I used to think it was awful that life was so unfair. Then I thought, 'wouldn't it be much worse if life *were* fair, and all the terrible things that happen to us come because we actually deserve them?' So now I take great comfort in the general hostility and unfairness of the universe. – M. Cole
Hello from under Winter Storm Petra! We have about 5 inches of snow and we’re supposed to get ice on top of that.
If you’ve been following my blog, you may know that I dabble in art, specific alcohol inks. Here are two pieces. The top is a lap / bed tray (the kind with little legs) that I found at a thrift store. It was originally a pale blonde wood, which I painted black. The bottom was white melamine, a nice slick surface for the inks to flow around on. After they dried, I sealed it and then put a layer of resin on top of it for durability.
The second is a lazy susan I found on the same thrift store adventure. It is also ink and protected with resin. My one cat, Tezcatlipoca, is investigating it.
Thanks for following. This is a quick post of our tasty meal from last weekend and me with one of our new boys.
We made chicken mole last weeked. Very tasty and yep, it’s from a Martha Stewart recipe, but we like it. I have learned to make corn tortillas (with a press) and made some Yucatecan pickled onions to go with it from Rick Bayless recipe. I like a bit of acid to spark up my meals.
This is our smaller new kitty, Agamemnon aka Aggie. He is the smaller of the two. Kitty pieta. I make a very ugly and work weary Madonna. But I have the carpet ripped up and the floor finished!
I spent the new years holiday tearing apart a room in our house since I had some emotions to work out since we had to euthanize the last of our older kitties, Muffin, during the holiday break. Nothing like grief and anger to give one some excess energy. I’ll have pics of the new room at some time.
I also have been gifted a Insta-Pot (pressure cooker/other things) by relatives. Any good recipes? It seems that the Insta-Pot gift is some weird apology from relatives who voted for that idiot Trump.
I just buried my oldest kitty. Even though I’m an atheist, I wrapped her in white linen and tucked a few toys in with her. One can always indulge in thinking that there is a less than omnipotent goddess Sekhmet looking after my furry companions. What could be better, cats and drinking beer with a feisty cat goddess. 🙂 It’s also a damn shame that I can’t trade in one useless human, or ten, for more years with her.
Love is inextricably linked with sorrow, because we are going to die and lose someone or be lost to them. This is why one should take every moment and make that love worth that coin in sorrow that you are going to pay.
We all make that bargain with our love of our critters and oh, how it hurts when it comes due.
Goodbye, Muffin, my little friend. I found you as a kitten in my backyard a little over 15 years ago, the size of my hand. You are back there again, where I can sit and remember you. Including the scars you gave me repeatedly because you had no interest in going to the vet. She was the most ferocious of all of our kitties, the only one we gave a “cute” name. I used Peaceful Pet Passage, an in-home euthanasia service here in central PA. They were kind as they took care of her.
Legend, and reality appears to agree, says during the Great Depression, itinerant workers e.g. hoboes, would let each other know about the conditions of the road and towns that they passed through by using a language of signs. If there was a chance of work, dangerous dogs, vigilant police, that could all be read in a sign left by scratching a nail, rock on metal, etc.
One of those signs was the cat. This signified that a kind hearted woman lived at a home or farm. A hobo might hope to get at least bread and butter and perhaps a cup of milk. Being that I like cats quite a lot, it always appealed to me that a cat would signify someone who cared for others. The people wearing the pinky pussy hats at the very successful marches around the world also got me thinking about this.
I think this sign would make a good thing to let people know that kindness still exists, a kindness with claws behind it.
Here are some images I made up. Please use, but do not abuse, if you’d like. Larger/hi res/different format ones are available. Leave me a note in comments.
As the title says, we got really cool upholstered chairs. Some background on this, my husband’s parents once did upholstery. And when my mother in law was dying from colon cancer, she asked what we would like. We got a pair of decrepit chairs that my husband loved because they were so comfortable, and a gold painted mirror, shelf and candle sconces from circa 1970. The gold set is now at the base of our staircase.
