Feral Kitten Sauna

I was 14 when "Indecent Proposal" came out, and I wanted to see it soooo bad, but I wasn't allowed to watch rated R movies. When I finally saw it, I wasn't that impressed. It was okay. Well, when I was 13 and 14, my favorite show in the universe was Beverly Hills 90210. Shhh, I know, but I was far from alone. After Beverly Hills, Melrose Place came on, and I wanted to watch that, too, but again, couldn't (it started at my bedtime on a school night). So MP came out on dvd, and my netflix list had dipped below a hundred. I thought, yay I can finally watch it! Well... that show was the most embarassing thing I think I've ever seen. I won't be getting the rest of the season. Talk about cheese factor 5000. TV has come a loooong way in 15 years. Just thought I'd share that... maybe as a helpful movie hint? Don't get stuff that you thought was cool 15 years ago. You could probably apply that to a lot more than just movies. Clothes, haircuts, cassette players, computers that take floppy discs- that are actually floppy. Anyhoo...

In kitty news, I'm going to see what I can do to get the kittens everything they need AND keep their ears intact. I'll see if I can wheel and deal some bargains. Maggie found out that the best spot to sleep is up against the oh so cozy and warm fishtank light. And in case she gets too warm? The fountain-like filter will keep her other side nice and cool! Silly kitten!

Oh yeah, the "mystery plant"? Yup, four o' clocks all right.

My feral kitten dilema

I took these kittens in, to save them from growing past the point of taming and then being caught and killed. I took the responsibility to have them spayed and to find them a good loving home. Which turned out to be the same home I live in. Strange. They're still feral, unless the human in question is me, and then they're tame as... kittens. Wait. I mean, they're so loving and sweet and cuddly, but only with me. They even come when I call (this has NOTHING to do with treats, I SWEAR). Actually, CommonLaw bought some very special treats to make friends with them, but they still think I'm the next best thing to ol' Mommydad Clarence. I digress with my cat pleasin' ego.

Now that Maggie is on probation and not fully grounded, both kittens are really learning to handle the wide world. Which means it's time to get them spayed, and vaccinated, so as not to perpetuate the cycle. There are organizations, like Project Purr, which will do these neccessary medical procedures for minimal fees, and some, like Adobe, don't even take the cats overnight, or expect you to keep a feral, caged, pissed off cat in your home while it recuperates. Not that that would be a problem in my case. My coworker, however, took in some of the ferals behind our office and then had to house them for a while. These were not loving and cuddly like mine, they were wild adults.

Anyway, here's the problem. I can take Maggie and Sebastian to Adobe, and for a measly 25 dollars each they will get spayed AND shots. It would be 400 dollars each if I took them to a regular vet. But Adobe, and Project Purr, mark the cats that they've treated, to prevent recapture and unecessary handling. By cutting off the tip of one ear.

It's noticeable, it has to be. Now, I know that after the initial trauma and pain, Maggie and Sebastian will recover just fine. They won't suffer ostracism by their perfectly-formed-ear peers. And I am a die hard believer in inner beauty... but... that doesn't mean I have anything against external beauty. It brings tears to my eyes imagining them disfigured for life. I could afford to have them spayed, 40 dollars each at the vet, for starters. But it could take up to a year to afford all their shots, during which time they would be vulnerable to awful things like lukemia and rabies and who knows what else. I have a little time, because they need to be 4 pounds, and while Sebastian, the little porker, might be that weight, I think poor Maggie was stunted or something by her two outdoor adventures. She's all tiny and delicate, but still, it's not something I can put off. I just don't want them marred like that. :*(

What would you do?

Eulogy for the Glories

I waited for this for so long. I came home from my trip to these two periwinkle colored blooms, and the next day, a fuchia one. I tried planting these last year, soaked the seeds over night and evrything, and they never sprouted. This year, when September hit, I thought my sad three foot vines with about 8 leaves each were doomed to be flowerless, and I'd have to wait a whole year again. And then these lovely flowers took me completely by surprise, with countless (ok, five) more buds promising to add color to my garden. (The pink bud a couple weeks ago lived it's entire life in the space of a ten hour work day, so I never got to see it.) Considering I get about two hours of direct sun a day, I was pretty proud of myself. And to ice the ol' cake, the mystery plant popped a flower as well. I was so dang pleased. Was. Yes, I'm afraid... all deer must die. Ok, ok, deer are cute, and I love watching my cats stalking them, fully believing they can take down a creature 20 times their size. But why did they have to eat only those two plants??? The squash? Still blooming away. The warped, clownish cucumbers, untouched. My mystery plant and entire morning glory vine.... shredded. Brutalized. Deflowered. I am sad. :(

