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Posts Tagged ‘cats’

I am on vacation.  That is, I have a bit of time off between my summer job and the opera.  I am spending it by cleaning up the cat hair and cat gack that accumulated in my apartment over the summer.  That and napping.

Yesterday I accomplished part of my to do list by cleaning and mopping the bedroom and hallway.  Then I set out to run a few errands, kitchen restocking and whatnot.  I also planned to stop by the opera and check on some things and use the internet since I cancelled mine before I left and I needed to print out some receipts and that’s not possible at the other places where I can get online.  Then I was going to meet up with the Friday night knitters.

At the opera, my key would not turn in the lock.  This is not unusual because the door is out of whack.  But, it wouldn’t work in the other door either.  No access for me.  It is now past 5pm and if people are still there I don’t want to disturb them since I am not on contract yet anyway.

I head to knitting instead.  The coffee place we meet at is empty of knitters and there is no reserved sign on our table.  I am hot and bothered.  I order a smoothie and check Facebook on my phone.  Knitting cancelled.  I also attempt to check my opera email but either the password has been changed or I simply can’t type it in correctly on my teeny tiny phone keyboard.  Another fail.

I drive home.  It is hot and I have been in California all summer where it is hot but not so unbearably muggy.  My car works better if I don’t use the air conditioning in city traffic so I have the windows down, sweltering and breathing in car exhaust from the other vehicles.

Once at home, all I want to do is lie down in my cool apartment.  I proceed to the bedroom with it’s newly clean floor and behold:  fresh cat gack.

Clearly I was just supposed to stay home and nap.

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Any one person’s attempt to define Art would undoubtably be different from any other person’s.  Since this is not a research paper I did not consult the dictionary or Sister Wendy. It’s just hard to define.   All I can say for sure about it is that someone had to make it.  Which could equally apply to a plastic Parsons Table circa 1970 or a Rodin sculpture.  Then there’s the question about whether or not it has to be designed or executed by a human.  Are the paint spatterings of a chimp art?  Do images randomly generated by a computer count?

Careful- you don’t know how the computer feels about that issue.

The bottom line is that it’s usually about how it makes us feel.  If it ignites something in the beholder.  If it allows one a glimpse into the mind and soul of the artist.  If through the work we can share however remotely in another’s experience of being human.  It makes one feel both a separate individual with unique perceptions and a member of a group with shared experience.

Well, I know how I feel about this:

Since the artist is not human I can only guess what was in her mind when she created this.  I only know that this was accomplished very shortly after I left for California.   This was not a shared experience although I provided the medium- a new scratching pad- before I left.  I don’t normally have to put out  a new one for at least 6 months but this time the muse struck and the damage work was created in a mere 2 weeks.  I am making the assumption that she was bored.

Which makes me wonder:  How much great Art was produced solely because the artist was bored?

I tinker all the time with this and that when I’m bored.  Sometimes something worthwhile comes out of it.  Sometimes it’s just a pastime with nothing to show for it.  Sometimes the result is interesting but I can’t decide on an application for it at the time.  Usually I get tired of looking at it, storing it, feeling guilty that I spent time and materials on something I’ve never used and then it gets tossed or donated or otherwise leaves my possession.

This is one of those things:

That is, the center embroidery is.  I was playing around with cross stitch sometime in the 80’s and this was the result.  I recall that I just started stitching- no plan or chart, completely randomly until I realized there was a pattern forming.  When it got this big I stopped.  Really I stopped because I was tired or had to eat or something. It has sat in my embroidery bag for over 25 years until this week I pulled it out and used it to embellish a silk covered box I was making.  That box has been on my project list for quite a while.  (Though not as long as the embroidery has been waiting to be used.)

I now feel virtuous (it’s recycled) and accomplished (cross that item off the to do list) and oh yeah, artistic.

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So I knew I was right not to make plans for this year.  Nothing could be more unpredictable  than a major earthquake in a place that only gets them once in a great while.  Nothing could be more heartbreaking and unbelievable that with so many resources available to help, help can’t seem to get to where it is needed.

A lot of other things seem to be up in the air too or on hold or tabled for the time being so I am just here slogging along.

The opera is doing Aida.  It’s a slogfest.  127 people, endless fittings, and every time you turn around there’s another person who needs a costume.

I have not yet put any music on my Touch.  This is a source of great amusement to my friends.

I’m knitting the Noro striped scarf but since I don’t really like Noro much I’m using Crystal Palace Mochi and some Cascade 220.  I’m calling mine That Scarf That’s Not Noro.   When I finish it I’ll post pictures.  I have about 15 more inches to knit before I run out of yarn or about 18 more inches to make it the perfect length.  I was happy with it, knitting along, watching the color changes until….

I got startitis.  I assessed the state of my stash and decided it scared me.  The only cure is to knit something from it.  Several hours Some time with the Ravelry pattern base gave me ideas.  Now I want to cast on for 20 or so things simultaneously and  a simple little scarf with cool color changes isn’t as satisfying as it used to be.

