Lee

No, not that kind of home. We're still in T-town.

Come join me in my new property in cyberspace. Virtual drinks and cupcakes all around!

http://luneray.blogspot.com/

Q: How many people does it take to trim Seamus's toenails?

A: Four--two veterinary techs, one receptionist, and one extremely embarrassed dog owner.

While I will not say that you shouldn't see "No Country for Old Men", I will say that you shouldn't see it unless you have access to strong alcohol immediately afterwards.

Or puppies.

Yes, the end is in sight for painting the bathroom. After staring at the test patches on the wall after about a week (light and dark next to each other), I decided that the darker green wasn't so bad after all, and painted the bathroom. Part of it may have been laziness of not wanting to figure out what other color to use, part of it may have been that I did a good job of matching the shower curtain and the curtain, like any good accessory, really made the walls look good. Or it could have been my weird brand of stinginess that I was not willing to sacrifice $13 on a quart of paint that I would never use. (Yes, I am totally stingy on things that "normal" people think are absolute necessities, like clothing besides jeans, long sleeved T shirts, and hoodies, or electronic gizmos, or digital TV, or a second car. However, by not spending money on that stuff, I can indulge my own stupid luxuries, like yarn, frequent trips to coffeeshops, and dinner out. One of the reasons I work where I do is that I don't need any special clothing for work. I wouldn't be happy about having to wear "business clothes" to work because of the extra time it would take in the morning to get ready, as well as the extra time it would take procuring said outfits, not to mention the cost. Said job would have to be a dream job and pay me a lot more than I earn now for me to consider it.)

About the dark sage green walls and pink/black tile...some of you may have felt a frission of horror, a surge of acid rising in your throat, or felt a throbbing pain in your jaw when it hit the desk after reading these words. Let me clarify...there is indeed pink and black tile surrounding the tub. There was absolutely no question that Oscar and I were going to remove this, but as removing tile also means replacing sheet rock behind shower, which would probably lead to far more extensive remodeling, we decided to let that stay until we were ready to tackle the Serious Bathroom Remodel. I felt I could live with the pink and black tile, but Oscar absolutely could not, so he installed a shower insert over it. That was Home Improvement Project #1. (Home Improvement Project #2 was fixing the crack in the foundation. Oscar had to do that one. I have no problem crawling around under the house; it's just that the opening is really small, and sized for a skinny person.)

Hopefully, I can finish the trim tomorrow. I painted the walls on Friday afternoon, and went to Home Despot that evening for a second quart to do the second coat. (Woo-hoo. Friday evening at a Home Improvement Store. What an exciting life I lead.) I put the second coat on that evening, but decided to wait at least 36 hours before applying painters tape to the freshly painted walls so that I could paint the trim. The bathroom is unheated, so the paint is taking longer to dry in the cool, damp conditions.

In other news, I learned how to knit without looking at my knitting. You know what this means, don't you? It means I can knit and read at the same time. Yay!!! Now I don't have to choose between spending free time knitting or reading.

Twelve days before Giftmas and I actually mailed off all my holiday cards. Amazing. Usually, the process breaks down somewhere between actually getting cards and dropping off stamped, addressed cards in mailbox. Yes, there was a year when I went through the process EXCEPT for dropping off the addressed, stamped cards in the mailbox. How pathetic is that?? Don't answer that. Please.

So, if your name and address were in my address book, then I sent you a card. Unless you live in Bolivia, chances are good that the card will arrive.

I also did something that I swore that I would never, EVER do:

I signed Oscar's name on the card as well.

I always refused to sign his name because it just burned me to give him equal credit (even if it's just "holiday greetings") when I've done all the work. One year I just signed my name and didn't realize that this make people think that we were no longer married. So on all the subsequent years, I presented him with a stack of cards and made him sign. I still did 95% of the work but at least he was somewhat involved in the process. However, this year, I just couldn't be bothered. I just wanted to drop those suckers in the mailbox and be done with it.

Even Oscar was shocked.

I'm coming to really believe that there is no such thing as an "easy" home improvement. No matter how small the object or how simple the improvement, it will always require at least four items beyond what you think you need, and at least two of them will be expensive. The project will also take about five times longer than you think. (Replacing a washer on the shower pipe? $2.49 for the kit. $20 for the plumbing tools to actually get to the washer that needed to be replaced, as well as two trips to the hardware store--12 miles each way.)

