Green
I came home from work Tuesday pilled and fed everyone, watered the plants, walked Dogger and then went on a bike ride. Did you know Krispy Kream doesn’t have a bike rack? Lots of handicapped parking but no where to lock your bike. I don’t think they are big proponents of exercise. Imagine, a donut manufacturer not being big into exercise or healthy habits. And then I rode my bike home came and munched on my donuts and took a shower and then sat in front of the TV and watched two hours of Anthony Bourdon.- which I view as education programming in the face of more time in front of CSI and Order. I was very productive.
Wednesday I came home, pilled and fed everyone, watched a DVD and then fell asleep for two hours.
That is not what I call productive. I finally got up because Dogger was whining I went downstairs to see what she wanted and discovered she was whining because she had a hair squishy in her mouth and nobody cared. I don’t think she really likes the taste of the squishies as much as she enjoys being chased around the dinning room table and the cookie she inevitably gets to hand over the squishy. When it gets hot like this and neither of us are real excited about going outside, I leave the odd hair squishy around so Dogger can get in her exercise. You would be surprised how much a few laps around the dinning room table can do for your heart rate.
Wednesday I really didn’t want to do race around the table. I was hot and I was tired so I went back to sleep on the chair. It was then I discoverd that Dogger has a skill. It may be hard to believe but Dogger gives a very good foot massage, a little slurpy, but very through . She has a very muscular tongue... I may have over shared.
Now awake and a little queasy, I decided it would be a good time to go walk the fence line and check out the crops. I noticed that it seemed a little gray out and decided to water quickly to make sure that it rains like hell. It never fails, the more throughly I water the harder it rains. I haven’t been watering throughly enough lately and as a result it hasn’t rained in weeks. As I was inspecting the crops I noticed that my baby squash died on the vine! I was devastated. Thank God my tomatoes are still looking healthy! But I’m sure there are evil tomato killers out there just waiting on the right time to strike though and I see a trip to the store for some tomato killer-centric poison in my future.
I told my friend at work about my new raspberry plants and she said was “If you use organic fertilizer, once you have berries I’ll take some”, I countered with that I only have the two plants and I’m not planning on having “extras”. It’s not like you get stuck with unwanted berries. It’s not like unwanted cucumbers - Not that I have any idea what thats like.
Like everything else I planted the cucumber plants are lovely and lush and green but not producing anything but oxygen., which is nice, sure, who doesn’t love a good lung full of oxygen, but you just don’t get the same umph from harvesting oxygen.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
What a card
The other day word began filtering through the masses that the wife of a co-worker had died suddenly over the weekend. It’s very sad. There was no official notice and usually we get one, usually family members people we have never heard of and don't work with. It's a little morbid. We get these pretty frequently as well as directions to the viewing and information about funeral arrangements. We didn't get anything for this man, another co-worker opined that maybe it was because he's Greek and they do things different. The stupid, it burns.
We all were waiting on the notification so we could get him cards. We’re big card senders. I think it’s because this is a female dominated work place, if it were all men, cards would be a non-issue, I assume there would be a lot of nodding and shoulder thumping or something. I would imagine that men in groups aren’t big with sending cards. I mean someone has to go to the card store - Have you ever seen a man at a card store? They might as well be tampon outlets. The guy would have to look though every single card in the store, dither over the various messages, dither some more, get disgusted with card selection, go to another card store, dither more, call back to the office, dither over the phone, buy one, hate it and then organize everyone to sign it then get it to the recipient. It’s just not a guy thing. Guys dither sure, but you don’t see them dithering in the card stores. It’s a shame, it can be very cathartic, you find out exactly how you feel about the person, it's like a pop test of your relationship status.
Anyway. He didn’t work in our department so we don’t have to get a group card. It’s going to be up to the individuals to decide if they want to get him a card. I want to get him a card and finally they sent out the notice with his address and I can get him a card. Good.
So now I had plans for lunch.
So a-card-hunting I went. One, sympathy cards are hidden and hard to find. Because there is nothing you want to do more when you are in the market for sympathy cards then to spend a lot of time wading through Birthday/Congrats on The New Baby/Happy Wedding/Happy Holiday cards. And two, then you finally run across them and they all suck. They suck and they’re all ugly! glance at the Happy Whatever cards and everyone of them is pretty and at the very least pleasant to look at. Sympathy cards are ugly and badly designed. I know no one wants to get these and that nobody spends a lot of time studying them when they do get them but come on!
I finally found the Sympathy section and was underwhelmed. They were all too wordy, or too touchy-feely, or too sweet and not a single one was in anyway masculine – Which struck me as odd, they go out of their way to make sure that His birthday card is plaid and decorated with ducks and you would never find a Fathers Day card embellished with flowers, why aren’t there sympathy cards designed for grieving men?
I did finally find one that didn’t make me nauseous and also, I wanted to eat lunch over my lunch hour. I took the card to the front and do you have any idea how much it costs? $4.99! I had to ask the girl how many she was charging me for. I took the card out to the car and looked at it again, I could do better than this. The faux photo on the front was no worse than what I can do. I picked conservatively at the image to see how it was attached and if I could neatly unattached it. I started to run through my mental Rolodex of photos, I went back to work and checked my Fotopages to see if I had anything that could pass as funereal.
Not a damn thing. The poor man just lost his wife and I was tying to decide which picture of which tree came off as the most sympathetic. And? I decided that I was making this about me and I needed to stop. I’m going to mail the card as is. Nope, changed my mind. I found a very nice, highly sympathetic picture of some water lilies taken on an over cast day.
The other day word began filtering through the masses that the wife of a co-worker had died suddenly over the weekend. It’s very sad. There was no official notice and usually we get one, usually family members people we have never heard of and don't work with. It's a little morbid. We get these pretty frequently as well as directions to the viewing and information about funeral arrangements. We didn't get anything for this man, another co-worker opined that maybe it was because he's Greek and they do things different. The stupid, it burns.
