We have been helped greatly by the grey interloper

“It is always easier to knit when your instructions are underneath an impenetrable, fuzzy, breathing wall. Cats know this. Knitters need to accept this.” Thus spake the Cat with great gravitas.

Quote the knitter, “Ack! Get out of my way! Stop playing with my stitch markers.”

[Purring from the cat. Then he hops off the bag with the knitting*, the instructions, and my knees, his work done.]

*Yes, that’s the Honeycomb vest and its instructions, waiting for me to be able to find out what I did wrong. I’ve knit the same 5 rows over and over again. If this piece doesn’t work, it won’t be for want of trying and then dawdling.

Cats forgive slowly

They hold resentments, flicking

Tails:  children on a hot day

Kicking at the steps.

Demanding ice cream.

Embracing drawn-out disdain. – © rn, WordTapestry, 2009

[we had visitors, including 2 small boys with light-up sneakers. Oh, the poor cats.]

Cats and the new toy

I got a new camera, and so far all I’ve managed to do is annoy the cats with the bright light.

The Eyes of Reproach

Think she’ll forgive me?

November Reading

1. Tuesday I plan to read then cast my ballot. Lots of things besides the Presidential elections where I live, so it’s getting confusing. If you’re reading this, get out and make your voice heard. Me, I’m going to puzzle over the voter’s guide tonight while eating some ice cream.
2. I just finished a book, called Dewey, by Vicki Myron with Brett Witter. It’s a true story about a cat, a small-town library, and the changes that can happen when there’s a small change in a public space. There were tears at the end, but this has been an amazing story of a kitten rescued from a library drop box after a cold, winter night. Definitely worth a look-through at the library. Of course, I feel a bit through the wringer, since the book covers the librarian’s life, as well as the long life of Dewey Readmore Books. The link for the Spencer Library mentions that the cat has a facebook page, which seems odd. [If you want to look at totally unrelated cats lounging in the sun, etc, check out the Pumpkin-Patch blog here.]
3. I’m on to my next book, Maxim Chattam’s The Cairo Diary. I think a blogger from Europe, perhaps DGR, mentioned it and I’m thrilled to find it in my library. It looks like a pretty dark mystery. But what can you expect from a book that has the following lines in the prologue?

“The damaged monuments were dotted among more modest tombs. They were disproportionate in size, buildings of several stories surmounted by dizzy cupolas and flanked by silent minarets; they had courtyards, fountains that had forever run dry, spacious loggias, and everywhere those darkened openings, accoladed windows or holes designed to play with the light.

All at once the sand in the streets whirled up and was borne away by the dusk wind.”

I’m looking forward to finding out how Cairo of 1928 connects with Mont-Saint-Michel in 2005. I’m hoping that the book isn’t too thriller-ish. If it is, I’ll probably close the text and move on to Agatha Christie.

oh-mi-gawd AM

His Most Serene and Annoying Fluffybutt

This morning I got up at “oh-mi-gawd” hour to drive the Gardener to the airport. Like it always is at oh-mi-gawd hour, it was dark. No one else on the block was up. Even the construction workers hadn’t arrived to disturb the peace.

With regulations for how early check in is at the airport and the time security takes …. it wound up being 6 AM when I got behind the wheel, somewhat caffeinated. I spent most of the drive thinking, “I can’t believe they allow people to DRIVE this early at these speeds!” Like any other portion of the US near an airport, the highway was filled with trucks delivering fish/flowers/what have you to go on the airline with your luggage. There were also cars trying to break the sound barrier and thread the needle between the trucks. (I actually suspect that bad drivers are a worse hazard to national security than anything else, since they’re the thoughtless source of much fright for drivers.)

Once getting back in my home office before 8:00 AM, I was greeted by evidence of catly displeasure (otherwise known as, “hairball on the stairs”). Lucky for the probable culprit, he’s cute. See above (yes, it’s a rehash photo because the camera isn’t available).

Note: there are higher odds of seeing a juvenile peregrine falcon land in your backyard, near the birdfeeder*, when you do not have a camera. We’ve also had high winds (and some tree limbs down), with amazing shadows and bright lighting for flowers.

I regret not having any pictures, but most of the day has been eaten by a revision.

*So, I wonder if he was looking for takeout?

“D” Is Also for “De Construction”

Nancy Bush Little Child's Sock

In which the construction guys make a mess and loud noises in order to provide small amenities, like basement windows that aren’t rotten. The cats hate all of this.

Yesterday a screen door (heh, another “d” word) was finally put on in the back. We can now finally put panes of glass up to protect the back door (which is made of wood and won’t last forever in the elements). No idea why the back screen door was removed in the first place, unless it was wooden too, and rotting like the basement windows. The cats think the original screen door was removed to allow cat egress [this is false, since they're "supposed to be" indoor cats]. Yesterday evening, much cat crying and screaming about the door happened. I gloated.

The cat meter predicts this is a good day to spend under the bed. After looking at all the dust and debris, I kind of agree.

On the plus side, I’ve been knitting on the Little Child’s Sock from the Nancy Bush book, Knitting Vintage Socks (the second one of a pair). The picture above is of the first one (the second should look remarkably similar).

“C” Is for “Cat(s)”

His Most Serene Fluffybutt enjoying the sun porch

Cat burbling: Here is Malkin, devourer of unusual things (no, seriously: brussel sprouts, rusks [Wheatena], coffee [no cream, thank you], spiders, and nylon) and killer of wasps (he bats them with his ferocious paws without being stung).

He is a night and day tripper. He has to be first, even if it’s to stop suddenly because the light on the ringing phone freaks him out… at which point I trip over him.

There are 2 other cats in the household. But Malkin is the idiot who thinks I’m the alpha cat and he can soak up some of my glory. As if.

He does have many endearing qualities. His fur is very, very soft. He spends mornings curled up on the sofa behind my head while I drink morning coffee (really, he’s jonesing to steal some). He talks. He’s smitten with the 4-year old female cat who’s new (possibly because he can steal her food). He’s possibly the most laid back and friendly to outsiders.

“C” is also for The Circle by Peter Lovesey. I did enjoy this book. Then again, I’ve been trapped in many a Writer’s Club, wishing to gnaw my leg off. This author explores what happens when a speaker at a Writer’s Circle in Chichester ends up dying in an arson fire. Not too much detail for the squeamish. I’m sure actual police officers, detectives, and coroners wouldn’t be very impressed with it, but Lovesey did a better job than some at showing the vanities, weaknesses, and general inventiveness found among a pool of writers.

The other “C” close to my mind: “Construction”. We hates it. [cue Gollum imitation]. This is not construction for my benefit, but it is 3 doors down and very audible. A small, 1-story building is being reformed into a 2-story shop with a parking lot behind it. There is a crew of about 11 men in hardhats, kicking up concrete dust, dropping things on one another, and generally yelling four letter words from 7 in the morning until around 5. There is also a neighbor right next to the construction who spends much of her time in the sun on a folding chair observing everything and adding to the four letter salute. Since I’m unlikely to have air conditioning any time soon, my windows are open and my ears are tired. ‘Nuff said.

Sometimes, Happiness Is Simple

If you’re a cat, happiness is the right size box… just small enough that you can fill it. Make sure you pick a box that lets you rest your head on the edge. You might miss something.

If you’re a knitter, happiness is a lot of yarn (cats like yarn too, come to think of it). And if you’re a writer, happiness is having a lot of yarns, or stories, to tell.

This is where I write about non-work stuff. Look here for stories about what makes life richer: family, cats, knitting, art, and hopefully, creative language play. Happiness shouldn’t be complicated.