He was a good cat. . .

The hardest thing about having pets is deciding when and if to end their suffering. You have a reluctance to end a life, that you choose, and you have a sadness of missing the animal after he's gone. You also have a responsibility to do the right thing, which is usually one of the hardest things you could ever do. To watch a loving, sweet pet languish in their own body fluids, not able or wanting to move, eat or drink is more than I can take for very long. I am lucky to have a sensitive and caring veterinarian, Mike Morath, who understands and supports my pets and their quality of life. I will miss my sweet baby, but he is not suffering now. Maybe if God cares about animals, like I hope He does, I'll see him again someday.

Charlie

When I refer to millions of cats, I don't really mean that I love all cats, or that I have a million of them. I have only one now that I love more than any cat I've had for a long time. When we got Charlie from Craigslist two years ago in August, we looked like this picture. He had been abandoned by his mom, and when he came in the car with me, he immediately snuggled into my shoulder and claimed me as his new mom. He loves just being near me and often sits in front of the computer monitor as I work. However, last night, something happened to him and he got injured somehow, and since it's the Fourth, no vets are available except the local emergency, for HUGE profit, veterinary clinic. Our regular vet in Plainview is out of town, so the soonest we can get him in there is tomorrow morning. I'm broken up over it, and I hope it's something that we can fix and he can recover from. I know that cats are really resilient, so I won't give up hope for my favorite baby. I know he's just an animal, but he makes my life worth living a lot of days.

Bullying is not okay. . .

I just read an article today in the Minneapolis Star Tribune about a survey done among GLBT kids in Minnesota. The results of the survey were disturbing and disheartening, in this Minnesota GBLT bullying article , but not really surprising. As a veteran teacher of 33 years, I have seen my share of bullying. I don't tolerate it in my classroom, but what goes on in hallways, outside the school building, in hidden areas like locker rooms, or elsewhere, I really have no control over. Kids have gotten meaner, emboldened by shock videos, movies, popular culture where demeaning for just about any reason is used for entertainment value. I try to teach tolerance along with my usual curriculum, so I know that I am not intentionally adding to the problem. My attitudes are not shared by everyone, of course, not even all my teaching colleagues. If you stand aside and say nothing when people are being not only physically bullied, but verbally and emotionally bullied, then you are part of the problem. The world is big, and cat bullies might be cute, but people bullies are the ugliest monsters I can imagine.

This is harder than I thought. . .

I started this blog years ago, and with Facebook popping up, I kind of deserted it. I don't drink TAB anymore, so I thought that was an inappropriate reference to me. I do still love cats, and I feel that my life wouldn't be complete without them. If I meet a fellow cat lover, I know that I have something in common. If I meet a cat hater, well, let's just say I have some issues right out of the gate. I snaked the title from a favorite childhood book called Millions of Cats by Wanda Gag. In the book, which was really quite twisted, a man and woman decided they were lonely, so the husband goes off in search of a cat to please his wife. He eventually ends up with millions of cats following him home, and even though the wife is happy, she realizes they can't care for that many cats. She decides to have a contest and asks the question, "which of you is the prettiest?" A huge bloody cat fight ensues until all the cats are obliterated except for one skinny ugly one. They decide to keep the loner and nurture it into a beautiful, sleek pet that they both love. I always loved reading the book and the art work was charming. I'm not sure what message it sends, but I'm okay with that. I know that appearance isn't everything, especially with cats, and even more with people.

"Blow up your TV, throw away your papers. . ."

After years of adoration and idolization of the major songwriter to come out of Chicago, in my opinion, I finally got to see John Prine live in Rochester, MN. I thought who else could possibly be as obsessed with this ghoulish icon? How wrong I was! More than a thousand fervent fans packed the concert hall, and also knew ALL the words to John's great songs. After his bout with cancer ten years ago, I was worried he wouldn't sound the same. He did, and maybe even better. It was like coming home to a comfortable chair and having it enfold me.

His opening act, Paul Thorn, was a great surprise, too. With his kooky song writing ("Joanie, the Jehovah Witness stripper", for one), he made an impression and made me think maybe Tupelo, MS, wasn't all bad.

"The sun does not shine for a few trees and flowers, but for the wide world's joy."

My beloved Phoenix Suns. . .once at the top of the western pack, now relegated to the 5th place spot. But, down and definitely not out, I say. They now have the longest win streak (6 games) in the NBA and seek to lengthen it against the Rockets tomorrow. Laying low until the playoffs, I think. Getting used to having Godzilla there to swat planes away from the Empire State Building. Getting used to letting Amare shine, and finally using Boris and Leandro to their full pontential. Steve Nash, the most dedicated NBA mastermind of strategy and game play, is beginning to get back on his game and making an impression on the naysayers; the Kobe lovers; the Celtic bandwagon jumpers. Bring on April, I say, when the Sun really starts to shine.