We all were waiting on the notification so we could get him cards. We’re big card senders. I think it’s because this is a female dominated work place, if it were all men, cards would be a non-issue, I assume there would be a lot of nodding and shoulder thumping or something. I would imagine that men in groups aren’t big with sending cards. I mean someone has to go to the card store - Have you ever seen a man at a card store? They might as well be tampon outlets. The guy would have to look though every single card in the store, dither over the various messages, dither some more, get disgusted with card selection, go to another card store, dither more, call back to the office, dither over the phone, buy one, hate it and then organize everyone to sign it then get it to the recipient. It’s just not a guy thing. Guys dither sure, but you don’t see them dithering in the card stores. It’s a shame, it can be very cathartic, you find out exactly how you feel about the person, it's like a pop test of your relationship status.
Anyway. He didn’t work in our department so we don’t have to get a group card. It’s going to be up to the individuals to decide if they want to get him a card. I want to get him a card and finally they sent out the notice with his address and I can get him a card. Good.
So now I had plans for lunch.
So a-card-hunting I went. One, sympathy cards are hidden and hard to find. Because there is nothing you want to do more when you are in the market for sympathy cards then to spend a lot of time wading through Birthday/Congrats on The New Baby/Happy Wedding/Happy Holiday cards. And two, then you finally run across them and they all suck. They suck and they’re all ugly! glance at the Happy Whatever cards and everyone of them is pretty and at the very least pleasant to look at. Sympathy cards are ugly and badly designed. I know no one wants to get these and that nobody spends a lot of time studying them when they do get them but come on!
I finally found the Sympathy section and was underwhelmed. They were all too wordy, or too touchy-feely, or too sweet and not a single one was in anyway masculine – Which struck me as odd, they go out of their way to make sure that His birthday card is plaid and decorated with ducks and you would never find a Fathers Day card embellished with flowers, why aren’t there sympathy cards designed for grieving men?
I did finally find one that didn’t make me nauseous and also, I wanted to eat lunch over my lunch hour. I took the card to the front and do you have any idea how much it costs? $4.99! I had to ask the girl how many she was charging me for. I took the card out to the car and looked at it again, I could do better than this. The faux photo on the front was no worse than what I can do. I picked conservatively at the image to see how it was attached and if I could neatly unattached it. I started to run through my mental Rolodex of photos, I went back to work and checked my Fotopages to see if I had anything that could pass as funereal.
Not a damn thing. The poor man just lost his wife and I was tying to decide which picture of which tree came off as the most sympathetic. And? I decided that I was making this about me and I needed to stop. I’m going to mail the card as is. Nope, changed my mind. I found a very nice, highly sympathetic picture of some water lilies taken on an over cast day.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
The high heat setting
Saturday, after the Dishwasher drama, I decided it would be a fabulous idea to go wander around in the heat some more, but ya know, on purpose, because that knocks ten, fifteen degrees off the top right away. If you’re wandering around outside in your yard, in the heat, because you’re chasing dishwasher installers of course it’s going to feel like 8000 degrees - its not like you want to be outside... you probably aren’t dressed appropriately and most likely you are not wearing a hat or sunglasses - You are very likely carrying a heavy, automatic weapon and maybe bucket of boiling oil. Chances are, you are not at your cutest.
But, go and wander around someone else's yard, and it’s much more closer to the 4000-6000 degree range, almost springlike. Except this weekend, I wandering around someone else's yard and it was well into the 9000 degree range outside and at that point you aren’t just dealing with heat, you dealing with hostility. I walked around this lovely garden feeling like I was walking around an over heated room with a very low ceiling and no ventilation.
Needless to say, I didn’t take many pictures and what I did take , didn’t turn out very well. It was so hot it gave even the nicest flowers giant pimples and bad hair. I took many of the same shots in years past and they all turned out really nice, this year everything was just off and unphotogenically orange. In other years I also spent more time on picture taking too. I would look at the image and say to myself, Hmmm. How about one from a different angle or from beneath or really close up or from the other direction or how about getting some of those into the background?..., this year I just said to myself, Gawd I’m hot. Is it in focus? Good. Okay, moving on.. (Go here for pictures from Larkspur Party 2008)
I didn’t even buy any art. I did however, find the bird house in my soul and if it wasn’t for the fact that it was huge and likely very expensive and even if they were by chance giving it away, I wouldn’t have been able to get it home, but I lurved it all the same:
I did buy some plants, and not only from the garden party! If you were asking yourself when gardening hubris was going to set in, I can tell you. Garden hubris officially got under way at approximately 2:30 pm on June 7. It was inevitable, after all I have some very bloomy flowers in the front and in the garden I have half grown tomatoes, a few fetal squash and my sweet bell pepper plants are very tall and graceful. This is the most success I’ve ever experienced as a gardener and of course it’s gone to my head!. Having mastered vegetables and flowers, I felt I “needed” a new challenge, something else to benefit from my newly green thumb, on the way back from the garden party, I stopped at a very nice garden center to see what they had to challenge me with. Because I am so awesome and I dedicate ten minutes a day watering and weeding and every once in a while I poison the shit out of all of it and then sometimes I fertilize the shit into all of it. I rock urban farming.
I also need to point out that by this time I’ve been wandering around in the heat for longer than might have been deemed healthy and I’m pretty sure you aren’t supposed to leave your brain on “simmer” for too long without adding water, so to be honest, I was not entirely in my right mind. And then I saw them...Raspberry Plants! With genuine raspberries all ready on them! We have raspberries in Marquette! I love raspberries! Oh My Gawd! I could have a little bit of Marquette in my yard!. I was dizzy with joy, or heat stroke, whatever.. I needed those plants, it was just a matter of how much they were and how many I could fit into the back of Minnie.
I started to make plans before I even found a garden person to talk to. I was going to go straight to the dirt store and get some more dirt, and then I’m going to dig holes in the front yard behind the tree and then I’m going to fill the holes in with the dirt store dirt or maybe what I should do, is go to Poverty Barn and get some really big pots , because when I think about it, the ground in my front yard has the consistency of concrete reinforced with tree root re-bar... and just plant the plants in pots in a world of only dirt store dirt, because I totally credit the healthy, verdant state of my garden to the wondrous properties of the dirt store dirt. It’s magic and it is all powerful and without it, I am nothing, I am Tom Joad.
