INVINCIBLE SUMMER Playlist: Song 17

SONG #17: "Long Division" by Death Cab for Cutie.

We're four songs from the end, and we've finally hit the first of the VERY IMPORTANT SONGS.

Long Division is one of my favorite songs. I'm sure I'm not the only Death Cab fan who views this as a sequel to "Your Heart is an Empty Room." It's about someone who used to run away all the time who's trying to change. Trying to stay.

This one really could have gone anywhere on the playlist. It's where it is more for mood than anything. It provides a good break between "Little Sparrow" and song #18.

But this song is hugely important, because this song is where Noah came from.

It's no secret that Noah is one of my very favorites of the characters I've written. And that might be because he was the easiest. Being inside Noah's head would have been a nightmare (and a bitch for you to read, because God that kid is angry) but his lines were always the easiest ones to write. I could space out a little while I was writing dialogue with Noah. I would start with one line and then I would just let myself run with it. Noah is smart and poetic and cynical and so incredibly affectionate, and he knows a ton about the outside world and just about nothing about himself.

And in a lot of ways, Invincible Summer is Noah's story. Claudia is the real hero--I will forever maintain that Claudia is the hero--but if the story has a tragic hero, it's absolutely Noah. And the fact that the book is in Chase's head let me have a really fun time writing Noah, because Chase absolutely adores him. I mean, fuck, Chase is sleeping with a girl in attempts to be closer to him. It's fucked-up and crazy and it is all because of this song.

This song is where I got Noah, and Melinda, and the relationship between them. This song is all of that.

So let's have a lot of text today.

SAMPLE LYRIC:

His head was a city of paper buildings
And the echoes that remained
Of old friends and lovers, their features bleeding
Together in his brain

And once it'd start, it was harder to
Tell them apart

He was always distracted
By the very mention
Of an open door
'Cause he had sworn not to be what he'd been before
To be a remain remain remain remainder
To be a remain remain remain remainder

The television was snowing softly
As she hunted for her keys
She said she never envisioned him the type of person
capable of such deceit

And they carried on like long division
And it was clear with every page
That they were further away from a solution that would play
Without a remain remain remain remainder

CORRELATING PASSAGE:

I don't blame Noah for what happened. None of us do. I think, for a while, he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for us to lose it and finally scream at him that we were so angry and so disappointed and we wished he'd never come home that night. He used to steal my stuff every time he came over. He wouldn't be sneaky about it, and he always took stuff that I'd be sure to notice, like my favorite shirt or my toothbrush. I confronted him about it once, and he kept saying, “Why don't you tell me what you're really mad about? Why don't you tell me what the real problem is?” until I eventually told him to shut up and just stop stealing my shit. It's not as if we're still fighting about that, but that was when he stopped coming over.

I take a deep breath. I'm feeling okay about going back. Quiet, but okay. I'm feeling ready. After all, as Noah and Camus and probably Melinda—though I don't think of her much anymore—would say, "one always finds one's burden again."

--p. 242-243





PLAYLIST SO FAR:

1) "Turn Up The Sun" by Oasis
2) "Island in the Sun" by Weezer
3) "Just Like Heaven" by Gatsby's American Dream
4) "Bigger Than My Body" by John Mayer
5) "New Soul" by Yael Naim
6) "Across the Universe" by Rufus Wainwright
7) "Boys of Summer" by The Ataris
8) "Slang" by Def Leppard
9) "City Hall" by The Fray
10) "The Worst Part" by Motion City Soundtrack
11) "Time Won't Let Me Go" by The Bravery
12) "Hello Helicopter" by Motion City Soundtrack
13) "No One's Boy" by Marcy Playground
14) "You Can Do Better Than Me" by Death Cab for Cutie
15) "Sorry" by Pushmonkey
16) "Little Sparrow" by David Cook
17) "Long Division" by Death Cab for Cutie

INVINCIBLE SUMMER Playlist: Song 16

SONG #16: "Little Sparrow" by David Cook.

So. I didn't know the original before I knew this cover.

I heard the cover on American Idol (judgey judge judge, yeah I know) and I loved that it sounded so dark and haunting. Since then, I know and love the original--I love Dolly and always will, and I'm not sure why I didn't know this song--but David Cook's version still works for me on a very different level. It's darker and more desperate, and it has a hollow, echoey sound to it. David' Cook's version is something you'd scream outside at night, so it...worked well for this part of the book.

