Ta-daa!

I finally finished a decent practice ornament:


It was harder than I thought it would be, but I'm reasonably confident that I can pull these off for the ornament exchange at Thanksmas this year.

Photo Friday

lolkitters of the week

Something worth fighting for

He crouches like a sprinter at the starting block, muscles coiled, eyes alert. He's built more like a defensive lineman than Flo-Jo, but don't let his bulk fool you...he can turn on the speed when it counts. As the jingling toy begins to disappear from view around the corner at the other end of the living room, he springs. He tears full-on across the carpet and as he reaches the toy, I snap the wand so it flies up into the air. He follows it, body arcing spread-eagle through the air in fierce joy. Sometimes I swirl the toy in wide circles above him and he follows its movement, a tiny whirling dervish dressed in a white coat. If I change the toy's trajectory quickly while he's in mid-sprint, he'll skid to a stop, leaving deep but temporary paw-sized furrows in the carpet. Other times, I drag the toy around the corner into the kitchen. As soon as it's out of sight, he barrels after it, his feet losing grip on the slick floor. He'll slide sideways, rebound off the front of the washing machine, and regain his forward momentum in a mad scramble. He can jump almost five feet straight up, twisting and coiling in midair to track his quarry. When he's tired, he'll flop unceremoniously onto his side, almost dog-like, and rest for a bit.

It's because of moments like these that I still fight for him. Despite the attitude, the frequent refusal to eat the crushed-up pill hidden in his dinner, I'm not ready to give up. MB and I both have scars on our legs from his teeth *, but just this past Monday, he wanted cuddles, so I stretched out on the couch and he napped on my stomach for almost two hours. His last freak-out was so sudden and so scary that for two weeks after, MB and I would involuntarily flinch away when he came trotting through the room, even though we're ten times his size. Lots of people think it's nuts for us to pay money to medicate him, to keep trying new methods of teaching him to control his behavior. But I'm not ready to cash in my chips, not prepared to give up on him. Kitters and I, we have not yet begun to fight. We might not win in the end, but we're going to give it all we've got.




* For the sordid tale of the bite that convinced us he had a real problem, go here, here, here, and here. For slightly gross cat bite pics (if you like that sort of thing), go here and here.

Also, this made me laugh like a hyena:

Dear...

(stolen from falwyn at quaking aspen)

Dear sunset:  that weird creepy red / pink Apocalyptic-y thing you did the other night was really friggin' cool. Would it have killed you to do it on a day when I had my camera at work??

Dear giant work project:  Thank you so very much for turning out well, and thank you ever so much for finally (finally) coming to an end.

Dear first half of November:  Wait, where are you?

Dear Christmas:  Just take your time. Please.

Dear upstairs neighbor:  What the hell are you doing? Building furniture? Crushing rocks on the kitchen floor? Demolition? STFU, dude!

Dear Target:  You know I love you and always will. But why, for the love of sweet baby Jesus, do you make the spaces between your clothing racks so narrow? I must have a cart to buy large quantities of your product. If you make it impossible to get a cart through your product areas, I will not be able to buy as much of it.

Dear TAPS:  *heart!*

Dear NaBloPoMo friends, new and old:  You guys rock. I'm looking forward to December, when I'll have more time to explore the vast blogroll that we all call home.

Dear Project Runway:  Finally, at long last, you have returned to me! Oh, my precious, how I have missed you!

Kitters: a Triptych

Photos by MB.

I think the Universe is telling me to buy a bus pass

I was out running errands this afternoon, making the most of my day off. As I guided Blue Betty * into the Target parking lot, I caught a whiff of some skanky burned-rubber type of smell through my open car windows. Since I was in pretty heavy traffic, I didn't think much of it.

