The Day in Pics

Sometimes I clean. Yes!  It's true. 

No, seriously.

Shut up!

Okay, this time I have proof.  With massive help from the boy and a little IKEA shopping trip, I replaced the falling-apart wire shoe container of doom with a sofa table that's just perfect for tucking away our gizillion shoes that we wear on a regular basis.  I don't even want to think about what we've got put away.  Why do we have so many shoes?  Back in the day, people were lucky to have two pair--one for working in and one for Sundays.

 Anyway, moving on ... this morning when I found myself at loose ends, did I get in some serious writing?  No.  (I did send out a story, though.)  Did I eat bon bons and watch movies?  Too easy.  I decided to tackle the evil kitchen cabinets from heck.  I got the one under the sink with the garbage all prettied up, and then tackled the really nasty one that the girl and I toss whatever won't fit anywhere else into.  Some of the stuff in back was dusty, and there was flour in there from way back when I had to store a large sack of flour in there temporarily.  It was bad, waaaay bad, but now look how Stepford wifey it looks!  Yay!

It was too gorgeous not to go outside after my forays into the yuck of my two worst cabinets, so I went out, first for a stroll, then with a camera because the late afternoon sun was just too good, and the sky ... well, you can see, it was ugly.

The heart is a calla lily.  I hope that eventually the lilies will take over one side of the firepit.  Burgundy clematis trail up a trellis (with bonus tiny image of goat in there.)  Clematis are difficult to establish and hate being transplanted, but once they're yours they're yours forever and are some of the most rewarding and reliable bloomers in the plant world. 

A bug enjoys the shade inside a canterbury bell.  

And no, I'm not going to kill the bug.  I don't care!  Look how cute the little antennae are.  I mean, really.  And if it had a face, I'm sure it would be an innocent face.

Last but not

 least, the catness, It Runs in Front of Me (Katherine,) posed for me.  Y'all may recall the sad story of IRiFoM.  Thrown out of a moving vehicle, she hit the pavement hard enough to scrape up her face.  She took refuge from the snow and sleet (literally, this was a couple of winters ago) in our garage.  

The boy mistook her for Huntress, our other tuxedo kitty, picked her up and, when she didn't protest, took her inside where she's been ever since, except when we take her to the vet.  That she doesn't like so much.  But this?  Napping in the middle of a pile of clean blankets and pillows ain't bad.  She's shiny, a healthy weight, and has no problems with parasites or chronic illnesses.  I like her because she doesn't barf on my stuff and she actually uses the litter box.

Speaking of which, the cleaning around the shoe area?  OMG.  Cat barf had actually splashed onto the wall.  I was scrubbing Huntress upchuck across two large surfaces.  She'd decided to go for it from the top of the dividing wall between the entry and the stairs.

Stupid cat.  But it's clean now, so it's all okay.  And that, ladies and gents, has been my day.  So far.

Not completely floored. Yet.

The contractors left about ten minutes ago.  They put in a very good day and got a ton done.  The family room isn't completely finished, but it will be tomorrow, and then they'll start putting in trim.  

I spent the past couple of days painting the trim. 

 Here it is, stacked all neatly along the side of the part of the room that isn't done yet.  It-Runs-In-Front-of-Me was shut in A's room for most of the work day, but toward the end we let her out so she could supervise.  She kept the contractors entertained by allowing them to entertain her.

Dakota is taking a well-deserved rest after being moved about ten feet to complete the last stretch of flooring laid before calling it a day.  I'm taking a break too, but not for long.  There's too much to do, and I'm hoping to get some writing done tonight.

I can't wait until it's all done!

Staring out the window, wishing

Looks like Kat is going to be fine.  She's had an allergic reaction to something, possibly a penicillin shot or a pain killer shot from when she was messing with her incision.  She's on mild, low-dose steroids and should recover nicely.  Partly thanks to the meds and partly thanks to a draw of fluids from the lump to check the contents, her lump is a little smaller already.