I need to start being cagey at this point. So you don't get an excerpt. Just know that they lyrics to this song have just about nothing to do with the scene in question, or with the book at all. It's all about the tone of it, and the desperation, and the darkness. But if you take bits out of context...it can work. So when I listen to this song, I let those lines jump out at me.

SAMPLE LYRIC:

If I were a little sparrow
O'er these mountains I would fly
I would find him, I would find him
Look into his lying eyes

I would flutter all around him
On my little sparrow wings
I would ask him, I would ask him
Why he let me love in vain

CORRELATING PASSAGE: (um...how about some Camus instead?)

"Originally innocent without knowing it, we were now guilty without meaning to be."

--p. 236



PLAYLIST SO FAR:

1) "Turn Up The Sun" by Oasis
2) "Island in the Sun" by Weezer
3) "Just Like Heaven" by Gatsby's American Dream
4) "Bigger Than My Body" by John Mayer
5) "New Soul" by Yael Naim
6) "Across the Universe" by Rufus Wainwright
7) "Boys of Summer" by The Ataris
8) "Slang" by Def Leppard
9) "City Hall" by The Fray
10) "The Worst Part" by Motion City Soundtrack
11) "Time Won't Let Me Go" by The Bravery
12) "Hello Helicopter" by Motion City Soundtrack
13) "No One's Boy" by Marcy Playground
14) "You Can Do Better Than Me" by Death Cab for Cutie
15) "Sorry" by Pushmonkey
16) "Little Sparrow" by David Cook

Invincible Summer Illustrated (and three other things)

So right now I'm on vacation at my beach house, where Invincible Summer is set. In my head, same beach, same house. So I thought I'd do an illustrated version of the first chapter, with pictures of the places I mean.

I'm no photographer, and you'll have to imagine these places not so empty, but...I hope you like it.

On an unrelated note, I've decided that, in the tradition of many great bloggers before me, I'm going to have to disable anonymous comments. I'm sorry to do this. I really do want to respect your privacy. But I need you all to respect each other and to respect this space, and if I have to insist that everyone has names and accountability in order to make sure everyone treats each other kindly, that's what I'm going to do. Disagreeing is fine. Disrespecting is not.

Without further ado:

--


Gideon keeps falling down.




He and Claudia slipped outside to the beach and were out there for at least ten minutes before my parents or Noah or I noticed they were gone. They’re greasy and gritty now with sand and sea water, so there’s no point in dragging them back inside and getting everything dirty our first night here. Plus none of us feels like putting in the effort to chase them. My mother, who’s a little too old and way too pregnant to run around outside and parent them hands-on like she used to, drifts to the porch off the first floor to watch them and make sure they don‘t kill themselves, one hand on her stomach, one on the railing.




Noah and I linger by the windows on the other side of the family room, our foreheads pressed against the glass.



We’re moaning every time we see a particularly good wave roll by and looking at each other—maybe we should go out? Maybe we can? No.

Outside, Claudia is laughing loudly enough for us to hear. She always says she’s way too old to play with Gideon, and she’s not going to, no way, and if we want a babysitter, we can pay her. But she always ends up playing with him anyway, at least when we’re here. Here no one is too old. Except Mom and Dad. And Claudia and Gideon are the two youngest, so they get shoved together and there is no way to avoid it, even though Claudia’s eleven and Gideon’s barely six.

Dad says, “Aren’t you two going out?”

We can’t. Even though there’s sand stuck to our feet from the walk from the car, up the stairs, inside, and back, and back, and back, while we hauled in suitcases. Even though the carpet smells like old sunscreen. Noah and I know that it isn’t quite summer. Not yet. Summer can’t start at night, first of all, and it definitely can’t start before we see the SUV roll up outside the Hathaways' beach house. And until it comes, we’ll wait here. That’s tradition, and Noah and I do not kill tradition. If we get here before the Hathaways, we wait.

Dad says, “You boys are sticks in the mud.”

“Heathen,” Noah mutters.

Dad’s not pregnant, but he acts like he is, complaining that he’s so tired from the drive, that he needs to put his feet up. He sits on the scratchy couch—the one with years of our sand embedded between the cushions—and complains, like every year, that the renters have moved the furniture.