I did my Target shopping, turned the car toward my last two stops, and got about halfway to my destination when the smell came back. It was worse this time. Jesus Christ, I thought, is that smell coming from me? As I coasted up to a red light, I glanced down to see if the check engine light was on, and it was. As I looked up from the dash again, a slight breeze wafted across the road, carrying with it a plume of foul gray smoke from under my hood. I have to say, there are few things more unnerving than driving a car that is actively producing a cloud of smoke.

I called MB and told him to meet me at the grocery a block away, then called my mom and said, "This is starting to look bad, but I swear it's not my fault."

I'll be driving MB's car tomorrow. If it breaks down, catches fire, or so much as gets a flat tire, I'm buying a fucking bicycle. I figure if three cars break down on me and I still don't get the message to get off the road, the Universe might have to resort to an asteroid strike, and that won't be good for anyone.

A life more ordinary

Last week, Linda of All & Sundry and Purple is a Fruit posted this quote:  "There are random moments . . . when I feel a wavelike rush of joy. This is my true religion: arbitrary moments of nearly painful happiness for a life I feel privileged to lead. [...] It's not always visible, but it's what holds everything together." I've had the post open in my browser since Wednesday, going back to read the post and nod emphatically every now and then.

Tonight, Sunday night, I am practicing this religion of small, arbitrary moments of painful happiness. Nothing exceptional is happening. I am watching the Discovery Channel and cheerfully screwing up a sample Christmas ornament. The cat is sleeping in an endearing, rumpled heap by the heat vent. MB is researching Labrador retrievers and Lab rescues, and we are talking a bit about the dog we hope to adopt when we buy a house. We were never dog people, always swore we'd stick to cats, but then my parents adopted a puppy and MB had a change of heart. We've picked a name, maybe. MB stumbled upon it at dinner the other night and I'm hoping it sticks. The dryer is humming out a tuneless drone of mundane and comforting domesticity. Tomorrow, a day off earned by working extra hours on a big and now-complete work project, stretches out before me, full of promise.

In years past, I'm fairly sure I dreaded the thought of an ordinary life, scoffed at the idea of the cliche dog and picket fence and 2.5 kids. Now, I recognize a quiet, happy life for the blessing it is, and I am so very thankful. And breathlessly joyful.




Reading:  The Grey King by Susan Cooper

August 27, 1998

(From my AP English class journal, senior year in high school. We wrote and our teacher read and commented back, so that the journals became conversations. In spite of the naivete and Goth-lite need for self / avoiding anonymity, I think I might've been onto something.)

Sometimes my friends get inspired to really live and they say stuff like, "Let's do whatever the hell we want!" OK, I can't say that wouldn't be their version of living, but it's not mine. Sure, it'd be fun to ditch homework and responsibility and go somewhere, but to me it's not really living. I'm not in a big hurry to get out of high school. High school has been one of the most--probably the most--interesting and sometimes enlightening experience of my life. I like to learn. One of my friends told me that she and her boyfriend might move to Ireland after she graduates and live there for a few years. I'd love to do that, but I won't. I'm going to go to college and major in paleontology and hopefully get a job that, while it won't pay much, will be something I will truly love doing. I hope I'm making the right choice. I worry about it sometimes. It's my life, and I'm only going to get so many chances. Maybe only one. What if I'm wrong? I guess I just have to trust what my gut has always been telling me. And it goes to one of those things that you had written on that one paper. It said "making a life vs. making a living" or something like that. I may be eating Ramen noodles every night and driving a Chevette, but at least I won't be stuck behind some desk at an office, drowning in anti-self and anonymity. I hope I'll be able to look back at my life from some point in the future and think, "Wow, that was really something." And not just something, but something meaningful.

Photo Friday

lolkitters of the week

The internet is awesome: video edition

(There's a whole series of these Flippycat domino videos on YouTube, and they are AWESOME.)

Ten Literary Characters I Would Totally Make Out With If I Were Single and They Were Real But I’m Not, Single I Mean, I Am Real, But I’m Also Happily Married and Want to Stay That Way So Maybe We Should Forget This.

