Today was the birthday of America, and tomorrow is the birthday of my dear, Sweet Piglet. I love him so very, very much. He is the most darlingest, the most lovingest, the most brilliantest, and absolutely the most sexiest (even though he doesn’t really know it).
He teaches me all kinds of valuable schtuff — like about cozy, comfy bedding…and the bliss of IKEA…and all the good, cheap hippie food to be had at Trader Joe’s…and the importance of daily hydration…and Olympia…and amazing music…and good pizza vs. bad pizza…and the possibilty of Paris…and the possibility of magic…and the presence of sweetness and love every day of my life.
Oh, and he chows the serious muff, too.
I like him alot (even when I wake up in the middle of the night and, mistaking him for a Ring-Wraith, take a mouse-fisted swing at him). I am going to keep him.
I can’t wait to see what he is going to look like when he is old. Okay, so maybe I can wait — but it will be fun strolling around with him when he is wearing cute, old Jewish man shoes and complaining about his lumbago.
I will feed him homemade matzoh ball soup and tenderly kiss his lumbago for him — whatever a lumbago is.