have been finding toys (and years-old containers of basil) Chaucer and Dante had hidden under the furniture.


They are collectively known as the Murder Mittens! Kittens are very spiky – razor-sharp baby claws and sharp, sharp, sharp baby teeth – and at one point I tried to say “you’re such murdery kittens!” but it came out “You are murder mittens!” And it stuck. Apparently, “murder mittens” is a thing – there’s a hashtag on Instagram for cats’ paws – I didn’t invent it but it’s so apt!



I hadn’t realized how sad I was after Chaucer died (I knew I was sad but this was a new level of sad, bordering a bit on depression). Once the kittens arrived I started feeling lighter and less alone and more relaxed. Even if I traded my snoozy snuggle-bug for two anarchists who are bent on setting the house on fire. There’s a lot of “Aphra, no!” and “Shakespeare, stop that!” but I love it.


I miss my boys. They were my first pets and solely in my care from the time they were eight weeks old. I turned into an adult with them – I started my job, bought my condo, adopted my boys, and graduated with my Master’s degree all between August and December of 2003. I will always miss my kitty-boys but now I think the jagged edges of that missing feeling are starting to smooth over. In a strange cosmic sense of balance, the Murder Mittens were born as my Chaucer was leaving this world. It feels like fate that they came to me.

Chaucer – mama loves you and misses you like crazy every day. Thank you for being my Chaucer-kitteh for so many years. Be at peace, my very best boy. Dante is waiting for you.

In memoriam, Chaucer Ward, September 1 (?), 2003 – April 20, 2019

black cloud · cats · personal crisis · prayer · thanks

I would like to tell you about a little beige kitty named Dante

gotta check out these booksI adopted Dante and his brother Chaucer when they were about eight weeks old. On a rainy night right before Halloween 2003. From a farm, during which visit someone (not me) had to shoot a possum that got into the barn.

Dante and Chaucer were part of a litter of five boys: a big gray kitten, two orange kittens, a brown/gray striped kitten, and a kitten so light beige he was champagne-colored. When the striped kitten immediately laid belly-up on my foot I knew he was my Chaucer (I had that name picked out years ago), but it took a bit to decide which of the other kittens I would take. Then I realized the little champagne-colored kitten was being pushed away from the food by the bigger kittens. So I decided that he would be mine, too. He needed a name to match Chaucer so I named him Dante.

IMG_4267He grew up from a tiny one-pound fluff ball into a rather round-in-the-middle cat, with dainty, turned-in front paws and a slim tail. His coat darkened to a solid beige color with darker stripes on his legs, tail, and tabby “M” on his forehead. He had the softest fur to snuggle. He loved having “brain” and chin scritches. Lots of them.

He loved his toys, usually the ones his brother was playing with first, with emphasis on the cheapest things around: cardboard boxes and milk jug rings. He had special dislike for the “kitty in the mirror” who frequently talked smack and needed correcting. Dante and Chaucer frequently napped in a little kitty pile, the way that sibs often do, and they loved all the soft furnishings, especially my bed (even under the covers).

IMG_1047He was the one who would give me kisses when I held him. Even if he was also gifted with the nickname “Hissy Pants” since he would be the first to hiss when annoyed, particularly as he aged. (He also got called Baby Kitty, since he liked to be held burp-a-baby style.) He had this weird meow that sounded like “moo” so sometimes I would moo back.

Dante both equally loved and hated the “got your tail” game, which involved me touching the very tip of his tail. He would growl and pull his tail away….then start purring and lay his tail back over my hand to do it all over again. He had the best purr and was a champion snuggler. But he didn’t like my friends or family that much. He always had to let you know it was his house. Unless you were the piano tuner, electricians, plumber, or cable persons – those guys were always presented with his tummy to rub.

IMG_1971Did I mentioned he had the softest fur? He hated having it brushed, with any kind of brush. He yowled so loud I worried the neighbors would think I was murdering someone. Unless I was trying to trim his claws – then it sounded like I was being murdered.

He wasn’t very fond of cat treats or even his food (though he was usually first in line come mealtimes) but he loved people food. Especially cheese – the sharper and greasier the better. He could hear me open the deli drawer in the refrigerator – even if he were sound asleep in the basement – and come running to wind around my ankles and beg for cheese. I only ever gave him small crumbs, though. Cheese isn’t the best food item for cats. To offset his gourmet tastes Dante would drink water out of the bathtub after I finished showering.

