It started snowing yesterday a little before dark, while we were socializing in our old neighborhood, so we came home early. Stopped by the neighborhood local for a drink and picked up some beer battered fries to bring home. It was snowing heavily when we got home and apparently it never stopped for long throughout the night.
There was probably 5 inches of new snow this morning and it kept up for the better part of the day until about 4:30 pm...when the sky cleared and the sun came out for probably 45 minutes. The weatherman tells us to expect this same weather pattern to last for nearly a week. So bloody tiresome. Anyway we never left the house today. I watched an instant movie from Netflix and the Florida Stakes horse race on tv. I picked the winners of the 2 races they showed, before making some pasta slumgoo for dinner. It was pretty good even though I overcooked the penne. In between all this non-activity I managed to wash/dry/hang/fold and put away all the laundry except bed linen. I'll save that for tomorrow probably. These dreary days just seem to slip from one to the other. It feels like there will never be a spring.
Anyway on one of my groups stage musicals was a topic and I went looking for a show tune I liked enough to remember for many years...and found this wonderful rendition by the terrific Elaine Stritch.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Beautiful Ursula, Empress of the Continuum...
The Cedar Street Bridge was cool and only moderately busy the day in 1992, when we found Beautiful Ursula. We had driven up north to Sandpoint from Coeur d'Alene, to visit friends and enjoy the lovely hot July weather. We had some time off from our college courses, so it was fun to just be carefree for a day. Sandpoint is perfect for that 'anywhere different' getaway.
As luck would have it none of our usual friends were available during the week, so we decided to behave like tourists for the day. The Bridge that spanned Cedar Creek was a delightfully different shopping mall, chock full of food courts, artsy shops and a bar with a great view of the creek that meandered through a portion of the town. There was a Mongolian stir fry buffet that we loved, so after gawking at all the pricey wares available we headed there for lunch, following our noses to the middle of the bridge. There were just a couple of people having an early lunch so the place was quiet as we ordered which meats and vegetables we wanted for the steaming rice bowls. As we watched the meat sizzle on the grill I suddenly became aware of the distinct sound of kittens mewing...!
Cat noises in a Mongolian stir fry joint gave me a big case of nervous giggles....
"Do you hear that?" I murmured to my hearing challenged spouse. He listened a minute and his eyes got big...yes...I wasn't imagining anything.
I scrutinized the case where the chilled meat selection were displayed....nothing suggested cat meat, but we could hear kittens crying, none-the-less. We turned around and were ever so relieved to see a box sitting on the floor by one of the round cafe tables. A girl of about ten was sitting in a wire backed chair next to the box, swinging her feet in a bored manner. I moved closer to peer in the box.
"Somebody left these kitties here...ya want one? My Mom won't let me keep them." She pouted.
In the box were five tiny kits...eyes barely opened...ohmigawd. The cafe owner had provided them with a little plain rice, and the poor mites had little sticky bits all over their pitiful faces. The tiny mewlers cried plaintively for their mama...who sadly was not there to respond.
We are cat lovers. As luck would have it our one feline pet had been lost over the Fourth of July, and we were still hoping she might find her way home, but after two weeks we knew the slim chance of that happening. So we looked over the wee kittens until our meals were ready, promising the youngster we'd pick one after lunch. I already had one chosen...a multi colored ball of fluff with a face full of dark rimmed milky blue eyes and rice kernels clinging to her chin and whiskers.
Another customer was gazing down at the kittens when we finished our lunch, so I hurried to scoop up the one who had captured my attention, and the man picked out another and held it in the crook of his arm. Dan strode boldly to the man and plucked the kit right away from him!
"Sorry...this one is already taken."
I couldn't believe he was being so aggressive, but it tickled me to see his chin jut out like a challenge. Fortunately his big shoulders and fierce looking beard belie his usually shy, amiable nature. He had picked the gray tiger striped brother of my little tortie kitten, different in marks and color but with the same white socks and huge kohl-rimmed eyes. Confidently, we walked away with our new bundles as though we'd spent days choosing the ones we wanted and were smugly satisfied.