Ok, now what the heck is this flower?? It's something embarassingly common that everyone but me knows, isn't it. C'mon, tell me, pleeeease. The plant is about 3 feet tall, but the ones I gathered the seeds from are a bushy four feet, they come in every color and then some (orange with pink stripes? cool!) and they die in the winter, down to nothing. I can never remember if that's annual or perennial. Anyway, let the mystery plant be a mystery no more! And FINE the deer can live, but I'm sprinkling crushed red pepper over my entire (remaining) garden. And I'm hiding the water. So when them woodland cows get some burning tongues they will think again!!! Grrrrrrrr.

Little known travel destinations in Arizona

My kind of view. And an Arizona view, but not illustrative of my story. A story which has already been told several times, but really MUST be recorded for posterity. I just wanted to share something pretty before this particular tale.

I always thought posterity was something noble, grand, or otherwise integrity laden, but when I looked it up for spelling (and to make sure it really is a word) I saw that it just means "all succeeding generations". Which, really, is better for what I'm using it for anyway, better than any upstanding implications. Okay, enough preamble.

Mom had picked me up from the airport, and we were heading to her place, when she said there was something I had to see. Something I had to, in fact, take a picture of. She was right, and when she pulled over so I could get the shot, I was laughing, but it was a kind of incredulous laughing. Hilarious, but also.... what the heck??

Why, WHY is there a three dimmensional bull on this Adult Cabaret sign?? Why?? On Moonlight Dr even. I mean, this should be a deli or a butcher sign, and while it IS for a meat market of sorts, still, it's just... not right. Could we just drive on, our questions and curiosity unallayed forever? Well, I could have. But there was a man out front of the Adult Cabaret, and he was beckoning us over.
"Let's go ask him," mom suggested between fits of laughter.
"OH GOD Mom NO," I said, horrified. "He'll be on MY side of the car!!" She was already rolling MY window down.
"It's okay, I'll talk to him," she attempted to reassure me, already pulling up to the guy.
"We could use some girls in here," he said, a creepy look smeared across his face. He was looking us up and down, and didn't even hear Mom ask him about the bull. She asked him again, and as I was sort of slouching down and away from the window I was able to see a guy peering over the edge of the roof at us, an excited half grin as he imagined a couple gals coming in. Meanwhile, creepy dude finally got what Mom was asking and got a half dumb (I'm sorry, but it was) half vacant look on his face as he pondered the question.
"We got a lotta bulls in here", he finally said, brightening with his own wit.
"OMG Mom go!" I don't know if I actually said this out loud, or was praying mentally, but Mom said something like, "ok then," and peeled out of that dirt parking lot quick enough to spin the tires a little. We were still laughing ten minutes later, and it just doesn't lessen every time I see that picture. I don't think the question was really, fully answered, but it's probably for the best. Besides, it's not like we're ever going back for clarification. Unless, I guess, Mom's driving.

The Horror

Seven days later and I'm finally feeling like I'm on the mend. Yesterday I took Clarence to get his stitches out, YAY no more Mr. Conehead, but that simple trip wiped me out. Even interacting with my computer has been almost too much. But now, NOW you're in for it. Vacation photo time!!!!

Okay, so while it was The Best Trip Ever, it always helps to have some dark evil contrast to really highlight good stuff. The only thing more terrifying than zombies is... THIS. Caterpillars. They were everywhere. And they were huge. Are you cringing yet?

Okay, I know, this next picture illustrates a more common fear:

the loss of limbs. But if I were to lose two limbs, I would be at 50%, whereas this spider has 6 legs left, and still seems perfectly capable of building her home. Logically speaking, the fear of caterpillars is senseless compared to fear of bodily harm. But guess what?? There is a NAME for this fear. Scoleciphobia. How validated am I now? HAHA! Okay, well technically, it's the fear of WORMS, which also terrify me, but a furless caterpillar is equally gross and freaky. Dang, except when they are also strangely, almost... pretty.


This was a lavender inchworm, and while putting me on high alert, I still had to get it's picture. If it had jumped at me, (yes, caterpillars jump at you, the better to latch on to your face and bore into your skull and eat your brains) I would have screamed bloody murder. It didn't, though, and after I put some space between me and it I felt much better. And on the whole, I dealt with the whole caterpillars everywhere thing pretty darn well. Except for this one. This one elicited yelps and shivers. Oh gad, I can't even look at this for more than a second.


