Final Days

I took the plunge and started up the new blog. It seems a bit more demure than what I'm used to, but I've been liking it so far. Update your bookmarks, folks, for nachoday. Hopefully I can keep it for more than ten months since it's not timeframe-specific like this one was. See you on the other side!

Nacho Day

Travis and I just spent a good long while trying random blogger names to see if they've been taken and woo doggie, there are some wacky people out there. What is so harsh is that most of the really funny URLs only have like, two or three posts from back in 2000 so you want to just hijack them for the name. I've been trying to think of a new blog name since this one is no longer appropriate as I'm neither studying nor in Montpellier. For some reason, I've been hung up on how funny 'nacho' is in the URL, like 'nachoblog'. What kills me are the ones like nachonacho who didn't ever post but are still hogging the name. The available ones that I like are "nachonachos.blogspot.com" and "nachoday.blogspot.com". How can you say them out loud and not giggle? Or, as Travis would put it, larchuckle. I just lost some brain cells.

After talking to Sam, I'm also entertaining "nachoponcho" because it's so funny to say, which is really my only criterion right now. Anyone else have clever ideas? I've been up forever so everything I find really hilarious now probably will be so unfunny tomorrow.

UPDATE: Argh! Nachoworld is another blogger casualty. Blast you Ignacio Milla! Ah, but "nachomacho" is still free, as is "muchonacho". Maybe I'm just hungry...

Check-in

Today's surprise was that everything went as planned, from going to Wal-Mart to buy sheets ($2.98 fitted, 200 thread count, feels like cheap) to checking in and getting my key to physically moving all of my things into the room. Although I'm way far at the bottom end of campus, I prefer it to East since I'm right on College Avenue. I met the other CA on the floor and she said that we're going to have to move up to one of the East dorms for a night or two this weekend because the East Coast Volleyball Tour is coming to town for a few days and it's the biggest conference event of the year. I'm sure glad I didn't miss out on that one.

It's hot! I was Sweaty McPitstains trying to drag all of my stuff around the room and get it organized before I had the bright idea to assemble my fan and bask in the coolness. On a whiny note, I'm also hungry since I thought lunch ran until 2:30 but really they're only open until 2:00 so I missed out. I'll be ravenous by the end of the meeting at 5:15.

I feel like I'm not going to be doing a lot of work for how much I'm getting in return. It seems like I have to be in the dorm (not really doing anything, just around, sleeping, whatever) two nights a week from 8 PM on, and then I can sign up for extra shifts in the housing department during the week if I want. I suppose I'll learn more tonight, but I'll certainly have time for a second job, it seems.

Positivity

Some good things about being back:

1. Being able to steal spoonfuls of vanilla Frosty from Rob.
2. Travis and Alias. And Victor Garber. And Ron Rifkin. And Kevin Weisman.
3. Ice cubes.
4. Thrift stores with Lauren.
5. Unlimited, uninterrupted wireless internet. Swoon.

Recap of my trip, anyone?

I kind of compromised on the sleeping thing and went to bed at 11:00 until Suzy came back at 2:30 and started packing, which reminded me that I still had a ton of stuff to put away. I did that until about 5:30, when I took a miserably short nap. After tying up every single loose end with the landlady who I am glad to be rid of, I then began the herculean task of not only getting three incredibly heavy, cumbersome suitcases down the stairs, but also putting them in motion to get all the way down to the Comedie. It was a somewhat creative endeavor, as I placed the ghetto Gambetta bag on top of my first huge suitcase, pushed them in front, and pulled my carry-on behind me. The Gambetta bag was so heavy that I actually saw my big suitcase start to buckle from the weight. There's this muscle group near my biceps that I had never used before that is still aching.

I saw both Steve and Mina at the airport, and found out that not only was Mina on the same flight as me to Paris, she was also on the same one to Philadelphia, coincidentally enough. I had the misfortune to get the cranky man on the baggage weigh-in who made me jettison about twenty pounds of books before he'd validate my carry-on.

I got the wing seat again (like always) so I had a perfect view of the baggage handlers. Note the red suitcase on the far left? That's mine. You can't tell how enormous it is because it's dwarfed by Mina's, the blue one behind it. Hers made mine look like a wheelie backpack.

You know how I always end up sitting next to an old person or a crying child? This flight was no exception. Crying child. He was cute, I suppose, but not when his ears hurt and he is shrieking unstoppably with pain. I was pleased when we landed.