"No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn."

It seemed like spring was almost here. The ground was starting to smell like soft dirt, the snow was almost gone, and yesterday it was 50. Then, as if on cue, the last gasp of winter, the Easter snow blast. They're all out there jogging in it, as usual. Still one more week until spring break--WAAAHHH!
It has lasted forever, it seems, this one. Piles and piles of snow, days and weeks of sub-zero temps, wind. . . the robins have already come back.
TV is starting to cooperate, too, after the long winter's writers' strike. It almost seems bearable again.

Sizzle, July, Sizzle. . .

I know almost every town has a fireworks display, and I used to think it was the best time of the year. I would look forward to it every year, and it never failed to make me a little teary eyed and choked up. Well, it's even better from your front yard, with your son up on the roof taking great shots like this one. The cool, still air and lightning bugs flickering here and there. The day wouldn't be complete without a cookout, and getting a little sunburned picking raspberries. Oh, no, we FORGOT to mow the lawn! It's a summer dream world filled with juicy delights--I might even have forgotten what day it is tomorrow.

Christine

It's a 1990 Dodge Spirit with red velour uphoulstry. . .black cherry exterior. It's the first car I've bought for my son. I wanted something cheap, reliable and safe. Having it be in mint condition, from someone I already knew was even better.
It's been an eventful six months since my last post. We got and exchanged a dog, I got a new grand nephew, school finished and summer school is one week past already. The fourth of July is on the way--probably in ND, where they have real fireworks, not baby sparklers. The weather has been muggy and hot, the garden is ecstatic and TV viewing is summer craptastic. No vacay for us this year, only Christine and getting the license squared away. Probably a great summer, if it doesn't get too dry.

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

Yeah, I love Christmas. It goes too fast, I spend too much, and I build it up too greatly in advance. But I feel like a better person, and when I'm out shopping in the height of the crazy rush, like today, I feel alive; I feel like there is hope for humanity. Everyone smiles a little more, everyone's a little nicer, and I want that feeling all year; I get greedy for it. ("Scrooged"--OK, I love that movie, too) It didn't snow, but I don't even care about that, either. The only thing I would possibly bitch about is that we only have one whole week off from school, which is a little Ebenezer-ish. But bring on 2007--I'm even over my new millenium neurosis.

Over the river and through the woods. . .

I've always loved Thanksgiving. It's a holiday that can bring people together, and you don't have to give anything in return. Of course there were always those stressed out family dinners of yore, where the expectations were somewhat inflated. But today was perfect. It was a beautiful balmy day, all the food was perfect, and everyone had a good time. We missed Sparky, and his favorite food was turkey. The other hairy beasts had a great time begging for scraps, though. Our newly remodeled basement was a treat, and I truly am so thankful to be back in our house, finally, after two Thanksgivings away. Things are looking up and the turkey sandwiches tomorrow will be awesome.

All Dogs go to Heaven

Sparky was the best dog anyone could ever have. He was gentle, loving, loyal and energetic. He never once growled at an overly rambunctious child, and he never even snapped at anyone, no matter how menacing they were being. He was always waiting there by the window, and he could identify car engines by their sounds. He loved people food, and felt he should be allowed to eat it whenever he sniffed it. He loved cats, and might have even thought he was a cat. He played carefully and gently with Natalie when she was only a couple of months old. We brought him from Arizona, the pup of a German Shorthair Pointer mom and a Dalmatian dad. His mom died shortly after he was born, and I think he always viewed me as a substitute. Then the past few months he stopped eating, had trouble seeing, and had lots of accidents on the floors, the beds, the couch. He was afraid of the stairs, and fell several times. He didn't ever stop being the loving soul he always was, and I felt that he was crying out for release from his pain and fear. I had to end his life today, November 4, 2006, just before he would have turned 10 years old next January. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done, but I know he's at peace now, hopefully in a better place, free of his pain. Rest in peace, Sparky.

Tortilla soup for the soul

Is there anything more satisfying and delicious on a cold, blustery day than tortilla soup? It makes the tensions and challenges of the day just melt away. Anything that seemed unpleasant is forgotten in its spicy, thick loveliness. If only there were some kind of intangible balm for the soul that worked as well as tortilla soup does for the stomach! The warmth of a heart-felt thank you, the savory sound of a beautiful song, a kitten's grateful purr after a cold day in a maple tree all come pretty close. Work doesn't even seem a chore, and the time flies by like the crazy whirling leaves rushing to meet the pavement. But, no more snow, please until just around Thanksgiving--then it feels adorable and welcome.

