Saturday, May 25, 2013

Well, It's About Time

Yes. Don't get me wrong, I think it's wonderful and I am ALL for it. But I also think it's wonderful that this isn't the top news story. Some pro sports player also recently came out... and (for the most part) nobody cares. Some other, retired, pro sports player came out, realized no one cared, and went back to playing soccer. And that is really wonderful. It's not a big deal anymore because we're a more accepting society. Yay us.

It's the same reason I'm not making a big deal out of Thing 1's "promotion" to middle school. You completed fifth grade. You met expectations. Congrats or whatever, but don't look for a trophy. (I am proud of her for a thousand really good reasons - just, not impressed with her completion of fifth grade).

So, congrats to the Boy Scouts, they're revolutionizing- oh. No, they're not. They're just meeting expectations. But they're not even doing that yet - leaders still have to stay in the closet.

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

My Car Is Not Broken

I grabbed my purse, my lunch, my cardigan, my keys and... No.

I couldn't leave for work. My car was broken. David would have to drive me (and he was eons from being ready!). It broke last night. In low gear, it quietly ground to an engineless stop, and in high gear it coughed and spluttered a lot, like not all the pistons were firing all the time. It did this yesterday, when I was driving in that hilly part by the kids' school... No.

I didn't drive by the kids' school last night.

I had made it to the stairs to tell the husband that he'd have to drive me in, that my car was broken, before I remembered: It was just a dream.

The thing it was telling me almost certainly has got nothing to do with my automobile.

Saturday, May 18, 2013

On Cats

Screamy, the family cat
I have five cats, so if you can't keep up with which cat is which, I can't blame you - I can only keep up most of the time. That's how Screamy got her name. Ursa's babies were about 2 weeks old and at that noisy phase, but one of them was significantly noisier than the others, so I asked my then-stay-at-home husband which kitten was the screamy one, because she was always screaming, she was so screamy!.. And there you have it. She's still plenty noisy, but she's also the Scream-puff and when she's all up in the computer, she's the i-Scream. She's the family cat - she's always in the middle of whatever we're all doing.

One of my favorite cats is Ginger, so named because she's so lithe and light on her feet. She's Screamy's opposite, in that she has no meow - just a strangled little cry when she really needs to, but mostly a silent, mouthed "meow." (There was one time she was stuck in a closet and let out this loud, clear, alto meow. She must have been really scared; I've never heard it before or since).

Even super-tough ninja cats need naps.
And cuddles. And blankies.
She's a superb climber, and an even better hunter; I don't think she eats cat food more than a couple times per week. My mom pointed out that she is almost eerily silent. Between the silence, the climbing, the killing, and the muteness, she is the Ninja-cat, or Ninja-Ginger.

My old Siamese is cranky and sleepy. He smells like an old cat; not bad, just... it's different. Sometimes, I can smell stale cat-breath where he washed himself.

Ginger is the best-smelling cat. She smells like woods and wild and musky and dusty and sun-dappled grass and cool, under-a-fern darkness. It's one of my top-three, all-time-favorite smells.