We reached our terminal without incident, and were impressed by the stylish bathrooms.







True to form, the Paul bakery was marked up about a billion percent. Notice that apple pastry in the top right? That costs about four dollars. Sheesh. Mina got one of the salami sandwiches.


Fortune smiled upon me for putting up with that kid and I was rewarded with a ton of empty seats in the surrounding areas. For once, I was stuck in the middle section, but with no one on either side. There was some weird lady who kept talking to herself at the end of the row, but that was it.

Mina didn't have the luxury of all that space to stretch out in.






That geotravel screen is an addictive monster. There were about six hours where we saw nothing but the Atlantic Ocean and Greenland, but you had to keep checking with a compulsion every ten minutes or so just to make sure that the plane was still in the middle of nowhere.


What service! The flight attendants came around within twenty minutes of takeoff asking whether we wanted a refreshing beverage. I picked the wine since I couldn't find my nite-time softgels and really wanted to sleep. It even came with a packet of salted aperatif crackers. Classy.


I really want to write a complimentary letter to Air France admiring their meal services. What was included? For starters, a Tomato tarte Tatin and breadstick, then as a main course you had the option of chicken filets or salmon ravioli Florentine, which I chose. Then, a wedge of Camembert cheese, a Madeleine, and for desert, farmer's cheese entremets with mango. Delicious. The ravioli is looking a little green here but it was wonderful. I even got another bottle of wine. The flight attendants were probably talking about cutting me off.

We had a large selection of movies to choose from, and I picked Music and Lyrics which I liked well enough except for Drew Barrymore who overacted. Hugh Grant was superb, as always.

What do you do after the movie is over and the wine hasn't put you to sleep? Play lame in-flight games, of course. It was a matching game and for the life of me I couldn't get a lower score than 27.


You may think this is nothing more than a remote for the TV, but really it's an Enhanced Passenger Control Unit, or EPCU. At least that's what it said on the back. I liked the enhanced control.






The wine did nothing except make me have to pee a lot. Notice the incongruity here: a ton of no smoking signs, and then ... an ashtray built into the wall next to the toilet.






A couple hours later, we got yet another tiny meal, surprise! This was more like breakfast fare, with cups of yogurt and orange juice, a sandwichy slice, and a package of cookies. I chose Coca Light as my beverage because I didn't want to be gossiped about behind the curtain.

Here's an aeriel view right before I got another ... Ariel view (aha, aha, lame). Ariel and Alain (I always thought that it was weird that him and his brother have almost identical names to Arienne and I) had been waiting at the airport forever since the arrivals screen hadn't listed my flight as being late even though we got there forty minutes after the scheduled landing time. Luckily we found each other and hung out for a good while since my flight to Pittsburgh also ended up being delayed.


At first, it just said that we would have a 7:45 takeoff rather than 6:30. Lame, but not disastrous. What is disastrous? Taking off at 9:50 rather than 6:30. Yep. It was agonizingly boring. Apparently, the plane that we would be taking hadn't even radioed in yet from Houston, let alone unboarded. Then, all of our suitcases were taken to the wrong terminal, so we just sat on the plane. I had this annoying, annoying man behind me who would not stop talking. It would have been funny if I hadn't been awake for so long. Eventually, the nice old lady in the next seat turned towards me and rolled her eyes in irritation.

I put my iPod on to drown him out more than anything else and promptly fell asleep for the entirety of the trip, which was only forty-five minutes or so. When I woke up again, we were pretty close to landing so I took a picture, which encouraged Talky Man to joke "hey, no electronic devices allowed, I'm going to tell!" in a horrible singsongy voice. I wanted to turn around and yell, 'shut up! shut up! Stop talking! You're a grown man! I want to bludgeon you with my camera!'. But at that point I was so weary I just ignored him.

Back Home

At last! It may have taken over 24 hours, and a whole lot of waiting around with nothing to do, but I am finally home and in my new bed with Kitty at the end. And now I have been up for over a day and a half without sleep and am starting to succumb. Good night.

Update

Hello, all. In addition to the multitude of entries I have time to write another one since I've been at the office since two this afternoon. So what's been up today? I actually had quite a full schedule. Lindsay asked me to go with her for moral support to her waxing appointment this morning at 10:15, where they yanked hair from her armpits, thighs, and bikini area. I'll pass.

