Category: Books

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cat lady

it has happened. I have three kittens on my lap or desk, one of them smells like litter box, no one is fessing up, and they will not stop purring. It’s a little kitten circus here. They think typing is for their entertainmentnm m, (ick. Now Ophelia and Delilah are fighting for lap space. And swatting each other’s tails. And — ew, stop that. Licking each other in inappropriate places.

Sisters. (sigh). Whatcha gonna do?

The kids love the kittens except when it’ time to clean the litter box. Why did I know this would happen? I was hopeful…oops, Stinky Norma Jean is back. Licking her paws. Sitting on my typing arm.

Jamaica has had a normal day — eating apples and broccoli and lettuce, drinking, chirping and crawling around the cage wires using its beak as an extra climbing tool. Very clever.

P went back to work today but I think he overdid it — he came home and went straight to bed. I wish I could, too, but still 4 kids and 3 cats to manage for another hour or so. I ditched the Asian feast supper I had planned and made mac & cheese and cut veggies (thanks, Jeannie), plus whatever leftovers they wanted.

Tomorrow is Sun deadline day, lots to do, stories to write but it’s a small paper this week, so maybe it won’t be so intense. Maybe. I need a better context for deadline day — like “no problem.” That’s better than “This day is gonna suck” or “deadline day is awful.” Because then it is.

So tomorrow: no problem.

Bedside reading: I got bored with the bio of Ben Franklin. I read all I wanted to — interesting but ultimately I got tired of reading it. I assume he grows even older and dies. But I stopped when he was about 70. Zzzzz.

Then I was reading The Gospel According to Mary. Gack. It was the basic gospel story, but everything was “she” except Jesus. It was supposed to be this “daring” interpretation but it ended up totally stupid and lame. I dropped that one, too. Then I started reading Rumi, who is delicious, but like rich chocolate — I can read just a little at a time. Now I just started reading The Lost Gospel of Judas Iscariot (these are mostly books I got from the library’s used books sale) and it is very exciting. It’s about the National Geographic Society exploration and search and authentication process of one of these old manuscripts from the 2nd century. Much more exciting than any lame-ass Da Vinci Code b.s. Not that I’m biased or anything.

I know it looks like I’m on a crazy tear with all these religious books — it’s part of the discipline for my Year with the Saints book I’m writing (see other blog), and part of the discipline or the program I’m working on in my women’s group. It’s all good — and remember, discipline doesn’t mean punishment. It means to teach (as in disciples).

Feel free to jog over there and read what I’ve been doing, and fear not. I’m no Phreak. Just a curious, wandering soul on a mission. Kind of like the Blues Brothers.

Back to the kittens, asleep on my lap. And Daughter #3 wants a turn on the computer. Happy days, Faithful Readers.

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happy birthday, Mom

It’s my mom’s birthday today. Happy birthday, Liz!

We’re on hyper-early deadline because of the holiday so I ran about a lot over the weekend and today, including ice runs and pill charting and snapping pix and writing stories that ROCK. I found out at about 5 or 6 p.m. that Youngest Girl has a project due tomorrow — making crêpes for the whole class. Surprise! Another trip to the store to get more eggs, milk, and the stuff with which to fill crêpes: Nutella (mmmmmmmmmmmmm), bananas, chocolate sauce and whipped cream. I am guessing she gets an A. We mixed the batter (she did it with guidance) and then had two pans going at once on the stove. There are 30+ kids in the class so we doubled the batch. Ack. By the end, she had the wrist motion down to making the crêpes. I’m proud of her.

Middle Daughter (the eldest in the house) managed to make dinner for the family while I was working a bit late. She cooked up some quesadillas with salsa and sour cream, refried beans and mixed squash (frozen from our garden — zukes and yellow crooknecks). All the kids plus one friend (the partner in crime for the crêpe project) ate. I had eaten a nasty burger earlier in the afternoon, thinking I was a-work until 10. But we finished almost everything, except for the three stories I have to write tomorrow before noon, ha fricking ha, and we closed the office up. I was home by 7, and that’s no lie.

I’m reading The Long Winter (part of the Little House series) to the Boy, and my but it makes one feel grateful. No e-mail, no heat, no way to get around, trapped in the depressing cold and dark for months — starving. They had faith, and they persevered. It’s a book to read when you want to feel empowered by the American spirit. What fortitude — they were buoyed along by the hope that spring would come, by old Scots songs and hymns, knitting in the dark, twisting hay to burn, grinding the wheat, waiting for the sun to come and the wind and snow to stop. Are there such blizzards today? How can we survive them? Why does nobody freeze to death or get lost in the snow these days? (Snow-birds, please explain this to me.)

Somehow, some day, I will visit all those sites, and somewhere in my brain there’s a book percolating. Little House at the Point, maybe. Little House on the Island.

Maybe.

Other than that, I am reading Rumi and he is blowing my mind, what little I have left. And trying to keep up on the writing of several books, har de freaking har. This is a short week, though, and we finish the paper and then stop for a few days’ rest. Can’t wait. Zzzzz.