We’re totally not listening.

“Boys,” he says. “They’re probably not coming until tomorrow.”

“They always come the same day we do,” I say.

Dad says, “You’d be able to hear the car from the beach. Go outside and make sure Gideon doesn’t get dizzy.”

Making sure Gideon doesn’t get dizzy is one of our family duties, along with getting Mom’s slippers, thinking of a name for Chase’s song, washing the makeup off your sister’s face are you kidding me she is not leaving the house like that, and finding out where the hell Noah is.

Mom laughs from the balcony and reports, “He’s tipping over every which way.”

"Claudia will catch him,” Noah mumbles.

"Claudia’s catching him,” Mom calls in.

I can just barely see Claudia and Gideon if I crane my neck and press my cheek around the window. Noah laughs because I look silly with my face all squished , but I like seeing my little siblings, pushing each other over, spinning in circles, always getting up. I can see Claudia’s hands moving, but she’s too far away for me to know what she’s signing.

God, I can taste the ocean. I’m weak. “Let’s go out, Noah.”

He shakes his head and says, “We’ve got to wait for Melinda and the twins.” This is so weird, because usually it’s Noah trying to go somewhere—the movies, out for a run, college—and me begging him to stay, to wait, though I never have a specific thing for him to wait for.

Noah, Chase, come sit with me,” my father says. “You’ll be able to see the headlights, still, I promise.”

This is enough of an excuse for me to abandon our stakeout. I give Noah a little headjerk, but he frowns and, instead of staying where he is, shows how disappointing he is by heavyfooting into the kitchen to put away groceries. He could not act more put-upon if it were his job.



Whatever. I join my father on the couch and tuck under his arm while he strokes my hair.

I’ve just barely closed my eyes—the grain of the couch against my cheek, Noah’s malcontented grumblings in my ear—when I see the headlight glare through the windows and through my eyelids.

“Noah, they’re here!”

We run barefoot across the street to the Hathaways' and maul Melinda, Bella, and Shannon as soon as they step out of the SUV.




Their parents laugh, pushing back their sweaty bangs, hauling duffel bags out of the car. Shannon pulls out of my hug and taps his fist against mine, sticks his hand in my hair. “Welcome back, soldier,” he says.

“Welcome home, Shannon.”

“Can we make s’mores, Mom?” Bella asks. She’s clinging to one of Noah’s arms, which is kind of weird. I wrap the hem of Noah’s shirt around my finger until I have a good enough hold on him to tug him away from her.

He’s not even paying attention, because Melinda is milling by the other arm. She’s nineteen, older than Noah, and so thin that she always looks like a part of her is missing and the rest of her might be about to go find it. Her long fingernails close he gap between her hand and Noah’s wrist. I’ve seen Claudia do the same grip, when she wants Noah to do something.

Melinda is his sister in a different way.

“Of course we can,” Mrs. Hathaway says, with a laugh like a string instrument. “You boys want to get your family here?”

Noah says, “Chase, run and get everybody.”

I sprint across the street and straight onto the beach. I’m in the sand for the first time this summer. I always forget how cold it feels on your feet.



“Claude!”

Claudia’s wearing her first two piece bathing suit. She bought it around February, when they put the first bathing suits on the racks, and she’s been clamoring to wear it ever since. I pretty much hate that some company thinks her preteen body is capable of being sexualized, and that this—this night, this beach—is the time and place to do it. She screams, “Chase!” and tackles me into the sand, and she’s a child no matter what she’s wearing.

“Melinda and the twins are here,” I say. “Get dressed and we’ll make s’mores.”

But Claudia’s already running across the street. “Gimme a shirt, Mom!” she yells, and Mom tosses down some old t-shirt of mine. Claudia doesn’t stop running as she catches it and pulls it over her sweaty hair.

“Gid!” I yell. He’s deaf as a board, but he’s still spent all six years of his life getting yelled at. He’s watching me, asking me with his eyes and his hands where Claudia went.

Across street I sign to him. Come here. Don’t fall down. My ASL sucks, but the light’s so bad right now it doesn’t matter. Gideon runs over to me and I sign hold my hand before we start across the street. Either he sees this or just holds out of habit.