I worked my final two hours at the American Library, which was kind of sad since it's such a good time. Lately it's been my job to stick the little barcodes into each book and make sure that the information matches up. I know it's a lot of responsibility, but I'm confident that I can handle it.

Oh, yes - excellent news! I checked my Paul-Valery page today in a futile hope that perhaps one of my grades would be posted, and yippee, that horrendous Promised Lands class that made me pull an almost all-nighter a few weeks back and caused me more anguish than anything wound up being a 17! That is, out of 20, and an 11 being an A. I think to pass you need a 6. That pleases me. Now I only have my Comedy in Cinema class to fret over. What am I going to stress about after that?

Still Posting

I made my last trip to the university library today, which was kind of sad but kind of not. I’ve been putting off working at the American library until tomorrow since I wanted to finish Atlas Shrugged but now realize how futile my goal is. I had planned on making a trip to the beach sometime in the couple days before I left but that is clearly not in the cards.

Sam and I went to Leader Price today to pick up gummy candy, cereal, and ice cream because I am the picture of health. Do you know what tune I absolutely could not shake from my head? The Law and Order theme song. Why, oh why? Not even the whole thing, just the very beginning.

I’m still undecided about my sleeping schedule before the flight. I could stay up all night, but that would be really boring if Suzy goes to bed and I have nothing to do, because I couldn’t read the books I have set aside for the plane ride. I’d be playing hour after hour of Spider Solitaire, which is numbing, and then what happens if I do by mistake fall asleep and miss my flight? Tears and anguish, that’s what. If I do get a night’s sleep, I could wake up around 6:00, get to the airport early just in case, laze around for awhile without reading my set books, then maybe take a multi-symptom nite time softgel and knock myself out for the eight hour flight home. But then I might still be all loopy when I get to Philadelphia and that’s not fair to make Ariel deal with me when I am talking nonsense and can’t function.

I’m going to try to stay up until at least eleven or twelve, which to me will seem like five or six AM. Of course, at nine o’clock the next morning I have plans to go thrift store shopping with Lauren, because most of my clothes are wearing out after a year of constant wear and poor laundering conditions.

Can't Stop at This Point

On my way to Gambetta the other day I caught sight of this mutant pigeon with a spiky bone projection out of the back of his head. Freaky.

‘Alaina, what new releases are out in French movie theaters?’ Oh, just Clerks II. ‘But Alaina, didn’t Clerks II come out last July? And didn’t you see it three times before you left? How is this still circulating?’ I don’t know.

Yee-haw for pictures that turn out well. About two hours after making that miserable post the other afternoon, the sun finally came out and I could leave the building, almost stepping on what I thought was a shell but really was a snail. Escargot. I had little time and it was still dripping and I really didn’t want to get my camera out of my backpack, but I’m glad I did. This made the Desktop Background Cut.

I started cleaning the bathroom today, hoping that Suzy doesn’t plan on showering for the next two days or so. I soaked all of my towels and hung them outside to dry, and I heard the landlady come out and she was all, ‘oh this is no good, there’s still spots on them. I’ll just have to do it myself’, muttery-like. Well hey landlady, how about next time you give us a washer and dryer and you’ll get spot-free towels, eh?

The fridge was not a happy place to clean. This here lettuce dates back to when the parentals visited the first week of April. Mmm. It was pretty soggy.

This fromage blanc looks pretty okay, right? I only bought it about three weeks ago, I’m sure it’s fine. Maybe I’ll have it for dessert tonight.

Blarrrgh! Nuh-uh! Yuck, yuck. There is this interesting pattern of mold on mold growing in there that was interesting to investigate.

I’ve been sitting in the kitchen for the past hour, and every so often I get a whiff of something that smells like mice pee. I’m starting to get concerned, first that it might be me and secondly that we may have mice in the apartment.

Continuation

Look who was back yesterday – half of the Frog and Toad duo. He plopped back into the water right as I took this picture. Frogs are a skittish bunch.

Ooh, ahh. The roses are still blooming on campus.

Lindsay and I went down to the Odysseum tram stop to check out bike rentals but a flea market on the way caught our eye, and of course we had to go. It took a mighty effort not to buy this head and take it home and put it next to my glass head that’s on my file cabinet. I still feel regret.

