Raisins for Breakfast

Yum! I love adding raisins and sunflower seeds to my plain breakfast yogurt. A few weeks ago, after I'd finished scraping out my breakfast bowl, I noticed a raisin had escaped and was lying on the tablecloth.

Not wanting to waste, I picked it up and bit through it with my incisors - to my absolute and utter horror, I discovered that it wasn't a raisin. I spat it out and bellowed aloud in disgust, wiping the specimen off on the side of my bowl. It was unbelievably FOUL - I had picked up a cat dingleberry (SLANG: a small piece of poop that had clung to the cat's butt and fallen off elsewhere), and bitten into it (obvious evidence of a cat having been UP on my table). Disgusting. Nauseating. Never mind "murder most foul,' this was "flavor most foul" (hat tip to Shakespeare's Hamlet).

I ran into the bathroom and squirted soap directly into my mouth with some water, raging inside as I swirled and spat, swirled and spat, getting anything and everything out of my mouth. NEVER have I tasted anything SO BAD. Next I got a bottle of whiskey, took a swig, rinsed and spat, then another swig, with more swirling and rinsing until my mouth was tingly with booze. The smell and taste of cat poop remained with me all day and made me feel quite sick (I can 'taste' it now as I write this - my sensory memory is torturing me). So revolting.

This is an incident that has taken me a month to 'get over' enough to write about, and now you may wish you'd never read about it! I'm still embarrassed that I made that disgusting mistake, and don't know if I'll ever live this one down. I'm hoping though, that having written about it (and having made a whole meal of the incident), I can put it behind me and move on (almost like an exorcism) ... now that I've polluted all your minds! Apologies.

Track-Footed Monster

Today is the anniversary of a most auspicious day - it's the last time I gave birth, 32 years ago, and remains oh, so beautifully fresh and memorable. But this day is not about me, so I am trying to move on ...

Allow me this little memory indulgence, though, of a time when I read books out loud to my kids. One story we loved was called "Zooey and Hazel" by Gill Bond (a South African author),

in which the children come across some tracks that they ascribe to a "track-footed monster," which is what immediately came to mind when I saw these tracks in the snow.

It was such a delightfully innocent child's interpretation of our world that has remained with me over the years.

Icicle Teats

Looking at all the icicles and their drips, I kept seeing cow's udders!

I guess cabin-fever has begun to affect me! Ok, so this last one is less udderly.

Cracks

These are cracks in our latest snow, but they also represent 

 the cracks and fissures in my psyche as I impatiently wait for spring to settle in.

These pock-marks mirror my brain riddled with thoughts of a dysfunctional world - I feel so disintegrative and rattled!

The Butter Dish Incident

During Fluffalo and Peep's recent sojourn with us, there were a few instances when we had to leave them alone for a few days. On one occasion, we returned home to this scene:

Not only was the butter dish shattered, but the tablecloth was askew as well. Since the cats wouldn't talk and reveal the truth, no matter what we tried, we ASSUMED that it could only have been Fluffalo, since he's been known to lick butter, such that we had taken to keeping the butter dish closed with an elastic band (still intact in the pic below). We surmised that he'd probably been up on the table, and had been pushing the butter dish along to get the lid off when it reached the end of the table and fell off. 

After speculating for some time, we remembered that we had a security camera that had possibly captured what had actually happened. Before watching it, we gave the cats one last chance to 'fess up, but neither ratted the other out. When we saw the incident play out, we were in fits of laughter - it turns out that Fluffalo was "sort of" innocent after all. Just a clumsy, spooked cat that ended in calamity.

Click on my YouTube link below to watch how it happened (it's very short, just 10 seconds long): I still laugh out loud about it at the oddest moments ... what a silly cat! How could anyone be cross about this?

https://youtu.be/LVgoCgHzl6o

Draped in Winter

Winter's grip persists

We look at snow through cloth drapes

Or at drapes of snow

Could It Be?

Could this beautiful warm sunshine and snowmelt indicate that spring is around the corner?

Oh, would that it were so!

February, you have been a trial! You hold the record for being the longest shortest month ...

