Today's my dad's 61st birthday and tomorrow is the 62nd birthday of Jenn's dad. Happy Birthday, Dad and Jerry!

Not that they're reading this. I don't think Jerry even knows I have a website, let alone an on-line journal.

Well, I'm frustrated. I finally signed up to have Dreamhost host my site and registered my preferred domain name, which was, supposedly, available. This morning I received an e-mail saying that InterNIC couldn't complete the registration and would be refunding the charges within the next three to five days.

I'm upset about this, because I really liked the domain name that I picked. And now I can't use it. I've come up with a variation, but it won't be as easy to remember as the original. I just hope that one really is available.

Once I figure out how to do the whole FTP thing and I get everything copied over, I'll let y'all know. It'll probably be awhile, though. Maybe sometime next month.

Man oh man, I just don't know what to write today. I'm trying to be a good girl. I want to write something everyday, to get back to where I was in August, but there are so many thoughts flitting around in my brain that I'm finding it difficult to seize one and pummel an interesting and semi-coherent entry out of it.

I know. I'll talk about my cats. Won't that just be fascinating? Wait, come back, don't leave me!

The nice thing about cold winter nights is that all four cats like to sleep on the bed. I really like that.

The bad thing about cold winter nights is that all four cats like to sleep on the bed.

I have a queen size bed, which is fairly roomy. Unfortunately, when it's cold, the cats don't want to sleep at the foot of my roomy bed or artistically arranged around the edges. They'd much rather snuggle up to Mommy. I didn't mind it so much when it was just Noel and Matisse. I rather liked it and encouraged them to do it more often. But with four cats, two on each side, I'm pretty much trapped.

I could be mean and just fling the covers aside when I need to get up, kitties flying through the air. But I couldn't bear to do that to the little buggers, er, I mean, sweeties. So I do a lot of wriggling when I decide rise from the bed and greet the day.

(Actually, it's more of a "grumble, grumble, I don't want to get up maybe I can call in sick G-d I hate waking up why don't I go to bed at a decent time okay I'm getting up stupid alarm clock" rolling out of bed and barely making it to my feet kind of thing.)

By this time you would think the cats would realize that wriggling = food. And sometimes they do and it's all I can do to keep from stepping on them and tripping over them, especially the kittens. But sometimes they look at me, stupified, as I gently push them aside.

"Are you crazy?" their eyes say. (Especially Noel.) "It's warm and toasty in this bed. We're comfortable. You're comfortable. Just stay here for a little while. We'll tell you when we're ready for food." Then when I walk towards the kitchen, the kittens realize where I'm headed and, quicker than a flash, they're under my feet, rolling around on the floor and tripping me. (Especially Mike.) "Look at me, I'm so cute rolling around, putting my front paws behind my ears. How could you not feed a cutie like me?"

At least none of them likes to sleep on my head.

Well, that was an exciting entry. Aren't you glad you stayed around for that? Hello? Anyone still there?