The perfect mirror for French women. This thing was about a foot across, maybe less.

On a bus? Scandalous!

Unbelievably, Even More Zoo

Crazy-huge bug, not even part of an exhibit. I came about three inches away from crushing it entirely. It probably would have broken through the sole.

The peacock was back in full form, showing off for all the ladies.

Bawk! I was talking to Sam and thinking how silly a male peacock would look without that little ruffle on top of his head.

Sweet plumage.

Oh yay, traditional Catalan folk dancing! I’m sure glad I didn’t miss that.

More Zoo

Lemurs!







Strange, buggy eyed lemurs!

Lunaret must have sprung for a new zebra, since there were two now in the pen. Maybe they figured out people don’t like looking at a hundred different species of gazelle.

They weren’t the friendliest of pairs, though. One kept trying to bite and kick the other. The ugly bird looked on impassively.

This picture was taken outside of the law – I had to step over the little wire fence thing they had to keep people from getting too close to the cage. All for the sake of this blog. Enjoy.

What Did I Do on Saturday...

… I went to the zoo! I wish every zoo was free. But before I went, I stopped by Paul-Valéry to hook into the internet.

You don’t need a zoo to have wildlife fun, that’s for sure. We have our own version of Frog and Toad hanging out in the nasty pond thing by G building.

Hello, Frog. He was looking good.

The high point of my zoo day is always the otters. I know realistically if I tried to pet them they’d bite my hand off, but they look so lovable and friendly I always want one as a pet.

Lizard was doing what he always does when I stop by, aka nothing at all. Just staring.

Oh, yeah! Baby lemur! This thing was a total spaz. He’s doing the locomotion in this picture but usually he was literally bouncing off the walls. Thankfully I got some good video. I could have watched him all day and then gone home very, very tired.

Lemur Momma looking weary.Check out the video.

Here’s everyone’s favorite foosa! The OCD must have worn him out, since he wasn’t up to any rope tearing or leg scratching today.

Monday

On Saturday, it was hot here. Like, eighty plus degrees hot. Sam and I went to the zoo, where the entire time I kept thinking "golly, it's hot. This is terrible." My birthday wish came true with a vengeance, since all of yesterday and today it's been rainy and mucky and cloudy. Happy birthday, indeed. This morning I washed some of my towels and realized, oh. It's wetter outside than inside. Also, there is a pervasive smell of crap lingering around the city. Wet crap.

In better, non-whiny news, I bought myself a cheap nylon zip bag yesterday at the Arab stores which are the only things open on Sunday, and am beside myself with how well it held all of my clothes. Now I won't have to sit on my suitcases to make them close.

I really, really want to post all of my London pictures at one go, but I'm just not feeling the energy right now so perhaps in a week or so when I don't even remember the trip anymore I'll go crazy with like, eight hundred posts as I am wont to do. On verra.

That's really it. It's an uncreative day.

Back Again

Well, France let me back in, which was considerate. I didn't really want to have to start crying in front of everyone in the airport until they just shuffled me through to get rid of me. How was that six o'clock flight? Bad!


I got to Stansted Airport at around 2:30 in the morning due to a train confusion that I don't want to discuss because I'll get all stressed again. I thought it was going to be pretty empty, but au contraire, there were hundreds of people laying all over the place with sleeping bags and stuff apparently waiting for flights. I dragged my suitcase (not a wheelie backpack) around aimlessly for awhile but all the good spots (aka behind the ticket counters) were gone. I finally set myself up behind a Hertz car rental kiosk with some guy that snored like crazy.

I was so bored, I couldn't sleep because it was cold and the ground was hard, so I tried to eat something but I was so sick of crackers after eating them all week. I was about to pitch them but I figured I would do something nice and ask some random guy hanging out near an interactive job computer station if he wanted them. I thought he was deaf at first because he kept saying "what?" but it turns out he was from the Czech Republic. He thought I was very funny (why? does my humor break the language barrier?) and hung out with me the rest of the night, so at least if I wasn't sleeping I wasn't bored. Of course he had the very Eastern-European name of Stanislav.

I finally had to pee so badly that I used their bathrooms, and smacked the right side of my butt into that poorly-designed disposal container. It overlaps the toilet, how stupid. Ow.






Luckily I had all my toiletries so I didn't have to resort to ... the chewable toothbrush. Oh, nasty.