I bought two plants. I was dizzy but I wasn’t dumb. I went home and then to the Dirt Store and they were closed! Bastards! I had to buy Wal-Mart dirt! It can’t be as good as the black gold the Dirt store sells! It’s probably made in China! My hopes for a bumper crop were dashed and I felt all of a sudden, like I had been in the sun for too long.
The Plants 6/7/08
Saturday, after the Dishwasher drama, I decided it would be a fabulous idea to go wander around in the heat some more, but ya know, on purpose, because that knocks ten, fifteen degrees off the top right away. If you’re wandering around outside in your yard, in the heat, because you’re chasing dishwasher installers of course it’s going to feel like 8000 degrees - its not like you want to be outside... you probably aren’t dressed appropriately and most likely you are not wearing a hat or sunglasses - You are very likely carrying a heavy, automatic weapon and maybe bucket of boiling oil. Chances are, you are not at your cutest.
But, go and wander around someone else's yard, and it’s much more closer to the 4000-6000 degree range, almost springlike. Except this weekend, I wandering around someone else's yard and it was well into the 9000 degree range outside and at that point you aren’t just dealing with heat, you dealing with hostility. I walked around this lovely garden feeling like I was walking around an over heated room with a very low ceiling and no ventilation.
Needless to say, I didn’t take many pictures and what I did take , didn’t turn out very well. It was so hot it gave even the nicest flowers giant pimples and bad hair. I took many of the same shots in years past and they all turned out really nice, this year everything was just off and unphotogenically orange. In other years I also spent more time on picture taking too. I would look at the image and say to myself, Hmmm. How about one from a different angle or from beneath or really close up or from the other direction or how about getting some of those into the background?..., this year I just said to myself, Gawd I’m hot. Is it in focus? Good. Okay, moving on.. (Go here for pictures from Larkspur Party 2008)
I didn’t even buy any art. I did however, find the bird house in my soul and if it wasn’t for the fact that it was huge and likely very expensive and even if they were by chance giving it away, I wouldn’t have been able to get it home, but I lurved it all the same:
I did buy some plants, and not only from the garden party! If you were asking yourself when gardening hubris was going to set in, I can tell you. Garden hubris officially got under way at approximately 2:30 pm on June 7. It was inevitable, after all I have some very bloomy flowers in the front and in the garden I have half grown tomatoes, a few fetal squash and my sweet bell pepper plants are very tall and graceful. This is the most success I’ve ever experienced as a gardener and of course it’s gone to my head!. Having mastered vegetables and flowers, I felt I “needed” a new challenge, something else to benefit from my newly green thumb, on the way back from the garden party, I stopped at a very nice garden center to see what they had to challenge me with. Because I am so awesome and I dedicate ten minutes a day watering and weeding and every once in a while I poison the shit out of all of it and then sometimes I fertilize the shit into all of it. I rock urban farming.
I also need to point out that by this time I’ve been wandering around in the heat for longer than might have been deemed healthy and I’m pretty sure you aren’t supposed to leave your brain on “simmer” for too long without adding water, so to be honest, I was not entirely in my right mind. And then I saw them...Raspberry Plants! With genuine raspberries all ready on them! We have raspberries in Marquette! I love raspberries! Oh My Gawd! I could have a little bit of Marquette in my yard!. I was dizzy with joy, or heat stroke, whatever.. I needed those plants, it was just a matter of how much they were and how many I could fit into the back of Minnie.
I started to make plans before I even found a garden person to talk to. I was going to go straight to the dirt store and get some more dirt, and then I’m going to dig holes in the front yard behind the tree and then I’m going to fill the holes in with the dirt store dirt or maybe what I should do, is go to Poverty Barn and get some really big pots , because when I think about it, the ground in my front yard has the consistency of concrete reinforced with tree root re-bar... and just plant the plants in pots in a world of only dirt store dirt, because I totally credit the healthy, verdant state of my garden to the wondrous properties of the dirt store dirt. It’s magic and it is all powerful and without it, I am nothing, I am Tom Joad.
I bought two plants. I was dizzy but I wasn’t dumb. I went home and then to the Dirt Store and they were closed! Bastards! I had to buy Wal-Mart dirt! It can’t be as good as the black gold the Dirt store sells! It’s probably made in China! My hopes for a bumper crop were dashed and I felt all of a sudden, like I had been in the sun for too long.
The Plants 6/7/08
Monday, June 9, 2008
Once upon a time...
Friday afternoon at work I received an automated phone call informing phone call informing me that my new dishwasher would be arriving at some point between 11 am and 3 pm the following day. "Great" I said "It's a good thing I didn't want to get anything else accomplished on Saturday because I have no other plans or anything else to get done! and besides, it's way too hot to do lawn work anyway! Instead I'll wash each piece of laundry individually and then watch them dry! Woo!".
Fortunately, the the miracles of modern technology I did not have to sit around and watch my laundry dry. Instead I spent Saturday morning sitting in front of the TV watching other people get lots of work done around their houses. It was good that I was stuck inside though, I didn't know it yet but it had heated up to about 8000 degrees outside.
Finally, my phone rings and an actual human being informed me my dishwasher was on its way. I quickly tidied up the kitchen and hand washed a couple of plates less the installer guys think I was a poor housekeeper.
They arrived before I even had a chance to lock up Dogger, who was very interested in these men. I herded her into the hallway and closed the door so I could deal with the delivery guys without having to deal with her as well. The Kitty sensed an open door and did a very good job of disguising himself as one of their work boots but was quickly uncovered when they both turned out to work in sneakers.
Animals dealt with it was time to deal with the installers. In my fairy tale version of how this was supposed be done, I had them bringing the washer off the truck, removing the old washer and installing the new washer and we all lived happily ever after. This was obviously a bowderlized version of the real fairy tale that included the old machine first being installed and then moments later re-installed, threats, accusations of murderous intent, venomous orders to remain on the premises and angry calls back and forth to their supervisor by both parties. And most of this took place in the 8000 degree heat of my driveway.
Why was I forced to issue orders? I did not have the breaker thrown to the dishwasher prior to the installers arriving and on my fuse box the dishwasher is not identified by name on a fuse. To find which fuse it is, you have to throw a few until you find it. Obviously, I was trying to kill them. I'm a "requester" by nature. I don't usually order anyone to do anything. My animals have worn me down over the years and I have given up forcing my will onto others. I did at one point have to issue a death threat to a co-worker but he understood that it was just business, and ultimately, I got what I wanted and he got to live.
