dragonlady7

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Yesterday afternoon we went to get our cat back from Dude’s mom’s house (my mother-not-law). She loves it at Skin-Grammy’s house, and always comes home smelling faintly of scented candles. (To my sorrow, I pointed this out, and I think MNL thought it was a criticism. Listen I fucking love scented candles, and don’t burn any because I can’t handle Dude’s mockery about it.)

Chita never likes to be retrieved from Skin-Grammy’s. Mostly, she hates the car, but it always makes me feel sort of bad. Last night we hung out for a bit and actually ordered pizza and had dinner together; MNL is about to go visit Dude’s sister in CA, now that they’re all vaccinated, and so she’s trying to eat everything in the house that might go bad, and we haven’t been grocery shopping since we got back into town, so.

I tried luring Chita closer to me, so I took a photo at one point where I lay on the floor and stalked her. I thought it was quite funny:

When it came time I scooped her up and she put her claws in and we took her home. She forgave me within an hour or so, and sat on the desk bonking her head periodically against mine. Much faster than of yore, she used to sulk for hours.

Anyway. Still haven’t gone grocery shopping so today’s packed lunch is a bit dire… yes I have ez-mac in the plastic cup, don’t mock me it’s saving me today. (Your picture was not posted)

One would think that wartime would be a good opportunity for a bard. So much material, and so many people hungry for meaning, and who better to combine them than a man with a gift for poetic imagery? 

But Jaskier was no bright-eyed youth anymore, and hard experience had taught him that wars were as terrible for bards as they were for anyone else. No, the good time to be a bard was after the war was over, as the dust was settling– you figured out who’d come out on top, and made nice songs for them, and they rewarded you for it, and then you also could use all that material and meaning-analysis-giving to make beautiful songs so people would cry and feel better and give you money. That was all well and good and could be a great boon to any bard’s career.

But first you had to survive the war, which involved several things Jaskier was good at but did not really let on about: common sense and keeping one’s mouth the fuck shut.