I swear, I did not make that title up. The hilarious Radioactive Jam tagged me for this back in early October, but I wanted to save it for NaBloPoMo (for obvious reasons).

So, here goes:

1. Macbeth, Thane of Cawdor, from the Scottish play

I can't really explain this one, other than to admit that it's probably based less on the actual play than on the fact that the actor who played Macbeth in the production I saw as a junior in high school was FREAKING HOT. That guy made crazy look so terribly sexy.


2. Pyetr Kochevikov from Rusalka by CJ Cherryh

I've long been a sucker for the bad boy with a heart of gold, and I've had a crush on Pyetr since I first read this book around age twelve. Too bad he ends up married to a wizard who could kill me with her mind.


3. Thomas from Something Rising (Light and Swift) by Haven Kimmel

Speaking of bad boys with mysterious pasts...


4. Borrible Jones from Spirits in the Wires by Charles de Lint

Hot mysterious tinker with a great sense of humor. What's not to like?


5. Geordie Riddell from Charles de Lint's various Newford books

He's a fiddler who plays at faerie revels and is sweetly and deeply devoted to his best friend and secret flame, Jilly. A date at a faerie revel?? Hell yes.


6. Bonanza Jellybean from Even Cowgirls Get the Blues by Tom Robbins

Yowza.


7. Jesse, the hottie ghost from Meg Cabot's Mediator series

Tall, dark, and handsome; great body; sexy accent...sign me up. Okay, okay...so he's also a 19th-century murder victim. Details, details.


8. Shadow from American Gods by Neil Gaiman

Not sure I'd care to meet his dad, though.


10. Jamie Fraser from Diana Gabaldon's Outlander / Dragonfly in Amber / Voyager

Tall, strong, loyal, handsome, Scottish accent, and good in bed. Um, yes.


10. Sam Vimes from Terry Pratchett's Discworld series

HEART!


I am tagging the bibliophile, Megs, Blogapotamus Rex, and anyone who needs good blog fodder.


Reading:  Greenwitch by Susan Cooper

Don't even ask me about Target

ADD Girl goes to the grocery
a drama in four acts


The List:
toilet paper
bread
cream cheese
paper towels
gallon Ziploc bags
Kleenex


Act One:  bread
Hey, danishes are still on sale. Rock on. I'll get another package of the apple ones. I guess I'll get some fruit while I'm on my way through the produce section. Bananas sound good. Ooh, I wonder if they have any of those black seedless grapes. Yep! Score. OK, here's the bread. Hey, I've been craving apple butter on toast lately. Oh, man...I can't believe they're already stocking Little Debbie Christmas cakes. It's only November 6! ZOMG CHRISTMAS TREE CAKES I NEED THEM. Yay, here's the apple butter! I should pick up some of this all-natural peanut butter while I'm over here.

Items from list: 1
Items not on list: 6


Act Two:  paper and plastic products
Hey, the seasonal aisle. Last year I had to go to three different stores to find canned sweet potatoes for Thanksgiving. I'd better get some now. I'll get a bottle of juice for MB while I'm here. And I'm almost out of Cheetos...I wonder if Bugles are on sale. They are! Crap, I need to get out of here. Ooh, frozen section! And DiGiornos are on sale, too! I'll get a pepperoni pizza for MB. Holy kamole, Toaster Strudels are two for $3?? No way! Raspberry and cherry...yum. All right, here's the paper and plastics aisle. Paper towels, toilet paper, Kleenex, and gallon bags. Next!

Items from list: 4
Items not on list: 7


Act Three:  cream cheese
Milk is on sale, score! And so is string cheese! And here's the cream cheese.

Items from list: 1
Items not on list: 2


Act Four:  checkout
$62.77 ?? AIIEEE! I don't get it, I only came in here for six things!



There's a new (short) post up at the book blog, if anyone is interested. I've also reached my goal of reading more books this year than I read last year. 2006 book count = 44; 2007 book count = 45. Booyah!

Lions and tigers and...cougars? Oh, my.

