Another good day to hole up

We had more snow last night. It really "prettied the place up" by covering all the dirty, half-melted snow. The new snow softens the edges of objects and also seems to dull sounds adding a peaceful element to the outdoors. It's nice that I can stay inside and enjoy it.

We checked out a few movies at the library and so we can stay in to watch them. We got "W" about Bush and "Frozen River" starring Melissa Leo about a woman helping to smuggle illegal immigrants. Leo used to be on "Homicide-Life on the Streets" and has been nominated for an Oscar for her film role. The Oscars are on tomorrow night and I'm looking forward to watching it.

Gracie sits at the patio door and looks out--after all the months she sat looking in. She doesn't show any desire to go outside. She now wanders around the house and the other three cats are cautiously adjusting to her presence. She purrs with great gusto whenever she is petted. Tweedy sits on the cat tower and sneers at Gracie for purring so readily. True to the International Code of the Cat, Tweedy will purr only under very particular circumstances. Snuffy will purr when I cuddle him but only for a brief time. Sunny (the chunk) parks himself next to my head every morning and purrs earnestly to wake me to feed him. Any additional purring he does during the day is done grudgingly.

Gracie is like a bright, shiny little penny among this group.

Wintry Welcoming

Well, the inevitable happened--the patio cat has moved in. As I blog, she is snoozing under a bed not ten feet from me.

The night before last, the kitty (hereafter referred to as Gracie)showed up for her dinner well before the customary time. It was bitter cold and exceptionally windy and she was anxious to get inside. Some time ago, I had fashioned a covered box lined with warm stuff for her but she wouldn't go in, maybe because she felt trapped. She'd only sit on top of the box. After she wolfed down her food, no matter where she went she couldn't get away from the wind. She sat at the patio door looking helpless.

Now, I have to tell you I have a housemate named Sue. Sue is a soft-hearted gal who comes from a family of catlovers (her parents out on a farm have 20-plus cats most of whom hang out in the house. In fact, one of our cats is a kitten from their clan.)
Therefore, it was inevitable.

Sue went to the door and unceremoniously picked up Gracie and brought her in. Just like that. It was very tense at first. Tweedy, our Queen cat, really "has her nose out of joint". She sits on her perch on top of the cat tower and glares at the interloper. The two male cats are more curious than threatened.

Gracie hid under the bed the first night and all through the next day. She finally came out last evening. And then the little girl unleashed the love! She went back and forth between Sue and I purring her head off and luxuriating in the warmth of her new home. Later, the little darling was playing with the catnip toys and checking out the place. She is quite diplomatic about avoiding the other cats, and since none of them are lap kitties, this might be Gracie's niche.

We were able to cut a lot of the cockle burrs out of her coat, but she still needs a lot of grooming. Her poor tail is almost bald. She had an occasional cough which worries me but Sunny (the cat we got from the farm) has that too.

I know that we might be courting disaster, but for now, Ms. Sparrow is quite OK with having four cats. If I ever get the camera to work, I'll be posting pictures.

"Are we really sure the purring is coming from the kitty and not from our very own hearts?" Emme Woodhill-Bache

Things I miss from my childhood

I was a child until the age of eight. After that, I felt I was too old to play with dolls or go on the merry-go-round anymore. Because I was the oldest of four kids, I was called upon to help my mother with meals and cleaning. That probably influenced my thinking. Anyway, I remember being a child.

I enjoyed playing Jacks with other girls at school and felt like I was good at it. I loved being in school on a rainy day, or walking home from school on a sunny autumn afternoon. There was the wonderful day our class was marched across the street to the Carnegie Library and introduced to the children's section. It was always a treat to come home from school to the aroma of freshly baked bread; sometimes Mom would even make cinnamon raisin bread.

I remember the cheer that would go up in the theater when they showed a cartoon before a movie (it was like dessert). I would sit on the floor in front of the radio straining to listen to "Let's Pretend" through the static on Saturday mornings.