Now at least I have something to do

When the leaves start to turn and the air gets crisp and cold, that's when I like to settle in to my shows. Some falls there are NO decent new shows to watch--like the past few, in fact. But this fall I've actually found a few passable hours to veg out to. My weekly viewing schedule:
Sunday--Amazing Race (CBS) and Brothers & Sisters (NBC), even though Calista Flockhart's annoying as hell. (The Wire onDemand) and I might give Desperate Housewives (ABC) another chance.
Monday--Prison Break (Fox) and Weeds (Showtime)
Tuesday--There is absolutely NOTHING to watch on Tuesdays!
Wednesday--Jericho (CBS) and LOST (ABC)
Thursday--Survivor: Cook Islands (CBS) and ER (NBC)
Friday--Men in Trees (ABC)--Yes, I'm that pathetic!
I do find time to do my chores and actually do school work in between all the tube time. So ye who are without sin, go ahead and cast the first stones!

A crispy taste of heaven. . .

I always have high hopes for apples. They always look great--shiny, smooth, firm. Then you bite into them. A mushy, mealy mess can ruin your day. Sometimes it's the whole bag, sometimes just one or two. But after biting a few bad apples, it's hard to trust again. We're lucky enough to live in the "apple belt" of Minnesota, where the climate is just perfect for growing apples. They're harvesting them now, and for an exquisite, perfectly textured, juicy, tart (but not too tart) snacking apple, the Honey Crisp apples are the ones to beat. Although quite spendy, about a buck an apple, there's no other more perfect treat that cheap. In a week or so, my other favorites, Regents, will be available at an even more reasonable price. Of course, you should never buy them from the grocery store--they're already almost ruined by then! Happy munching!

The best show no one's watching

"Weeds" should be cracking everyone up. It is as good as any 30-minute comedy on HBO; it has a stellar cast; and it's funny as hell. It's already into its second half of a short 10-episode season, and it seems to be getting no buzz at all. Maybe the late summer premiere hurt it, or that it was postponed from an earlier April starting date. The clueless suburban paradise of Agrestic is the place to be this fall, if you're looking for something out of the ordinary to watch.

When the truth is found to be lies, and all the joy within you dies. . .

Again, the reminders of "why we're at war with terrorists". . .like we need to be reminded to hate and blame. But then the rollercoaster ride of his declining popularity can only be nauseating to him and to his party. Desperate measures for a desperate despot. The day is still freshly scarred in my mind as it will be forever. Living through it with Muslim children who had no idea how their lives were going to change and become even more difficult than their days as political refugees flung throughout eastern Africa. Little did we know that day, though, how this "event" would become the cornerstone for his pathetic term(s) of office. The innocent souls still cry out for vengeance and truth.

Why I hate HBO

The last time we saw Al and Alma, there was the promise of something, ANYTHING, to liven up the sour turn this exquisite show had taken as of late. The fake husband had been picked off by one of the Pinkertons (in mid-sentence talking to a raggedy pooch); Trixie had stormed up to Hearst's room, breasts bared to shoot him; Bullock had come storming back, barely able to contain his ire and disgust. It was GOOD! It was what made Deadwood a thrill ride. They had one chance to satiate all of us for a couple of years and what did they do? Stirred in a mish-mash of barely comprehensible blither, sent Hearst smugly out of town, totally in control, with Al cleaning up his own bloody mess in his office. It was almost too much to bear. Then to top it all off, ending Entourage the following night. How are we supposed to get through the winter, anyway?

You call it corn, we call it . . .A"MAIZ"ING!

In a city like this where we actually have a corn water tower, you would expect to find the finest corn anywhere. Usually, it doesn't disappoint. Waiting all year for that 3-week span in August where ears of corn are coming out of our ears. It took a while this year, but I finally have eaten the perfect cob of corn. You can't really search for it, like the holy grail. It just has to happen. As in the past, it was a free cob, from "some farmer's field". Just that ripe perfection, juice squirting everywhere when you taste it--sweeter than candy. Ah, but perfection never lasts, and this will soon be gone, too. Til next summer!

Mama told me not to come. . .

No, this guy wasn't at the party, unless he got there after I left. It was a great time--a beautiful night, with everything perfectly in place. After a month or two of planning, the famous Jaime & Casey birthday party went off with only a few hitches, due probably to the excessive intake of alcoholic beverages by a few of the party guests, but it was definitely the most bustin' party yet. The cute luau theme worked to a tee, and everyone even dressed up this year--no one had to wear the coconut bra of shame. It was great to see old friends from the east coast, and always great to have the whole family get together with each other. You put the lime in the coconut, drink 'em both up. . .