"Might As Well Be Walking On The Sun"

It's been ... a bit warm ... at home lately.  The kind of heat where you find yourself sweating just from sitting still.  The kind of heat that takes away your appetite and your desire to DO anything.  I've found myself saying "nahhhh ... I don't really want to brush my hair right now.  I'll wait until it cools down a bit."

"Oh come on", you say as you read this.  "You just are not used to the heat is all.  You're soft from all that West Coast living.  You clearly can't just roll with the temperatures like the rest of the country."

Yeah?  Fuck.  You.

It was 92 when I stepped out of the shower last night at 9:30pm.

92 ... at 9:30 at NIGHT.  Which means it had cooled down to 92.

The felines are fine.  They were of primary concern (of course) and honestly they got the best end of this situation.  One has been living downstairs in the coolness of the basement and the other has a whole air-conditioned home to herself.  The Awesome Boyfriend and I tried to make it work on Tuesday night as we settled into our bedroom but sleep wasn't gonna happen.  So we split things up and slept solo, on top of beds, with fans directly on us.  I managed to get about 4 hours of sleep and I could only hope that the Awesome Boyfriend did the same or better.

Last night we were smarter ... we took a note from our happy feline friends and slept in their territories.  While I was a bit slow in stretching and bending this morning (from sleeping so low to the ground), I woke only because I heard the Awesome Boyfriend coming through the door.  And kudos to my feline buddy too - who let me get some much needed sleep (in between licking my elbows and playing with her white mousie a few times during the night).

We'll replay the scene tonight (even 'tho the weather dorks say the heatwave has broken) and sweet relief will arrive tomorrow.  How do I know this?

Because when the repairman arrives to fix our central air, I'm taking the keys to his truck and he's won't be going anywhere until the unit is fixed or completely replaced.  Period.

And THAT'S how "West Coasters" roll.  Word to your mother.  Peace out.

Still going with "White Kitty"

Quite awhile ago, I wrote about "white kitty".  A quick check here shows my first mention was probably this.  A LOT has happened since that time.  Shiloh has happened.  Tom has happened.  But, on the White Kitty front, I'm very pleased with what has and with what has NOT changed.

White Kitty is still an outside cat.  She still has her own schedule.   She still can be somewhat timid.  I now really think, 'tho, that White Kitty already has regular care-givers.  Her coat, despite the rain, remains mud-and clump-free.  Her ears seem to stay fairly clean.  Her paws, even, are pretty tidy.  The biggest change has been her giving me her trust.  She now connects my arrival with food and attention and responds as 'tho she welcomes my being there.  There are scritches behind the ears.  There are brushings.  There are times when she just needs to climb onto my lap and stare into my face.

She appears to be healthy.  She has a working "purr box".  She's tolerant of the birds as they gather just outside her reach.  She is a good weight and seems to have no difficulty seeing or hearing.

Why would I bring that up?

Well did I mention her striking good looks?

As an animal lover, I find beauty in most creatures.  As a cat caregiver, I can recognize the differences in their faces.  But seriously this is a GREAT looking cat. And - interestingly enough - she's probably the most panther-faced house cat I've seen ever.  When I see her straight-on like this, she reminds me of the Pink Panther cartoon.  She's got very angular features.  If she were human, she'd probably have supermodel cheekbones.

She's also become quite a talker ... sometimes short gruff meows like Tom used and sometimes I swear she's just muttering to herself.

Anyway, I just figured since I hadn't shared her here since October that it was time.

This Isn't Closure. This Is Just Death.

Not surprisingly the news has been saturated with just one topic.  No, I don't mean the Royal Wedding.

I'm not a pacifist, though I believe in peace.  I'm not a liberal, though I admit that I lean that way more with each passing year.  I believe in karma more than revenge.  I believe in justice more than judgment.  I believe it takes more courage to walk away than it does to stay and fight.

It's a murky pond I swim in, I realize, and I'm only treading water.

I guess I believe that there's no such thing as a winnable war, that two wrongs make two wrongs, that might is nearly never right, and that an eye for an eye means, at best, that we'd all lose our depth perception.

From the interviews I've read, even those who were AT the Twin Towers or families who lost members are all nearly in agreement that the wound hasn't healed or eased with the recent actions taken by the US.  Perhaps that is something that only the passing of time can provide.  Perhaps it never heals at all.

At some point, I just know that I'd like to see someone step onto high ground and say "yeah, we could display the body or photos, but - out of *human* respect - we're choosing not to."

But, honestly, I don't believe that any being currently in a role of power has that much courage.


No wrap up today ... just brain-drippings.