Field trip home to the Italian Mafia Shorthairs

I have been appropriately kitty-chastised for leaving the house for the weekend.

A rapid-fire, non-stop weekend. The end results: the first Dragon*Con staff meeting is over, we are back in Huntsville, and Sean is now moved out of Atlanta and into his new apartment in Huntsville. Oh, and I socialized with the TechOps crew (the blue-haired folks who make Dragon*Con actually happen), some apple pie was consumed, and it was all good.


More mundane:

A relief: the vet pronounces Tenzing almost completely well. He says his eardrum is a bit ragged from the infection, but that it's starting to heal. The swelling is going down, and the little purrball should be completely well in another week.

A happy and relieved kittymommy.Did more planning for the Great Adventure To Canuckistan[tm] today. Andy confirms that he will be going. So far, that puts the list of attendees at Jeff, myself, Heather, Jess, and possibly Gareth. Then, of course, there's Brad, who will be thoroughly terrorized by the time we're gone.

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techno catzilla world

Cheers—I got a hacked-together version of this page put together, along with an auto-redirect, that allows Netscape 4.x users to read the front page of domesticat. There, my conscience is assuaged!

Booked the tickets for CanadaTrek this morning—can't believe I'm really going back to the Pacific Northwest. I wonder if the people who live there all the time realize just how beautiful it is up there? My lasting memory of Vancouver Island can be summed up in three words: drop dead gorgeous.

I have more questions to ask Brad. It's 11:20 now here—9:20 there. I'll call and see if he's wandered home from work yet.

Tomorrow: take Tenzing to the vet. I already know that he's better, and it's not going to take the vet long to see that. After that, recover the kitchen from tonight's curry extravaganza, and finish folding and putting away the clothes that I washed today.

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Renegade Roundup (life in the fast lane)

For those of you with short attention spans, here's a quick rundown of what's going on:

  • Tenzing has an ear infection. Like most sick kitties, he's sleeping a lot. Hard to tell if Edmund's got the same thing. Took Tenz to the vet, who weighed him and said that Tenzing (little Tenzing!) weighs twelve pounds. I shudder to think what Edmund must weigh, then…
  • Tonight's meal: chicken piccata. Not bad. Tomorrow night I braise ribs for the wondergeeken.
  • I've got to get my chef's knife resharpened. Once again, I've attempted to lop off the tip of my middle finger on my left hand. Silly me—I was sawing down to create 1/8" thick slices of lemon and the knife slipped. Truly sharp knives are much safer. No sawing.
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Mind the gap...

Everyone keeps asking, what’s it all about?
I used to be so certain and I can’t figure out
What is this attraction?

[duncan sheik]

Welcome back. Life returns, the friends go home, the cats relax, and my fingers start tapping almost of their own accord. They make it clear that whether I want to or not, it's time to start writing again—not because I should but because I must.

"And I could stand here waiting
A fool for another day
But I don’t suppose it’s worth the price, worth the price
The price that I would pay"


Put the music on. Don't turn on the light. Listen to the cats in the next room, industriously tussling each other in brotherly fashion. Despite the fact that no one is here but me, I attempt to physically hide the fact that I am writing—because, of course, if no one knows I'm writing, no one will know to ask me whether or not I was able to finish what I started.

Nice kitty.

Tenzing, it appears, has no appreciation whatsoever for the beauty of sleeping in on a quiet Sunday morning. At seven this morning, I was awakened by the unmistakable *thud* of four dainty paws landing squarely on my rib cage.

Normally, he stops for a second, quivering with excitement, and then starts wheezepurring (there is no other word to describe it) when I open my eyes. He's genuinely excited that I'm awake.

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