This morning, as is her wont, permakitten Gracie raced into the living room and skidded to a stop right where I was sprawled on the rug, reading and drinking coffee. “Hello cute person,” I greeted her, as is my wont. Then I noticed her nose and forehead were smeared with an alarming shade of red. Had she killed something? Had she, G-d forbid, been injured? Already weeping, I reached for her tiny face to assess the damage when I realized that, in fact, she was covered in lipstick. Hey, love is love, baby.