I'm feeling better too.  My voice is almost back to normal and I had enough energy to go out in the rain and put nets over some plants the deer decided needed pruning.  The plants are fine, so far, mostly, but another hit and they'd be pretty sad and might not even recover.

I get weather reports twice a day--once in the morning, once in the evening--a forecast that looks at the weather every few hours out a couple of days.  It looks like the rain will trail away but I don't see any sun as of the latest forecast.  Ugh.  My question is, will we ever warm up enough to make planting the tomatoes and peppers in the ground worthwhile?  Maybe they'll just be in containers in the greenhouse until July.  I've got grasses and herbs to put out and the ground is like sludge--it's better to wait to plant until the soil drains and becomes friable again.  The slugs are rampant.  They love this weather.  They can be out all day and night.  The birds are miserable.  They've got to be having a tough time raising hatchlings in this.  The goats are annoyed.  The dogs are sullen.  We haven't had a river walk in ages.

The second year after we moved here we didn't have good enough weather for me to plant a veggie garden until June.  Back then I didn't have very many perennials and so the garden was a wash except for some strawberries and zucchini.  Thinking about that makes me feel better about the conditions this year.  No matter what happens we'll have a great perennial ornamental garden, heaps of herbs, grapes, elderberries, blueberries, currants, rhubarb, and even if they're just stuck in containers all season, peppers and tomatoes.  I bet I'll even get some nice zucchinis again.  They always produce, even in a short growing season.  Looks like the peach trees, unless the rain makes them mold and mildew to pieces, will have fruit and we always get some apples and pears no matter how bad the year is.  I guess I don't have that much to whine about.  Besides, the weather is a godsend for some people.

So here's me looking at the bright side of things.  I'll try not to be too much of a little kid, forehead braced against the window, staring into the rain and wishing.    

Mulching, editing, it's all good work (ethic)

Blah blah blah sick blah blah blah yuck blah blah blah snurk.  But I'm getting better.

The kitty Kat has to go to the vet today to have a lump checked out.  I thought it was probably just a fatty mass but in a few days it's grown to the size of an eyeball.  Gah, furry eyeball from hell!  Hopefully it's something minor and the vet will deal with it in short order.  More news about this later after her appointment.

I'm also trying to pull together the support system I'll need to go to the master's course writing seminar in Lincoln City.  If I can pull this off--joy, rapture!  Then again, because of the cost, I won't also be able to go to the short story writing course (wah!) because I'll already be forced to take half of each of my pay checks for ten months to afford the seminar.  Ouch.

While corresponding with one of the organizers the words 'work ethic' came up.  That's apt.  When you're a writer you're self-employed, essentially.  When you have a day job you're working two jobs, and it's hard.  It's no good beating yourself up about not working hard enough.  That won't get you to sit down and write (though it might give you a nice complex to write about!)  Having said that, if you want the writer job you have to work.  Luckily I love writing enough that it's not a big chore to sit and work.  I look forward to it, even the editing, though I whine and complain about editing all the time.  Beats retail.  Writing gives me the same energy as gardening.  I may complain about the sore muscles and hauling rock, but I do it without hesitation.  Give me a big pile of mulch, I'll spread it.  Weeds?  I'm grabbing my tools and going after them.  Even when work that I love is hard, it's still satisfying.  When it's satisfying, it's not hard to have a good work ethic.

Doctor and Vet bills mounting

Another beautiful day in paradise.

I was out taking pics of the garden and I'd planned on getting to take some more of birds that come visit the feeder.  I'd just taken this pic of a mutant double tulip (the double flower is normal--but the two large flowers together come from the same stem, and that's not normal) when the phone rang.

It's my mom.  The girl took a bad fall off her bike.  She's okay except for a very swollen wrist and my mom was taking her to the hospital for Xrays.  