The chairs were in desperate shape 20 years ago, and weren’t getting any better. But we wanted them to be a nice as possible when we finally shelled out the cash to get them done. They left clumps of ancient cotton batting, horsehair and decaying bits of fabric everywhere. There had been this very nice upholstery shop I walked past every day at work, Neil Choquette Fine Upholstery. They had an old store front that had great glass display windows in front, always filled with such lovely vignettes of what was currently finished. I always hoped we could get them done there. Then they vanished.
And finally we had the funds to get them done. As luck would have it, we read about the long lost upholsterers and found out that they were near-by. So we contact them. And couldn’t be happier. This was not a cheap undertaking. We got the fabric we wanted, not what was inexpensive. With all of the insane pleating and buttons and every other upholstery term I don’t know, it took ten yards of fabric that was $100+/yard, a lovely sculpted velvet that is a deep marine blue, the color of the ocean as seen from the lovely windjammer clipper we vacationed on in Maine a few years back. The frames, sticky and opaque with decades of Pledge, were stripped and rehabbed by a Mennonite fellow that Neil works with. I think they are maple and are now a lovely caramel color, gleaming with the deep sheen that good wood has. Neil thought they were probably 1940s or so. He did a very clever thing to the chairs. On the seat under the cushion, instead of using just heavy muslin or some such, he used the velvet and reversed the hand so the velvet from the cushion would catch and the cushion wouldn’t always go slipping off.
Feast your eyes. This pair are as identical as could be made, an incredibly impressive feat. They are essentially a 50th birthday present for my husband and a 25th wedding anniversary present for the both of us. Someone will have a great pair of chairs when our estate is dispersed with after we leave this mortal coil.
Again, I ask you to bear with me as I express my grief and memories of a dearly departed pet. This, and working at a grocery store near the US Thanksgiving holiday, explain why I haven’t been around much. Twice this year we have had to say good-bye to one of our cats. This time, it is our dear cat Grendel that has passed into death by our decision for euthanasia. As I stated back in the post about the passing of our cat Mordred, this atheist is still an atheist, no matter how tempting it would be to pray to some imaginary friend for help to save her pet’s life. There is still an atheist in this foxhole.
Grendel was one of three kittens we adopted from my parents’ farm. A momma cat was killed and of course one can’t just adopt one. Grendel introduced himself by climbing up my husband’s pant leg. And during the evening of that day, the discussion wasn’t “should we take them?” but “okay, what are their names?” So we had Grendel and his sisters, Luna and Mystra since 1998. Grendel was a long tall brown tabby with an unusual chevron on his shoulders. We called him Private First Class Grendel.
He was a fantastic jumper, able to jump more than 6 feet (around 2 meters) straight up at a standing start. He had a habit of sitting on the top of doors, and I still have no idea on how he didn’t make the door swing. He also loved to jump to the top of a wood and class curio cabinet and sit up there for hours. My husband would lift him there in these last few months of his life. He also dearly loved catnip. When we left him outside for supervised visits, he would make a beeline to the catnip plants and then for the gate to the alley out back.
About 7 years back, he had terrible trouble with his bladder being blocked with stones. We chose to have a perineal urethrostomy. This means that the penis is removed and the cat is essentially “replumbed”. We were warned that he might have problems of leaking but he did perfectly after it. It was during his first day back from surgery that we found a small kitten in the backyard, who became Muffin, the black and white hellion that we have.
He died of complications from feline diabetes. We could have given him insulin, but the process of getting the right dose is very hard, if it works at all, and I didn’t want him to dread my approach if I had to cause him pain from injections. So we managed it as well as we could by diet. The worst was the neuropathy and he eventually was unable to walk and sit up while he used the litter box. So we made the horrible but humane and necessary decision to have him euthanized. We were lucky those 7 years ago to be able to afford to help him then. So many people can’t and I wish I could change that. But there was no help to be had now. As I said back when our cat Mordred passed away, I have read that one makes an agreement with sorrow as soon as one adopts a pet that will live a shorter life span than you will. You get many years of comfort and companionship from your loving pets but you pay for it later.
We will miss him intensely as we miss all of the cats and ferrets that have gone before.