Painting a bathroom. Really, how difficult is that? Painting is easy, right? Bathrooms are small, right? Since the existing beige paint was cracking off the walls (I'm assuming a hasty paint job done before we moved in) revealing its pink underbelly (quite possibly meant to match the pink and black tile surrounding the tub), and it was starting to get on my nerves, I figured this would be a simple weekend project to paint the bathroom.

First the preparation: I puttied the holes. Sanded down the rough spots. Washed every surface with "TriSodium Phosphate substitute-no rinse formula". (That stuff stank.) Waited for everything to dry. Surface still seemed kind of sticky but the bottle said "no rinse". Okay. Painted bathroom walls and ceiling with Kilz primer. That stuff really, really stank. Realized that paint is liquid and that no matter how careful you think you can be, the stuff will drip.

Next day, another trip to Big Box Home Improvement Store to actually get the colored paint. Since I'm not creating a dream bathroom, I decided to get colors that would coordinate with our shower curtain. (You know, instead of starting from scratch and having every accessory be Perfect. My perfect bathroom will have a claw foot bathtub. Since there is no claw foot tub, matching the shower curtain seemed just fine. It's a nice curtain. Oscar chose it.) Even though I like blue, I thought blue walls would be overpowering, since that's the dominant color in the curtain as well. Yes, I took the curtain to Big Box Home Improvement Store and matched the greens in the curtain. So I bought a quart of light sage-ish green and a quart of darker sage-ish green, a smaller brush for painting the trim, and a drop cloth. I hadn't yet decided whether I was going to paint light walls/dark trim or dark walls/light trim, but I figured that's a pretty small detail. A quart of paint is plenty for a small room, so if I decided I didn't like the way the wall looked with whatever color I chose, I could switch it around.

Now things start going badly.

1) The drop cloth isn't actually cloth. It's really a giant paper towel. And it's way too fracking big to fit over the floor. I would have been better off going to a thrift store and buying a bunch of old towels.

2) Remember the stickiness after washing the walls? Well, I found out today that it certainly is a "no-rinse" wall cleaner, but it is also most definitely "wipe immediately with clean, dry cloth" type of wall cleaner. I only wish that this bit was in printed as large as the "no rinse" bit. Now I'm not sure the primer has bonded properly or not.

3) Decide to paint anyway. I decide on the darker color for the walls. I painted one corner of the ceiling, and the walls above the shower and am not happy with what I am seeing. There are two reasons for this.
a) it took almost one quart of primer to completely cover all the surfaces I am going to paint, so I figured that one quart of paint would be plenty. Very quickly, I realized that I was going to have to do two coats so one quart was not going to be enough for the walls.
b) the color looks an awful lot like my dog's shit when she's sick to her stomach.

Maybe the blue walls won't be so bad after all.

As some of you may know, Oscar is Bolivian by nationality and most of his family still lives in that country. Although a poor country with an, ahem, erratic government, the country has many, many good things going for it.

Its postal service is not one of them.

Over the past dozen or so years, I've mailed many, many things to our family there, and could be reasonably sure that items had a pretty good chance of arriving since everything was destined for La Paz. In my experience, international mail to La Paz and intracity domestic mail was pretty secure. The main post office is in La Paz, so the destination was close to the source. Ditto with intracity domestic mail. The country doesn't have home delivery service so all mail is delivered to and stays within the city post office. Intracity domestic mail is thus just shuffled around the room. This isn't to say that things don't ever get lost or misplaced; just that the entropy zone tends to be smaller.

However, over the past few years, I've noticed a real upswing in the number of things that don't arrive. Gusano Medidor (my mother in law) is very meticulous about letting me know what things arrive and also its contents of item in question ("the box with Book A and rooiboos tea", for example). We've communicated mostly by email over the past several years, but I do like to send her things occassionally. She is not a material person, but she does love both books and fine tea. It's more secure to send small packages than large ones, so sometimes I'll mail two or three small boxes or envelopes (with a single book each) on the same day. Yes, it's a bit more postage on my end, but an acceptable cost if it means I only have to buy a book once. (I bought and sent "Persiopolis" three times before I finally gave up.) In the past four years, I think only two packages I've sent have arrived. I got fed up and really frustrated and so finally gave up mailing her anything for a long, long time.