We met at the hospital.  Surprisingly they didn't make us wait long.  Aside from a small hiccup (the tech took images of her hand but not the wrist so we had to return to Xray) the staff took great care of her.  No break, just bad soft tissue damage.  So she's in a brace and on ibuprofen.  On the way home she got a chocolate milkshake to help take her mind off the pain.  What is it with me and wanting to reward clumsiness with yummy treats?  As much as it makes no sense, I'll probably keep doing it, though.  

In Kat news, the red-eared one kept after her stitches so she got to play the part of a kitty flower for a while.  She's being good now, but if I catch her at it again, the e-collar is going back on.  Like all right-thinking cats with the barest shred of survival instinct and/or dignity, she hates it.  I don't blame her.  Her ears are red because despite the mites being taken care of for the most part, she also has a yeast infection.  For those of you contemplating adopting a stray cat, this is life as usual for the first several weeks.  Stray cats have ear problems, often have kitty colds due to the stress of being on their own, ear mites, fleas, intestinal parasites, ringworm (which they can pass onto humans) and they may be feline HIV positive or have feline leukemia among other things.  Those first vet bills are bad news.  The spay is the least of it.  We got her microchipped so she's all officially Kat Miller with a number and certificate.  If anyone is missing their kitty, sadly, they have missed their window of opportunity to reclaim her.  If anyone is looking for her, I hope they can hope and dream that someone good took their animal in and is taking good care of her.  I sometimes hope that about Misty and the Claireness, who we still miss terribly.  

A couple of notes

Sorry about the pic quality.  Taking photos through our hazy side windows is chancy at best.  

As you can see, the goldfinches have arrived in force, much to the disappointment of the lone pair that had been sharing the feeders only with pine siskins until now.  With the arrival of the mourning doves, I think this is easily the most diversity of birds we've had at the property since we've moved here.  

Katherine is back from the vet.  She's recovering, doing all the things she's not supposed to do like jumping, but in moderation.  We have her holed up in the master bedroom until she's healed up a bit more before we reintroduce her to Wizard's playfulness and Huntress' bitter hatred, seeing as this could lead to forbidden activities like running.  Also, we don't want her to be tempted to hop (or attempt to hop) onto the kitchen counter for food.  She has a food bowl and water on the floor just for her, a non-top-entry catbox (love those things!) and the scratchpost sleeper that's not tall enough for her to stretch on (and also makes a handy step up to the bed so she doesn't have to jump on the bed.) 

Pioneer Winter?

We had snow yesterday morning.  Yes, I said snow.  Again.  It melted right away, but still.  Are we having a pioneer winter, sort of like Indian summer, but not?  

Who came up with the term Indian summer and what's it trying to say?  I can't decide if I like the term because  I feel weird calling Native Americans Indians.  I don't think it's particularly offensive or derogatory (please correct me if I'm wrong) but it's perpetuating a historical error.  We've known better since the 1600's, folks.  Why is this Indian thing clinging on?  I'm not trying to be politically correct.  I just think it makes sense to refer to friends from India as Indians and friends from America as Americans, and to be more specific when specificity is required.  Makes sense to me.  Further, pioneer winter makes sense to me as a description because we always read about the incredibly tough winters the pioneers endured and so when we have an extra long one, I think of them.  With Indian summer, the connection isn't clear to me at all.  

I sense a Google moment coming on, but not this morning.  I have editing to do before I head in to work.

Anyway.

In writing news, I'm waiting to hear back about two short stories.  Waiting means that I'm not sending out queries or submissions, which means Kami needs a slap on the wrist.  More $$ for the INK coffers, I guess.  

