The Accidental Afficianado

This is Midna*. She looks like she has a guilty conscience, doesn't she?

That is probably because a split second before Anna took this picture, she most likely just took a dump behind the couch! Or perhaps she recently peed by the front door...

Charming.

It was when she started leaving *presents* RIGHT NEXT TO THE CAT BOX that we were left with one of the following conclusions:

1. Having never lived with a cat that didn't catch-on to the box within about 10 seconds of being introduced to it, she was obviously severely brain damaged.

2. She was acting out her extreme angst over our blatant favoritism for her little sister.

3. Said angst had rendered her maniacally suicidal.

4. She didn't like the cat litter.


We had always used clay litter until I, on a visit to our local she-she pet boutique, read an article posted right there on the glass of the kitty-love-a-thon room that clay is supposedly very bad for the health of your cat and, not too surprisingly, that of the owner changing the cat litter. Seems the dust gets breathed in and all that wonderful clumping power works its own special brand of Voo-Doo on the dewy-moist lining of the lungs. Also, since cats aren't inclined to hop into the shower with their kitty-sized bar of handmade lavender soap, they also get it into their digestive system where it can wreak havoc.

SO...

Being the ever vigilant cat owner I began a quest for the best non-cat-killing litter I could find to assure a safe potty experience for all our cats, but especially Ashly's soon-to-arrive litter of kittens. ("Cat litter" ... "Litter of kittens." Coincidence? I *seriously* doubt it.)

First, I tried "S'Wheat Scoop" made from ground up wheat kernels. Lovely idea though obscenely expensive. It worked pretty well except for two things: The gluten in the wheat is what makes for the highly-touted "natural clumping action." This is also why you can use flour and water to make GLUE. Not so bad when kitty only piddles in the top inch of the litter, but most cats love to dig... hence, imagine cleaning four cat boxes with sticky pee clumps inexorably adhered to the bottom...

And as if that weren't pleasant enough, the wheat has a smell that one normally associates with food, of course. Nothing is quite so appetizing as the perfume of fresh baked bread slathered in newly minted cat poop. MMMmmmmm YUMMY!

::GAG::

I wasn't willing to do litter "pearls" or any of that chemically, high-tech junk. Please. They're cats. Cats poop in dirt, NOT on a freshly strewn bed of fragrant white marbles.

My last resort was to try "Feline Pine." Basically, it's sawdust that comes in pellets and now, "New Scoopable!" I knew my cats would have a hard time adjusting to pellets and, well, the loose kind just made more sense to me, so I got it.

This stuff is GREAT!! Yes, it tracks, but all cat litter does, really. The thing that is so amazing about it is that we never** smell the cat boxes even when I'm changing them! I think it smells like "new house in progress." You know, the scent of freshly sawed lumber? To me, that's a happy association. The litter clumps really well though, because it is very light, you have to jiggle around the little scooper thing to separate the solids from the clean stuff. Not a huge deal in my book.

So. Here I am, thinking I have struck kitty litter gold! The Old Cat's frequent, spontaneous vomiting had stopped except for when he actually had a hairball (a VERY welcome change, I might add, especially since he spends 99% of his life in our bedroom...) and the other cats took to it immediately. Super!

Bring on the next challenge!

Stupid, stupid girl.

Fast forward to the present. Of Ashly's six fuzzy little offspring, we kept two: Midna and her little sister, Winky. Naturally, there were a few accidents around the house as the kittens were learning the ropes, but someone was exhibiting a severe learning disability! We were never sure exactly who it was, because we never caught her in the act, but had suspected Midna as I had regularly seen Winky leaving the cat box.

I was NEVER without my Kitty Clean-Up Kit within easy reach.

Damned cat.

Finally, timing was on our side and Midna was exposed as the resident vandal. Every time she would slip up, we threw her in the cat box or outside and thoroughly cleaned the accident spot, but she just wasn't *getting it.*

I was sick of spending my *free* moments inhaling kitty fumes.

James, who can hardly stand two magazines resting askew on the coffee table, let alone kitty bombs regularly defiling his domicile, gave me a week to figure it out or Midna would become an outdoor cat. Where we live, given her minuscule size (even at seven months old) and lack of experience in the "wild" this translates directly into "Coyote Food."