As it was a really warm day and there was no air conditioning in the truck, we decided to head for home early so we could get to a shop that sold kitten formula. Our new babies were surely so hungry, although we agreed that rice was probably as good as anything for their immature tummies.
As Dan drove with one hand on the wheel toward home he stroked the kitten in his lap until it fell asleep and I held mine close and whispered continuously to her. It didn't take me five minutes to choose Ursula as her name.
"You're an Empress, and your name is Beautiful Ursula...you will grow up strong and will someday rule the Continuum. You'll never have to be afraid...shush shush...it's all fine."
Who knows where all that came from...but it all came to pass just as I promised her. She is diminutive, but so imperious, with a snowy white chest that fluffs like an Elizabethan ruff, a
proudly erect feathery tail, she surveys her empire with possessive disdain that is so obviously regal, we know SHE KNOWS who she is. She has reigned omnipotent for nearly seventeen years. Though slowed by age she is still gorgeous as she strolls her domain.
Early on we decided to become responsible animal owners and had our dog and the two cats neutered as soon as possible, and settled down to enjoy our happy companions. They stayed indoors until we moved to a more rural setting.
Sadly, Dan's cat, Precious Gollum was not so fortunate with longevity, at least with us. He disappeared after about three years, but the oddest thing happened after he was gone.
Gollum was always strictly a Daddy's boy, he loved to snuggle with Dan either in his chair or the bed, and he had a playful happy disposition, whereas Ursula was not one to cuddle, or certainly not be cradled and cooed over; and she openly ignored Dan's fawning attention...until Gollum disappeared.
After that she wandered the house looking for her brother for several days, until finally it seemed that she accepted her fate as a solitary ruler...and crawled up in Dan's lap one night. She found the crook of his arm, and rolled over on her back, allowing him to stroke her soft little belly. In other ways she seemed to take on some of Gollum's nicer attributes, displaying the best of both their personalities. We were totally amazed. It helped ease Dan's sadness at losing his Precious Gollum, and made the Empress a much more congenial monarch.
She became very people oriented over the years. When we have company or stage a yard sale, Ursula has become the ultimate star, jumping up on display tables to greet potential customers, allowing them to pet her and ooh and aah at her ravishing beauty and SWEET disposition. It's amazing how many people have wanted to buy her...yet her attitude toward other cats in the house was and is one of total dismissal. She hisses and swipes with razor claws at any animal who dares venture too close to her reverence, and she's still a savage mouser even in her dotage. A decade ago there was no safe haven for any bird who ventured close to her; for a tiny, short legged lightweight she was amazingly wiry, with a springing leap that was extraordinary to watch. Oddly enough our bird loving neighbor woman developed a rapport with Ursula and convinced her with Cat Whispering (I guess) to confine her bird hunting to our yard.
Overall she's been patient with us, her minions, who have accepted as family all manner of walk-on cats, who find our company and generosity magnetic. They have come and gone over the years, and Beautiful Ursula has tolerated them so long as they keep their distance. Only one cat has ever buffaloed her, to a point where she took to our bed, and became so emaciated I actually feared for her life. We found a good home for that cat to solve the problem, and Ursula's healthy appetite bounced back like magic.
These days she sleeps even more than most cats, but her appetite is still healthy, and she will rise to the occasional chase of one or more of the other four cats we've kept. We're pretty sure the Empress won't live forever, but she really doesn't show any real signs of relinquishing her hold on the Continuum as she knows it.