In cat news, Katherine gets dropped off to be spayed tomorrow.  I suspect that she has mites because she digs at her ears, so I'll have the vet test them and clean them out if she has time while Kat is out.  You see, we learned something about Kat that makes us uninclined to just set her on our laps with a Q-tip, a few balls of cotton, a cotton square and some ear wash.  Kat walked through mortar while I was setting up to lay a tile, so I snagged her and went to rinse off her feet.  The vast majority of cats don't like this and will squirm and fight and whine and maybe snag me, and it's never been much of a big deal except with the ballistic cats.  You know the ones I'm talking about.  Well it turns out Kat is a ballistic cat.  We're talking wild thrashing, all claws splayed, danger of biting ballistic.  Thanks to my considerable experience at holding cats I was able to hold on to her but not able to do more than a cursory wetting of feet while the water was running.  I got her feet wet enough for toweling (which is a non-ballistic activity for her, apparently,) and got her feet plenty clean enough for her health.  OMG, what is it about the littlest kitties being the most insane?  I guess they have to fight extra hard to hope to break even.  Which lends me a bit more perspective on Mark's situation in Masks.

Yes, everything is wrapping around back to writing these days, which is as it should be.  I could stand to do more painting, but right now I'm working too many hours and writing comes first.  Too bad, because I'd really like to paint.  A lot.

Just in Time

Looks like we found Kat just in time.  She's going into heat.

Part of me is glad that she's not pregnant.  The more I'm around her the more I realize she's pretty young, younger than I first estimated.  Six months, maybe?  It would be really hard on her, although she's getting shinier and healing up fast.  But part of me would have loved to see what she'd have for kittens.  If they had anything near her temperament, they would be truly wonderful pets.

So, the beginning of next month, she'll be spayed and get all her shots and that'll be that.  In the meantime, we have a purring, trilling thing that really wishes Wizard wasn't fixed.  She liked him before.  Now she adores him.  I can understand her enchantment.  He's really a handsome guy.  Such a nice face!

April Fools

I woke up to sunshine this morning.  I was so inspired by spring and growing things I've decided to walk out on my job, dye my hair green, and run around naked in my garden all day.

That was supposed to be the beginning of an April Fool's entry but you know what?  It really sounds appealing.  Well, the dyeing my hair green would be a pain, with the lightening first to a lighter brown or blonde and then finding and going to a salon that carries the right green for part B, and it would probably be expensive.  Maybe food coloring would work, but if it didn't, well, I'd have to live with the lack of success for a long time, being a long-haired weirdo.  I look really terrible in short hair.  Trust me.  

But besides that, the rest sounds great.  Someday when my garden is tall and all filled in I can garden naked or mostly naked if I want, no joke.  Right now there's too much exposure (ha ha) to the road and my neighbors, though I used to work topless when I worked in sheltered areas.  Ironically, we've cleared too many blackberries for me to work in a comfortable state of dress (or undress, in this case.)  But soon, soon now, the plantings will mature to a size that we'll have privacy again, without an invasive non-native species taking over what should be gardens and pasture and wildflowers and woods.

I'm reveling in my freedom today after reading about some real hardships.  A good and wise friend pointed me to her blog (waving hi!) and I spent about an hour catching up.  It pointed me to a wonderful and yet heartbreaking article about an all-woman village that both filled me with joy and anger.  My heart wants to react with counter-violence but I figure that's a no-win.  The men will escalate if the women fight back, and probably kill them all.  I'm so filled with feminine pride after reading about their success, and enraged by the poopyheadedness of the men.  When people can't see that beating women for being raped is wrong, they are more than blind and ignorant.  A blind man can understand.  An ignorant man can learn.  I don't think that these men can see, or learn to be other than what they are--a product of a culture that places blame solidly on the shoulder of people who can't or aren't allowed to defend themselves because they're too terrified to challenge the people who are responsible--the rapist, the abuser, and too often, the religion that they twist and interpret to condone, or that outright condones the savaging of their neighbors and kinfolk because they were born with a uterus.

Blessings on the women of the world who are suffering today, not for choices they've freely made, but because a glint of self-value shone in their eyes and an asshole couldn't stand it and had to crush it.  Blessings on the victims of rape, blessings on those who stand up and embrace courage and provide hope for their sisters.  Many, many blessings on the village of women that's growing around the world, and blessings on the women who haven't heard and don't know and need a place so much and will never live to see it.  May they be touched by peace, grace, and love.  

I think I know who the real April fools are today.  