Over the past year, I've tried again. Small things, mostly tea (and first class airmail postage actually exceeds the cost of the tea itself), but with the same spectacular lack of success. (I think only one package out of three has reached her.) Well, I made her a scarf out of some very pretty yarn she chose during her visit last year, and wondered how I could get it to her. (Why didn't I finished it while she was here? Because I was focused on getting her sweater done, that's why. I did. An admirable accomplishment. Thankfully, she is very petite and slim.) While the scarf isn't worth much in terms of its material cost, it's enough of an investment on my part that I would probably cry if it never reached her. (To be honest, I wouldn't feel bad if she got it and then decided she didn't like it. I just want the fracking thing to get there, and have the option of deciding whether she likes it or doesn't.)

They had used a private mail service for several years. This service is based in Miami, and very useful for letters and magazine subscriptions. The clients have a US address, and so can get domestic rates for National Geographic, The Atlantic or whatever other magazine they wish to subscribe to. Once a week or so, the mail is delivered to company's office in the host country. The service used to work really well, but Gusano Medidor mentioned that quality has declined over the years while the rates have gone up, so they didn't use the service very much anymore. But I was so concerned about her scarf/book/tea shipment not arriving that I finally broke down and asked if I could send a package via this courier.

Gusano Medidor agreed and I shipped off my package to Miami. A few weeks ago, she told me that the service notified her that my package had arrived in their Miami office. Cool! I figured she'd have her box within the week. Time passed. She hadn't received her box. She contacted them and they said they would be sending it soon. As I understood it, they were just waiting for some more things to send (I guess to have a bigger courier shipment to Bolivia.) A few days ago, she still hadn't received her box and I started to get really annoyed. My thought was if I were a client paying for this service to deliver mail on a weekly basis, I don't freaking care if my mail is the only thing that's going to Bolivia this week and the other various clients don't have anything. I don't want my mail held up because Juan X's auntie in Houston hasn't gotten around to sending him his birthday card. I wanted them to return the package to me and I'd send it via Express Mail International. This is way more expensive than sending it just regular first class airmail, and way, way more expensive than sending it just domestic priority to Miami, but it's certified and registered and seems to have a pretty good success rate of actually reaching the intended recipient. (It's also half the price of Global Fed Ex and one third the price of DHL, which are my other options.)

So I called the company's Miami office to find out just what the heck was going on. I get a customer service rep whose headset mike was right next to her mouth so she was completely unintelligble. After about 10 minutes or so, and trying to explain patiently to her that I couldn't understand a word she was saying and repeating what I think she is saying, I finally gleaned that she had no account by the name and client number I was giving her. Ok, fine. Not good, but maybe I had written their client number down wrong on my notepad. I knew that the number in my address book was correct, because if it weren't, then they would have never notified G.M. that she had a package from Tacoma waiting for her.

So I checked, called back...and got the same damn CSR I got before. This time, she was able to find the client name. Excellent. Then I finally decipher that the reason the package hasn't been shipped on to Bolivia is because this account is inactive and the account holder needs to reactivate it. (I did mention they didn't use the service very much anymore.)

I asked if they could send the package back to me. The CSR said another unintelligble something and I suddenly found myself on hold (and the on-hold announcements came through perfectly clear, thank you very much). After a few moments, a supervisor answered the phone and I could hear her perfectly. Unfortunately, she didn't speak English very well. (Despite my irritation at this whole situation, my first feeling for her was sympathy. I know from my own experience that speaking on the phone is one of the hardest things to do when you don't speak a language very well.) But she understood me well, and I explained that I wanted the package returned to me. She said it was no problem but she needed a written request, so could I please send her an email? Sure, no problem. She tried to give me her email address and my sympathy for her increased because it became immediately obvious that it was really, really difficult for her to spell her name in English.

She is not stupid. When you learn a language formally, the very first thing you are taught is the alphabet. Book one, lesson one. I've formally studied French, Dutch, German, Spanish, and Swedish and this has held true in every case. (Not in Icelandic because we were focused on reading the sagas.) The thing is...you never touch it again. when I was at the language school in Sweden, one day during coffee break, a group of Level 4 students approached a group of Level 1 students and asked them what the alphabet was. Level 4 students were the highest level, the most advanced, and many of them already spoke with near native fluency. Language study at this level was fine tuning, to learn an absolutely proper and perfect Swedish and grammatical fine points that even many native Swedes don't even get "right". However, on this day, these Advanced Level Swedish students realized that none of them knew how to spell their own names. Or spell anything out loud actually, because they didn't know the Swedish names for the letters of the alphabet.