This one moved FAST, fueling my belief in their ninja capabilities. And it was easily FOUR INCHES LONG. O...M...G... feeling faint just remembering how close I got. If I haven't mentioned this before, my camera will be the death of me. Caterpillars= hazardous to my health. I need some coffee now, to reward myself just for looking at that thing again. Coffee's good for a flu/ cold, right? Yeah, about as much as the above critters are bad for me.

P.S. I am so bad. I dropped a coffee bean (that's bad but not what I meant) and immediatly kicked it under the counter. Umm, instead of, you know, picking it up. It was a totally automatic response. I am the best housekeeper ever! Well, at least now it won't get stepped on and ground up into the floor.... Have I mentioned that I rule?

Good ol' TED

"TED welcomes you, and hopes you have a safe trip. TED would like to offer you complimentary coffee. TED hopes to see you soon!" TED is part of United. As some sort of marketing adventure, United airlines is calling their company and services TED, and the flight attendants and captains talk about TED like he's a person. And it's creepy. Overkill on the attempt to be more personable. Umm, TED? Get away from me. You're freaking me out. I mean what IS TED? An invisible entity residing in the aircraft? The "boss" sitting 20 stories up in some boardroom full of CEO's? He grows more tangible with every refrence. It was kind of funny at first, but...

Anyway, this is the view I had to endure on my trip. Awful, huh? All epiphany inducing and whatnot. How many epiphanies can a person take, anyway, before they start having visions and talking to themselves? Well, I already talked to myself before this so that indicator is out of the equation. I did keep thinking I saw my cats, though. Sometimes it was just Milo, Mom's little dog, but- sometimes it wasn't. Phantom cats aside, it was the best trip EVER. All that endless sky and tree dotted hills, the lack of traffic noise... a person could start to want that on a regular basis, heaven forbid. But the real deal sealer on moving? My new room:

This "shower", hereafter referred to as "my room", has it all. Custom artwork in the gorgeous handcrafted tiles made by my very own Mum and Stepdad, a mesmirizing view, a shower head that you can pull down and spray directly on your toes and across your shoulders... And. OMG... a tankless water heater. Which equals endless hot water. ENDLESS. It was almost impossible to get out, which is why I'm moving in. Someone will have to bring me my meals... Mom?

Oh, and the blankity blank Airborne? SO didn't work. I am a pile of aching, hacking, fluid drinking (and excreting EEEW) sick human being. TED? You might want to get a face mask or breath filter of some kind. All that recycled breath from hundreds of people that you sealed me into your cylindrical confines with really put a damper on any chance at fond feelings, first name basis or not. And your coffee? Just not up to standards.

Not that my level of standards are the LEAST bit high.

AZ, ready or not

Tomorrow I fly.

Not really on a gryphon. Just a 21st century flaming cylinder of death. Actually it's the germs that scare me, not crashing, but I bought that Airborne stuff and it was seven dollars so it better work! It has echinacea in it... Man, I was all freaking out and running around packing and I'd put one pair of socks in my bag and then walk over to my desk looking for a pen, then get a shirt in the suitcase, then scan my bookshelf, aaaack. I thought some coffee would help, geegreatideanowI'mreallygoingcrazy. So, on my second cup I added a splash of Kahlua and now I am relaxing. A little. I can't wait to see my Mom! If only I could skip the driving through city rush hour traffic and getting hurried through the strip/ scan/ detect line and just be there... Omg can't sit still. Too many racing thoughts. What am I forgetting? What's not on my list? Where IS my list? Oh dear. No more coffee for me. I will never get too sleep, haha.

I wonder if there is high speed internet there?
Will my kitties be fine? OMG that's it I'm taking the cats. Oh, wait no. Can't do that. Maybe I should take something fur encrusted to think of them. Haha, ok logging for real now. I will be back, maybe even when there.. we'll see.

Dun Dun Duuuuuuun

I know I'm not the ONLY person who's excited to get this in the mail, but maybe I'm in the minority. My coworker Ted got one this week, and I was so jealous. I have always wanted to be on a jury, I think it would be FASCINATING. Maybe in real life it's boring, plus it sucks if you can't afford to miss a day at work (me). Anyway, when I pulled the envelope outta the mailbox, I totally grinned. I'm sure my eyes lit up like I'd gotten confirmation from ol' Ed Mcmahon with his publishers clearing house junk. It was another wish granted. I got one once before, right after I turned 18, but my group number wasn't called.

