Crazy Cat Lady

When we got our kitten Mimsy, she meowed, yowled and frantically freaked out all the way home. I was thinking, "oh no, we are getting one of those irritating yowly cats." But once she was home she settled down and into her role as entertainer of the house--either by being psycho kitty and attacking anything that even *thinks* of moving or by curling up in a lap and making us forget psycho kitty.

Anyway, this mornig I had to run a car into Creswell to get some gas and decided that it would be interesting to take Mimsy along for the 8-mile round trip. It is my day off and I was moseying through the day and hey, why not do something unusual. She stayed on my neck most of the time, tensly looking out the window, flinching slightly when a big truck passed us going the other way. The gas station attendent (high school girl) commented on how cute Mimsy was and the coffee kiosk girl said she was a pretty cat. Then it hit me. I was probably being seen as a crazy cat lady. I was well on my way to living in a cottage, trimming my roses and talking to the swarm of cats (all named after greek gooddesses) who twine through my feet all day. Arrgh. That is the last time I take Mimsy to town with me. On a positive note, when we got home she curled up in my lap and purred, appreciating the security of lap and home and promising to never be psycho kitty again.

again

So after a short burst of creativity, my blog lay fallow. Not because I couldn't think of anything to write about but because, well, the usual busyness of life pushed it aside. Not much of an excuse because life seem to be *always* busy. Anyway, so here I go again.

shining like gold but better

It is hard to name a blog. Well at least to me. I wanted something witty, whimsical, not sappy or dull. Not easy to do. I was scrambling to think of quotes I could pilfer from, of wise taglines, of something a little random yet not from the Twilight Zone. When I started thinking of songs, this one popped to mind. Rumours of Glory by my old favroite, Bruce Cockburn (he's Canadian so thus the spelling rumours instead of rumors). I love the thought of something shining through all the tarnishedness of life. For all of our flaws, selfishness, screw ups, there is something manages to flash through "like gold, but better."


Above the dark town
After the sun's gone down
Two vapour trails cross the sky
Catching the day's last slow goodbye
Black skyline looks rich as velvet
Something is shining
Like gold but better
Rumours of glory

Smiles mixed with curses
The crowd disperses
About whom no details are known
Each one alone yet not alone
Behind the pain/fear
Etched on the faces
Something is shining
Like gold but better
Rumours of glory

You see the extremes
Of what humans can be?
In that distance some tension's born
Energy surging like a storm
You plunge your hand in
And draw it back scorched
Beneath it's shining like
Gold but better
Rumours of glory

The Beeping Box

Good thing we live in a small town.

We got a call this morning, shortly before 7 a.m. Ron answered. It was the Creswell post office (!), saying that one of two large boxes addressed to us was "making a loud beeping noise" and "noises in boxes make us nervous." They did not want to deliver it and really wanted us to come get it. Now. Please. I said that our son had sent some boxes home from college and they agreed that it was probably an alarm or something but still. Nervous.

So I headed into Creswell, picked up the beeping box along with the silent box and headed home, glad to avoid Homeland Security and/or Jack Bauer. The boxes had the address (no name) scrawled on them, with the type of scribbly handwriting easily associated with mad bombers and anthrax villains. It all had an air about it like something out of "24"--you know, a type of bomb rigged by a Nefarious Bad Guy who still manages to allow time for the Flawed but Essentially Good Guys to disarm said bomb. I shudder to think of what the Eugene post office people would have done with such a beeping box.

On the positive side, we now have a large box for the chicks, who are a little cramped in their current cardboard abode.

There's nothing quite like country life.

Taking the plunge

I am jounral phobic. You would think that a person who loves to read and write would have no problem writing down her thoughts. Not so. Although journal keeping is highly esteemed for writers, I always felt too exposed writing down my thoughts. But along came blogging and I really enjoy reading some blogs and most of them are funny, often poignant and a kick to read. Hey, I thought, I could do that. And so it starts...