When I couldn't find the fuse immediately they ascertained I was trying to kill them and they quickly reinstalled my old washer, packed up their toys and reloaded their truck. They told me as I was chasing them down my drive way, that I would have to re-schedule my delivery and they had to go because I was making them late for other deliveries. Which, by the way is bull shit because they don't even call you until a half hour before they arrive and prior to that all you know is which five hour block of time they may be arriving at your door. I told them that they could not leave, period and if they did leave I was not going to buy the dishwasher, pay any kind of restocking fee and under no circumstances would I be buying anything from them again, period and I would make sure that the powers that be top to bottom at Home Depot knew exactly why I was never going to spend another dime with them and who ultimately, the blame lay with.
It was a tense stand off. They got in their truck with my dishwasher and called their boss again while I stomped downstairs to my basement and began to throw switches on the fuse box in earnest. I found the fuse in about 25 seconds and stomped back up the stairs and out to their truck and told them to let me speak with their supervisor right now. We spoke, then they spoke, and then they got out of their truck and installed my new dishwasher. Damn it.
And they lived happily ever after!
The End.
Friday afternoon at work I received an automated phone call informing phone call informing me that my new dishwasher would be arriving at some point between 11 am and 3 pm the following day. "Great" I said "It's a good thing I didn't want to get anything else accomplished on Saturday because I have no other plans or anything else to get done! and besides, it's way too hot to do lawn work anyway! Instead I'll wash each piece of laundry individually and then watch them dry! Woo!".
Fortunately, the the miracles of modern technology I did not have to sit around and watch my laundry dry. Instead I spent Saturday morning sitting in front of the TV watching other people get lots of work done around their houses. It was good that I was stuck inside though, I didn't know it yet but it had heated up to about 8000 degrees outside.
Finally, my phone rings and an actual human being informed me my dishwasher was on its way. I quickly tidied up the kitchen and hand washed a couple of plates less the installer guys think I was a poor housekeeper.
They arrived before I even had a chance to lock up Dogger, who was very interested in these men. I herded her into the hallway and closed the door so I could deal with the delivery guys without having to deal with her as well. The Kitty sensed an open door and did a very good job of disguising himself as one of their work boots but was quickly uncovered when they both turned out to work in sneakers.
Animals dealt with it was time to deal with the installers. In my fairy tale version of how this was supposed be done, I had them bringing the washer off the truck, removing the old washer and installing the new washer and we all lived happily ever after. This was obviously a bowderlized version of the real fairy tale that included the old machine first being installed and then moments later re-installed, threats, accusations of murderous intent, venomous orders to remain on the premises and angry calls back and forth to their supervisor by both parties. And most of this took place in the 8000 degree heat of my driveway.
Why was I forced to issue orders? I did not have the breaker thrown to the dishwasher prior to the installers arriving and on my fuse box the dishwasher is not identified by name on a fuse. To find which fuse it is, you have to throw a few until you find it. Obviously, I was trying to kill them. I'm a "requester" by nature. I don't usually order anyone to do anything. My animals have worn me down over the years and I have given up forcing my will onto others. I did at one point have to issue a death threat to a co-worker but he understood that it was just business, and ultimately, I got what I wanted and he got to live.
When I couldn't find the fuse immediately they ascertained I was trying to kill them and they quickly reinstalled my old washer, packed up their toys and reloaded their truck. They told me as I was chasing them down my drive way, that I would have to re-schedule my delivery and they had to go because I was making them late for other deliveries. Which, by the way is bull shit because they don't even call you until a half hour before they arrive and prior to that all you know is which five hour block of time they may be arriving at your door. I told them that they could not leave, period and if they did leave I was not going to buy the dishwasher, pay any kind of restocking fee and under no circumstances would I be buying anything from them again, period and I would make sure that the powers that be top to bottom at Home Depot knew exactly why I was never going to spend another dime with them and who ultimately, the blame lay with.
It was a tense stand off. They got in their truck with my dishwasher and called their boss again while I stomped downstairs to my basement and began to throw switches on the fuse box in earnest. I found the fuse in about 25 seconds and stomped back up the stairs and out to their truck and told them to let me speak with their supervisor right now. We spoke, then they spoke, and then they got out of their truck and installed my new dishwasher. Damn it.
And they lived happily ever after!
The End.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Friday, June 6, 2008
Not your "average" feral cat
The average life span of a Feral cat is less than two years on their own. If they are lucky, enough to be in a colony that has a caretaker to feed them and see that they are spayed or neutered, the life span may reach five years. Very few live longer. It's a tough life out on the streets.
About. com
Smokey the feral cat died yesterday of cancer. It was time for his rabies shot and his new caretakers suspected he was losing weight and thought there might have something wrong with his mouth. It was hard to tell because he didn't let many people get close to him but they all noticed a lot of saliva all of a sudden. When they finally got him in a crate and taken to the human society the vet there found a sizable tumor in his jaw and noted that it had all ready broken one of his teeth and was interfering with his ability to eat as well as causing him pain. The vet suggested that he be put to sleep and he was. Smokey was twelve years old.
And then the vet told Smokey's friends that Smokey was a girl all along.
We should have known. Smokey was delicate and small boned and the few times he meowed over the years the sound was high pitched and girly. We thought he had a feline speech defect.
I went to see what I had said about him over the years, as he was a big part of my working life for a long time. Feeding Smokey was my job and my job alone for years, rain or shine, day in and day out and I almost never mentioned him. When I pretty much hated everything about my job, I liked feeding Smokey. I drove into the lot and he ran out to greet me every morning. I went into the building, unlocked my office door, scooped up some cat food and went back outside and walked across the parking lot with smokey shadowing my steps. I would fill his bowl, walk back across the lot and start my day. I could have gotten there from inside the building but that required me to walk past my hated boss' office and I avoided that. Walking in the pouring rain and freezing cold was preferable.
