...Not That There's Anything Wrong With That

This morning I've finally managed to force myself to sort through the bazillion pictures on our digital cameras and move them onto the computer. Having large memory cards in the cameras is great, but it also enables me to be lazy and just keep piling the pictures on there until two years down the road we actually fill up the cards and are left with an absolute mess on our hands. Another resoultion: be more organized. Sure, that could happen, and monkeys could fly out of my butt, too.

Jeff published a scandalous article on his blog this month pertaining to the sexual orientation of his feline brother-in-law, Major Skiffington. I thought of his post when I came across some rather incriminating pictures of two residents at the Barr Estate that were taken in the summer of 2006. I'm pretty sure the pictures speak for themselves, but you be the judge of what's going on. It's pretty obvious from the looks on their faces that they aren't ashamed of who they are; rather, they look a little pissed off that I'm interrupting their quiet time together. All of the time they spend lick fighting - where they pin each other down and lick and bite each other - makes so much sense now. Honestly, I'm just happy that they're happy, and as long as they aren't killing each other, their relationship ain't none of my biznass.