Eventually, this poor woman finally managed to get out an email address, and even though I repeated it back to her, it isn't correct. My message gets returned as undeliverable. G.M. got the name of the service rep in the La Paz office so I sent my request to her, and it hasn't come back yet so I hope that she received it.

This whole drama does have a real sense of urgency, because according to the company's website, they will only hold undeliverable items for 30 days before the items are destroyed. Not returned to sender. Destroyed. And remember that this box has been sitting in Miami for about three weeks now... Sadly, my father in law, and not G.M., is the account holder and he has to reinstate the account. Amongst G.M.'s many, many talents, her efficiency at tasks and organizational skills rank very, very high and if she were in charge, this wouldn't be an issue. My father in law can not include these attributes amongst his own talents. He does things on his own schedule and according to his own priorities, and not even an act of God--or the imminent destruction of a package sitting in Miami--will make him do things any differently.

Five whole days off. It was very nice. I completely fracked up my sleeping schedule by staying up several nights playing a video game, but I'm not nearly as comatose today as I was afraid I would be. Not any sleepier than I normally am during the afternoons. And I still managed to be marginally productive this weekend, too. I finished up several knitting projects and am 1/3 of the way through a scarf I am making as a friend's Christmas gift. I have to finish this scarf and an afghan before I cast on anything new. I started the afghan before we moved here, and I haven't worked on it since we moved in over a year ago. The afghan is made of granny squares, and I've put it off for so long because I really didn't relish the thought of sewing together 144 squares (I doubt I will ever take up quilting as a hobby). But there comes a time when even I--the Great Procrastinator--gets motivated/ashamed/disgusted with one's self and sets to the task of completing an item. I thought I'd finished crocheting all the squares and just had to sew them together, but it turns out that I still have to make about 20 more squares. I'm sure the afghan will look pretty good when it's done (amateurish sewing excepted) but I'm also pretty sure that I will never make one again. But I do have a schedule--sewing together 12 squares a night. That's not too horrible. It's been so long since I've done any crocheting that I'm going to have to relearn how to make the squares, though.

I also finished up three pairs of socks as well as baby sweater for a friend. I have these really cool buttons I'd intended to put on the sweater, but forgot to knit buttonholes and the buttons don't have long enough posts for "afterthought" buttonholes. Ah well, this gives me a reason to make another sweater (as if the joy and pleasure of knitting for this baby weren't reason enough).

So, I know you are all dying to know which video game has kept me up for several nights running. Before I tell you that I reason I played all through the night is because I couldn't even start playing until 11pm because Oscar is consumed with HIS video game (Super Mario Galaxy) until then. Oscar goes to bed, and then I can play my game. (This works out really well, actually, because he naturally wakes up very early and I don't. Besides, it's entertaining watching him play.) My video game is Assassin's Creed, and it's a really engaging game. The story is framed very cleverly. Like all video games, it has a Heads Up Display (HUD). These are the items on your screen that tell you how much life/energy your character has, what weapon is equipped, etc. These things are necessary for the player but are an artificial construct as far as "realism" in the game is concerned. The game designers developed an unusual twist...during the bulk of the game play you are Altair (a member of the assassin group in the Holy Land on the eve of the 2nd Crusade), but Altair is really a "genetic memory" of a young man named Desmond (I think), Altair's direct descendent. Desmond is undergoing experiments in a device called "The Animus" to unlock these memories, because Altair apparently uncovered some pretty important information during his life that is has value during the 21st century and this information is desperately wanted by the Big Unnamed Corporation that kidnapped Desmond in the first place. Desmond is forced to actively relive these memories in order to unlock the other ones, and it's these memories that you play. The HUD information is therefore the Animus monitoring systems. The "health bar" is called "the memory synchronization status", and the map becomes visible only after Altair sees an area, which is done by scaling a tall building. The scenery in this game is just stunning; it is a real joy just to look at things. Technically, you have only one goal in each "memory"--to assassinate the person your master assigns and to return to the headquarters successfully. (By the way, each of your targets has the name of a real person assassinated during this time). But you increase your chances of success by aiding various citizens in distress. For the most part, your friends and foes are not fixed. Not every Christian is an enemy, and not every Muslim is a friend. The only absolute (so far) is the Templars--they will try to kill you if they see you, but you can run away from them. It makes your life/escape easier to remove the various guards on rooftops, but not necessary. As an assassin, you don't want to call attention to yourself, so you have to do things to blend in or gain friends who will help you. In each area are various citizens being harassed by city guards or soldiers. Rescue them, and a group shows up who will either hinder any soldiers/guards pursuing you or hide you. You can hide in plain sight if you are acting in a "socially acceptable" way. There are certain people in society who go unnoticed--like poor people sitting on a bench. You can escape the guards' notice by sitting on a bench, but only if you enter an area calmly. If you go running in pell mell, chased by angry armed guards, everyone will flee. Also, although Altair is wonderfully athletic and agile, the socially acceptable way to get up to a rooftop is by climbing a ladder. Yes, Altair can scale any building like a rockclimber, but people notice that. Traveling over the rooftops is definitely the most fun part of the game.