Gradually, over the years Smokey grew a fan club and they annoyed me. They didn't hand out cat snacks when it was pouring rain but his bowl had to be filled rain or shine. But it was all right, whether he liked it or not, Smokey needed all the friends he could get.
Here is what I said about Smokey over the years:
May 2003, in the beginning
October 2005
March 2006, with Smokey photo-blogging!
June 2006
July 6, 2007
July 12, 2007
August 2007
I hadn't seen him in a year and now I won't see him again.
The average life span of a Feral cat is less than two years on their own. If they are lucky, enough to be in a colony that has a caretaker to feed them and see that they are spayed or neutered, the life span may reach five years. Very few live longer. It's a tough life out on the streets.
About. com
Smokey the feral cat died yesterday of cancer. It was time for his rabies shot and his new caretakers suspected he was losing weight and thought there might have something wrong with his mouth. It was hard to tell because he didn't let many people get close to him but they all noticed a lot of saliva all of a sudden. When they finally got him in a crate and taken to the human society the vet there found a sizable tumor in his jaw and noted that it had all ready broken one of his teeth and was interfering with his ability to eat as well as causing him pain. The vet suggested that he be put to sleep and he was. Smokey was twelve years old.
And then the vet told Smokey's friends that Smokey was a girl all along.
We should have known. Smokey was delicate and small boned and the few times he meowed over the years the sound was high pitched and girly. We thought he had a feline speech defect.
I went to see what I had said about him over the years, as he was a big part of my working life for a long time. Feeding Smokey was my job and my job alone for years, rain or shine, day in and day out and I almost never mentioned him. When I pretty much hated everything about my job, I liked feeding Smokey. I drove into the lot and he ran out to greet me every morning. I went into the building, unlocked my office door, scooped up some cat food and went back outside and walked across the parking lot with smokey shadowing my steps. I would fill his bowl, walk back across the lot and start my day. I could have gotten there from inside the building but that required me to walk past my hated boss' office and I avoided that. Walking in the pouring rain and freezing cold was preferable.
Gradually, over the years Smokey grew a fan club and they annoyed me. They didn't hand out cat snacks when it was pouring rain but his bowl had to be filled rain or shine. But it was all right, whether he liked it or not, Smokey needed all the friends he could get.
Here is what I said about Smokey over the years:
May 2003, in the beginning
October 2005
March 2006, with Smokey photo-blogging!
June 2006
July 6, 2007
July 12, 2007
August 2007
I hadn't seen him in a year and now I won't see him again.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
TV
Well, that was disappointing. I got comfortable in front of the TV and got all ready to camp out there and bask in my air-conditioning while I watched the last bit of this BBC mystery drama that I have been netflixing. I put CD number 5 into the machine and sat back to watch my little British people do a circa 1997 version of CSI London, but with cursing and male nakedness and exposed breasts,but without gore or blood or on screen violence - And the plonky title music started and the nighttime view of London started running and I fast forwarded because I’m over watching the credits and then the action started and...
Who are these people?!
The supporting cast was in place but the two leads AKA Why I watch, were nowhere to be seen. A bit of boozy exposition from the remaining cast revealed that “They had gone to California” and that the lead had been “head hunted to start up a path lab in LA”. What does he know from wounds from automatic weapons? He’s never even seen a gun shot victim. Poisonings? Sure! Previously unknown infectious disease? He owns disease-of-the-week! Garrotings? He’s all over it! Gah. The shows speciality is unmarked dead people, with the plot every week being how did this healthy appearing dead woman get that way.- It’s almost always a dead woman, thus the weekly exposed breasts.
I can’t even finish watching! When I put it on my list I saw a review that mentioned the “unlikable imitations of the characters”... I read that as the characters had changed between the fourth series and the fifth because at the end of the fourth the two leads hooked up and there are fans that hate to see TV characters happy. The character was miserable for four years, she should stay that way or if the character was a out-of-control philanderer, then he must keep right on philandering, damn it.
But I am an experienced TV watcher, shite like that rolls right off me. If the script says the miserable get to be happy and the man whore settles down? Then so be it, it’s called character development and it is a good thing. But I prefer that my well developed characters don’t get so over developed that they turn into totally different characters played by different actors.
I was going to end this with a screed about Hilary Clinton being a selfish cow and refusing to get off the cross or since I was talking about the performing arts, to use the vernacular, refusing to get the fuck off the stage... And then I checked my email
Sen. Hillary Clinton will officially end her campaign for the presidency by the end of the week, multiple sources tell CNN.
The hell? I was the last damn person in America to learn this! You would have thought that while I was wandering aimlessly around Poverty Barn, marveling at the $270 Brohill floor lamps (absolutely gorgeous lamps, if they had been more like $45 I would have taken one home, but they don't really want to sell me a lamp, they just have them there to make me feel bad that I can't even afford to buy a lamp at Poverty Barn. Misogynistic bastard's) that somebody would have said something, or that on the ride home that the radio might have mentioned it. I need to just set all the presets to NPR and leave the top 40 stuff behind. I’m too old for that shit anyway..But wait, I was listening to NPR and they weren’t talking about it, they were interviewing some guy about Bobby Kennedy choosing not to run against LBJ and how the guy they were interviewing wrote RFK a letter to bitch at him about it... So, Hmm. Maybe I can still listen to the latest in pop pap! Maybe radio in Raleigh in general just sucks for news delivery.
But you know what this means, I can go ahead and order my Obama 08 car magnet! I can finally retire my Kerry magnet and move on. I’ve been in mourning for four long years, maybe this way I can start the healing process... Yes, I do chose to see getting a new car magnet for my car as a balm for my pathologically hurt feelings. On election night 2004, I spent the night sobbing in my dogs crate, cut me some slack. If I burst into tears this election night, I pray to God that they are tears of joy.
Oh, and I don’t want Hilary for VP.
Well, that was disappointing. I got comfortable in front of the TV and got all ready to camp out there and bask in my air-conditioning while I watched the last bit of this BBC mystery drama that I have been netflixing. I put CD number 5 into the machine and sat back to watch my little British people do a circa 1997 version of CSI London, but with cursing and male nakedness and exposed breasts,but without gore or blood or on screen violence - And the plonky title music started and the nighttime view of London started running and I fast forwarded because I’m over watching the credits and then the action started and...