There was also the springtime fun of walking the ditches with my siblings hunting for wild asparagus. In the summer, we always had a great time going to visit cousins up north. It was such fun to play on the farm and build a playhouse in the grove with junk from the trash pile. Then we would play dress-up with old clothes or fashion wedding dresses out of old curtains. We picked crabapples and chokecherries
and couldn't eat them, but it was fun because we were away from home.

Haunted by my other brain

No matter what I am doing, I always feel I should be doing something else. It's a curse. Like right now-- I feel like I should get out in the kitchen and clean up the dishes in the sink. But at the same time, it's such a nice sunny afternoon I feel like getting out of the house and doing something. But then again, I just got a book from the library yesterday that I'd like to get started on. And maybe I should make a pan of apple crisp and on and on...

It's like I am of two minds (sorta like a little devil and little angel on either shoulder) that are always in conflict. The wretched result is that I'm perpetually indecisive. It restricts my life and destroys my sense of enjoyment or accomplishment. Often I am so paralyzed with indecision that I wind up sitting on the couch staring at the TV or sitting at my computer staring at the monitor. Stupified.

For example--I've been retired for over three years now and still haven't gotten my pictures sorted and organized. The novel that I started with such gusto now seems moribund. The den still defies being uncluttered and I have a hundred folders floating around with assorted information.

Therefore, if anyone knows of a good book to read or a good saint to petition, let me know so I can get out of this rut. I'm wide open to suggestions!

A question about Friday the 13th

Graphic courtesy of Olde Dame Penniwig

I don't know why anybody takes this seriously. Think about it--does every single human being have bad luck on this day? If so, what is the source of this bad luck? Is there something lurking in the cosmos that dictates good and bad luck? Assuming that this is the case, how does the Cosmic Luck Genie know what calendar date we puny humans assigned in our geographic area of the planet on this day?

I had the same problem with the Y2K scare. The arbitrary assigning of a date by human beings really has no impact on the universe. Different parts of the world use different calendars and our version doesn't take precedence. In fact, our version has been tinkered with a number of times over the centuries.

So, even though there may be more births and crazy stuff going on during a full moon, Friday the 13th ain't gonna hurt yah!

The blaring sound of sadness

According to the Star Tribune, 118 cats were confiscated from a local mobile home a few days ago. It was a case of another hoarder who took in strays and allowed them to breed uncontrolled. The Humane Society has had many offers from people wanting to adopt them. So, I take back my comment that people don't want "used" cats.

The sad fact is that most of those cats are unadoptable. In spite of being confined inside since birth, the poor things are not socialized or healthy. Most had not had a breath of fresh air in their entire lives and will have to be "put down".

I will have to try harder to find a home for my patio kitty. Maybe that will make me feel better about those poor animals living in dreadful conditions.

I should mention that when the authorities confiscated all those cats, they left three with the couple that were hoarding them. It would have been terribly heartless and inhumane to leave them without any cats.

"When you're used to hearing purring and suddenly it's gone, it's hard to silence the blaring sound of sadness." Missy Altijd

Ms Sparrow sounds crabby

It's a sad thing that nobody wants a "used" cat. I've been asking around to find a home for the patio cat and no one is interested. I even sent an email to Animal Ark, but still haven't had any response.

I was going to say I contacted Animal Ark, but the word "contacted" has such broad meaning today that it's meaningless. One can contact someone by phone, "snail mail", texting, email, courier, relay through another person, and methods I'm probably not even "hip" to.

When I was learning grammar and composition eons ago, you were never to end a sentence with a preposition. But then saner minds determined it made better sense to end with "hip to" than "to which I am hip".

And now they (the Great Grammarians of the Universe) are saying split infinitives aren't all that bad. To tell the truth, I've been pretty much splitting infinitives my whole life, but now I don't have to feel sheepish about it.

And my writing is often criticized for being larded with too many commas. Well, pardon me, but,I was taught that it was proper, when you are writing, to use a comma wherever you would pause when speaking. (No, I don't have asthma.)

I'm also told I use "that" too much. Therefore, I probably should have said,"I was taught it was proper..."

It bothers me to think that my writing
is stodgy, and I worry about it. But I try
to comfort myself with the words of
Emile Coue who said, "Every day in every
way I'm getting better and better."

(I'll just try to hold that thought.)