IMG_1544He loved to sit on a chair by my desk and look out the window, chattering at the birds in the backyard. I suspect he chose this spot because it just happened to be over the furnace grate in that room because he also liked to sit with his face over the grate in the bathroom when the furnace was running. He loathed car rides, which is unsurprising being an indoor cat. Unfortunately that is where this story ends – a car ride to the vet.

Friday night I came home from work to find that Dante had started having diarrhea. Everywhere. So I took him in to the emergency vet and they started treating him for a bacterial overgrowth in the gut. But when his blood work came back in the morning the blood chemistry showed renal failure and a further workup showed that it was likely due to his age.

IMG_1580In other words, untreatable.

With this news, the fact that his diarrhea wasn’t responding to medication, and he was refusing to eat or drink, I had to decide to put him to sleep. I have never sobbed harder in my life. I had hoped for a few more years with my crotchety old geezer before saying good-bye or to be able to let go slowly. I had not anticipated such a short illness of less than a whole day. The vet’s office was wonderful. They let me sit in the exam room with Dante as long as I wanted, rocking him in my arms, crying, and watching the snow falling outside the window with him one last time. I said “I’m sorry” and “Mama loves you” too many times to count, I kissed his tabby “M” over and over. When I was ready, the vet came and gave him a sedative and the euthanasia solution through his IV while I held him. My Baby Kitty was gone in less than a minute. They let me stay in the room and hold him as long as I needed. Until I felt ready to lay him down and kiss him good-bye.

IMG_5410I have never felt so selfish. I felt so guilty, wondering if I missed something that would have had me taking him for a checkup earlier, that maybe it could have been caught and treated and I would still have my baby for a little while longer.

I came home, laid down on the floor, and sobbed. I held Chaucer until he protested I was squeezing him too tight. I watched as so many friends commented on my post containing the final picture of my Dante, taken just before the vet delivered the bad news. I have never been so grateful for my friends. Even complete strangers came across the post on Instagram or Twitter and offered their condolences. I will never be able to thank everyone enough.

IMG_7434I never had a pet before I adopted my boys. I had fish as a child, but a tank of guppies is nothing compared to a cat. I did not know it was possible to love them this much. I felt ready to break for a few hours. But I made it through the first day of missing him. I called when I got out of the shower “Where’s my Dante kitty?” before I remembered he wasn’t here. I almost cried at the grocery store when I remembered I wouldn’t need as much cat litter. I cried when I got Dante’s collar and tags out of my purse, to hang them on a frame with his picture, and Chaucer came running, crying, when he heard the tags jingle; Chaucer sniffed all around the collar and tags and let out the saddest meow that had me scooping him up to cuddle immediately. I am crying now typing this.

IMG_7955I am writing all this because I don’t want to forget my Dante-kitteh. My sweet, grumpy dude mooing his way around the house. I am so grateful for the social media era, that I took so many pictures. There are times today when I’ve done nothing but sit and stare at my last picture of him. There is no way out of this but through.

Rest In Peace, Dante. Mama loved you so much she had to let you go so you wouldn’t hurt anymore. I hope I gave you the best life a cat could possibly have, with all the love and snuggles you wanted. Chaucer has only just started to realize that you aren’t hiding somewhere in the house, that you’re gone. If you’re watching over us, please help him understand. Love you, Baby Kitty. Always.

In memoriam, Dante Ward, September 1 (?), 2003 – February 17, 2018

mom · thanks

God bless us, everyone!

Merry Christmas!

My family was so thankful this year for one very good reason:

Mom (and yes, that’s the hat I started knitting when she was in the SICU).  We got to have her for about six hours today for the Christmas holiday and it was so nice to have her home for a little while – it was the best present of all.  She’ll be discharged from rehab on Wednesday!! 

So to quote Tiny Tim:  God bless us, everyone.

happy dance · thanks

Surprises from my Secret Santa!

I received my Secret Santa package about a week ago but I’ve been really remiss in blogging about it (particularly as I would remember while at work and had no picture of what I actually received).
Well, my SS was Jill of Book, Books Everywhere and just look what was in my package!

