Entry the fiftieth: Amphibious Outrage

Today at work, I told someone that I liked newts. I pointed out that some of them are orange, and what's not to like about that? And then I felt the need to illustrate. After a little poking around, I found this image, care of www.northmoortrust.co.uk.



This newt is seriously irate. His stance and expression both say "What the hell, man?! I'm a newt! Back off!"

I'm not messing with that newt. He means business.

Entry the forty-ninth: In which I admit that I am not a Conscientious Duster

How do I know that the dust bunnies under the bed are out of control?

Evidence:



Don't be distracted by Sylvie's sheepish look; it's not her fault. Go ahead and take a closer look.



UGH. Guess there's going to be some vacuuming this weekend. Neat.

Entry the forty-eighth: In which Sylvie develops a new hobby

The first time we used the speakerphone to talk to my sister, Sylvie jumped up and started chinning the receiver. I've never known another cat who recognized that the voices coming out of the phone are human, much less people she knows and likes. But boy, does she ever.

Since that first incident, Sylvie has also realized that sometimes the voices of her favorite people come out of the answering machine. At first we found this pretty cute ("Hey, look how Sylvie runs in here when I play back this message from Valerie!") but now that opinion is under review. She has discovered that if she walks around on the machine, sometimes it will talk to her. She hasn't figured out exactly which button to step on, so it happens randomly. And you know how that variable reinforcement works: it's the strongest kind there is.

Now, practically every evening she hops up on the machine (which is in a little nook about 3' from the floor) and if it doesn't talk to her, she complains about it. Loudly. For a small cat, she's got a large voice.



Exhibit A: Small Brown Cat investigates as Mr. Elinoire leaves a message.

Entry the forty-seventh: Why cats aren't allowed to play with matches

It's because they'd burn the house down. You know I'm right. Do the math:

Cats love heat sources + cats are easily distracted = we're all doomed.

Luckily for us, this fire's contained. This is my parents' cat Gremlin. She's blissed out in front of the fireplace on a cold (for Southern California -- it's 44 degrees out there! Crazy!) night.

Entry the forty-sixth: Dark red is my best friend, color-wise

Holy cow! Look at what Valerie made me for Christmas!



It's the thing being being modeled by a small brown cat. For scale purposes, naturally, but also because I tweaked a bunch of muscles in my back/neck/shoulder/upper torso (so I never took anatomy and I don't really know what's connected to what or where things begin and end -- sue me) so by the time I got home last night I was sore enough to not want to reach back and put a shawl on. Yes, I know that's pathetic. Not to mention ungrateful.

The shawl (that's what it is: a handknit lace shawl) is absolutely gorgeous and soft and delicate and made of pretty much the bestest colored yarn EVER and she knit it for me, me, ME so I am very happy. And smug. In case you haven't noticed. And I will take a nicer photograph of it very soon and post it so you can all be jealous.

I can't get over the workmanship. It really is just an amazingly lovely thing. I am really lucky. :-)

Entry the forty-fifth: In which I answer questions that someone else's uncle/aunt/grandmother/etc. asked them

I stole this list of questions from idiomsavant, for whom, I presume, they are more relevant then they are to me. This is owing to the fact that these are, in fact, questions asked to him (her? I don't know -- bloggers are mysterious and I am lazy when it comes to research) during his (or her -- sigh) holiday visit with his (oh never MIND) family.

It's late. As soon as I answer these questions, I'm going to bed. Really.

Q #1: How was the traffic?
Great! Of course it’s Saturday, so that helps…

Q #2: So, what are you up to these days?
Uh, working. And, you know, not traveling. Still. I'm hoping that will change. Plus I’ve been reading a lot of junky-but-satisfying-until-I-forget-them books, so that’s nice.

Q #3: What was your favorite part of the pageant?
Pageant? I don’t usually watch pageants. I just bumped Little Miss Sunshine up to the top of our Netflix queue – does that count?

Q #4 How is it possible, year after year, for you to be able to forget which of your cousins is which?
I don’t, really. I’ve only got the three. [pause, horrible realization hitting] Wait, wait… I’m not responsible for remembering my husband’s cousins am I? Because I’m pretty sure he can’t remember them and surely cousins-in-law don’t count?! Crap.

Q #5: Did you get enough to eat?
Yup. Scary Mexican* followed by chocolate coins with peanut butter. Oh, and some kind of mint tea with bark and twigs in it that my husband’s brother’s wife (did I mention I don’t have the hang of this in-law thing yet?) gave us. Surprisingly good despite the label that was written by some crazy mountain people. You probably think I’m kidding, but I’m not.

Q #6: When I remarked that 73 didn't seem very old for James Brown to have died, what did it mean when you replied, "Old enough"?
Gee, I don’t actually remember saying that. Was I drunk?

Q #7: What are you watching?
Project Runway reruns. (I miss it SO MUCH. Sniff.) Or a hummingbird getting a hit at our window feeder. Depends on when you ask.

Q #8: What are you reading?
Something by Diana Wynne Jones but I can’t remember what it’s called. I keep remembering that I’ve been told I’ll like her and I don’t remember that that has yet to be true until I’m at least halfway into one of her books, and then I usually want to know how it ends even though I’m irritable about it.

Q #9: Can you fix my VCR so that the time displays properly?
Probably. As long as you still have the original remote.

Q #10: Why don't you update your blog more often?
Sigh. Because I’m a slacker. And it’s been a tough year (I have high hopes for 2007). And it’s something I want to do but don’t have to do and you know how those things go. Or, in this case, don’t. Or, at best, go intermittently.

Q #11: What's your blog about, anyway?
Have you read it? I thought it was pretty clear, actually. Why don’t you go ahead and read it and get back to me if you still have questions.

Q #12: You don't have a blog, do you?
No. No I don’t. Unless you aren’t my mother (who is, for the record, a lovely person but who tends to share things that are Not Hers with everyone and I don’t actually WANT my great uncle Milton or all my mother’s friends to read this unless I tell them about it, thank you very much) or a few random other people I’d just as soon not share with and then yes. Yes I do.

Q #13: Would you like something to drink?
Yes. Thank you.

*Scary Mexican is what we call the 24 hour Roberto's knockoff down the street. The food isn't scary. There are bars across the kitchen/cashier area and the first time we saw them we said "ooh, scary!" and now the place is just Scary Mexican. The sit-down order-from-the-menu-instead-of-the-sign-on-the-wall and maybe even get a margarita place a few blocks away is, of course, Non-scary Mexican.