-- as the man said as he fell past the 25th floor.
by Doctor Science
Welcome to 2017. Make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their fully upright and locked position, we may experience some turbulence.
As usual, we at Casa Science hosted a New Year's Eve party. At about 11:50, Mr Dr Science called people to the table and started deciding which French champagne we'd open for the midnight toast.
At about 11:53, a guest unexpectedly started vomiting all over the table.
We missed the stroke of midnight, because everyone was either helping her to the bathroom, getting her clean clothes, cleaning up, ascertaining that the food & drink had been mostly spared, cleaning more, or hiding in corners feeling all too sympathetic (if you catch my meaning).
It was highly distressing, of course, but no-one could deny it was an ending in the true spirit of 2016.

The rest of the party was very nice, really, and ended about 2AM. At 9:30 in the morning, we were suddenly awakened: "Not you too, Sneakers!" cried Mr Dr, as the cat vomited on our bed. And the floor.
Fortunately, we have planned for this contingency, by having a collection of attractive India print bedspreads that can be swapped in when the cat has an Incident -- or just shed too much hair and bits of litter for human comfort. And in recent months we haven't needed to change them as often, because he's learned to throw up in the bathroom as much as possible -- an achievement of which I didn't think *any* cat was capable, much less one who's over 15 years old and who, while not the dumbest cat I've ever lived with (poor Whitey! but she was very loving), is certainly not the smartest (Susu, the Einstein of cats, who lived to the very distinguished age of 22). Actually, he's learned a number of things in the past year, since we moved into the new house. He likes it because the living areas are all on one floor, so he gets more regular human contact without having to follow me around from floor to floor. The things he's learned are all about manipulating humans, of course: he does more endearing reaching with his paw because that's a reliable attention-getter. He also knows when his daily treats (and the hyperthyroid pills that precede them) are due, and will come yell at me in my study if he I'm late.

Sneakers on one of his bedspreads, receiving the worship that is his due. The way he's captured my hand with his paw is a relatively new skill.
I've been having a lot of trouble thinking or reading about politics for the last few weeks, my anxiety spiked so high after Trump tweeted this:
I'm hoping to get back on the posting track for the new year, but will probably focus on things like books, art, history: cultivating my garden both literally and figuratively. Also learning how to arrange flowers, and filing (or throwing out) my papers. Making sure I have a calm center to deal with the coming year, whatever it brings.

One of the things I want to learn is how to keep roses alive in a vase longer than a few days. Or rather, to keep *most* roses alive, not just a special few. Experiments are ongoing!
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