My Boys

Finally got a decent digital camera so I've been taking pics trying to figure it all out. Still got to experiment, but this is the best I could do before reading instructions.

This is Scotty, my youngest at almost 3. He is adorably cute and loves to cuddle when he's sleepy; otherwise he's busy terrorizing, uh, playing with the other kids and flying through the house at warp speed leaving a trail of hissing and screaming in his wake. He also likes to hiss and growl for no apparent reason, but it's all bluff. His alias is "Angel Boy". Note the tuft of fur in his right claw from some seemingly innocent victim. LOL

This is Samson, aka Sammy. He's a real momma's boy and if he wants your attention or any sandwich you happen to be holding, he is not above reaching out with his body-builder paw and taking it by force. He is a pest extraordinaire and is known for talking. Not just meows, but he actually says my sister's name (Carolyn) even though he's calling me (when I have the nerve to walk out of his sight), and has also been heard saying "Help me" when he's in the cat carrier. People have chuckled when I tell them, then become believers when they actually hear (and see) him enunciate the words. I believe "creeped out" has been the main comment. Doesn't bother me as long as he doesn't start nagging.

This is my first Angel Boy, Chance. His name should have been Lazarous cuz he was dead when my SO found him as a six-week old baby. SO thought he was dead when he found him in a sleet storm, lying frozen in a puddle of water December 2001 at his dad's farm. He took him inside, planning to bury him later and after a few minutes in the warm house he felt him barely move. So two hours later when he came home with this tiny bundle in his shirt, Chance was wide awake and acting like a normal kitten. He had severely frostbitten back feet that when they healed were a good inch or two shorter than they should be, but otherwise he is hearty and totally adorable. I would say normal, but none of my critters are normal. He also talks, and talks, and talks, but his words are all kitty language, no human words like Sam. At least not yet.

I'm Just Sayin'...

Ok, so I've been told the link I provided is dead, so I'll just reprint the article instead. Now maybe my comments might make sense. LOL!

"Republican officials said yesterday that they are considering delaying the start of the GOP convention in Minneapolis-St. Paul because of Tropical Storm Gustav."




Is it karma when ‘Voodoo Christians’ pray up the wrong storm?
By The Seminal
(originally published at MWC News

Lord have mercy.

What have we done? That’s what Voodoo Christians must be asking themselves. It’s one thing to pray up a storm. It’s quite another to make God’s dart hit the bulls-eye.
In case you missed it, Focus on the Family’s self-appointed prophet-jester, Stuart Shepard, released a video on or about Aug. 8, urging Christians to pray for “rain of biblical proportions” in order to drown out Barack Obama’s climactic acceptance speech at the Democratic National Convention in Denver.

I’m not saying the Lord had other plans.

But as I write this, Tropical Storm Gustav is bearing down on New Orleans, or somewhere close. It could hit Houston or Panama City, Florida. Meanwhile, dozens of counties in that land of hanging chads have been declared disaster areas, thanks to floods which drenched the entire state last week. Seems smiting folks with rain and winds “of biblical proportions” is not an exact, um… science.

Meanwhile…
That hoary old medicine show known as the Republican National Convention is moving toward its rendezvous in the aptly dubbed Twin Cities, where those “twins” of bad policy, George W. Bush and John McCain will spin the truth faster than you can say “Brownie, you’re doin’ a heckuva job.”

Lots of folks are invoking Katrina and Rita, twin ballerinas that spun through New Orleans and Houston, respectively, starting with Katrina almost exactly three years ago as this is written.

Democrats are basking in the afterglow of a stupendous and sunny convention—one that surely set a new standard for conventions to come. Packed stadium, sunshine, good music, Stevie Wonder and people dancing.

Amazing unity is on display among Democrats, with both Clintons, Al Gore, Joe Biden, Michelle Obama, Ted Kennedy and others basking in praise for speeches delivered like manna from heaven.

Or was that red meat they served up? Whatever it was, the media’s feasting on it. Few Democratic stalwarts pulled their punches in Denver. (At last! An answered prayer). Nearly all the speakers lit into the sad and destructive Bush legacy, giving pundits choice phrases to chew on, such as this one from Obama: “You know John McCain likes to say he will follow Osama bin Laden to the gates of hell, but he won’t even follow him to the cave where he lives.”

