Where is Macau?

"Where is Macau?" has become a code phrase at our house since the night we saw "Skyfall" because it was one of the filming locations. This curiosity started a series of questions during which we tried to figure out the answer, not as artfully as the logic tennis match in Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead but about as productive. I was pretty sure it was somewhere in Asia, not Africa, but that's about as close as we could get. Of course we looked it up later and I doubt I'll ever forget where it is now because the original conversation was so frustrating and hilarious. Now, any time we find ourselves in the same position-- two adults, neither with a smartphone, wanting basic information-- we say, "Where is Macau?"

This morning was one of those times. I was telling my husband that my nephew is hatching his first molar, and his mother is dreading the molars to come. My husband wondered if kittens go through teething in the same way the babies do. It turns out they do, but at the time we were getting ready for work and didn't have time to look it up. I responded that I didn't think there is much in the literature about it, and my husband mourned the paucity of literature written by cats. Things went downhill from there. If our cats could write, Rosie would have a food column, Frida would write mystery stories, and Daisy would write autobiography. Nick's therapist would tell him to keep a journal, and a typical entry would begin, "Feeling a little anxious today." It certainly helps to begin the day laughing.

When I got home from work, a flock of fish crows was flying overhead, another small source of delight. The first time we heard them was twenty-five years ago on a camping trip. We woke up to what we thought was the sound of two people having an inane argument back and forth, "Un-un, un-un, un-un." When we looked outside the tent, there were the crows, sitting on a picnic table, looking very smart.