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| Tall Boy in his new winter coat. |
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
Happy Homecoming Day, D!
Was it really 2004? It was. January 29, 2004, I went to our local humane society and decided to adopt a long-haired, brown tabby. The card on her cage said she was very friendly. (Well, sort of). The card on her cage said she was very affectionate. (Weeeellll, when she wants to be affectionate, she can be, but those moments are less common than I thought they'd be.) The card on her cage said she was a Maine Coon mix. (Well, maybe.) My friend D and her daughter R stopped by while I was there to see which cat I had chosen, and I gave R the choice of two names (both characters in Jane Austen novels). So she named my cat by selecting the one she liked better. Given the ultimate personality that emerged, I'm not sure R chose the name that suits the personality.
On January 30, I went to pick up her after her spay surgery. Upon shaving her belly, the humane society had found the scar from her previous spay surgery, so someone, somewhere, had already taken care of that. All they knew of her was that she'd been found as a stray. From the way she likes to climb my pine tree, I suspect she somehow got outside and/or got lost.
It took her six weeks to get used to the dogs. By week four, I was despairing she would ever tolerate them. She hid behind the baby gate that whole first month. Then, as I watched, she took a look at my dear, darling Georgie, who was completely unfazed by the dogs and walking past them. I could almost see her little brain thinking "Well, if they don't bother that cat, they won't bother me, and I'm sick of this bedroom." Out she came. And she's never looked backed.
She's a typical tabby girl--a bit of a pistol, a little on the grumpy side (but not nearly as grumpy as the wonderful Camille was), too aware that she is far superior to every other life form in this house. I don't think she knows she's a cat. Like the Samoyeds, she doesn't like too sleep with those heat-generating humans, but a couple of times a month she will come and sleep on my head for an hour or two. She's still quite spry at age 10-ish. She has learned to come when called. She would really like to be an only pet, and if not that, than at least an only cat. She is curious, afraid of the vacuum, and chirps like a Maine Coon. She hates being combed or having her nails trimmed. She gets the crazies on a regular basis. She's my stripey girl.
On January 30, I went to pick up her after her spay surgery. Upon shaving her belly, the humane society had found the scar from her previous spay surgery, so someone, somewhere, had already taken care of that. All they knew of her was that she'd been found as a stray. From the way she likes to climb my pine tree, I suspect she somehow got outside and/or got lost.
It took her six weeks to get used to the dogs. By week four, I was despairing she would ever tolerate them. She hid behind the baby gate that whole first month. Then, as I watched, she took a look at my dear, darling Georgie, who was completely unfazed by the dogs and walking past them. I could almost see her little brain thinking "Well, if they don't bother that cat, they won't bother me, and I'm sick of this bedroom." Out she came. And she's never looked backed.
She's a typical tabby girl--a bit of a pistol, a little on the grumpy side (but not nearly as grumpy as the wonderful Camille was), too aware that she is far superior to every other life form in this house. I don't think she knows she's a cat. Like the Samoyeds, she doesn't like too sleep with those heat-generating humans, but a couple of times a month she will come and sleep on my head for an hour or two. She's still quite spry at age 10-ish. She has learned to come when called. She would really like to be an only pet, and if not that, than at least an only cat. She is curious, afraid of the vacuum, and chirps like a Maine Coon. She hates being combed or having her nails trimmed. She gets the crazies on a regular basis. She's my stripey girl.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Let's Go Hiking in The Nature
My AVA walking club held their annual January hike in the mountains to the west of the city yesterday (literally west of the city; it takes 20 minutes from my door to be in these mountains). DoodleBug has been doing some training 5K walks to get ready to start hiking, including practice wearing Mr. Big's backpack. So yesterday was the day to start him on his hiking career. He loved it!
T decided to bring her dog, Bertram, even though the most Bertram walks is about 3/4 of a mile on pavement (I'll be he's sore today). She mentioned the hike to her coworkers C and M, and they decided to tag along with their GoldenDoddle, Sidney. Let's just say that Tall Boy is now in love with this tall golden girl.
It warmed up pretty quickly, so I wound up carrying the backpack down (yes, insert jokes about how well-trained I am). Golden Boy was straining to always be in front; in fact, he wasn't happy unless he was in front. But we both walked the fastest of the group, so really, we both were happy when were leading.