Did I say "bring on the next challenge?" Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

It wasn't until I noticed that she would sometimes poop NEXT TO THE CAT BOXES that it hit me. James, in reading about "Feline Pine" when we switched, had mentioned that a certain percentage of cats don't take to it. The pine aroma is just too strong to them or they don't like the way the particles feel between their pads... who knows.

In a last-ditch effort to save this cute, friendly, if *frustrating*, little creature from the maw of a violent, predatory death I decided to try the clay litter again in one cat box.

I put her inside it and dragged her tiny paw across the clay in a hope-filled demonstration of Remedial Cat Box Training 101... "First we scratch the surface..." Clearly oblivious that her very life was at stake, she walked off with a swagger of indifference. My heart sank but I crossed my fingers anyway.

Lo and behold! Since her introduction to the potentially hazardous glory that is clay litter, Midna has not had ONE accident! HALLELUJA!!


We are ALL very relieved.

Yes, I have to clean that particular box out at LEAST once a day or the smell drives me out of the house***. And, while I tried to find the least harmful litter I could, I do hold by breath and turn on a fan when I change it. However, until Midna starts showing signs of ill effects, I will consider the compromise worthwhile as my carpet, the kitty and my marital bliss have been saved.

Scientific conclusion: ratio of cats who love "Feline Pine" to those who would rather risk being eviscerated than use it: 6:1.

Bring on the next...! OH, would you just SHUT UP!!




*Yes, for all you "Legend of Zelda" fans, thanks to James, she is named after Link's impish "Twilight Princess" cohort. I had named her Mojo, but he thought it sounded too masculine. *Whatever*


**Okay, so , when someone has been eating too many mice and you walk by the box after they've just stepped out of it the aroma is, shall we say, pungent... okay, ASSAILANT, but it is soon overtaken by the clean, fresh scent of pine trees!

*** I have the olfactory senses of a freakin' Bloodhound.

This Could Explain The Multiple Contusions and Sketchy Memory

This is why only our 14-year-old cat sleeps inside.

He's too old and fragile to lift any blunt, heavy objects, but will at times resort to the old "knock-over-the-glass-of-water-on-the-night-stand-with-my-head" maneuver.

Can you imagine the carnage if all seven slept inside?!
::shiver::

A Jar Full of Memories

It's the little things. Simple, unassuming objects of everyday life that hold potent powers of recollection.

These make the best gifts. Give me pause. Like snippets of life handed over to be locked in timeless suspension to be visited and cherished. The smells, the sounds, the feelings. Bits of conversations and lessons learned. Warm moments shared that seemed so ordinary at the time, but gain emotional momentum until they are gilt with a sheen of preciousness and longing.

It is in these ordinary objects that I feel my Grandmother. I know I'm not the only one.

Grannee was the kind of woman that made an impression on everyone she met.


She was the embodiment of elegance. The definition of grace. Manners personified.

And just as comfortable milking a cow or working farm machinery as she was hostessing a dinner party for 30 or working in an office downtown or tickling a grandchild.


I could go on. I'm sure you can tell.

Suffice to say, Gran had so much spirit and love in her that, now that she's gone, it makes throwing away anything... even breath mints I found in one of her purses, agonizing and heart-wrenching. About the only things it didn't nearly kill me to pitch were her bank statements from 1984.

Obviously, my mom has similar feelings, but has been working on becoming more callous about such things out of sheer practicality. You can't keep every tube of rancid, coral pink lip stick or butter dish. There just isn't room and they're just THINGS, right?

So, when she read my post about toothpaste, where I mention how Gran kept her salt and soda in an old cold cream jar her heart fell to her stomach. "If I had only known! I think I remember throwing it away thinking, 'well, I guess she won't be needing this anymore.' Now I wish I had it to give you!"

We both sat there trying not to wallow in disappointment. "It never fails..." and all that. Still, I applauded her at letting go of at least ONE thing and reassured her she could never have known that little jar held such vivid memories for me. I didn't really know it myself until I wrote the post.

But, as REMAINS my Grannee's way, she finds the means to get things done, even from the other side. She's an ambitious one. And generous. And kind. And just as sentimental as her girls.

On Sunday, as my mom continued on her never-ending task of sorting though bags and boxes in her garage... guess what magically appeared among the flotsam...


And on Monday, when I walked into my bathroom, it was sitting on the counter.