Who are these people?!
The supporting cast was in place but the two leads AKA Why I watch, were nowhere to be seen. A bit of boozy exposition from the remaining cast revealed that “They had gone to California” and that the lead had been “head hunted to start up a path lab in LA”. What does he know from wounds from automatic weapons? He’s never even seen a gun shot victim. Poisonings? Sure! Previously unknown infectious disease? He owns disease-of-the-week! Garrotings? He’s all over it! Gah. The shows speciality is unmarked dead people, with the plot every week being how did this healthy appearing dead woman get that way.- It’s almost always a dead woman, thus the weekly exposed breasts.
I can’t even finish watching! When I put it on my list I saw a review that mentioned the “unlikable imitations of the characters”... I read that as the characters had changed between the fourth series and the fifth because at the end of the fourth the two leads hooked up and there are fans that hate to see TV characters happy. The character was miserable for four years, she should stay that way or if the character was a out-of-control philanderer, then he must keep right on philandering, damn it.
But I am an experienced TV watcher, shite like that rolls right off me. If the script says the miserable get to be happy and the man whore settles down? Then so be it, it’s called character development and it is a good thing. But I prefer that my well developed characters don’t get so over developed that they turn into totally different characters played by different actors.
I was going to end this with a screed about Hilary Clinton being a selfish cow and refusing to get off the cross or since I was talking about the performing arts, to use the vernacular, refusing to get the fuck off the stage... And then I checked my email
Sen. Hillary Clinton will officially end her campaign for the presidency by the end of the week, multiple sources tell CNN.
The hell? I was the last damn person in America to learn this! You would have thought that while I was wandering aimlessly around Poverty Barn, marveling at the $270 Brohill floor lamps (absolutely gorgeous lamps, if they had been more like $45 I would have taken one home, but they don't really want to sell me a lamp, they just have them there to make me feel bad that I can't even afford to buy a lamp at Poverty Barn. Misogynistic bastard's) that somebody would have said something, or that on the ride home that the radio might have mentioned it. I need to just set all the presets to NPR and leave the top 40 stuff behind. I’m too old for that shit anyway..But wait, I was listening to NPR and they weren’t talking about it, they were interviewing some guy about Bobby Kennedy choosing not to run against LBJ and how the guy they were interviewing wrote RFK a letter to bitch at him about it... So, Hmm. Maybe I can still listen to the latest in pop pap! Maybe radio in Raleigh in general just sucks for news delivery.
But you know what this means, I can go ahead and order my Obama 08 car magnet! I can finally retire my Kerry magnet and move on. I’ve been in mourning for four long years, maybe this way I can start the healing process... Yes, I do chose to see getting a new car magnet for my car as a balm for my pathologically hurt feelings. On election night 2004, I spent the night sobbing in my dogs crate, cut me some slack. If I burst into tears this election night, I pray to God that they are tears of joy.
Oh, and I don’t want Hilary for VP.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Don’t trust anyone under 30
I was reading the paper this morning and read this Gen Y, spoiled and loving it! It’s a piece about how Gen Y are buying their first homes very young and what Yers want in these homes.
Gen Yer : No. I want a smaller space so it's easier to take off and go. A house that's low-maintenance is good. Generation Y traveled a lot in college and will continue to do so through life. So a big yard isn't a plus, either. All of ya’ll? A whole generation? All of ya’ll “traveled a lot in college? All of ya’ll went to college? The whole damn generation? Wow.
Gen Yer 2: No. I think that seeing so many of our generation's parents divorce makes us understand that family togetherness is important. So as we start having kids you will see us avoid homes with a living room, family room and finished basement rec room in favor of open-plan homes where the family can share space. Because ready access to privacy and personal space are totally why your parents got divorced.
Gen Yer 3: We want more and more change. My 60-something aunt wants to live in a Monticello-esque house because she makes a link to the noble founding of our country. My generation learned about Jefferson as the guy who had a bunch of illegitimate children with his slaves. We don't want to live in his house.. Sigh. When the PC home school. Yeah, a brick house is totally exploitive and wrong. I think I heard that chant at a march once, “No! Peace! No! Ionic! columns! Power to the People! Loft Conversions for All!
GenYer 4 : In the next 20 years a big backyard is going to move from asset to liability. Mention "acreage" and a 50-something hears "peaceful place away from the pressures of the city," while a 20-something hears "isolated maintenance nightmare." Laziness! I guess Gen Yers are living shoulder to shoulder to shoulder with their neighbors in homes with no person space to speak of, they'll just have settle for pocket pets and later, pocket kids.
Gen Y- The tooly-ist tools to ever tool.
To honor My Gen X superiority, I bought Washarama on CD today, good thing too, my fifteen year old audio tape was getting a fried from use, Itunes loss is their music publishers gain. Sucky Itunes! They call them selves a music source and they don’t have Don’t Be a Hippie for download? Who knew The Judy’s were a Texas band? I thought they played San Marcos all the time because they liked Southwest Texas State students. I didn’t have any idea they were from Austin. I should have known though, a band from outside Texas wouldn’t even known there was a San Marcos.
Have you been wondering how my garden has been going? Well, so far there are a lot of flowers, flowers that may be pre-eggplants and some flowers that feature a little swelling on the stem that I am choosing to see as the start of baby squash and not as possible bug infestation ... but not a lot of actual vegetables. If you want to see if this whole missing bee thing is real? Plant something and wait, there ain’t no bees, well, except for the ones who came and kissed my tomatoes. My tomatoes are doing very well. In fact one of them is a tree. I planted a tomato tree.
April 20
June 1
I was reading the paper this morning and read this Gen Y, spoiled and loving it! It’s a piece about how Gen Y are buying their first homes very young and what Yers want in these homes.
Gen Yer : No. I want a smaller space so it's easier to take off and go. A house that's low-maintenance is good. Generation Y traveled a lot in college and will continue to do so through life. So a big yard isn't a plus, either. All of ya’ll? A whole generation? All of ya’ll “traveled a lot in college? All of ya’ll went to college? The whole damn generation? Wow.