P.S.  Katherine is doing great.  She's very kittenish and playful and is healing well.

In Flux

Katherine is settling in nicely.  She's learning the joys of chasing paintbrushes, empty dinnerplates left on the counter after a prime rib dinner, a steady food supply, toilet water (ugh!) and kitty laser pointer games.  I'm still worried about her.  She sits a little funny and her hindquarters aren't very strong.  Still, she gets around and has enough energy after a day-long nap to play, explore and knock things over.  I'm teaching her the joys of stealth, aka not knocking things over, and areas that are out of bounds.  She responds very well to intimidating body posture, so I haven't had to yell at her, which is great.  I just stand in her way and loom and she backs down.  She's not fearful, just responsive.
Such a perfect little kitty.  No calls yet in response to the ad or the Humane Society file.

Meanwhile, we've had more snow.  Right around dinner time we had a big fall that kept the big flakes coming until sunset.  We ended up with more record-setting snow and pretty sky colors despite the warmer temps today.  It's really fun, wondering whether I'll wake up to rain, snow, or clear skies.  After many years of dreary, rainy springs with non-stop cloudy skies from early March through early June, I feel like we're actually getting to experience a new season as opposed to enduring the long, drawn out death of winter.  

I celebrated by taking some pics, some movies, and I wrote some and painted some.  Technically I'm still painting.  There's a phase in watercolor called leave it the hell alone.  So I'm leaving it alone so that the color can dry and stabilize before I go play some more.  Katherine informed me that it was time to leave it the hell alone by hopping up onto the dining table and sniffing around the watercolor palette.  Something smelled intriguing enough that I was worried she might sample, so I picked up the palette.  She would have none of it.  She followed the escaping palette by climbing onto the chair.  When I swung it out behind me she made a jump for it and tipped the paint tray just enough to splash a little Hunter's green onto the soon-to-be-eradicated white carpet.  

Time for the kitty to go play with Orion.  She purred madly as I picked her up.  I let her play with the paper towel I've been using for blotting while I carried her down the stairs.  I let the boy know it was his turn to entertain the thing.  She has served her purpose.  She got me away from mucking up the colors.  Now it's time to get back to work.

I hope everyone is having good, or at least fun, weather!

Kiss Me Kate

As you can see in this pic, Katherine is pretty beat up.  The vet thinks there were several events that led up to her condition--abrasions, possibly from being thrown out of or hit by a car, some scratches and possibly a bite from one or more fights.  Despite this she's in good shape.  She's negative for feline leukemia and feline HIV, so she's roaming the house now.

I have yet to meet a cat that's as non-plussed by everything as Katherine.  When Huntress hisses and growls, Katherine ignores her.  She'll walk up to anyone for attention.  She purrs readily.  She's wary of but not afraid of Dakota.  She explores with complete fearlessness.  She's faithful about using a litterbox and loves people.  She's quiet and polite.  I can't imagine that this cat has ever been neglected or abused because of her temperament and the fact that she's reasonably well-fed, but then there are the recent injuries all over her face and the fact that she's not home, wherever home was.  A large scab is peeling off her lip.  She's raw and she was so hungry when we took her in that she went straight for the food, halting in her assault only briefly to lap up water before eating more.  I don't know who didn't want this cat.  I can't imagine her running away from anyone.  She has no interest in going outside, and her curiosity is entirely for her immediate surroundings.  If you close a door on her, she doesn't paw at it or even wait beside it.  She moves on.  In the cat carrier on the way to and from the vet she curled up and took a nap.  

The only thing that's really thrown her off were clippers.  She decided she was not getting her belly shaved under any circumstances, and so she still has all her hair.  Unfortunately that means that we don't know if she's been spayed or not, but the vet is thinking not.  That means there's a chance she's pregnant, of course.  If she's not, she'll be spayed on May 1.  That will give us enough time to find out if the little miss has been running around with the bad boys.  If she is, well, looks like we'll be having kittens around here.  One is already spoken for and we don't even know if she's having any yet.  She's that lovely of a cat.  I've seen more beautiful cats, friendlier cats, cats with more grace and dignity.  Katherine has an amazing something about her.  No, several somethings.  Patience.  Kindness.  Trust--amazing trust.  Peacefulness.  Acceptance.  She has an iron strength at her core and a self-assurance that blows me away.  If she has kittens with even half of her qualities, they'll be truly wonderful pets.