I shrieked in disbelief. And now, as I write this, my face is wet with tears, thinking of her and how much this single little object brings her close to me again. I feel her arms around me almost tangibly. I miss her so much, but at the moment, I feel like we've had a visit.

This little jar that is older than I am, that she saved because she thought it was pretty. That she held in her hands twice a day in the most mundane of daily rituals, is now a vessel for my tooth powder and my memories. A place for us to meet as I stare at myself in the mirror and wait for my toothbrush to stop buzzing... and remember her as I polish my smile.

I know she likes that. She is very big on good teeth and a bright smile.

Thanks Grannee... and mom... for the treasure.

Nerd Girl Word Freak

Few things give me more geekish pleasure than stumbling across a word that sends me scrambling for my dictionary.

Seriously.

So, there I was, minding my own business when, WHAM! This woman being quoted in an article about how the "Shanghai Tunnels" under downtown Portland may have a much less sinister history after all whips out this magnificent beauty from her own personal lexicon.

And now, I present to you, the word of the day:

obfuscate: 1. To make so confused as to be difficult to understand. 2. To render indistinct or dim.

Pronunciation? The "o" is short, the "u" is a schwa... you know the sound made by that funny upside-down "e" thing. C'mon, people, "SCHWA!" It's First Grade English.

Thank you, Jacqueline Peterson Loomis, for your outstanding contribution in the ongoing fight to keep delicious, tantalizingly archaic words alive in the age of Newspeak.

And with that, I had better cease and desist lest I belabor the point into obfuscation... ahhhh... nice!

The Feet of Mercury and a Heart of Gold

For the first time ever Anna and Grace go to the same school and therefor, were able to do the biggest fund raiser of the year, the "Fun Run," together.

Grace, as I've said before, isn't big on crowds and was ready to back out when we arrived at the school, but Anna assured her she would be right there with her.

I figured she'd stay until Grace was comfortable with everything then feverishly pursue her goal of making enough laps to reach $200 in pledges. This would win her an iPod! Wow!

In stead, they ran side-by-side the entire time they had to run together... most of it hand-in-hand!


This was quite a risk for Anna to take as her goal was to finish 22 laps on a roughly 1/4 mile track, but she wouldn't leave her little sister in the dust... or, more accurately, the mud, given the pouring rain. Instead, she ran with Grace for the 30 minutes allowed for the Kindergarteners and they made it to Grace's goal of 13 laps! (Edit: Grace just corrected me that she ran 14 laps. I looked at the sheet again and she's right! So G. gets credit for meeting her goal plus one, too!) Having her big sister there made all the difference for her. Then, when Grace had to finish and go inside and the 4/5s ran their final 10 minutes, Anna turned on the heat and blasted out NINE MORE LAPS! That means she made her goal plus one extra for good measure!


I was SO proud of them... and especially Anna. Not only for her amazing speed, but her kindness and consideration for her sister.

What impressed me most, however, is what she did last night. That was when we tallied up how much each had earned for the school. Anna had made $214. More than she needed for her iPod. Yippee!

We figured out that Grace made $172... enough for a portable CD player, but just short of the iPod. Grace said she was fine with that, but Anna said, she knew Grace would be really disappointed when she realized the difference.

"Mommy," she asked, "how much more money would Grace need for an iPod?"

"$28"

"How much does she have?"

"$4 and a bunch of change."

"I want to give her $20 toward the iPod and maybe she can put in eight."

"Are you SURE?! $20 is a lot of money for you."

"I know. I just don't want her to be sad."

*gulp*

I tried very hard to make real to a five-year-old's brain, what this meant. Anna was giving up a full month's allowance just so she wouldn't have to be disappointed when her prize wasn't the same as what Anna had worked so hard for.

Grace thought about it for a second, then ran over and hugged Anna hard around the neck as they laughed together.

Later, Grace came to me and said, "Mommy, I'm glad God gave Anna to me for a big sister."



You guys... I get to be their mom.

Wow.

My Moss is Perking Up

Ahhhhh... the sweet, glorious rain has returned in earnest.

Don't get me wrong. I enjoy a good sunny day as much as the next gal, but the heat of Summer holds no true pleasure for me much past 80°. Pool or no pool.

I despise sweating.

There's a saying that goes, "You can tell a Native Oregonian by the moss on our backs and the webs between our toes."

Umbrella? Please.

I think I do own one, but I can't even tell you where it is. No, rain is for washing the earth and my face in splashy droplets of liquid sky.