But I am stuck in this current memory. I keep getting Altair killed, which results in a "DNA memory desynchronization" and the memory is restarted at the previous important subtask. (Of course Altair can't die...he doesn't have any children yet.) At the beginning of Desmond's "memory resynchronization" , Altair is in serious trouble with his master because he has disregarded the Assassin's Creed. The Master demotes him and strips him of most of his equipment but gives Altair a second chance. After each successful mission, Altair gets some of his equipment back. The first three missions are completed in a specific order, but after that, the Master gives Altair three targets, one each in Damascus, Acre, and Jerusalem, and it's up to Altair to decide how he wants to proceed. Unfortunately, for me as a gamer, I chose Jerusalem (because I think it's the most visually interesting area) but Jerusalem is also the hardest of the three (as I found out by reading a walkthrough). There are guards everywhere, and they are on high alert even before you do something. It's taking me forever to complete this level and as far as I know, I can't exit this memory and start another instead. If I'd done this in "proper" order, I'd have all my weapons restored by this time. I'd have a crossbow as well as a large amount of throwing knives. No crossbow, and only five throwing knives, which means that I have to get fairly close to my target even for a distance kill. Oh, and when Altair runs out of knives? He has to pickpocket them from thugs. And remember, the guards are on high alert, and they can fight better than Altair can (or at least better than I can). I'm almost tempted to start over just to play these levels in the "proper" order. Even so, I really like the game. I think it's intelligent, and rewards strategy and patience, and is as far from a mindless "hack and slash" as you can get.

I haven't been posting because I lead a very humdrum life and am really having a hard time thinking of anything interesting to say. Or even to write about banality in an interesting, witty way.

But in some good news, the foster cats Gracie and Edgar have both found forever homes. A friend adopted Edgar a few weeks ago, and the mother of one of my colleagues adopted Gracie last week. I was really fond of Edgar and missed him after I dropped him off. But I know he's in a good home and I can see him once in awhile. I liked Gracie, too, but Edgar was really special. I think if we hadn't have adopted Maggie we would have adopted Edgar. However, Maggie has managed to wriggle herself back into my good graces by not bringing by any more rats and has also taken to jumping onto my lap and settling down with a very satisfied purr.

In other news, I have to report satisfying progress at using up the enormous quantity of root vegetables that Oscar and I have accumulated. We get a weekly home delivery of organic fruits and veggies and the company does provide local stuff as often as possible, which at this time of year in the Pacific Northwest means root vegetables, squash, and Swiss Chard. Neither of us has been cooking as much as we should have been so our fridge is stuffed with veggies. (The fruit does get eaten up pretty quickly.) Last week I made a squash gratin, and yesterday I made a root vegetable pot pie (without the crust). In my zeal to use up the various veggies, I didn't think of the volume they would take up in the Dutch oven. The pot pie contains kobacha squash, shallots, carrots, parsnips, turnips, golden beets, and potatoes with an herb-seasoned gravy. The mixture completely filled the Dutch oven, and the whole thing must have weighed about 20 lbs. It's tasty, which is good, since I will be eating it for the next few days. Oscar, foodie that he is, refuses to eat the same thing more than twice in a row, and he's not such a big fan of squash to begin with. I will say that I make a fabulous gravy from scratch. No lumps at all!