There is a Princess in waiting for the job, but she's in no hurry to usurp the throne. Ursula enjoys
a little canned fish food, and the occasional sip of skim milk, with a spoon of cottage cheese as a treat now and then. She pretends not to care about it but I've caught her sleeping with her chin resting on the catnip mice we buy for the Gang of Five. She walks out almost every day, or sleeps by the veranda doors where the sun warms her elegant, silky coat. At night she crawls under the covers and snugs up next to my side until I fall asleep, then she moves to the bottom of the bed but atop the duvet to avoid being crushed in a sleeping accident. Life is good for an aging ruler.
As luck would have it none of our usual friends were available during the week, so we decided to behave like tourists for the day. The Bridge that spanned Cedar Creek was a delightfully different shopping mall, chock full of food courts, artsy shops and a bar with a great view of the creek that meandered through a portion of the town. There was a Mongolian stir fry buffet that we loved, so after gawking at all the pricey wares available we headed there for lunch, following our noses to the middle of the bridge. There were just a couple of people having an early lunch so the place was quiet as we ordered which meats and vegetables we wanted for the steaming rice bowls. As we watched the meat sizzle on the grill I suddenly became aware of the distinct sound of kittens mewing...!
Cat noises in a Mongolian stir fry joint gave me a big case of nervous giggles....
"Do you hear that?" I murmured to my hearing challenged spouse. He listened a minute and his eyes got big...yes...I wasn't imagining anything.
I scrutinized the case where the chilled meat selection were displayed....nothing suggested cat meat, but we could hear kittens crying, none-the-less. We turned around and were ever so relieved to see a box sitting on the floor by one of the round cafe tables. A girl of about ten was sitting in a wire backed chair next to the box, swinging her feet in a bored manner. I moved closer to peer in the box.
"Somebody left these kitties here...ya want one? My Mom won't let me keep them." She pouted.
In the box were five tiny kits...eyes barely opened...ohmigawd. The cafe owner had provided them with a little plain rice, and the poor mites had little sticky bits all over their pitiful faces. The tiny mewlers cried plaintively for their mama...who sadly was not there to respond.
We are cat lovers. As luck would have it our one feline pet had been lost over the Fourth of July, and we were still hoping she might find her way home, but after two weeks we knew the slim chance of that happening. So we looked over the wee kittens until our meals were ready, promising the youngster we'd pick one after lunch. I already had one chosen...a multi colored ball of fluff with a face full of dark rimmed milky blue eyes and rice kernels clinging to her chin and whiskers.
Another customer was gazing down at the kittens when we finished our lunch, so I hurried to scoop up the one who had captured my attention, and the man picked out another and held it in the crook of his arm. Dan strode boldly to the man and plucked the kit right away from him!
"Sorry...this one is already taken."
I couldn't believe he was being so aggressive, but it tickled me to see his chin jut out like a challenge. Fortunately his big shoulders and fierce looking beard belie his usually shy, amiable nature. He had picked the gray tiger striped brother of my little tortie kitten, different in marks and color but with the same white socks and huge kohl-rimmed eyes. Confidently, we walked away with our new bundles as though we'd spent days choosing the ones we wanted and were smugly satisfied.
As it was a really warm day and there was no air conditioning in the truck, we decided to head for home early so we could get to a shop that sold kitten formula. Our new babies were surely so hungry, although we agreed that rice was probably as good as anything for their immature tummies.
As Dan drove with one hand on the wheel toward home he stroked the kitten in his lap until it fell asleep and I held mine close and whispered continuously to her. It didn't take me five minutes to choose Ursula as her name.
"You're an Empress, and your name is Beautiful Ursula...you will grow up strong and will someday rule the Continuum. You'll never have to be afraid...shush shush...it's all fine."
Who knows where all that came from...but it all came to pass just as I promised her. She is diminutive, but so imperious, with a snowy white chest that fluffs like an Elizabethan ruff, a
proudly erect feathery tail, she surveys her empire with possessive disdain that is so obviously regal, we know SHE KNOWS who she is. She has reigned omnipotent for nearly seventeen years. Though slowed by age she is still gorgeous as she strolls her domain.Early on we decided to become responsible animal owners and had our dog and the two cats neutered as soon as possible, and settled down to enjoy our happy companions. They stayed indoors until we moved to a more rural setting.