My BBFL actually got on a jury! And he said it WAS fascinating. The responsibility factor would be gnarly though. I know I should hope I don't get it, 'cause of the money, but I wanna! Of course, if I actually get to the interview stage, I'll probably act so nervous they'll think I'm like a closet criminal or something. I can just see the pit stains now. Plus, it says, "dress appropriately for the courtroom" and all I have are jeans! :O But then again, after that it says, "The temperature of the jury assembly area and courtrooms can be unpredictable, so jurors are encouraged to dress accordingly". Uh, so I guess they don't know, either, what you should wear. Sweater and sweatpants over shorts and your dressiest hawaiian shirt??....

Well, I won't find out for 3 weeks. So here's hopin'.. and not... and ok hopin' just a wee bit.

P.S. I was on the headset with some fellow gamers and one guy said to another (about me) oh, she's from CALIFORNIA. Like, dude, what are you talking about? Totally gnar-gnar man.

P.P.S. Don't worry Clarence has 3 fingers of space between the cone and his po lil neck, and though it's still torture, he will be free soon. When the stitches come out, that is, so he doesn't, um, eat them EEW.

Oh, Clarence

Warning: The following post contains the words Poo, Flush, and Porta-Potty. Squeamish reader discretion advised.


Clarence has been alternately annoying and miserable being stuck inside, and loving and snuggly. And occasionally doped up. Also, he makes me laugh hysterically with his conehead looks. "Hey mom, there ya are. You think you could help me out? I got this itch, see, and maybe you could take this hat thing off? Just for a second?? I'm dyyyyyying. It's kiiiiiillllling me. Aaaaagck. Don't you looooove me?




He is not at all amused by the litterbox, either. When he finally went, he didn't even bury it! Wouldn't that feel... incomplete? Like not flushing? Digression- we all know porta-potty's suck, but besides the smell it's the incompleteness that is so wrong. No flush, no washing of hands. When I worked at Renaissance Faire and camped on the grounds every weekend one summer, I learned this secret: when you're done, say, out loud, "flush". Okay, maybe look around first, see if there's anyone to hear you. But seriously, even if you just whisper "flush", you'll feel so much better. Don't just think it, verbalize it, I'm tellin' ya.

Was that too much information? Because I must warn you, I'm not done yet. Back to Clarence and his unburied poo. Well, I got up right quick to fix the smell, I'll at least spare you details on my plan, but when I got there I saw Sebastian, in the litterbox, burying Clarence's poo for him. AAAAWWW that's about as cute as a poo story can get!!

P.S. I wonder if licking his bonnet is like a mental crutch for the itches he can't reach. Hey! Like saying "flush"!

Holiday

It's been a long, lazy, HOT weekend. There's a lot of people out, it's like rush hour all day. And while it's been nice staying home and doing nothing, I find myself already dreading tuesday. Then again, who looks forward to getting up at five to go work 11 hours for 8 hours pay at a job they hate with Satan as their boss?? I guess my dread is understandable. I usually think of anticipation as a very bad feeling, like, say, a dentist's waiting room. Woooo, feel faint just remembering the smell of burning tooth, gag. But there are some really awesome anticipations out there. Like this.
Distractions are great, too. I "went" to a huge party last night, in the Eastern Kingdoms. There were at least twenty people on what's like a party phone line. We all have headsets and can talk all at once or take turns, as our avatars run together, dancing and battling at our command. One guy was in Australia, gotta love the accent! I realized the last time I hung out with non-family friends was about 3 months ago, except for online. That's really ok though, 'cause my Dad and his wife are just as fun as old highschool buddies, and, besides, I'm a hermit. Haha! And soon I will be going to AZ to visit me Mum, who's also a best friend.
Anyway, as far as work is concerned, I still cling to the hope that someday the insomnia and stress will pay off and I will have my little slice of eden. Anticipation and waiting it out sometimes brings in a bounty, like these onions!
Today was harvest day for about half my crop, and they pulled out of the ground like they were leaping from it, no resistance at all. They were grape sized too, unlike the earlier pea size one HAHA! Eeek, in one freshly vacated onion hole was a worm, which I'm glad was in there, 'cuz they're great for the soil, but they still creep me out!! Enough to elicite a verbalization of my startlement and grossed out-ness. Omg, and the mystery plant has a flower bud!! That's good anticipation AND distraction! Yay! Here's to gardens for the multiple ways they enrich our lives. Good place to hide the bosses' body, too. KIDDING!!!!!!!!!