Talk about getting spoiled!  I almost cried when I opened the box.  She sent EL Doctorow’s Ragtime (something I keep thinking I have then get home and realize I don’t have it), Tasha Alexander’s And Only to Deceive (my SIL says those are good), Richard Paul Evan’s The Christmas List, and Patricia Miller Mauro’s Safe from the Past AND chocolate (yum, yum).  Thanks so much, Jill!  This December has been hard, what with Mom’s diagnosis and surgery and all (she’s doing so well, we’re all so thankful), so a lovely box of Christmas cheer and book love was just what I needed. 
Thank you many times!  Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
cats · happy dance · parents · thanks

I haz a happee!

A happy new house!  Be prepared for a long post with gratuitous photographic displays!

 So Thursday, December 30, I went to the bank and signed my life away…but I got the keys to my new house!  I stopped by Lowe’s for painting supplies, picked up some lunch, changed out of my suit (I, apparently, am the only person I know who dresses up for a house closing, but I have a suspicion that the loan officer is happier loaning a large sum of money to a person who looks like a professional, not a dumpster-dweller), and headed over to my new house with a few things.

Including the house-warming present from my bank.

Now that the house was mine, I could think about what I wanted to do with the rooms in the new house. 

The master bedroom needed a coat of paint, not too far from the starting shade of blue, but the original job was really shoddy (did they thin the paint before using it?).

The smaller bedroom, my office, needed several coats of paint to cover up that ghastly shade of Pepto-Bismol pink and some work to cover really bad drywall patches (this is not as pink as it should be but I was having trouble getting the correct exposure because the lighting in that room is really dank, also on the list of things to change).

Mom and Dad came down to help – Dad to help paint and Mom to get started on the kitchen (see below for what was up with the kitchen).  We weren’t done with painting that evening – it was just too many walls to paint (even with Jess and Jackie coming over to help) and we needed another full coat in the office to cover the pink, even though we’d started with a tinted primer.  So back to the condo for bed:

Which was really the couch because I had to start taking the bed apart for the movers.  I didn’t go to sleep until nearly 2am because I was also taking apart the stereo system and packing all the clothes in the drawers in my room.

Up at 6am and I took the cats over to the new house.  Which involved tricking two highly suspicious felines into their carriers (also known as giving up on doing it nicely and dropping them butt-first into the carriers), packing them into the car with all their toys, blankies, and new litter boxes, and taking a (mercifully) short car ride with two howling animals.  They were installed in the downstairs bathroom, known as “the cats’ bathroom”, for the day.  Then I raced back to the condo in time for the water heater guy to install the new water heater (old water heater was peeing water on the floor at the condo), the movers to come for my furniture, and the contractor to fix the drywall (I was practically paying the buyers to take my house).

 It was like a circus!! We found little kitty hoards under all the furniture. 

After the movers left, Dad and I worked on more painting – we didn’t finish until Saturday (!) but the results were well worth it.


My bedroom has a much more saturated blue color – along with a more even paint job – so it feels very calm and peaceful.  The cats felt more at home once we got the bed made (when I let them out of the bathroom they wouldn’t go anywhere without me, even crying to get me to come downstairs so they could use the kitty box; Chaucer would stand at the bottom and cry to have me to come down and get him).
My office turned out to be AMAZING!  The color is Bimini Blue and after a coat of tinted primer and two coats of color it looks exactly like the card.  I’ve got a little touch-up work to do, still (and we got a bit of paint on the woodwork), but I’m busily filling up my bookshelves with books.
So, do you want to hear about the kitchen?  The kitchen was a disaster.  The oven was beyond disgusting (I’m sorry I didn’t remember to take a picture), like multiple-years’-worth-of-cooking pizza-directliy-on-the-racks-without-a-pan level of dirty; we had to vacuum the ashes out of the bottom after running the cleaning cycle.  My mother, who is quite good at getting kitchens in order, spent nearly three days cleaning cabinets, even borrowing the putty knife to scrape God-only-knows-what off of cabinet bottoms.  She made me promise that the next time I buy a house I request on the offer to have a professional cleaning done prior to close (and that goes for my brothers and sisters-in-law, too). 
In the end it turned out to be a very nice and clean kitchen with a low wall looking over the foyer where Chaucer likes to sit and vulture the food. 

I swear that I cleaned my condo unbelievably well prior to the sale on January 5 – it took two days and you could have eaten off the floor in the bathroom where the litter boxes sat. True story.

I had the carpet cleaned at the condo prior to closing.  It was so sad to see it empty – even though I am happy to be well rid of it, it was my first house and I cried when my realtor called to tell me the sale was completed. 