At the Hathaways', we make s’mores on the grill, pushing down on them with the spatula until they hiss. I sit with Shannon at the Hathaways' picnic table and we try to fill each other in on our lives since last August. During the year, I always feel like there are a million things I need to remember to tell him, and now nothing seems important but our siblings and our summer and the smoke from the grill.

Shannon keeps asking about my family—mostly Claudia and the baby yet to come—and I'm trying to pay attention, but my eyes keep going back to Bella. Was she this tall last summer? Maybe that’s why she was hanging off of Noah. I’m still waiting to hit my growth spurt. But I’m the one who’s her age. I hope she keeps that in mind.

I respond to one of Shannon's questions about Claudia with a quick, “I always forget how old she is,” and then clear my throat. “So what's Bella been up to?”

Shannon looks over at his twin. She dances in circles in the spots of moonlight that break through the Hathaways' awning. Her bare feet glitter. They're white and pointed, like something off a fairy.

He smiles. “She got the lead in the Nutcracker this year.” It’s his turn to ask about someone. “So how’s Gideon?”

Gideon’s hugging on to Mom’s leg, watching Claudia, probably wishing she were talking to him because she’s the only of us who signs well. The rest of us really only pretend we can, but, then again, so does Gideon.

“Deaf,” I say. “Melinda?”

“Grumpy. And she dyes her hair a lot. She's always sighing and mumbling about the universe.”

But right now Melinda’s at the corner of the balcony, talking to the dogs. “Mom?” she says. “I'm taking the dogs out for a run.”

Her mother is by the grill with my parents, where they’re laughing over a few beers, throwing coals down to the sand, touching Mom’s huge stomach.

Shannon says. “Chase? How’s Noah?”

“I’ll come with you,” Noah says, with a glance Melinda’s way, and he has the dogs unclipped from their leashes and free in no time, and he’s gone, chasing them across the street and onto the beach. I listen for the sound of them splashing in the water, but they're too far away. I am getting a headache, listening this hard.

I try to think about Bella again, and I don’t answer Shannon, but his father asks me the same question when I go over to the grill to collect my s’more. He claps me on the shoulder and says, “Noah excited for college?”

I want to tell him Noah doesn’t really get excited, but I don’t know how to describe my brother to someone who’s known him just as long as I have but doesn’t understand him any better. So I smile. It’s so dark, now, but the coals and the stars illuminate my siblings and Shannon’s siblings and our parents and make us all look permanent and important.



I say, “He’s kind of quiet about how he feels.”

“Yeah. Did he run off with Melinda?”

“I guess so.”

My parents exchange looks, like they were expecting Noah and Melinda’s flighty romance to take a hiatus this year, or something.

Noah does not ruin tradition. I could have told them that. And Melinda is his summer. More and more every single year.

So I just say, “He runs off a lot.”

Mr. Hathaway laughs and says, “Man, your brother’s a flight risk, isn’t he?” He serves me a s’more and says, “Still playing guitar, Chase?”

I grin and look down.

They drag their old guitar out so I don’t have to run home, and I make up chord progressions while Bella sings along in this ghost voice that makes me hyper-aware, like my whole body is made of fingertips. They smile at me in that way adults do when they’re drunk that makes you feel not so much younger.

We carry the plates into the kitchen, where the lights dazzle us into submission until someone has the sense to dim them. Once all the dishes are cleaned and stacked, the adults convince us to run down to the beach and try to find Noah.

He’s up to his waist in the ocean, the Hathaways' two dogs swirling around him like they’re trying to create a whirlpool. My brother is the eye of his manufactured hurricane.



“Get in!” he yells, and none of us need to be told twice.

The six of us splash in after him, screaming at the cold water, screaming at each other, screaming at every single foot of empty where the sky is and we aren’t. Bella’s on my shoulders and I’m twirling her around, Melinda’s holding her breath for as long as she can, everyone’s always yelling, “Where’s Gideon?” and pulling him out from underneath a breaking wave, yelling, “Where’s Noah?” and realizing he’s swum halfway out to sea.

Whenever there’s a split second of silence, we can hear our parents across the street, strumming the old guitar, laughing, clinking their beer bottles together.

Eventually my brother the flight risk comes and holds my head underwater until everything swirls, and, when I come up and sputter and blink, everyone’s skin is shiny and spotted from the stars. Bella and Claudia are running around on the sand, throwing handfuls at each other, shrieking, and Melinda’s squeezing the ocean out of her over processed, somehow colorless hair, her legs absolutely sparkling.