As for Shepard, liberal stalwart Keith Olbermann named him the “Worst Person in the World” for his Voodoo Christian video and enough sensible Christians–you know, the kind who follow Jesus’ actual teachings–protested so that the video was taken from the Focus on the Family website. Still, it’s widely available at YouTube.com.

From this distance, it all has the makings of a perfect storm for a Grand Old Party that’s living up to its nickname–at least the middle part.

It’s certainly old.

Even the addition of youthful Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin can’t disguise that. Her stated position against saving polar bears and other critters paints her as a just another dinosaur living off the land in the party of the carbon-filled and species-declining past.

It’s all so crazy that people who believe in Voodoo Christianity–you know, Shepard, Focus on the Family, Pat Robertson and their ilk–must be having serious bouts of cognitive dissonance just now.

Could it be Gustav hit the wrong convention? Could it be God intended to dump on the GOP?

Republican officials and the media are taking Gustav so seriously that the Washington Post, in its Aug. 29 edition reported the following:

“Republican officials said yesterday that they are considering delaying the start of the GOP convention in Minneapolis-St. Paul because of Tropical Storm Gustav, which is on track to hit the Gulf Coast, and possibly New Orleans, as a full-force hurricane early next week.

“The threat is serious enough that White House officials are also debating whether President Bush should cancel his scheduled convention appearance on Monday, the first day of the convention, according to administration officials and others familiar with the discussion.

“For Bush and Republican presidential candidate John McCain, Gustav threatens to provide an untimely reminder of Hurricane Katrina. A new major storm along the Gulf Coast would renew memories of one of the low points of the Bush administration, while pulling public attention away from McCain’s formal coronation as the GOP presidential nominee.”

OK, folks, three quick caveats.

The notion of a storm bearing down on the Gulf Coast this week is funny only if you’re far away. So if you have an urge to pray for something, how about a prayer that nobody drowns due to Gulf storms?

Let’s get real. I don’t believe God stirred up Katrina in order to smite gays, just as he never spun out Rita to smite Texas oil companies, so please eschew Voodoo Christianity. I will never believe the weather is a purveyor of Divine Justice.

As a purveyor of poetic justice, however, it manifestly holds possibilities.

Don Williams a contributing editor at MWC is a widely published columnist, short story writer, and the founding editor and publisher of New Millennium Writings, an annual literary anthology…

Clutter and Critters

Ok, so I was told today that I NEVER update this blog so nah, nah, nah, you're so wrong. I've been busy lately, trying to get rid of stuff in the attic, in the living room, every darn where. It's not like I haven't had a garage sale and unloaded an obscene amount of junk, I mean, valuable possessions I no longer had use for. I swear, I have no idea where all of this crap, uh, treasured items come from. Anyway, gave a bunch of stuff away Sunday so I'm feeling a little lighter already.

Also been dealing with a sick kitty. Poor Patrick isn't doing well and it tears me up everytime I have to deal with one of my gang being sick, especially if the odds are it's not going to turn out well. I've done cat rescue for years and losing one is never easy. With some of the ones I have in my outdoor sanctuary I knew early on that they were FeLV positive and that the day would come when they were too sick to have any kind of quality of life. I lost five cats within a two month span a few years ago (three were leuk. cats, one a rescued sickly kitten, the other a nearly 17 year old I'd had since she was a wee baby). It's always hard. And Patrick is a special boy. He was abandoned at a shelter and nearly grieved himself to death before and for a while after we took him out. He definitely had been someone's pet, he was neutered, declawed and quite a lover boy. We have no idea if his owner died or if he was just a burden that his family refused to deal with anymore, either way he didn't understand any of it. It took a while for him to stop moping and decide life was pretty good around here, with food o'plenty, a sunny enclosure to nap or chase bugs and a few humans to wrap around his not-so little paws. Say a little prayer for my big boy that he has some more time to savor the things he loves.

Getting Things Done - or at Least Started

Been having a computer problem all day but I think I've fixed it. Not sure how, but something along the way must have worked because I can actually get online now! Go me!