Sadly, Dan's cat, Precious Gollum was not so fortunate with longevity, at least with us. He disappeared after about three years, but the oddest thing happened after he was gone.
Gollum was always strictly a Daddy's boy, he loved to snuggle with Dan either in his chair or the bed, and he had a playful happy disposition, whereas Ursula was not one to cuddle, or certainly not be cradled and cooed over; and she openly ignored Dan's fawning attention...until Gollum disappeared.
After that she wandered the house looking for her brother for several days, until finally it seemed that she accepted her fate as a solitary ruler...and crawled up in Dan's lap one night. She found the crook of his arm, and rolled over on her back, allowing him to stroke her soft little belly. In other ways she seemed to take on some of Gollum's nicer attributes, displaying the best of both their personalities. We were totally amazed. It helped ease Dan's sadness at losing his Precious Gollum, and made the Empress a much more congenial monarch.
She became very people oriented over the years. When we have company or stage a yard sale, Ursula has become the ultimate star, jumping up on display tables to greet potential customers, allowing them to pet her and ooh and aah at her ravishing beauty and SWEET disposition. It's amazing how many people have wanted to buy her...yet her attitude toward other cats in the house was and is one of total dismissal. She hisses and swipes with razor claws at any animal who dares venture too close to her reverence, and she's still a savage mouser even in her dotage. A decade ago there was no safe haven for any bird who ventured close to her; for a tiny, short legged lightweight she was amazingly wiry, with a springing leap that was extraordinary to watch. Oddly enough our bird loving neighbor woman developed a rapport with Ursula and convinced her with Cat Whispering (I guess) to confine her bird hunting to our yard.
Overall she's been patient with us, her minions, who have accepted as family all manner of walk-on cats, who find our company and generosity magnetic. They have come and gone over the years, and Beautiful Ursula has tolerated them so long as they keep their distance. Only one cat has ever buffaloed her, to a point where she took to our bed, and became so emaciated I actually feared for her life. We found a good home for that cat to solve the problem, and Ursula's healthy appetite bounced back like magic.
These days she sleeps even more than most cats, but her appetite is still healthy, and she will rise to the occasional chase of one or more of the other four cats we've kept. We're pretty sure the Empress won't live forever, but she really doesn't show any real signs of relinquishing her hold on the Continuum as she knows it.
There is a Princess in waiting for the job, but she's in no hurry to usurp the throne. Ursula enjoys
a little canned fish food, and the occasional sip of skim milk, with a spoon of cottage cheese as a treat now and then. She pretends not to care about it but I've caught her sleeping with her chin resting on the catnip mice we buy for the Gang of Five. She walks out almost every day, or sleeps by the veranda doors where the sun warms her elegant, silky coat. At night she crawls under the covers and snugs up next to my side until I fall asleep, then she moves to the bottom of the bed but atop the duvet to avoid being crushed in a sleeping accident. Life is good for an aging ruler. Friday, March 14, 2008
Another day in Paradise...
Yesterday I glanced out the window and noticed a white pickup truck in the driveway. Thinking that it was my landlord come to call I nearly panicked, as the cats' litter boxes were overdue for cleaning. Guilt and paranoia rushed over me like a cold wave. SHIT...why me...
It wasn't the landlord. A young couple unknown to me climbed out of the truck, their attention riveted on neighbor Jack's driveway (we share a large, well-gravelled semi circle for our entry way from the road. It's well used for turn arounds, and the cops love to park there to catch speeders coming off the frontage road too. It's convenient for people to pull over and talk on the phone, look at maps, or explain their excess speed or erratic driving to the police.
