My first post in new-blog-location on place, my favorite writing topic.http://www.candiceransom.com/honeysucklevine/2011/buzzards-a-school-visit-and-elizabeth-spencer/http://

Well, actually The Writer is moving. Her blog has been moved from LiveJournal to WordPress. Check out Under the Honeysuckle Vine! The Writer will talk about living and working as a Southern writer. And yes, Winchester will continue to make appearances (he still has his respiratory illness).Join us at: http://www.candiceransom.com/honeysucklevine/2011/under-the-honeysuckle-vine-moving-day/C'mon

Winchester has asked me to tell all his fans that he is mostly okay--No, I'm not!--but he has a chronic respiratory problem that keeps him under the weather. He's very quiet these days.When I'm not having pill stuffed down my gullet.You can read more about Winchester here.

What's all that stuff?Toys! I found them in The Writer's office. They were in corners and under desks and stuff.Yeah, The Writer is renovating her office. The whole room is one big mess.And she's one big grouch. The Writer is having a hard time working in there. She needs order.She's not a very good housekeeper. Look at all the loot I found.You can't play with all those toys at once. Watch me.

You got a reprieve, you lucky cat.The vet says my allergies are too bad right now.Yeah, they can't put you to sleep. Put me to sleep!?! What are you talking about?Only for a little while--you aren't really going to open wide for the vet-dentist, are you? They have to knock you out. But you'll be better in a little bit and then you'll go back to the dentist.You big meanie! Trying to scare me when

Wiiiiinchesssster! It's tiiiiiime.No! Nononononononono!Stop acting like a two-year-old. Everybody has to go to the dentist.You don't.I don't even have a mouth, much less teeth. Today won't be so bad. The nice technician lady will draw blood--Needles!!!!!--and look at your mouth and tell The Writer how many hundreds and hundreds of dollars it will cost to clean your teeth.I hope it

Winchester, as everyone knows, is not like other cats. Other cats love to get in boxes and grocery bags and hide. They like to sleep in baskets and even fruit bowls. Not Winchester.Winchester never, ever, ever hops in a box or a bag or a basket. He's clawstraphobic. When he has to go to the vet, it takes a small army to stuff him in his carrier. So where is Winchester? And what is that little

Hey, you know The Writer's sister?Of course I know her! Patricia bought me from the toy store in Bristol, Virginia. Her grandmother gave her money and out of all the toys, Pat chose me. That was in 1955. A few years later The Writer found me stuffed in Pat's toy box--I just asked if you knew her! Not a memoir! Sheesh! [Black cloud of silence]Oh, don't be mad. Listen, The Writer took a picture of

Wanna hear my New Year's Resolutions?It's January 7, Winchester. You're a week late. I don't go by the human calendars or clocks. I use Cat Time. Cat Time?Yes, we cats devised our own calendar and clock eons ago back when we were worshipped in Egypt. It's a pity nobody treats us like the sacred creatures we are any more--If you were any more pampered, you'd be in a coma. What's Cat Time?Well, for

Tomorrow night is New Year's Eve. Guess who your date is?[panicked] Never mind about that about that ball-dropping stuff. Do you realize The Writer and her Husband are leaving us!!! For two whole nights and three days! Yes, I know. They decided when they were at the Hope and Glory Inn in May they'd come back New Year's to celebrate the last few days of their 30th anniversary year. I think it's

Well, another year and I'm alone under the Christmas tree again. It's Christmas Eve, almost. Winchester is asleep, knocked out by his allergy pill. The Writer is fussing over her first-ever ham and fixing a nice supper. The Writer's husband is at work, but he'll be home soon. The presents are stowed in the vintage suitcases, ready to be opened tonight.It's so quiet. Without Winchester nattering

What're you doing?Writing my letter to Sandy Claws. Looks like quite a list.Yeah, I'm doing my part for the economy so I put on a lot of high-end ticket items.Self-cleaning Litter Robot, $300? Cedar Duplex Cat House with Porch and Deck, $479?Gotta love a self-cleaning litter box. And I can entertain on the porch in the spring and barbeque on the deck in the summer. Ruby Necklace designed by

Last Sunday The Writer wanted a "Christmas portrait" for her userpic on LinkedIn and her other blog. So she put on that ridiculous elf hat and rammed that too-tight jester collar around my neck and The Writer's Husband took pictures. I thought that would be the end of it.You should know better by now.I should! Yesterday when The Writer called me from a nice snoozy nap on her sweatshirt, I should