But for her sake I'm hoping she's not pregnant.  We won't force the matter if she is pregnant.  I think it would be traumatic to have an abortion/spay event, plus I have this thing about giving unborn things a chance at life if the circumstances allow for a little joy and comfort, or at least the hope of a good life.  I think she'd be better off without kittens, though.  She's young, we can't tell how young, and she's been through a lot.  She could stand to have some time to heal without the added pressure of a pregnancy.

Katherine has found cat paperwork at the SW Washington Humane Society in case anyone is looking for her.  Unfortunately she has no microchip, so if there's a family missing her desperately out there, that will make it harder to track her down.  We'll call in an ad in the paper tomorrow.  

Oh Dear

Meet Katherine.  When I got home today a black and white kitty went into our garage.  It's been snowing and raining and hailing all day--I thought someone let Huntress out and she was taking shelter in the garage.  I called her name, assuming she'd follow me back to the house.  When she didn't, I figured she'd gone mousing.  Thought nothing of it.

The kids were out playing.  I went inside and got a snack, settled at the computer, read my email.  The kids march in.  "Hey mom!"

"Yeah?"

"This isn't Huntress."

"What?"  I have to get up and see what the heck they're talking about.  By now the black and white kitty thing has completely left my mind and so what they're saying sounds as sensible as "Hey mom, you're not an ostrich."  

I look at the cat in Orion's arms and, hmm, it has a white spot beside its nose.  That's not Huntress, I realize.  It all comes back to me now.  Actually, not all.  I still haven't made the garage connection.   "Where ...?"

"I was walking by the garage--" Orion begins--

Aha!  Now it's all really coming together--

"And," he continues, "I saw this cat and I thought it was Huntress, so I scooped it up and it started purring.  I turned it over onto its back to tickle its belly and that's when I realized it wasn't Huntress."

My mind starts turning, beginning with Oh Dear.  I send the kids on a mission.  Go forth next door and ask our neighbor TTBD if this is one of his cats.  He has three (?) cats, all feral adoptees, the most feral being far more feral than Wiz started out to be--difficult to touch after months of work but will come inside for food.  They return.  All of TTBD's cats are inside.

The inevitable words--

"Can we keep him?"

I look under the tail.  "Her.  This is a she cat, as far as I can tell."  So I give them the usual spiel about how we have to put an ad in the paper, contact the Humane Society, take it to the vet to see if it has a chip (and for a health checkup, of course) but we all know this is useless.  It would take a miracle to get rid of this cat.  I mean, it's in the house.  No one is going to claim a beat up, neglected little thing that was very likely dumped on the side of the road by a Super Poopyhead within the past day or two and washed up in our garage because the weather was so bad.  It has been owned at some point.  Its unstoppable friendliness and complete lack of alarm at being locked in the boy's room is evidence of that.

Please, please help us!  Surely someone knows this cat, and loves it, and will take it away.  It's a tuxedo kitty.  Argh!  As soon as it becomes comfortable it's going to turn into a yowler, I know it.  A 2am yowler no less.  And it's going to be a barfy yowler too.  With health problems.  

Sigh.

Hey kids, want to just take it to the shelter?  I'm sure someone will adopt it.

Noooooooooooooo!

People are such poopyheads.  But maybe I'm jumping to conclusions.  Maybe this is a poor, lost kitty and we'll see her posted on a sign somewhere--Lost, Kitty, Reward, Please Bring Our Beloved Muffin Home to Us, Children Crying Nightly ...

We've named it.  We're so doomed.

Sigh again, I say, and Sigh.