Cool mascot. He looks like a bacterium. I wouldn't have chose it.






And off we go! I always get the wing seat because I am always one of the first people on the plane (thanks, priority boarding). Goodbye, English countryside.




I finally got to my apartment at 10:00 and felt so gross I immediately got into the shower (still wearing my clothes, of course, they needed washing as badly as I did) and couldn't go right to sleep as I desperately needed, having been awake since 6:30 the day before, but instead had to gather by things and take two finals as well as turn in a fantastic literature story worth half of my grade. The final is the other half. I managed to stay awake until about eight last night and then collapsed for thirteen hours. It was blissful.

Now, of course, I have my last final in an hour after which I am completely done. Super, super.

Shortie

Ha, oops! Apparently Blogger doesn't like it when I type so much, and it cut me short right when I was getting to some interesting info. I was going to say, getting a ticket for a Shakespearean play held at the Globe theater tonight. Right now they're playing Othello, which is lucky because I've read it and know that it isn't boring.

Can't write much; only paid fifty pence. I have to take a ride out to Stansted airport to sleep tonight because my flight leaves at six o'clock tomorrow morning. Good lord.

Cheerio

I made it to London! There was a bit of a snafu with my visa and the fact that I still haven't renewed it, even though it expired in November. Why are they giving me crap now and not in say, February when I went to Brussels? At least they let me come back.

I'm trying to deal with the horrid exchange rate that is stabbing at my finances. When they say their monetary unit is the pound, they're talking in pounds of flesh. They say things like 'only ten quid' but really that means about 22.17 dollars. Crikey! I thought the euro was bad ...

But London is not! I'm really, really liking this city, most of all for the fact that even though there are a ton of chain stores (hello, Pizza Hut!) there are also thousands so tiny stores and pubs with quirky names like the one next door called 'The Mason's Arms'. I wonder if that refers to fire-arms or arms-arms.

While I would love nothing more, rest assured, than to give you a minute-by-minute update on this trip, I am writing this out longhand as to shave off valuable pencey seconds from my time at the web cafe. Also, because it's 1:00 AM and I am wide awake after a luxurious six hour nap, aka a full night's sleep. I was pretty lucky, though - until midnight I was the only person in the 8-bed dorm room. Around then, a married Russian couple came in, but were very nice and went right to bed. They spoke some English, and when I asked the guy what time it was, he told me, with a charming accent, that it was 'meeednight twenty'. Cute!

Why did I require so much sleep, you ask? Because I went on the entirety of a three and a half hour walking tour this afternoon! We hit almost everything with even a slight tourist appeal. Tower Bridge, London Bridge, London Bank, Soho, Covent Garden, Leicester Square, the Monument, the old Knights Templar church, Big Ben, and Westminster Abbey. Wow, I'm getting tired again. I chose the walking tour because at the hostel they have huge brochures that say "Free Walking Tour" and I'm all about the free. Well, as the tour guide pointed out, the reason they were free was because he didn't get paid and relied on tips for his income, poor guy. He even had to give part of his meager earnings back to the company as commission. He was, honestly, the best tour guide I've ever had (because he works for tips, I suppose). His name was Jason, history major, made to pimp out his knowledge of London for quid.

But the tour started out kind of awkward. He started talking about where he was from, in Harrow, and asked everyone if they'd ever heard of it. "Yes" I replied, and he asked me how I knew it. "I am staying on Harrow," I said, which is true; my hostel's on Harrow Road. "Wow!" he said, "in Harrow, you mean?" "Uh, yes," I stammered, even though I didn't mean that at all. "Take you awhile to get down here?" "Yes". From what I could piece together from that short exchange, he was not referring to Harrow Road but instead to the town of Harrow, which is about two hours north of London. Oops. So I avoided him as much as I could just in case he asked me any more Harrow-ing questions. Aha, aha.

My calf muscles are going to be freakishly developed when I get back. Not just from the walking tour, but also from me not spending money on transportation (the absolute minimum I can get by on is about eight dollars a day. That's just for buses). This morning, I walked from Euston Station to Westiminster Abbey in about an hour and a half at a fairly steady pace.