Saga after Saga

On the day we relinquished the cats, the drive to Logan was snowy-icy (go figure, it's February), but manageable. After the drop off, we traveled west along Route 2 to Orange to do more kitchen renovations. We started getting pretty miffed that there were plows in front of us, with no space to pass, holding up a procession of cars behind us for miles and miles and miles. It seemed to be a pathetically, excessively slow pace, ranging from 15 to 20 mph, and the slush they were scraping away was minimal, not significant in terms of volume. It was a long, slow crawl, but we were 2nd in line behind the plows, so could at least see what the holdup was.

Finally the plows exited, and we were overjoyed, but at the first corner after that, the car in front of us, doing about 40mph, fishtailed slightly, lost control and spun in a 360°, smashing into the guardrail and bouncing out towards our lane, now at 90° to the traffic! We had also noticed the iciness without the plows clearing the slush, and knew we couldn’t brake in these conditions - all we could do was continue going at a slow, measured pace, and HOPE that the car wouldn't careen into us (we have a NEW car, for goodness sake!). It came to a stop with enough space for us to continue past without impact! It was terrifying – the driver was alert and conscious, not having rolled, but we had such a procession of cars on our bumper that we couldn’t stop. I can only imagine what a concertina effect that would have had on the raring-to-go traffic. Not an experience I’d want to repeat, ever. (no pictures)

Phew! It was so very scary - we needed a stiff drink of brandy when we reached Orange, where the roads were minimally plowed in the low traffic areas. There was also a lot of snow clear up to be done in the time we were there. 

We arrived back home around 10pm, 2 days after the snow, and obviously couldn't park in our own driveway, so we took the liberty of parking at our neighbor's cleared area for the night. The next day, our gas snow plow wouldn't start, no matter what Dale tried - it's at least 13 years old, so I suppose that's good? We shoveled a 'route' through the solid, compacted road/driveway interface, and parked in our carport. It was then time to unpack the car and order a new snow blower (in action in pic below).

And then, after all the unpacking, I couldn't find my Invisalign retainer (specially fitted for my bite) that I'd taken on the trip with me - I remembered lying in bed in the Woburn hotel struggling to sleep, and realizing that I wasn't wearing my retainer, but thought, "oh well, it's okay to miss one day." The next night, in Orange, I realized I wasn't wearing it again, so searched through my bags and belongings without finding it anywhere. I thought that maybe I'd left it on my bed back home and forgotten to pack it after all, so waited till I got home to finish the search - but no luck. The hotel searched through their Lost and Found for me to no avail so now we have a new snow blower and new retainers are being ordered. 

But we are safe and intact, and so is our new car! No more sagas, please ...

Colorful Leftovers

It is said that we eat with our eyes - how fortunate that this assortment of leftovers created such a colorful palette. I guess this lucky coincidence helped these leftovers taste good.

Icy Beauty

Nature's icy maw,

A glittering chandelier -

Or chattering teeth?

Eggsorbitant Eggs

It's a rare occasion that I feel good (eggscited) about paying $4.99 for 18 eggs, but currently that's regarded as a good deal. When you're used to paying $2 or so for a dozen, this seems exorbitant.

I end up spending a lot more time at the egg counter, eggzamining all the prices before choosing. And everywhere I go, it's always a reason for communication with other shoppers, all equally aghast and outraged. Last week the Hannaford check out person congratulated me on my egg-price achievement at $4/dozen. What has this economy come to when I get eggscited about such prices?

Lately, all the best egg prices have been from more up-market sources: free range, cage-free, pasture raised, vegetarian fed, etc so I've strayed into buying these much nicer eggs (round yolks that stand up high, and compact whites that aren't too runny - I'm not eggsaggerating), which are usually way out of my price range.

I'm going to get spoiled! 

Vacancies at the Cat Hotel

My sad and lonely spare bathroom:

 - only traces of cat prints and fluff left behind, but nothing that purrs! How hard it is walking inside and not having kitties to greet you warmly. We miss having a strict supervisor watch us through the window when we clear snow. I find myself wanting to turn and talk to them throughout the day, or I keep noticing small things out of the corner of my eye, looking as if it might be a cat.