I looked out the north window to see what the couple were scrutinizing, and lo...there was a cow elk on the little treed hummock next to Jack's part of the driveway. I grabbed my camera and headed out the front door. The elk was the first critter I'd seen all winter, which has been brutal for the animals....since January DEEP drifts of countless snow storms covered everything, so moose, elk and deer have come down to forage on whatever they can find to survive.
Our large yard is churned up from tracks, and my southern neighbor's ornamental shrubbery was gnawed away to stumps, but the animals were never seen.
I noticed the elk staggering awkwardly as she made her way to the shelter of a small evergreen and took several pictures before the driver of the truck strolled closer when I said,
"This is the first of the critters I've seen this year."
"It looks like she's sick, or maybe got hit by a car."
"I can call the Sheriff I guess, but I doubt they'll say more than just to leave here alone".
I turned to get my cell phone from the house, until it flashed in my mind,
"Hey, the guy next door works for the Fish & Game office. I see his car, so he's at home...why don't you run over and ask him to call them. They'll know what to do."
After the couple left, I watched Jack come out from his trailer a couple times to assess the elk, and after Himself came in from work we watched it before we had to leave to take care of some car business. It never moved except to look around a bit. Himself thought she might be ready to calve, as her belly looked full, but when we drove past on our way out I noticed one leg appeared to be injured.
Anyway, she was gone when we drove in after dark. Jack told me today in an email, that she was there when he went to bed, and that his superiors had said to just let her be...which is pretty much what I supposed their response to be. If they aren't hurting anything, or in obvious anguish, I guess it's best to just let nature do it's own job.
While we were away we ran into my best friend's brother. He informed us that her health is failing rapidly; she's been taken off chemotherapy as it has made her so ill she can't take even her IV nourishment. She's down to 78 pounds and has basically given up the battle to survive multiple cancers.
Letting nature take it's course is sometimes so hard.
*
A Forest Service truck and a front end loader were just here; the loader cleared a path through the snow over at Jack's...and loaded up the elk, which had only moved a few yards away from the trees where she was yesterday, before apparently succumbing to whatever injury she had sustained.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Whinging in the night...
I just heard myself giving out in the wee hours of the night, to the air,
"Talk about being lonely..."
If you follow Twenty Major's site, and have read his latest blog you might have a teensy clue what I'm on about.
Oh hell...now I'm talking to you.
It's okay, I was offended by Himself earlier today and haven't let go of that too common occurrence. I'll buy some Ex-lax and fix him a pudding he'll regret without knowing why.
He'll be gone in the morning to a day of doctors' appointments. I just have to be up and dressed to deliver his ass to the meeting spot with the driver to these rounds...I'll be DAMNED if my car will sit in a parking lot all day long while I'm stuck in this house yet another day.
Enough is bigod ENOUGH.
"Talk about being lonely..."
If you follow Twenty Major's site, and have read his latest blog you might have a teensy clue what I'm on about.
Oh hell...now I'm talking to you.
It's okay, I was offended by Himself earlier today and haven't let go of that too common occurrence. I'll buy some Ex-lax and fix him a pudding he'll regret without knowing why.
He'll be gone in the morning to a day of doctors' appointments. I just have to be up and dressed to deliver his ass to the meeting spot with the driver to these rounds...I'll be DAMNED if my car will sit in a parking lot all day long while I'm stuck in this house yet another day.
Enough is bigod ENOUGH.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Mopey, Dumpy, Crock, Weepy, Sappy, Sleazy and...Adolescents?
A friend of mine from school and I were in the back seat of my dad's car, waiting for my parents to come out of a bar in Stanley, ID one summer night. This was back in the mid-50's...my little brother was in the car with us too. I must have been 12 or so, Myrna and I had come up from Twin Falls, camping with my folks, to earn a couple of Camp Fire Girls badges we needed. Dad was a Boy Scout Leader and an avid outdoors man, so we spent a lot of time up in the Sawtooth Mountains.