Why did I walk so far? To attend services at Saint Margaret's church, that's why! Tons of famous people got married there, like William Shakespeare and Winston Churchill. The greeters stopped this guy next to me at the door and wouldn't let him in because he looked too touristy. I suppose I was bland enough to escape notice with my khaki cordoroys and ubiquitous black jacket. The service was fine except there were way too many hymns and no bibles to read when things got boring. Also, this deluded father in the section to my right (I could just barely see him in my periph) had not one but two children young enough to be in strollers who were fussy the entire time. Oh, it was irritating. Anyway, the minister was a funny guy and everything went well until about halfway through I read that communion was coming up next. "Score" I said, "bread and juice". I waited for the tray of wine shots to come around, but instead I was abruptly shuffled out of my pew (which was the Parliamentary Warden's, by the way) and thank god I am a fast reader because I speed-read that if you didn't want to receive communion you could just hold onto your leaflet and get blessed instead by the head honcho minister lady. We all had to kneel at the altar and everyone else had their hands cupped out in front of them for the bread (really just a tiny wafer) and I was death-gripping my leaflet. When she came around and blessed my head, I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to thank her or not so I didn't say anything. At that very moment I realized that I was kneeling at an altar in front of a ton of people wearing shoes that may not have said "Save Me" as much as they said "I've had these shoes four years and boy howdy, they've seen some miles." That was embarrassing. You'd think that it would inspire me to buy new shoes, but these old things have seen me too far. After that incident, my adrenaline was up and the rest of the service flew by. When I was leaving, the head minsiter shook my hand and said that it was very nice to see me today. Perhaps I looked rather dashing.

I have a ton of things to mention but most of them require a visual accompaniment and I don't have my pictures of the camera yet.

I think tomorrow I'm going to try to get a ticket for a

Good Feedback

I had a lovely little email from my Fantastic Literature professor this morning, regarding the segment of my story that I had sent him earlier. I was a little worried that he'd respond with something like, "Alaina, I'm a bit concerned that you learned nothing in this class. Your story won't work unless you completely rewrite it. Sorry". Happily, this wasn't the case. Here's what he wrote, translated back into English of course:

Good evening, Alaina,

I'll rapidly give you my opinion about your story:

- It's a very good idea to start the story with a direct entry by the intermediary of a session with a psychiatrist. The idea that this begins your tale is equally an element that gives some credibility and also some dramatic intensity.
- You then present an element that merits a response: the ecstasy pills. Then a strange event intervenes that perterbs the readers: this very personal dream of which Marc does not want to speak. Then the reader questions himself. Finally, the story tells us, later, that the ecstacy was in reality no more than aspirin. It is very good since the formulated hypothesis by the reader since the beginning doesn't work any longer. And all of a sudden, other questions present themselves ... many questions ... about the personality of Max, about his friend Marc, about Max's father, etc.
- The dream, that you will explain or not, complexifies and complicates the story. And this as well is a welcome element that the reader doesn't understand, for most of the story, what has happened, or what could have happened, and ... that what is to come. From this point of view, the structure of your story succeeds perfectly.

You don't need to add any additional events or elements. Your story is sufficiently rich.

In conclusion, go ahead, you have in your hands the means to write an excellent fantastical story.

See you tomorrow, (prof).

I could turn it in today, but I'd rather wait until next week so I have some time to revise some of the poor grammar.


Uck, uck, it's been raining like crazy for two days now. I was stuck immobile on the tram today for fifteen minutes since the rails aren't used to this kind of floodage.



My umbrella that I bought for a euro was holding up pretty well, but gradually got worse and worse throughout the day until it looked like this midday yesterday.



I've seen bag people with better umbrellas with this. I decided to brave the rain rather than carry this lame, cheap piece of crap umbrella. Into the garbage can!


Mmm! I cut up exactly enough zucchini slices to create a flower arrangement in the pan.






Mmm x2! I got these on a whim at ED and am happy to report that they are delicious. I had them with a veritable cornucopia of condiments, from ketchup to salad dressing to mustard to horseradish.


Nude models.










I saw that the UM1 Law School's door was open yesterday so I took a peek inside. Look! They have cloisters! Why is their campus so much better than ours? The best thing at Paul-Valery is the automatic coffee machines.


Hello! This kitty (one of the first alley kitties I found) I had taken for dead until I saw her last evening. She was pleased to see me, I think.








... until Other Alley Kitty showed up! These two were not friends. However, nothing really happened. They didn't even growl. OAK just kept on his way.