However, there are some who can enjoy themselves in spite of gloomy weather and bad news.  All it takes is a new toy:

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Some cats, I understand, like to fling cat litter out of the box.  Some disdain to use the box if the level of cleanliness offends them in any way, preferring the closet floor or even the laundry basket.  Imp, however, is a digger.  Some days I really think she believes that she can dig all the way to China.  What she plans on doing there is anyone’s guess.

Did you ever try to dig to China?  My  childhood playmate, Melanie, was convinced by her older brother Jimmy that this was indeed possible and the two of them spent three whole summer days- from just after breakfast til too dark to see- trying to accomplish this while I stood on the side lines.   I had no doubt that a hole straight thru would come out in China (although directly opposite central California, I think, is actually  somewhere near the Seychelles) but I was quite skeptical about their ability to dig that far.  Plus, I had superior information- I knew the Earth’s center was boiling hot and they’d never survive the trip thru and said so, repeatedly.   It got deep enough that Jimmy was having some difficulty climbing out of the hole and hauling the dirt up and out was backbreaking.  Ultimately though , it wasn’t lack of enthusiasm that killed the project- Melanie’s father got tired of having big hole and a mound of dirt in his front lawn and  made Jimmy fill it in.

 Anyway, this morning the sounds of excavating coming from the cat  box had nothing to do with a finding a new route to China.  No, it turned out Imp had built something that looked suspiciously like a sandcastle, heaped up and sculpted on one side of the box, waiting for a big wave to wash it away.  I had no idea she was so creative.

 It’s been a very rainy spring here which is a blessing after several years of drought.   It also makes the spring particularly beautiful and lush.

                  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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8 am:

Imp: UGH, there’s no place to poop.  It all smells.  It’s all full.   dig,dig,dig  UGH,  just how am I suppose to cope with this?  dig,dig,dig  This is disgusting.  dig,dig,dig.  

Lilith:  Just do what I do- perch on top, do your business, and don’t bother to cover it up.  Let her take her care of it.

Imp:  Can’t, must dig, must find clean stuff to cover.  dig,dig,dig 

9 am:

Imp:  dig,dig,dig

9:30 am:

Imp:  dig,dig,dig

10 am:

Imp: dig,dig,dig

10:30 am

Imp:  I can’t believe you are making me get out of the bathroom.  I’m trying to cover up that nasty smell here and you’re not helping any. 

Wait… what’s this in the hallway?  Sniffs opening in box of litter.  Smells like…. Yes!  It’s clean stuff.   Ahhh…. Ooooo…can I get in there?  Walks round box, sniffs again.  How do I get into that box?  Paws opening, sniffs again, circles box, tries to put head in box, sits back, ponders.

No.  You’re not really chasing me away from this too.  What?  You want me to implode?

Ahhhh…..  finally.  Out with the old, in with the new.  What’s this?  Sniff, sniff, sniff- smells wrong, too clean.  I’ll just dig down to the very bottom  and get all that nice clean stuff spread all over, dig, dig, dig, out on the floor, dig, dig, dig, tracked down the hall…  then, add some new Imp smell.  There, that’s better.


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I’ve turned the thermostat in my apartment down to 62 degrees.  That’s because last month my gas bill was higher than I budgeted for and I can’t have that. 

Suffice it to say, that it’s a little chilly and the cats have become very cuddly all of a sudden.

This morning I learned why the bill was higher last month.  Imp has been covering the floor vent in the living room with her supine body.  Probably all day while I’m away.  That’s  the room the thermostat is in.  That means that room never gets warm enough for the heater to stop running and it runs and runs and runs and the bill gets higher and higher.  Imp, the little sucubus, has been stealing the heat needed for  the household to keep her tummy warm. 

I’d like to believe that she doesn’t realize, that she’s just a cat, but I know her too well.  I know she somehow figured out that it wasn’t just a warm place to sleep but also that she could keep the furnace going by sleeping on the vent all day.  It’s obvious from the way she flattens her whole body out over the vent.  The selfish @#$%%!

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I have been stockpiling food since summer.  It just seemed like a smart thing to do what with the price of gas, the economy and so forth.  I wanted to have a little cushion just in case.

Since then, I’ve been trying to keep stocked up- replacing what I use from my store.  That includes keeping a back up bag of cat food.

My cats are not on board with this agenda.  In their minds, the food available right now might be all there is ever and they will eat as much as they can hold and then some if given the opportunity.  This is the wisdom they gained from their former life on the street.  That’s why I not only store the open bag in a sealed container- I put the unopened back up bag inside a garbage bag, seal that up and put the entire thing in a cupboard.

Only tonight I came home, put food in their bowls, and then saw this:

 

They opened the cupboard door.  They chewed through the garbage bag.  They chewed through the end of the food sack- the part where it’s folded over on itself and several layers thick- ate their fill, and they had the greediness to eat the food I gave them too.

There is now no place in my spaced challenged apartment they can’t get into.  There is no storing of cat food possible.  

I hope you know what this means, girls.  If I run out of money you’ll have to make do with cereal.

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