I don’t spend a lot of time traveling in the interwebs, but this past week I was researching the language of rain and I had to refresh my memory of Buenos Aires. (I’m not going to explain how this sentence makes sense. Long Story. Plot twists. Boring. But stay with me.)
And my very first hit that Google gave me under “Buenos Aires rain” was a blog by an American novelist named Donigan Merritt living and writing in the Paris of Latin America. You can find him and his wander through his delightful Random Literary Blogging at www.doniganmerritt.blogspot.com
Readers, Mr. Merritt is a man of taste and perception worthy of your visit. Plus, he has a cat. Plus, when he walks the early Winter-time streets of Buenos Aires, he notices stuff like this:
This is an old kitty keeping warm in Buenos Aires on an August Winter day.
I know! I know! We should all go to B.A. and get our cats Argentinian coats!!
[Sound of my heart plotzing.]
Go visit Donigan and get a virtual tour of a writer’s life in B.A.
But wait. There’s more.
My friend Melinda is taking her annual four thousand-mile road trip through America (she’ll go anywhere except home, in North Carolina. It’s like a 1000 degrees there). This past week Melinda was in the little town of Champlain, New York. She stopped to admire the town’s old Town Hall, which has been stripped of all its Town Hall accoutrements (they built a spiffy new Town Hall down the road, and I guess they’re just waiting for the old Town Hall to just fall down).
And Melinda got to chatting with an elderly lady who was also looking at the old Town Hall. The lady lives in Champlain and she showed Melinda something very wonderful about the brick work of the old Town Hall:
It seems that the brick maker of the old Town Hall had a cat. A cat who seemed to be very curious about the brick-making process.
I know! I know!
We all need to live in houses made of paw-printed bricks!!
(You. Are. Welcome.)