Okay, so we can also turn over in bed more easily without disturbing a peacefully sleeping cat, and the litter box no longer needs cleaning. We no longer have to avoid strings and balls lying around on the floor. We can access our basement easily without having to shut the door religiously. But unusual sounds in the night still make us think, "what are the cats up to now?" We miss their presence SO MUCH. They seemed to flesh out our lives into something bigger - that extra bonding and affirmation of life around us was so uplifting. A cat-emptiness has enveloped our home.

When reunited with Lucy, Fluffalo (always thought to be intellectually-lackluster), amazed us by performing ALL the tricks he'd been taught and hadn't practiced in a year, when prompted to do so. Phenomenal! And so impressive.

When Peep realized who Lucy was (it took a few hours), she became the most incredibly mushy, lovey-dovey purring picture of a contented cat imaginable. She continually pushed her head up against Lucy's, and licked her forehead. Very, very sweet and endearing.

Dale took this photo of Fluffalo being forced to cuddle with us - he looks desperate to get away!

I still have stories of the two furry rascals to tell, but I'm waiting till I've recovered!

Fluffalo and Peep had to travel separately from Lucy to NZ under the care of the pet relocation company. They were in separate crates for their 10 hour flight - poor babies. But they have arrived safely in NZ, and in 10 days (after quarantine) they will be back in the arms of their adoring slaves.

Sky Daggers

Not a blown up rocket, nor a jet trail, just an accreting icicle from the carport roof, growing longer with each accumulation of water freezing along it, giving it that bumpy appearance.

This next icicle is masquerading as a tree trunk!

These 3 icicles look ghoul-like to me!

Pine Blast

 

Wind gusts of forty

Strip trees of needles and cones -

Snowy garnishes!

An Exacting Sensitivity

Emily Dickinson's deeply sensitive poetry always wrenches my gut. How exacting and perfect is this way of expressing the value of her life - it's not the length of life that counts, but what you do with the time you have: 

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

(If I can stop one heart from breaking - Emily Dickinson)

If you can show compassion for any other living creature, your life will have been worthwhile.

This other "observation" of hers always catches my breath:

Hope is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

Icy Bubbles

 Mercurial ice -

Bubbles that cling and transform:

Shape-shifting patterns.

Muckraking

Upton Sinclair, born in Baltimore, Maryland, in 1878 worked undercover in a meatpacking plant to research his exposé of labor practices in his work, The Jungle. In addition to writing nearly 100 books on unfair social practices, he was a political activist and muckraker (reform-minded activists during the "Progressive era" - 1890s to 1920s). This quote by him remains relevant:

Variegated Snow

We had a fresh 10 inches of snow a week ago - thank goodness it was light and airy, making it easy to lift and throw. 

Whilst clearing up, I noticed how varied the crystals were this time around, not uniform at all. Some were densely packed, looking like small, solid white balls, and other crystals were spread out with lots of air spaces in and around them.

Quite a mix!

Adieu

These little sweeties' sojourn with us has come to end. Initially shy, reserved and polite, 

these two rascals quickly endeared themselves to our family and every visitor that crossed our threshold (even inspiring their art!),

and became full-on, adored members of our household, making themselves chief supervisors on every project, and insisting on having THE most comfortable spot in the house.

We have now experienced EVERYTHING (and more!) of the detailed introduction that was written about them in advance of their arrival. We have a treasure trove of photos and memories💓 written into our hearts, and we wish them a stress-free flight to their new home.

Lines and Patterns

Snow melting into chocolate éclair shapes 😃 - well, that's what I thought of when I saw them

I'm fascinated by this array of intersecting lines, shadows and differing spacings; can't explain why.

Snowbound

 

No, not a Snow goose, nor a real duck - it's the duck decoy that's been in my yard for ages, up to its neck in snow. We've had multiple small and light snowfalls up until now, making cleanup easy and manageable, but enough cumulatively to leave a snowpack on the ground.

Fractures

Fractures or branches embedded in ice create unique 'landscapes' and patterns everywhere I look.