Speaking of fresh, local produce...does anyone actually like Swiss Chard? I mean actually "like" it. As in getting excited if it's on the menu. I've asked around and everyone is really meh about it. No one hates it, but no one seems to like it either. It seems to fall in the "I don't dislike it" category. It's bland and unoffensive but also doesn't seem to contribute anything to dishes. Oscar made up a chard dish that I did like (as opposed to "not dislike") but it had bacon in it, and bacon makes most things good. In that dish, the chard served as a vehicle to stretch the bacon, not the bacon enhancing the chard. So if anyone has a good chard recipe, pass it along, will you?

Ah, julmust--that traditional Swedish holiday beverage (now available at your local IKEA)

A perfect gift for those on your list who love the flavor of Cherry Nyquil cold medicine yet crave carbonation.

Dear Maggie,

You may not know this, but both Oscar and I are primarily dog people. However, we both love animals and we are both support our local humane society's vision of making their shelter the first open-admission, no-kill shelter in WA state. We foster cats because the cat overpopulation in this area is quite severe, and there are often more adoptable cats than there is room at the shelter. This is how you came in to our lives. We had planned to provide you a comfortable, but temporary home, until we could find the cat fancier of your dreams.

But during your fosterage, you were so sweet and so mellow and incredibly loving that both Oscar and I fell for you. We decided to adopt your ourselves. Remember, we are primarily dog people, and you were a cat for dog-people.

You were a cat for dog people. I'm sure this was all part of your plan, because now that you are officially part of this family, your true colors show. You are a good cat, there is no doubt about that. But you are definitely a cat for cat people. You don't have any bad traits; all your characteristics are definitely typical "good" cat, and no bad ones. But I can't help but compare you now to how you were just a short time ago, and wonder if I had missed something.

No, Miss Maggie, you don't have to worry. I don't dislike you at all. But I admit that I don't love you as much as I thought I would. I wonder if you guessed that my affection was a bit strained, because you brought us a gift the other night. I know enough about cats that they bring gifts only to those they really like.

So, let's talk about the rat. Maggie, there are only two things that really frighten me and cause me to dissolve into a lump of quivering near hysterics. And rats are one of them (the other is dancing in public but I really doubt that you will ask me to be your tango partner any time soon). Of all the freaking things that you could bring, why did you choose a rat? I can handle mice, birds, squirrels, voles, spiders--really anything besides a fracking rat. The rational part of my brain is quite impressed with you because you are a small cat, and that rat was definitely a pretty good size. If you bring any other non-rat gift, I will accept it and praise you for your hunting prowess.

Maggie, please let me explain to you what will happen if there is another rat on the doorstep.
1. I will not go anywhere near that door. Remember that this door is the boundary between the zone of food and no food, which means that putting a rat on the doorstep dooms you to stay in the no-food zone.
2. Next time you bring any gift, please make sure it's 100% dead first? Oscar is in charge of rat disposal, and he felt really, really bad about making that rat 100% dead. And I felt bad for making him "take care of it" because in my near hysterical state, I couldn't articulate that by "taking care of it" I really meant "put the rat in the trash" because I assumed it was already dead.
3. If you insist on bringing rats to the house, you may end up an outdoor cat permanently because there's no way I'm going to risk you bring that fracking thing INSIDE the house.

Are we clear?

More accurately....Wii!

Oscar posted a photo of foster cat Gracie.

I'd like to say that she usually doesn't have that freaked out look on her face but generally she does. Big nose, really wide eyes...I think she's kind of freaky looking, to be honest. Oscar's quite fond of her. They've bonded because she's always next to the computer, as is he.

I haven't bonded too much with Gracie, but I am quite fond of Oreo/Edgar, the other foster cat. He's very sweet and friendly, loves to cuddle and purrs loudly. Plus, I'm a total sucker for cats with black faces and white whiskers. Unfortunately, he's totally terrified of the dogs and terrorized by Maggie. He's also really, really skinny. I don't know if he is just one of those animals that doesn't eat a lot or if he's been losing weight since he's been here. I have seen him eat, so he knows where to get food and water. I wonder if he'd let me stick him on the kitchen scale?

Last night, my neighbor came by, really concerned about her cat. Apparently, it was having kittens ("I just came home and saw two kittens in the box!"), but she was concerned that the kittens weren't alive, except for the white one "because white cats are always born alive".

Some ranting and gruesome details behind the cut...