Gen Yer 2: No. I think that seeing so many of our generation's parents divorce makes us understand that family togetherness is important. So as we start having kids you will see us avoid homes with a living room, family room and finished basement rec room in favor of open-plan homes where the family can share space. Because ready access to privacy and personal space are totally why your parents got divorced.
Gen Yer 3: We want more and more change. My 60-something aunt wants to live in a Monticello-esque house because she makes a link to the noble founding of our country. My generation learned about Jefferson as the guy who had a bunch of illegitimate children with his slaves. We don't want to live in his house.. Sigh. When the PC home school. Yeah, a brick house is totally exploitive and wrong. I think I heard that chant at a march once, “No! Peace! No! Ionic! columns! Power to the People! Loft Conversions for All!
GenYer 4 : In the next 20 years a big backyard is going to move from asset to liability. Mention "acreage" and a 50-something hears "peaceful place away from the pressures of the city," while a 20-something hears "isolated maintenance nightmare." Laziness! I guess Gen Yers are living shoulder to shoulder to shoulder with their neighbors in homes with no person space to speak of, they'll just have settle for pocket pets and later, pocket kids.
Gen Y- The tooly-ist tools to ever tool.
To honor My Gen X superiority, I bought Washarama on CD today, good thing too, my fifteen year old audio tape was getting a fried from use, Itunes loss is their music publishers gain. Sucky Itunes! They call them selves a music source and they don’t have Don’t Be a Hippie for download? Who knew The Judy’s were a Texas band? I thought they played San Marcos all the time because they liked Southwest Texas State students. I didn’t have any idea they were from Austin. I should have known though, a band from outside Texas wouldn’t even known there was a San Marcos.
Have you been wondering how my garden has been going? Well, so far there are a lot of flowers, flowers that may be pre-eggplants and some flowers that feature a little swelling on the stem that I am choosing to see as the start of baby squash and not as possible bug infestation ... but not a lot of actual vegetables. If you want to see if this whole missing bee thing is real? Plant something and wait, there ain’t no bees, well, except for the ones who came and kissed my tomatoes. My tomatoes are doing very well. In fact one of them is a tree. I planted a tomato tree.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Insert Title Here
I wanted to be a good guy and be nice to the pets so I turned the a/c on - And I faith that when I told the a/c to turn on that it did... When I turned on the a/c I also pulled the blinds and closed the drapes and I did all this in the early evening, and it did magically become cooler inside, so it’s not entirely naive of me to be under the impression my air conditioner was functioning, It got cool and there was air coming from the vents. I know now of course, that there is a living thing in my vents and I was feeling its breath... it’s probably the worlds largest cockroach. It doesn’t matter, I called my a/c man and he’s going to be here tomorrow to slay the mighty cockroach beast or replace some widget. Six of one, half a dozen of the other. When I come home from work it will to a home with a working a/c.
The animals, have been real troopers. The Kitty for his part doesn’t seem terribly bothered by heat, he would sleep in a hot oven as long as the oven light didn’t get in his eyes too much. The Kitty could live on the sun and be happy. Dogger on the other hand would be happy in a world where it was always February. Dogger would live on Neptune and be happy about it.
Sunday night I took pity on Dogger and sprung her from what had morphed into the surface of the sun and let her sleep with me and The Kitty and the Worlds Greatest Window Unit upstairs on Neptune, the WGWU is ancient and yet it works like a charm. I think someday I’m going to find out that it is illegally importing Freon from Mexico and it goes out at night and eats spotted owls and protected salamanders - but really, I don’t care why it works, I’m just glad it does.
I made two calls this morning, the first to the a/c man and the second to the vet. Dogger did a weird thing MOnday morning and it had me worried, I went to do my daily head count before I left for work and this time I couldn’t find Dogger.
Because Dogger was under the bed. Dogger is huge and lately, she’s wide, not only is she wide, she is verging on the fat. I can’t fit under that bed under the best of circumstances, not to mention that I "store" a lot of stuff under that bed. Before she got under there, she had to excavate it first.
And then she wouldn’t come out. I pulled, I tugged, I begged, I bribed. I was crouched by the bed thinking - How am I going to get her out from under there? What if she can’t get out? I can’t lift this bed. Am I going to have to just leave her here and hope she can get out on her own? Should I call Broskey and have him come over at lunch? . This was a real problem.
After I finally got her out and back upstairs to Neptune, I called the vet.
The vet checked her over, studied her electrolytes and announced that she’s fine. She’s weird, but she’s fine.
I wanted to be a good guy and be nice to the pets so I turned the a/c on - And I faith that when I told the a/c to turn on that it did... When I turned on the a/c I also pulled the blinds and closed the drapes and I did all this in the early evening, and it did magically become cooler inside, so it’s not entirely naive of me to be under the impression my air conditioner was functioning, It got cool and there was air coming from the vents. I know now of course, that there is a living thing in my vents and I was feeling its breath... it’s probably the worlds largest cockroach. It doesn’t matter, I called my a/c man and he’s going to be here tomorrow to slay the mighty cockroach beast or replace some widget. Six of one, half a dozen of the other. When I come home from work it will to a home with a working a/c.
The animals, have been real troopers. The Kitty for his part doesn’t seem terribly bothered by heat, he would sleep in a hot oven as long as the oven light didn’t get in his eyes too much. The Kitty could live on the sun and be happy. Dogger on the other hand would be happy in a world where it was always February. Dogger would live on Neptune and be happy about it.
Sunday night I took pity on Dogger and sprung her from what had morphed into the surface of the sun and let her sleep with me and The Kitty and the Worlds Greatest Window Unit upstairs on Neptune, the WGWU is ancient and yet it works like a charm. I think someday I’m going to find out that it is illegally importing Freon from Mexico and it goes out at night and eats spotted owls and protected salamanders - but really, I don’t care why it works, I’m just glad it does.
I made two calls this morning, the first to the a/c man and the second to the vet. Dogger did a weird thing MOnday morning and it had me worried, I went to do my daily head count before I left for work and this time I couldn’t find Dogger.
Because Dogger was under the bed. Dogger is huge and lately, she’s wide, not only is she wide, she is verging on the fat. I can’t fit under that bed under the best of circumstances, not to mention that I "store" a lot of stuff under that bed. Before she got under there, she had to excavate it first.
