Mike and his dad are taking Luke to his very first Tigers game tomorrow! Baseball is big in this family, so this is a huge deal. It is an occasion Mike and his dad have been dreaming about ever since I got pregnant.

Hopefully their grand plan is not thwarted by a trip to the emergency room. Luke managed to get bit by our cat - again - but this time it was not by Pele (aka Mean Kitty Ow). This time it was Buster Brown, the generally mellow Maine Coon. I don’t even know what prompted it. Buster is always so calm. He was lying on the couch next to me and Luke and all of the sudden he hissed and lashed out. Luke has a couple marks on his arm. One puncture, but we cleaned it out immediately and hopefully it won’t get infected like the last time (Pele bit him on the foot back in June). It’s ironic really, because we’ve been working so hard to keep him and Pele separated, we hadn’t even bothered with watching Buster. Oy. I’ve said it before, but I am so done with these cats. I have my niece and nephew coming for the weekend so I think the cats will be camping out in our bedroom. How frustrating.

Oh, in lighter news, I bought some new make-up the other day and now I feel pretty. Funny how a bit of make-up and a new pair of underwear make you feel like a new woman. Speaking of feeling pretty, How To Look Good Naked is on tonight! Love it!

Yesterday some friends of mine from FPU, friends who knew nothing of my weight loss goals and change in habits, asked me if I had been losing weight. They totally made my day! I was beaming, people. It’s one thing when your family and close friends say they can tell you’ve lost weight, but when friends who don’t read your blog tell you that you look thinner, it means it’s real. Really real and official. I’m not crazy, my pants really are falling down! It’s a good thing I still have my gift card from Christmas for Ann Taylor Loft. I’m going shopping this weekend and I’m going to buy me some clothes that FIT.

Almost as exciting as losing weight is just barely escaping a blow to the head by a suicidal falcon. True story, folks. I was walking to work on Monday and a falcon flew right over my head - right into the Department of Corrections building - and fell to the ground landing not more than two feet from me. The bird seemed more shocked than hurt. After taking a minute to catch it’s breath it was ready to be on it’s way, but hopefully flying in a different direction.

On Top Chef last night the contestants were divided into teams named after animals. They were discussing which animal they would choose to be if they ever had that choice. When I was walking to work today I saw some ducks hobnobbing in the river and I immediately thought how nice it would be to just glide along like a duck. I’ve always loved rivers. They are peaceful and often go untouched. Rivers seem to me like a whole other world. If I were a duck I would live on the river and it would be like vacation all the time. Although I don’t care for being in deep water I do love being on the water. Ducks just seem to be very laid back. They float along, occasionally dipping down for a swim, and they just let everything roll of their backs.

As it turns out, I have had a fascination with ducks all my life. I was unaware of this until awhile back when I was looking through some old photos.  As I sorted through the photos I  discovered that I had taken an abnormal number of pictures of ducks. Not pictures of people with ducks standing nearby, pictures of just ducks. The first photos I came across were photos I took at summer camp. I remember taking them. I had wandered off on my own and when I stumbled upon a gang of them I apparently found them so beautiful and exotic that I had to take multiple pictures. I thought it was just an awkward 5th grader thing but then I found more. When I was in college I used to sit on a bench near a pond on campus and eat my lunch in between classes. Thank God I had a camera with me the day that the ducks showed up, or else no one would have believed me. Who does that? Who sees a duck, a plain old duck, and is compelled to photograph them as if they might be worthy of a National Geographic cover?

I’m not sure where this all came from, this duck thing, but it may have stemmed from singing “Six Little Ducks” with my mom as a young child. Thanks, Mom. You gave me great memories and a great song to sing with my child, but the side effect was a weird fascination with a swimming bird.