( Read more... )

Latest population at Luneray Maison(ette)

Cats: 4
Dogs: 3
Humans: 2

(Litter Boxes: 3)

We may have hit critical mass in the companion animal department.

Oreo's found a new hiding spot. Damn if I can figure out where he's squeezed himself now.

EDIT--There are a finite number of cat hiding places in this house and Oreo is absolutely determined to find them all. I found hiding spot number one (on top of the hot water heater), number two (behind the washing machine) but still haven't found hiding spot number three.

I haven't played this much hide and seek since I was a kid.

However, I was very surprised and pleased to see that Gracie has come out of hiding and is hanging out on top of the washing machine. She seems much calmed down; her eyes aren't huge anymore, and she lets herself be petted and even stretches out and purrs.

The $%#@()*&^ baby items are nearly finished. The Cursed Cashmere Cardigan is done and has been delivered. Thankfully, my colleague was really happy with it and I was really happy to see the end of it. All that's left of the Blasted Baby Bunting is to sew on the buttons. I'd hoped to have that done today but I washed it yesterday and it was still wet by the time I went to bed.

So now I can finally start the item I am hoping to make for a friend. The actual item is a secret, but she did choose the color. I sent her the link featuring the yarn, and asked her to choose her top three colors. (I could say that I was being prudent by having her choose three in case one or more were sold out. But mostly I asked her to choose three because I was really concerned that she'd choose black, making it extra-challenging for me to knit the project I had in mind with a dark yarn.)

I was pleased with myself when she sent me her requests because all three were colors that I thought that she'd like (and yes, one of those colors was black), so I could have trusted my instincts. However, I'm still traumatized from the Familie Luneray style of gift giving, which is to divine the absolute perfect gift without ever asking perhaps what the person would actually like. Oh no, c'est tres gauche to ask. The corollary of this is that the recipient has to be completely stunned by the absolute perfection of the gift, accompanied by shrieks of glee, joyful tears, and grateful hugs all the while exclaiming 'but how did you KNOW?' as the gift giver sits there in happy modesty. 'Oh, I'm so glad you like it.' Failure to react appropriately and to fracking love that item for the rest of your natural life results in the gift-givers' snuffs of disdain and deep-seated feelings of resentment and a grudge which you can be sure will be pulled out of the emotional armory at any moment.

But being the sole lefty in a family of righties, I am used to being guache*, so it's probably no surprise I tend to overcompensate and drill people on what they want. I have to remind myself that a) some people do really like the element of surprise and b) are actually very appreciative even if the item isn't "perfect".

My friend is getting married in a month, and I had this wonderful idea of actually having the item completed by the Big Day. Not as a wedding gift (that's already covered) but just a gift from one friend to another. But the schedule isn't looking so good right now. The $%^*()&# baby items took up far more time than I'd anticipated (this included shoving the Cursed Cashmere Cardigan in a bag for a month just so it could stew in its polypropelene prison and reflect on the anguish it was causing me.) And the Blasted Baby Bunting, although a much simpler item than the Cursed Cashmere Cardigan (which was knit in a lace pattern and had sleeves), just took for-EVER to knit. There's almost forty hours of work in that thing...forty long, boring hours. Babies are small. Buntings aren't. Forty hours!! How many pairs of socks I didn't knit while working on that yellow behemoth?

I finally cast on my friend's project last night, using the super wonderful Rosewood circular needles by Lantern Moon. Silk yarn, rosewood needles--this is knitting luxury, dear readers. Except of course it turned out to be a royal pain in the ass because the yarn kept getting caught in the join between the needle tip and the cord. Then there was the pattern itself. It had some Fancy Stitches and I couldn't even do the first row properly. I kept ending up several stitches short. Rip out, cast on again, count and recount to make sure that I'm casting on the proper number of stitches, put markers in between all the different pattern stitches in row one so maybe I could isolate the area where I'm screwing up, read and reread the damn instructions, knit very carefully, and come up several stitches short. Repeat three times.

It finally dawned on me that perhaps there might be a problem with the pattern? Maybe there is a typo?

"Cast on 73 stitches.
Row one: 7 stitches in seed stitch, knit first row of pattern stitch three times, end with 7 stitches in seed stitch.
Row two and all even rows: 7 stitches in seed stitch, purl 69 stitches, end with 7 stitches in seed stitch."