I spent the weekend at yet another conference, and this one included a Saturday afternoon field trip. There were three field trip options, and I chose a visit to the Exotic Feline Rescue Center. How could I not? About halfway through the visit, I realized yet again that my life? It's sort of awesome. For real, though...how many people go on a trip for work and then end up spending their Saturday afternoon with giant cats?

With over 190 exotic felines calling the EFRC home, we are one of the largest rescue centers in the United States for abused, unwanted and neglected exotic felines. Our mission is simple: We provide permanent homes for exotic felines that have been abused, abandoned or for some reason have nowhere to live out their lives, while educating the public about these beautiful cats.

>> We do not buy or sell cats;
>> We give big cats a home for life;
>> We provide stable social groups;
>> We provide enhanced environments;
>> We provide the best veterinary care.

The EFRC was really great, though there were many sad stories to be told. It was obvious that our guide, Jean, truly loves her furry charges. I wasn't really surprised at how big some of the big cats are, but rather at how small the cougars (a.k.a. pumas*, mountain lions, Florida panthers, catamounts) are. Granted, these guys didn't have the most luxurious lives before coming to the EFRC, so it's not likely that they'd top the growth charts. Cougars are officially members of the Felinae (small cat) subfamily, along with cheetahs. But still, they were a lot smaller than I expected. Here's the quite petite Autumn, receiving scritches from the also somewhat petite Jean (she's probably about 5'3"):


Cougars can purr, and Autumn did. It's probably a good thing they had this posted at the entrance, because I wanted so badly to give her a tummy rub:

Pasha & Coo

I think this is Leroy.



This dainty lady is India. According to Jean, white tigers don't occur naturally in the wild. I don't know if this is true, but I have no problem believing that most white tigers seen in shows were produced by selectively inbreeding for a recessive gene. Predictably, the inbreeding can cause genetic problems. India suffers from retinal detachment and is blind. When we first arrived at her pen, she was walking very carefully across the ground, feeling each step out carefully with her paw before committing. But when Jean called her name, India trotted straight to the fence for some loving:





Meet Max & Kisa. Max was rescued from a breeder trying to produce white tigers. Unfortunately, Max's white brother was allowed to stay with the breeder. Another of the breeder's tigers is in a rescue facility in Florida. This photo doesn't show how freakin' BIG Max is. Jean estimated he'll probably weigh about 800 pounds by the time he's done growing, and most of the other tigers we met were in the 500-600 pound range.

Kisa is a little bitty lioness who clearly loves Jean SO MUCH. Kisa has some neurological problems that left her with really bad balance, but it seems she and Max are good buddies despite her disability and their vast size difference. After Jean moved on, Kisa stayed by the fence, radiating hope that Jean would come back for more pets. It was very, very hard not to give her the ear rubs she so desperately wanted.



Even the tamest of the EFRC's cats can be dangerous, simply because of their size. Jean said that often when she comes to visit Max & Kisa, Max will gallop across the pen and plaster himself against the fence. Not a great plan when you'll someday weigh 800 pounds and the object of your affection is a smallish human!

Some of the other cats were not as cuddly-looking as the fuzzies above. Even though these big fellas are quite fond of Jean and chuffed affectionately at her (kind of a gentle rrrahhff sound), one of them was staring at a few members of our tour group through the fence and very obviously stalking them...just like a housecat would do, but backed by the spine-tingling certainty that this cat could eat us up if it wanted to:


But my God, they were gorgeous:





This dashing fellow is Lakota the bobcat. He didn't pose very well for pictures, but at least he made an appearance. Jean said the EFRC's other bobcats, including the adorably-named Nickers, never come out until all the visitors are gone for the day.

Navi and George

Navi is a black leopard, and in the sun you can see the black spots on her black fur. Unfortunately, neither of them were very interested in getting a photo taken. I learned that there is actually no such thing as a black panther, only melanistic (black-on-black) leopards and jaguars.