I want to be exactly this old forever.

“Y’all right, soldier?” Shannon asks me, his voice raspy from the salt.

I nod and count heads. There’s Claudia, Gideon, Melinda, Bella, Shannon. . . there’s everyone but Noah, who somehow managed to disappear in that split second I wasn't watching him.

So I look at Shannon and smile, and I try not to care, I try not to worry that my brother will leave me for good, because nothing is as permanent or important as the first summer night. Bella’s voice puts mine to shame, but I sing anyway, until Shannon dunks me underwater. When I come up, I hear everyone’s laugh—Shannon and Bella’s, as identical as they aren’t, Claudia’s, trying to be a woman, Gideon—that haunted sound that he doesn’t know he’s making—and Melinda’s. Twinkling into Noah's ear as he swims back, back to her and not to me.



--

NOW. Two other things. Both visual. Both very important.



AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND

Influences

For each book, I'm usually inspired by two specific things, often ones that have nothing to do with each other. And then my brain mashes them up and makes an idea.

BREAK: Fight Club and Into the Wild, first the movies, then the books.

INVINCIBLE SUMMER: A book of essays by Camus and The Hotel New Hampshire.

THE ANIMALS WERE GONE: Love Is The Higher Law and the 2002 Metro sniper shootings.

ZOMBIE TAG: How To Train Your Dragon (movie) and this comic.

FISHBOY: Peter Pan and Choke (the books).

For me, the experience of going to the movies always triggers something. There's something about sitting in the theater and just getting assaulted by someone else's ideas. Something, even something tiny, always hits me.

What are your inspirations?

Writer Survey

Yes, yes, I know, the vlog the vlog. But my lovely friend Sage did this over at her blog (http://sagelikethespice.wordpress.com/) and I wanted to play too.

1. What’s the last thing you wrote? What’s the first thing you wrote that you still have?

The last thing I wrote (and finished) is a YA about two boys getting together (the easy part) and staying together (not quite so easy) over the course of October 2002 sniper shootings in the suburbs of Washington D.C. This is my favorite book I've written, and it's basically my baby. The sniper attacks are, with good reason, I think, very close to me--like the MCs in the story, I was a teenager (though a young one) in Montgomery County, MD during the shootings.

I never really let the shootings go--sometimes I'd torture myself by researching details, if I was having a bad day--but John Allen Muhammad's execution this fall made them very raw in my head. I knew I had a book in me about them, and writing it was a pretty amazing experience to me. It was, without a doubt, the easiest book I've ever written, and I think the most honest in a lot of ways. It's called THE ANIMALS WERE GONE, after a song by Damien Rice. I'm working on revising it for my agent right now.

The first thing I ever wrote is a little harder to pin down. My first "book"--about 150 pages--I wrote when I was in 6th grade. It was about a girl named Augusta Margo Elizabeth Talia Clara (hellz to the yeah) who has to go live with her mom after her brother died in a plane crash. She JUST HAPPENS to be looking out her window one day and JUST HAPPENS to see a boy get hit by a car, and this boy JUST HAPPENS to be her half-brother. I. Know. It's called YOU JUST DON'T GET IT, it's all in a fluorescent green composition notebook, and I have no idea where that notebook is.

2. Poetry?

Hahahahaha no.

3. Angsty poetry?

Not since I was twelve...

4. Favorite genre of writing?

Young adult! Contemporary, gritty, angsty young adult. But it has to be funny.

5. Most annoying character you’ve ever created?

Bianca in ALL TOGETHER WITH FEELING makes me want to put her head through a wall. Every. Chapter.

6. Best plot you’ve ever created?

I'm pretty into the plot of my adult book, APD. It's pretty wild and twisted.

7. Coolest plot twist you’ve ever created?

Haha, now it's deeeefinitely APD. Heehee. Although INVINCIBLE SUMMER's climax, too...hmmm.

8. How often do you get writer’s block?

Fuck writer's block, that stuff is bullshit. Shut up and write a book.

9. Write fan fiction?

A lady never tells. (So...yeah.)

10. Do you type or write by hand?

I type. I used to write by hand a lot more (in high school, really, so I could write in class) but not anymore.

11. Do you save everything you write?

Nah.

