Saturday Night Silliness -- Random Musings of a Writer Lady and Her Cat.

* Never light any firework of any sort inside a building or at a stove. That goes for sparklers too.   Writer Lady covers her head with her pillow and lays back down as far out of Tinkletoes’ reach as humanly possible. “Still here.” The self-proclaimed mercenary announces. “I’m not leaving without food.” Writer Lady removes the pillow from her face. “Eat nuts.” She says. “What?” “Eat nuts, berries, boil up some tree roots. You have a rare opportunity to really hone those skills.” She says before covering her face with the pillow again. “It’s January. Too cold for foraging.” Writer Lady ignores the comment. The room grows quiet, she hears a rustling sound. “He’s still here isn’t he?” She asks. No one responds. She feels the mattress shift as Tinkletoes' weight takes residence on the far corner of the bed. “Still here.” The self-proclaimed mercenary says. Three minutes pass. “Still here.” He repeats. “You aren’t going to give up are you?”

Writer Lady opens one eye. The room is dark. Her mother’s words run through her mind. “You don’t eat enough, you’re too skinny.” She rolls on to her back and contemplates how many times she heard those words. Shaking her head, Writer Lady rolls over to the other side. Smudge is curled up against her. She smiles. It’s always nice to have your own personal heater on a cold night. It seems the kitten agrees. She closes her eyes hoping to return to some level of REM sleep. Then she hears, “It’s so difficult to shop for new clothes these days. Mind your sweets!” This is also her mother’s voice. Eventually she gets back to sleep, “Grr...where are the sweets?” The words are gruff, she imagines a large monster in the room standing over her. Raising her hand, she feels around in the general vicinity the voice seems to be coming from and finds nothing. She lowers her hand falling back into the deep sleep she is craving. Several minutes later she hears someone say, “Where’s the