Lions sleep between 18 and 22 hours a day, as demonstrated by these lovely ladies:



When King came to live at the EFRC, he was smaller than he should've been, so the caretakers didn't realize he was old enough to breed. He romanced his yard-mate, Jasmine, and about 3 1/2 months later, Lauren was born. Now the whole family has been fixed (weird factoid:  male lions can have vasectomies, but can't be fully neutered or they lose their manes), and they live happily together:




This guy got somewhat upset with us for staring at him while he was trying to eat. I guess I can't really blame him:



Just last week, I was thinking about the circus that comes to town every year, and wondering if I'd eventually take our kids to see it. When I was little, the circus was magical and sort of scary, but by the time I stopped going in high school, I was often sad for the animals. After visiting the EFRC, I don't know if I could stomach going to a circus again. As Jean pointed out, even the most conscientious circuses must take their cats on the road, and big cats just aren't meant to travel in small cages. Even so, I'm very glad I got to meet the various characters living at the EFRC, and I know their faces and stories will stay with me for a long time.

Weekend rating:  wicked awesome

For more photos, visit Shutterfly

* What, like the shoe company?

Wait, did our mothers put you up to this?

The Scene:  MB and I are at our neighbors' (R & his wife J), watching the Colts-Patriots game. We're sitting side-by-side on the couch, and R & J's two daughters, ages 3 and 5, are sitting on / with me.

Three, examining my ears:  What are these? Are these earrings?

Me:  Yep, those are earrings.

Three:  Why do you have earrings in your ears?

Me:  Uh...because I do? Doesn't Mommy have earrings? No, I guess not.

Three:  Mommy has an earring in her nose.

J:  *laughs, points to her nose stud*

Me:  Oh, yeah. I guess she does.

Three:  Do you have an earring in your nose?

Me:  Nope.

Three, pointing at MB:  Are you his wife?

Me:  Yes, I am.

Three, pointing to my hand:  Cuz that's your wedding ring?

Me:  Yep.

Three:  Did you get married?

Me:  Yes, I did.

Three:  Do you have a baby?

Me:  Uh...no.



The Scene:  a few hours later, same couch

Five, wisely:  When people get married, they have babies.

Me:  Um...eventually?

Alphabet Soup

I made up an easy meme, because I wanted one I could use to introduce myself for NaBlo and also one I haven't done a dozen times already. Please feel free to use it, even if I don't tag you!

Rules: List a word that describes you for every letter of the alphabet. Offer as much or as little explanation as you wish. Please keep the words positive (for example, don't use "fat" for F or "lame" for L), and feel free to get creative (I totally cheated on X). Tag as many or as few people as you wish.


Adventurer

Boisterous

Creative

Devoted to friends and family

Energetic

Friendly

Green (environmentally, that is)

Happy

Imaginative

Joyful

Klutzy at times

Laid-back...a least, I strive to be

Milk addict

Nature lover

Observant

Perfectionist

Quirky

Reader

Sassy

Talkative (understatement of the year)

Uranus was discovered on my birthday. Or, I guess I was born on the anniversary day of the discovery of Uranus.

V is for velocibadgergirl!

Wife

eXcellent speller

Youthful (I still feel the same as I did when I was 21, I swear.)

Zen (about most things, anyway)


I'm going to tag a few people, for fun:

the bibliophile

J-Dog

Megs

Alyndabear

M

Chick

Blogapotamus

Mama Snee

the Cheesefairy

Fly

Urban Cowgirl

Radioactive Jam

the Pop Culture Librarian

Cadiz

Mrs. Squirrel

Bossy

Moose

Photo Friday

Dinohyus hollandi

"At six feet tall, Dinohyus more than earns its Latin name, terrible pig.
It was the last and largest entelodont of North America.
It was an omnivore, which means it ate pretty much whatever it wanted.
Its large head was ornamented with bony projections."

lolkitters of the week

(per SSFB's suggestion)