Mama's Boys

I suppose in addition to knowing that Marcel Proust worked in a cork-lined room, I knew that he was a mama's boy. One thing I didn't like about the chaper I read yesterday is the really unhealthy relationship the narrator has with his mother.

I also call my cat a mama's boy, just because he's my boy, not because he's clingy. Thought I should post a photo of both my mama's boy, Ginger (in the front) and my mama's girl, Gypsy (behind).



Ginger is five, very smart and affectionate. I picked an orange cat because I wanted to call it Ginger after my favourite spice, and after a lot of Gingers, actually. Gypsy is nearly eleven, small and warm, cuddly, clingy, and fluffy (and kind of dumb). She was a surplus lab animal, and came with the name which I was told I could change because she wasn't attached to it (no shit, there's a tatoo in her ear of what I think is her "real" name: 5E). I was planning on changing it, but after I got her she wouldn't come out from other the claw-footed bath tub and I felt like I had to hang around and just be there when she decided to come out. The movie Gypsy seemed to be on television every time I turned it on that weekend. I can take a hint.