I know I know, I'm the worst blogger ever. In my defense, I don't have the internet right now, and being 33 weeks pregnant doesn't help either. Adam almost got a cat this weekend. They were giving away kittens at the Flea Market, and to be honest with you, the fact that 'flea' is in the name of the place where these cats were gives you a pretty good idea of their condition. A few of them looked sooo tiny I'm sure they were on their last legs. I was a good wife and didn't cringe in disgust from these helpless wormy creatures, although when my husband asked my opinion, I hinted that there are lots of cats that need to be rescued at the Animal Shelter that have had their shots. Plus, those at the Animal Shelter are destined for demise if they are not adopted. These cats, if they made it past infancy, would more than likely be ferrel and mean, or die of some form of disease that they no doubt contracted at the very ethnic flea market. In any case, we didn't leave with a cat, although both Adam and Emma at some point or other threw their arms around my neck and gave me the sad eyes. I assured them that if they were both very good, did their chores, and saved all their pennies, they most definitely could earn a kitten. (Not to mention a new CHILD here in the next few weeks) Pray that the cat we get is not sick, dying, or dead. WE LOVE YOU ALL!