Replenish.

Refresh.

Drink it in and feel my roots bore deeper into mother earth, secretly feasting on her hidden goodness that only well-watered tapping tendrils may seek out.

When it rains, the harder the better mind you, my truest self awakens and I feel alive and somehow relaxed. In my element.

Bake bread.

Make pot roast. Chicken and dumplings.

Read by a crackling fire while a torrent pounds and the wind howls past my chimney-top underscoring that I am safe and warm and well-fed.

Makes me more keenly aware of so many blessings overlooked when all is calm, dry and quiet.


Rain reminds me that I live in a place where things want to grow. Things I can eat and feed my family.

Growing things love rain.

Children are growing things.

My children love the rain...

... but, not as much as they love mud.

I've been "Niced"

What an honor and surprise.

Ms Wendy over at Wisdom of the Moon recently chose me to receive the 'Nice Matters Award'. The person who awarded it to her has this to say...


"This award is for those bloggers who are nice people; good blog friends and those who inspire good feelings and inspiration. Also for those who are a positive influence on our blogging world. Once you've been awarded please pass it on to 7 others who you feel are deserving of this award."

What a very lovely compliment to received after only a few months of blogging. It's something I started doing as another creative outlet and because I have enjoyed finding so many other crazy women out there who share many of my interests and even some of my neuroses... always good for a knowing nod and chuckle. I had no idea anyone but my mom would actually read mine. Hi, Mom!

So. Without further ado, I humbly submit my selections in no particular order:

Dustpan Alley: Though a word like "nice" seems insultingly bland to describe Angelina, (don't dare say "everybody liked her" at her funeral or she'll haunt you mercilessly) I truly enjoy having her for a friend and look forward to her blog updates... with all their twists and turns from deep ponderings to recipes, to rants, to random thoughts. She has an amazing way with words and a vocabulary I envy.

The Tardy Homemaker: Lisa is a sweet, homeschooling mom whom I have vowed to get over to my house because we have so dang much in common... except for the homeschooling part. Her posts always leave me with a smile.

No Time For Blogging: This is the blog of my friend, Cheryle's, life and travels. I have known her literally my whole life and it's fun to read her upbeat writings to keep in touch when our very different lives keep us from getting together as often as we would like... plus, I get to live vicariously through them! At the moment, she and her husband just happen to be in Barcelona... bitch. Just kidding!!! :)

Shuriken and Chevre: Though not often updated, much to my dismay, Beth is one of my dearest friends. Ninja, Chef, Children's Pastor and UberMom, this woman makes me tired just thinking about what she packs into a day... hence the oft-dormant blog. When she finally gets around to it, though, hers is lots of fun and inspiring to read.

No Appropriate Behavior: Okay, so, spicy language doesn't bother me in the slightest so Laura's propensity for cursing isn't, to me, off-putting. Her tales of life with her two boys, a husband who regularly travels for work and facing the challenges of a family with multiple food intolerances often leaves me weeping from laughter. Another great thing is her gluten-free recipe site. But perhaps one of the most entertaining facts about her main blog is that her posts are always named for song lyrics or titles which she explains once a month (much to my age-addled brain's relief.) "Of course! Split Enz! I knew that..."

Richie Design: Richele is a fun gal with amazing taste who lives in Long Beach, CA. I knew her before blog land, but if I didn't I'd still read her. She has many talents, not the least of which is photography. She shares some of her gorgeous work and fun/insightful thoughts on being a girl in this big ol' world. Always good for a chuckle or three... especially when she's talking about drinking beer in bed. ;)

Wisdom of the Moon: I don't know if tag-backs are legal here but I'm throwing caution to the wind and doing it! Wendy, YOU'RE SO NICE! :) She's also very talented and extremely creative! Go check out the cupcakes she made for Halloween (Richie!). I look at her stuff and realize how totally I suck. No. Really. She's very inspiring and makes me wish I had a fraction of the energy required to crank out the projects she makes look so effortless.


So there you have it. I'm sure there are a zillion other cool, creative, chatty chicks out there with blogs I need to read/get addicted to, much to my great downfall. For now, though, these are the ladies whose words occupy my idle moments. Do go visit them and enjoy... but like I said, for a couple, you'll want to leave your fragile sensibilities at the door. It's okay. You'll have fun.