Bye-bye old kitchen, it doesn’t even look like I lived there (or anyone, for that matter).

Among the surprises at the new house, I was gifted with a large porch swing (they asked if I wanted it and I said I didn’t care because I already had a swing…so they left it) and multiple junk drawers full of old makeup, barbie shoes, hair-ties, nails, screws, keys, crap, about $3.50 in pocket change (which I fed to the Peanut-Butter Bear Bank), and these:


I think these are what I used to put notecards on but they were holding up the shower curtain in the upstairs bath!  Not only were they slobs, they weren’t very smart because these bad boys rust!  Classy!
So my new house is slowly coming together.  The cats have settled in nicely (I found favorite toys upstairs on the third day, so they adjusted quite well; Dante has found his old hiding places again).  I’ve got a lot of boxes left to unpack – and I don’t have any nice living room furniture as yet – but it feels like home now.
Welcome, friends! (My youngest brother and sister-in-law gave this to me for Christmas a few years ago – I never had a satisfactory place to hang it until now).
parents · reflection · thanks

Happy New Year, happy new house!!

Hello 2011!

Hello new house!!

I spent my New Year’s holiday moving from my old, poorly managed condo (seemed great when I bought it 7 years ago, but no…) to a zero-lot line (for those who don’t have this legal designation it’s like a duplex that you own).  I closed on the purchase December 30, the movers came December 31, and, whew!  It was crazy for a little while.

I’m working on getting a blog 2010 review post done, a blog 2011 goals post done, one more book review from 2010, and a post about the new house.  That new camera got a workout, I tell ‘ya.

Happy reading in the new year!  Many thanks to my parents who helped out TREMENDOUSLY with the move (story about my mom and the kitchen later).

new yarn · thanks

Surprises in my mailbox!

The mail carrier delivered two fun surprises this week.

On Friday a mostly-flat brown envelope arrived….

It’s from Norton & Co (Twitter @NortonAnthology) – they sent some buttons out to those of us who tried to be the first to answer a trivia question.  I can’t even remember what the prize for winning was and this is pretty darn cute.  I have it on my name tag at the store (and I do like footnotes).

On Saturday I had a large, puffy envelope from Minnesota – it was from Sharon (aka The Yarnista and @threeirishgirls) of Three Irish Girls!  Sharon makes beautiful custom, hand-dyed yarn in dazzling color combinations and I was recently lucky enough to win a skein of Sharon’s McClellan Fingering (sock) yarn.  So pretty (Sharon surprised me by picking the colorway)! 

Sharon also included a Three Irish Girls tape measure (very handy), some very cute Susan Bates sock-shaped point protectors, and a lovely card.  Thank you, Sharon! 

Did I mention the name of the colorway?  Oh, I didn’t?  Well, it’s called “Brown Eyed Girl”…appropriate, yes?

Thanks again, Sharon, I love it!!!!

BBAW · thanks

BBAW Future Treasure: Onward!

First of all, before BBAW “officially” ends I need to thank Amy.  BBAW is Amy’s brainchild and we don’t get to have any fun finding new blogs and books or winning fun giveaways without Amy’s generous donation of time.  And her minions’ time (of which I was one).  THANK YOU, AMY!!!! *big hug*

On to today’s assignment (onward!).

The best part of BBAW is finding new blogs.  Hands down.  Like Cass.  How did I not find her earlier?  I also found Sya, Zee, Allegra, Felicia, Sakura, and finally remembered to put Iris in my GR.  I didn’t discover any new books this BBAW but I’m sure I will in the future – that’s what the new bloggers are for.

As far as the future of Scuffed Slippers and Wormy Books (and me, the balletbookworm), I will try very hard to comment more on others’ blogs and to respond to comments on my blog.  It’s part of being a good blog-o-sphere citizen.  If I want people to comment on my blog then I should comment on theirs.  At least once in a while.

I’ve also cut back on the memes as of late.  I got a bit bored with trying to remember to get meme posts done as well as review posts, because otherwise it’s not a review blog at all, knitting posts, and so on.  In the case of “Teaser Tuesdays”, my ADD reading sensibilities were causing me to give a Teaser for a book I wouldn’t finish for another six months or so.  So I might do a few meme posts here and there but definitely not as many as last year.  I’m trying very hard to keep the number of books I have “in progress” in check so I should have more finished books to review.

Catch you on the flip side!