12. Do you ever go back to an idea after you abandon it? it

Rarely. I have a few plot points I've tried to work into several different books, so far unsuccessfully. Still trying to figure out where they belong.

13. What’s your favorite thing you’ve ever written?

THE ANIMALS WERE GONE, though INVINCIBLE SUMMER is up there.

14. What’s everyone else’s favorite story you’ve ever written?

INVINCIBLE SUMMER, unless you're a muser, in which case it's THESE HUMANS ALL SUCK.

15. Ever written romance or angsty teen drama?

Dude, my career depends on angsty teen drama. Romance? Eh, sometimes it's in there.

16. What’s your favorite setting for your characters?

The beach in INVINCIBLE SUMMER.

17. How many writing projects are you working on right now?

I have a YA rolling around in my head, I'm working on the first draft of an MG, I'm editing THE ANIMALS WERE GONE and waiting for my editorial letter for INVINCIBLE SUMMER (any day now!)

18. Have you ever won an award for your writing?

I won you guys, obv.

Oh and BREAK was an ALA Popular Paperback for Teens of 2009.

19. What are your five favorite words?

Epiphany, lucid, silhouette, maybe, cameo.

20. What character have you created that is most like yourself?

Probably Bianca. No wonder she's so goddamn annoying.

21. Where do you get your ideas for your characters?

I don't really get ideas for characters. I think of a situation, then I just the characters up as I go along. They develop with the story. I don't go in there thinking "Jonah's going to stubborn and honest and introspective and..." he just talks.

22. Do you ever write based on your dreams?

Once. It was weird.

23. Do you favor happy endings?

Yes. Yes yes yes yes. Anyone who follows me on Twitter has heard my opinions on this. A good ending means you satisfy your reader. And satisfying your reader usually means that if you make them root for a character, or a relationship, or an anything, you make that part work out. Characters should get what they deserve. Seriously, I'm sick of authors teaching me some lesson about how life is meaningless and unsatisfying by giving me a meaningless and unsatisfying book. Yeah, I see what you're saying. I'm in on the joke. Now I'm throwing your book against a wall and crying into my pillow.

I read fiction because I want things to work out. If I wanted a disappointment to come and smack me in the face out of nowhere, I have my own life.

(And yes, I recognize the irony that I'M the one lecturing about how to end a book. Sorry about BREAK btw. Buy it anyway, I need money for food and internet.)

24. Are you concerned with spelling and grammar as you write?

Of course.

25. Does music help you write?

Yep. I always write either to music or in front of the TV. I make playlists for all my books.

26. Quote something you’ve written. Whatever pops in your head.

I'm not sure if this is the exact wording, but...
Camus and Melinda were right: "one always finds one's burden again."--Invincible Summer

Names

I'm the first to admit that character names and titles are not my strong suit. More often than not, someone else comes up with them for me. BREAK was not my original title--that was all Anica Rissi and her fabulous army over at Simon Pulse. I chose the name Jonah myself (Fun fact--a ton of my manuscripts have a male main character whose name starts with J, though not a lot that will ever be published) but the lovely Suzanne Young thought of Jesse. I was all "QUICK WHAT NAME GOES WELL WITH JONAH" and she gave me Jesse. Pretty sweet.

It also totally breaks that rule you always hear, that you shouldn't have two main characters whose name starts with the same letter. If they'd been Jonah and Jonas, that would have been a problem, but Jonah and Jesse look different enough for it not to be a problem.

(They also sound different. Do you hear words in your head when you're reading, or is that just me? I think this keeps me from being able to read very quickly, because I have to hear each individual word before I can move into the next one. Holy mother of digressions.)

ANYWAY. Do you ever get help on character names or titles? You hear a lot about how publishers will change your titles, and they do, frequently, but not all the time. INVINCIBLE SUMMER, as far as I know, is going to be the thing's name, and that title I actually did come up with all on my lonesome. (Not entirely--it's from a Camus quote, "In the middle of winter, I at last discovered that there was in me an invincible summer." It's about the only line Camus ever wrote that ISN'T quoted in the novel.)

So though publishers do change titles, it's by no means a guarantee that your book won't hit shelves with the same title you gave it in its word document. So how much thought do you give to your titles? What about to your character names? Do you get help?

(Kitten pictures tomorrow)