And then she wouldn’t come out. I pulled, I tugged, I begged, I bribed. I was crouched by the bed thinking - How am I going to get her out from under there? What if she can’t get out? I can’t lift this bed. Am I going to have to just leave her here and hope she can get out on her own? Should I call Broskey and have him come over at lunch? . This was a real problem.
After I finally got her out and back upstairs to Neptune, I called the vet.
The vet checked her over, studied her electrolytes and announced that she’s fine. She’s weird, but she’s fine.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Hot time, summer in the city
It’s hot. We’ve struck summer. It was spring and it’s now Summer. For real. June 1, summer landed. I turned my air conditioner on, I’ve given in and up. I turn myself over to the Gawds of summer. I want my jumbo box of Popsicles and I want it now, bring on the mindless summer block busters the pop music paeans to teen lurve. I accept it, I’m ready, I have my tank top on and I know where my bathing suit is.
This year the little animals didn’t bother petitioning for the a/c to go on, instead they did their best to become 2D. Sad, hot, flat, little animals.
Dogger casually mentioned that AD dogs don’t deal with heat very well and can have pant, pant problems with over heating but ya know pant, pant, it all goes back to those pesky electrolytes pant, pant and I can pant, pant turn that a/c on whenever I feel like it pant, pant since I, the human can sweat, not that she or The Kitty hold that against me, at all. Pant, pant. Have you ever seen a cat pant?
Now that it’s summer I can stop feeling like I need to get that lawn mowed right after church because by the time I get home, change clothes and get the mower out? Its noon and if you mow your lawn at noon over the summer, you mow by yourself because everyone else is inside. And if you are going to insist on being self righteous and using a push mower to mow your lawn at noon - Your teeny little yawn is going to morph into The King ranch. Last week? I mowed the same tiny patch which was then about the size of a regulation checker board in fifteen minutes, this week? An hour and a half and the size of the King Ranch. The self righteousness, it burns as it drips into your eyes and down your shirt and soaks your socks.
So now I am concentrating on inside chores. Laundry, teaching Dogger how to use a standard toilet, inservicesing The Kitty on how to navigate curtains and blinds since the drapes aren’t going to be open again until October - No natural light is welcome in my house until it can come in and offer warmth instead of heat.
Friday, before it was summer, I was driving to Home Depot, listening to the radio. The radio was saying that we’re all saving our money and putting off big purchases and in general pulling our belts tighter and doing without. I sat there and thought, Well, everyone but me!. I was on my way to buy my new dishwasher. I am alone propping up the economy, I think I deserve an ambassadorship to somewhere nice for my dedication to ‘Merica because despite the fact that I don’t need a new dishwasher, the old dishwasher still works, inefficiently and at great cost and waste of water - But it still works and someone else paid for it, once upon a time, about twenty years ago , I am buying a new one because I want a new one.
I had told myself way before Shrub sent out the bribe money, that if I ever did have some money fall on my head that I would replace the dishwasher with a new, more energy efficient model because like the new clothes washer, it is about being greener and using less. But still, it’s a lot of cash to drop in one place, especially while everyone else according to NPR, is planting gardens and doing their own sewing, churning butter and forcing the retail industry to barter with them.
And even more summer fun? It is officially the first week of Hurricane Season and we all ready know that they sea is angry, let us all hope that Myanmar was not just a aperitif.
It’s hot. We’ve struck summer. It was spring and it’s now Summer. For real. June 1, summer landed. I turned my air conditioner on, I’ve given in and up. I turn myself over to the Gawds of summer. I want my jumbo box of Popsicles and I want it now, bring on the mindless summer block busters the pop music paeans to teen lurve. I accept it, I’m ready, I have my tank top on and I know where my bathing suit is.
This year the little animals didn’t bother petitioning for the a/c to go on, instead they did their best to become 2D. Sad, hot, flat, little animals.
Dogger casually mentioned that AD dogs don’t deal with heat very well and can have pant, pant problems with over heating but ya know pant, pant, it all goes back to those pesky electrolytes pant, pant and I can pant, pant turn that a/c on whenever I feel like it pant, pant since I, the human can sweat, not that she or The Kitty hold that against me, at all. Pant, pant. Have you ever seen a cat pant?
Now that it’s summer I can stop feeling like I need to get that lawn mowed right after church because by the time I get home, change clothes and get the mower out? Its noon and if you mow your lawn at noon over the summer, you mow by yourself because everyone else is inside. And if you are going to insist on being self righteous and using a push mower to mow your lawn at noon - Your teeny little yawn is going to morph into The King ranch. Last week? I mowed the same tiny patch which was then about the size of a regulation checker board in fifteen minutes, this week? An hour and a half and the size of the King Ranch. The self righteousness, it burns as it drips into your eyes and down your shirt and soaks your socks.
So now I am concentrating on inside chores. Laundry, teaching Dogger how to use a standard toilet, inservicesing The Kitty on how to navigate curtains and blinds since the drapes aren’t going to be open again until October - No natural light is welcome in my house until it can come in and offer warmth instead of heat.
Friday, before it was summer, I was driving to Home Depot, listening to the radio. The radio was saying that we’re all saving our money and putting off big purchases and in general pulling our belts tighter and doing without. I sat there and thought, Well, everyone but me!. I was on my way to buy my new dishwasher. I am alone propping up the economy, I think I deserve an ambassadorship to somewhere nice for my dedication to ‘Merica because despite the fact that I don’t need a new dishwasher, the old dishwasher still works, inefficiently and at great cost and waste of water - But it still works and someone else paid for it, once upon a time, about twenty years ago , I am buying a new one because I want a new one.
I had told myself way before Shrub sent out the bribe money, that if I ever did have some money fall on my head that I would replace the dishwasher with a new, more energy efficient model because like the new clothes washer, it is about being greener and using less. But still, it’s a lot of cash to drop in one place, especially while everyone else according to NPR, is planting gardens and doing their own sewing, churning butter and forcing the retail industry to barter with them.
And even more summer fun? It is officially the first week of Hurricane Season and we all ready know that they sea is angry, let us all hope that Myanmar was not just a aperitif.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
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