You're all by yourself. Want some company?I guess. Short Stuff is . . . gone. That little black and white cat?Xenia. Yes, she's gone. She was old and sick and it was her time.I know. Sort of.She hated you--for seven years, she resented every breath you drew.I know.She'd corner you in the dining room and The Writer would have to separate you two with the vacuum cleaner. Remember?Short Stuff could

Happy Thanksgiving, Winchester! You've been invited to sit at the Big Table with the grown-ups this year!About time. I'm tired of that dinky old cardtable we're always stuck at.Look how pretty it is! The Writer is using her favorite Friendly Village dishes, with the special silverware with inspiration words on the handles, like "Grow," "Dream," "Create"--Is there a spoon that says "Chow Down?"--

Look! I'm the star of The Writer's new website!You are not the star. You happen to be on the Home page, that's all.Yeah? Well, I don't see any pictures of you on there. And I wrote the Welcome letter. Nyah!My, aren't we mature? If you must know, The Writer asked me if I wanted to be on the website with her and I declined because I'm so modest. Oh, puh-leeze. I'm gonna hurl. The truth is The

It's that time of year again. And this year The Writer is planning an old-fashioned 1920's Hallowe'en. You know Hallowe'en was originally for grown-ups. They threw big parties and dressed up in costumes. Kids didn't get in the picture until the 1940s. Anyway, you're going to wear an authentic 1920s costume! And you'll sit by the door when The Writer hands out candy to the trick or treaters. Does

Get up!Nooo, let me sleep. I got in very late last night. After the conference, there was a cocktail party and then dinner . . . I think I had one too many Pink Elephants.I know for a fact you were home by six o'clock. You mumbled something about being the very first one to blog about the conference, then fell in bed.It was a long day, anyway. Going to conferences is hard work!Aw, I bet you're

Let's see . . . what shall I wear to the Kidlitosphere Conference next Saturday? A lot of the attendees are wondering what to wear. So is The Writer. What do you care? You've had on the same outfit for 47 years. They say if you keep something in your closet long enough, it comes back in style. Those clothes will come back in style when they bring back bustles and spats.Speaking of spats, are you

I don't like this no-picture business.Neither does The Writer. She has been working on the problem for two weeks. She's cleared her cache, dumped her cookies, and prayed to the blogging god, but nothing has worked. We'll just have to soldier on without photos.But photographs of me are the whole point of the blog!!! Without pictures of my cuteness, the blog is just a bunch of words.Think of this

[Where's the photo? Blogger has messed up again! We'll get this fixed, folks, as soon as we can!]Creeeaak . . .What's that sound?That, dear Ellsworth, is the sound of this blog being turned on again. It's been a while, like, since June.What are you doing?Making a get-well card for Short Stuff. She's a pretty sick cat. You're making a get-well card for Xenia? That's very nice, but I know you,

The Writer has been gone a whole week to teach at Hollins University and she'll be there another five weeks. It's such a long time. I miss her. Don't you?Miss who? It's wonderful without The Writer. I can to do what I please, like sleep all day without her bugging me.Don't give me that. You love it when The Writer brushes you--she says it's like currying a horse because you're so big, but you

Well, here we are in the hallowed halls of the District Court where I'm suing The Writer for throwing me in the clink.Looks a lot like our hallway. Are you nervous?I have my power green tie and my glasses that make me look like Catticus Finch and my briefcase. Why should I be nervous?Power ties are red and not a St. Patrick's Day gag tie. And your briefcase is really a vintage Elizabeth Arden

We go to court tomorrow so we need to whip this case into shape.Tomorrow is Saturday. Nobody has court on Saturday.Hmm. Maybe I read the summons wrong. Anyway we need to work hard to prosecute The Writer for throwing me in the slammer. I'm representing myself, of course.A cat who is his own lawyer has a fool for a client.Very funny. Go look up "equitable subrogation."Why?Because you're my

What's that paper you've got?A summons to appear in court. I'm suing The Writer.For what?Mental cruelty. Involuntary lock-up. Catnapping. Oh, for heaven's sake. You've were boarded three and a half days and that was two weeks ago. Why can't you sulk like other cats and then get over it?It's a matter of principle. I know my rights. I hope the judge throws the book at The Writer."Throws the book."