The annual Stanley Stomp was going on at the time so Mom and Dad had decided to stop in for a drink or coffee, whatever, before the long drive home.
Myrna, my brother Alan and I were amusing ourselves with trivia, trying to name the Seven Dwarfs, It was dark, and we were full of too much weekend, and just got sillier as minutes progressed; too tired to think straight but clinging to the shared company, in the dark, unwilling to give in to the good tired feelings.
We could name six of the Dwarfs:Dopey, Grumpy, Doc; Sleepy, Happy and Sneezy....the last Dwarf wouldn't come out of the reaches of our shallow pre-pubescent recesses, but we were having lots of giggles as we chanted the names to burn them into our memory. Even then we knew that the seventh name would come when we least expected it, so we needed to memorize.
Chanting the names led to twisted tongues...Dopey...Dumpy...Groc...and on until we collapsed at our clever hilarity. Myrna and I were the queens of funny.
We were laughing and rolling around on the seat of the old Chevy...the tearful giggles surely would have been heard by any passerby, but everyone was in the bar, enjoying an adult evening of swing dancing and whoop-up.
This little episode I recall so vividly probably didn't last any longer than fifteen minutes tops, before my parents were back in the car and heading south for home, but never for an instant have I forgotten it. Truly I was blessed with the gift of being easily amused.
Thirty some years later, in a bar in Pocatello, Idaho on a women's pool league night...my team was beating the pants off the bar team, and the cheap arsed manager, who was trying to get out of buying a round for we visitors, announced over the PA,
"I'll give a free pitcher of beer to anyone who can name the Seven Dwarfs."
Like a drunken juggernaut I headed for the bar where he stood.
"Make it a round for my team and you're on!"
"Okay, but you'll have to write them down",
Did he think I couldn't write?
"Fine. Give me a piece of paper and a pen, and start pouring, I'll be done before you are."
And of course, I was! Dopey, Grumpy, Doc, Sleepy, Happy, Sneezy, and Bashful.
The annual Stanley Stomp was going on at the time so Mom and Dad had decided to stop in for a drink or coffee, whatever, before the long drive home.
Myrna, my brother Alan and I were amusing ourselves with trivia, trying to name the Seven Dwarfs, It was dark, and we were full of too much weekend, and just got sillier as minutes progressed; too tired to think straight but clinging to the shared company, in the dark, unwilling to give in to the good tired feelings.
We could name six of the Dwarfs:Dopey, Grumpy, Doc; Sleepy, Happy and Sneezy....the last Dwarf wouldn't come out of the reaches of our shallow pre-pubescent recesses, but we were having lots of giggles as we chanted the names to burn them into our memory. Even then we knew that the seventh name would come when we least expected it, so we needed to memorize.
Chanting the names led to twisted tongues...Dopey...Dumpy...Groc...and on until we collapsed at our clever hilarity. Myrna and I were the queens of funny.
We were laughing and rolling around on the seat of the old Chevy...the tearful giggles surely would have been heard by any passerby, but everyone was in the bar, enjoying an adult evening of swing dancing and whoop-up.
This little episode I recall so vividly probably didn't last any longer than fifteen minutes tops, before my parents were back in the car and heading south for home, but never for an instant have I forgotten it. Truly I was blessed with the gift of being easily amused.
Thirty some years later, in a bar in Pocatello, Idaho on a women's pool league night...my team was beating the pants off the bar team, and the cheap arsed manager, who was trying to get out of buying a round for we visitors, announced over the PA,
"I'll give a free pitcher of beer to anyone who can name the Seven Dwarfs."
Like a drunken juggernaut I headed for the bar where he stood.
"Make it a round for my team and you're on!"
"Okay, but you'll have to write them down",
Did he think I couldn't write?
"Fine. Give me a piece of paper and a pen, and start pouring, I'll be done before you are."
And of course, I was! Dopey, Grumpy, Doc, Sleepy, Happy, Sneezy, and Bashful.
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