Anyone notice anything? 7 + 69 + 7 = ??? Hint, it's not 73. Yeah, the book editor didn't notice that either.

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*gauche is French for left. Get it? Aw, c'mon.

More foster cats.

It's kitten season again, and the Humane Society is full of felines. (Actually, since a cat can have up to four litters a year, when is it NOT kitten season?) The volunteer coordinator sent out an email asking for foster homes, so I swung by the shelter on Friday to get some kittens. It turned out that the kittens were taken care of but no more room for adult cats in the cattery. I agreed to take a pair of adult cats who had been dropped off by their owner, who was convinced it was dangerous to have cats with a newborn baby around.

So welcome Oreo and Gracie. Oreo is a very friendly black and white (of course) cat, who has a fondness for sleeping in the bathroom sink and the tub. He doesn't seem to mind that it's wet. Gracie is a mud brown tabby with a rather big nose (kind of like an Abyssinian cat). She is seriously stressed out and actually had a seizure the first night. I don't know if this was caused by the stress or if it is a pre-existing condition, but this makes me really concerned. As far as seizures go, it didn't seem really bad; she collapsed on her side and twitched for about a minute but then got up and resumed a meatloaf position. But I'll keep an eye on her.

Both cats have escaped from the bathroom, and I've found Gracie's hiding spot but I haven't seen Oreo all day. There's no lack of places for a cat to hide in this house so I hope he'll come out soon. I'm surprised he's hiding because he had warmed up really quickly. He'd come up to greet me when I went into the bathroom and voluntarily sat on my lap.

But four cats really is a lot of felines. I swear that I've been spending most of my time this weekend cleaning litter boxes.

EDIT: found Oreo. He's on top of the water heater in the utility room.

I would like to know why a game called "Super Monkey Ball" is so fracking hard.

It's really amazing what a few little green bean plants can do to a person.

The culinary aspect:
fresh green beans. Duh. I can harvest beans every night. The nightly harvest is a little less than I expected (plenty for a dedicated green bean lover, but a smallish portion to share between two people), but notice the word "nightly". If I skip a day, then I have a more than generous amount for two people the next night. As it is, I've given the last three pickings to our neighbors, mostly as a way of being nice but also because there can be too much of a good thing.

The educational aspects:
There are bush beans and there are pole beans. I planted all these beans along the fence in the front yard (good sunlight + ready made trellis) only to discover that my plants didn't grow very tall, but they are spreading all over the sidewalk. Bush beans.

Green beans aren't always green. I planted a "tri-color" blend--white, green, and purple. The purple ones turn green upon cooking, but the white ones don't. Some neighbor kids were visiting yesterday while I was yanking weeds out of the lawn, and one of the girls asked what those plants were. "Green beans", I said. "You grow those?!", she exclaimed. "Yes, and look, purple green beans!" She looked pretty surprised, but one of the other kids didn't seem very impressed. (They were also very interested in the Grandpa's Weeder I was using, and wanted to use it. In fact, kept arguing with each other whose turn it was to pull up weeds.)

The horticultural aspect:
Green beans seem to grow really well in this area. They needed a burst of warm dry weather to really get started, but even though it's been overcast and rainy for the past week, they are still producing a good quantity every night. And beans ripen quickly. It seems like it's only a week from flower to pickable bean. Compare that to the tomatoes in the back yard, which are loaded with fruit but there's not a blush of red on them.

Flushed with this early success, I'm now really interested in planting a kitchen garden, and seeing if it's possible to grow most of our own vegetables. Fruit may be a bit harder, unless I wanted to plant berries. Oscar has a copy of "Square Foot Gardening", and I placed holds on some other kitchen gardening books from the library. I've already planned to turn one of the side yards into an culinary herb garden (and I'm sure the neighbors will be happy when I do, since I know they aren't happy that I've spread newspapers, grass clippings, and lots of coffee grounds in an area that's very visible to them. But they have an evil and nasty Shi-Tzu which I hope will die a quick but painfree death, preferably soon, so I think we are even when it comes to neighborly annoyances.)

So now begins the research and planning bit, which I really like. Figure out what grows best in this area; figure out the path of sun during the year; figure out how to stagger the crops so that we can eat as fresh as possible but without having too much ripen all at once; figure out how many raised beds are necessary and how much lumber is needed; figure out how much compost to get.