Finally painted my office too! No, my work didn't quite look like the picture here, but the amount of splatter on my clothes and the floor were close. Once I get past the procrastination of actually gathering everything needed I really enjoy the process of seeing the new color go up, and even have fun doing the precision work of cutting in. What I do hate is the prep work - the cleaning, the taking down pictures, moving furniture around and especially the covering everything so I don't fling paint everywhere. I'm pretty good about the first three things; (btw, had a good friend once that painted her living room and when I helped her move discovered she'd painted AROUND all the decorations on the wall!) I do make sure I paint every surface, even behind things that won't get seen cuz I'm kinda anal that way. I used to be worse, much, much worse, so I'm doing well for a recovering perfectionist.

I've figured out that there is no such thing as perfection and I'm learning to live with striving for excellence instead. And with an old Midtown house it would be an anomaly to find an entirely straight or smooth wall (I know, I've looked) so it's much more mentally soothing to just embrace the imperfections, call it "character" and get on with my life. I'll post pics of my improved office as soon as I get my new camera and figure out how to use it. But I will admit the paint job isn't too shabby, not too shabby at all. It's a step in the right direction anyway and it's a lot more pleasant to be up there now with the walls a buttery yellow instead of the depressing swamp green (what HAD I been thinking??) Or maybe it's just the lingering paint fumes that have me so giddy.

A Pet's 10 Commandments

A Pet's 10 Commandments

1. My life is likely to last 10-15 years. Any separation from you is likely to be painful.
2. Give me time to understand what you want of me.
3. Place your trust in me. It is crucial for my well-being.
4. Don't be angry with me for long and don't lock me up as punishment. You have your work, your friends, your entertainments, but I have only you.
5. Talk to me. Even if I don't understand your words, I do understand your voice when speaking to me.
6. Be aware that however you treat me, I will never forget it.
7. Before you hit me, before you strike me, remember that I could hurt you, and yet, I choose not to.
8. Before you scold me for being lazy or uncooperative, ask yourself if something might be bothering me. Perhaps I'm not getting the right food, I have been in the sun too long, or my heart might be getting old or weak.
9. Please take care of me when I grow old. You too, will grow old.
10. On the ultimate difficult journey, go with me please. Never say you can't bear to watch. Don't make me face this alone. Everything is easier for me if you are there, because I love you so.

Take a moment today to thank God for your pets. Enjoy and take good care of them. Life would be a much duller, less joyful experience without God's critters. We do not have to wait for Heaven to be surrounded by hope, love, and joyfulness. It is here on earth and has four legs!

Foster babies above, and April, one of my brood.

Night of the Living Cicada

Normally I'm not creeped out by bugs (roaches and stingy insects aside) and I've even come to like the alien-looking little cicadas that torment my cats by hanging on the screen door. If I'm outside and the little critter's within reach, I'll grab it (cuz I so love the "screamers") and then let it on its way. This usually entails about 60 seconds of screeching, fluttering, dive-bombing and body-slamming against anything in its path (including me). National Geographic style entertainment for the easily amused city-folk (me again).

So Sunday night I see one stuck on the door and my cats are gathered 'round like they've discovered the Holy Grail. I fight my way through the crowd and outside and grab the little fellow (nope, no screamer, which I'll be thankful for later) and let him loose so the cats can get their jollies watching him go nuts. After he pops me in the head about 5 times I decide I have discovered the rare kamikazee cicada and I'd better seek cover before he took me with him.

After getting successfully inside, teeth brushed, alarm on, I slide onto the cool sheets and flip off the tv. Ah, finally a chance to close my eyes, and...oh, crap! I sit up, brushing away the foreign thing clinging to my hair; a whoosh of wings and leaping cat bodies converge around me and I jumped up, flipped on the light, clawing at my hair to make sure IT wasn't still there. The crazy cicada had made his point. I didn't scream. Honest. Of course, had this particular little insect been the screeching kind you might have been sending flower arrangements and having to think of something nice to say about me.

So, after cracking up laughing at my "near-fatal" encounter, I found the terrified creature (clinging to the edge of my bed) before the cats did and released him back outside. I made sure he was buzzing the porch light before I could rest easy. Apparently the little prankster had been riding in my hair like an E.T. barrette until I plopped my big ole head on top of him (now who's laughing you bug-eyed freak?)

Only me.

Music or No Music?

Trying out the playlist thingy, just have one song cuz I figured any more than that is obnoxious. Time will tell if I leave it up or get annoyed with it myself.