I first joined the AVA chapter about 20 years ago, thanks to my friend Regina. Ten years ago, I started doing them with the Fluffy Dogs. They were usually the only dogs on the trail, with their red and green matching Wolf Pack backpacks (super durable backpacks--I absolutely love them and they are well worth the investment). I'd walk up to the sign-in table and people would start hollering "Hey, here come the fluffy dogs!" They were quite well known. It saddened me greatly when arthritis and older age meant they could no longer do their 5K and 10K hikes. Resuming these was one of the reasons I wanted a dog this young, but who could train a lot faster than the new pup will to walk these kinds of distances. But yesterday, we passed about 15-20 dogs, all hiking with their walking club member owners. All these well-behaved dogs out enjoying a beautiful desert day with their owners--it was wonderful to see.
Anyway, below is a a photo gallery of part of our hike in The Nature, as my friend The Gingerbread Lady calls it. Gorgeous weather in the low 60s, piercing blue sky. Tall Boy was disappointed we had to turn around at 5K, but he and I had our Click-a-Trick class that afternoon, I was Eucharistic minister at mass that night, and then straight from church to a surprise birthday party, so we couldn't dawdle. Next time, I promise, we dawdle.
T decided to bring her dog, Bertram, even though the most Bertram walks is about 3/4 of a mile on pavement (I'll be he's sore today). She mentioned the hike to her coworkers C and M, and they decided to tag along with their GoldenDoddle, Sidney. Let's just say that Tall Boy is now in love with this tall golden girl.
It warmed up pretty quickly, so I wound up carrying the backpack down (yes, insert jokes about how well-trained I am). Golden Boy was straining to always be in front; in fact, he wasn't happy unless he was in front. But we both walked the fastest of the group, so really, we both were happy when were leading.
I first joined the AVA chapter about 20 years ago, thanks to my friend Regina. Ten years ago, I started doing them with the Fluffy Dogs. They were usually the only dogs on the trail, with their red and green matching Wolf Pack backpacks (super durable backpacks--I absolutely love them and they are well worth the investment). I'd walk up to the sign-in table and people would start hollering "Hey, here come the fluffy dogs!" They were quite well known. It saddened me greatly when arthritis and older age meant they could no longer do their 5K and 10K hikes. Resuming these was one of the reasons I wanted a dog this young, but who could train a lot faster than the new pup will to walk these kinds of distances. But yesterday, we passed about 15-20 dogs, all hiking with their walking club member owners. All these well-behaved dogs out enjoying a beautiful desert day with their owners--it was wonderful to see.
Anyway, below is a a photo gallery of part of our hike in The Nature, as my friend The Gingerbread Lady calls it. Gorgeous weather in the low 60s, piercing blue sky. Tall Boy was disappointed we had to turn around at 5K, but he and I had our Click-a-Trick class that afternoon, I was Eucharistic minister at mass that night, and then straight from church to a surprise birthday party, so we couldn't dawdle. Next time, I promise, we dawdle.
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| And we're off! The leggy Sidney and Bertram. |
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| All right, humans, get a move on! Golden coming through! (His backpack was admired by several passersby). |
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| Sidney decides not to cooperate. |
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| Shade is a premium in the desert, even in the winter. |
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| The Fluffy Dogs and me on the exact same hike, Jan, 26, 2002--K's first birthday and six weeks after M was adopted. |
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Friday, January 20, 2012
Thursday, January 19, 2012
I Cook
Throw one really old piece of meat, one can of tomatoes, an onion, various herbs and spices into the crockpot and voila. Six hours later, tough old meat that is falling apart and succulent. The meat really is in there, under all that tomato.
Then, saute root vegetables, throw into a pie crust, bake, and voila. Root vegetable pie, guaranteed to indulge your wintery desire to hibernate somewhere dark and cosy and quiet. Like a mole.
Then, saute root vegetables, throw into a pie crust, bake, and voila. Root vegetable pie, guaranteed to indulge your wintery desire to hibernate somewhere dark and cosy and quiet. Like a mole.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Not a Nice P-Word
Okay, Universe, who decided that women of a certain age, specifically, middle, on the down side of the 5th decade, should still get blemishes??? Yes, zits! At my age! Preposterous! And not just the occasional, perimenopausal-induced blemish, but two. Two! On opposite sides of my face, so I can't even sit with just one side of my face towards my companion. Who, I ask, who?
Pimple. Bbbaaadddd p-word.
Pimple. Bbbaaadddd p-word.
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