But Call Me Betsy

Leigh Ann sent me a link to "30 Renowned Authors Inspired by Cats." I found this video under Jean Paul Satre. The cat featured has the same name and spelling as my dearly departed Henri. And sort of the same attitude about the world.

In this Penn grad class I"m taking, we get to write a short story and then we're going to also be writing poetry. We had our first fiction workshop this week, and it seemed clear that some of the students might be more comfortable in the poetry realm--lots of heavy imagery and repetition; stuff like :"words, words--what are words? Silent words Words as heavy as snow. Wordsmith-ing of the word in the dark scream of the throat." (Reminds me of Woody Allen's Love and Death , where the characters are parodying Russian literature... "Wheat.....wheat.....fields of wheat.....cream of wheat....."). Of course, I am terrified of poetry--I am sure most of mine will be bad. In fact, I know that I write fantastic at bad poetry. Here's a poem I wrote yesterday after eating lunch at Pod with a writer friend of mine: The dumplings sat fat and juicy Like the heart of an over weight midget Yum Maybe I will be okay if we can write narrative poetry ala Billy Colli...

I had to put Henri to sleep last Monday. He was about 17 years old--give or take six months. We took him to Penn Vet Emergency Hospital and they were very nice--gave me all kinds of options about euthanasia--if I wanted to be there or if I wanted to just leave; if I wanted his ashes or not, gave me time to say goodbye (too much time. When you know you're about to put your cat to sleep, it's difficult to do anything like enjoy your time with him. I just wanted it to be over); they wrapped him up so he was cozy in these nice blankets. I had to do this one other time with Gretel, and that was terrible and this was terrible too--not terrible as in traumatic, because he was so out of it, he didn't seem all that upset. Just terrible to have to make that decision. What that must be like when the creature in question is a human? I can't imagine.  I stayed in the room. It helps to see it happen. Otherwise, I could imagine myself worrying about how it went down, if he was dis...

Happy Halloween windows from South Philly.

The kitchen is getting taken apart. Last weekend, Dan dismantled the center island and removed the cabinet, so now the wall by the fridge is completely ready to go. And Dan moved the shelves that were on this wall into the living room. Voile. Now all I have to do is order the rest of the cabinets and counter tops, figure out when they're going to get them installed, coordinate that installation with the delivery of appliances, and figure out what to do with the lights. Meanwhile, here's a very rare sighting of Emma Carol and Henri together on my lap. Blood was shed shortly hereafter, but it was nice while it lasted.

These photos show the never before seen journey of Henri outside--for the second time in his entire life (16 years? Maybe 17?). I lured him out using cat treats. He sniffed the air cautiously, like pre-man emerging from a cave after 1000 of years of darkness. He ran back inside when a distant car horn sounded, but at least he will die having actually smelled fresh air two times.

I am now able to change pictures into black and white, thanks to afree i-Phone app that I don't feel like looking up and publicizing right now.But here is Henri wanting me to turn on the bathroom sink faucet so he can drink out of it. And there is another feature on the -i-phone that allows you to turn the camera on yourself, so that you can always see how you look and post pictures of yourself to Facebook or whatever it is the damn kids do these days. Here we are on Sunday night when Dan made delectable chicken corn tortillas while I watched and applauded. And this is me, being squinty. I am trying very hard to have a dimple in my face and it's not working. Dan is the dimpled one.

This is what happens in the morning whenever Dan stays over and the cats are in the basement all night. I get to set them free!

Back in the window business with my new digital camera. You must note with this first photo that they have planted rows and rows of red hearts in the front flower box. They also had a red heart-shaped wreath on their door. Might capture that next time. Took this one last night after having dinner and Carrie and Padhraig's (delicious Thai food--potatoes with yellow sauce and some kind of jelly and naan bread. V. good). I am not sure if this is a window that's left over from Christmas or if it's just a festive scene for all year round. I don't really windows with Disney characters so much, but this one does have a cute "x o" banner strung across the back. And now, on to the cats. That's Henri, trying to work up the courage to jump on the back of my desk chair. A rare two cats in one photo. Emma on the radiator attempting to lick my hand and Henri worried that a piano might fall from the sky any moment. Note that he has made it onto the chair. Emma Carol, the...

I don't know exactly what has come over me lately or why I keep posting so many pics, but these make me laugh even though they're of cats (or especially because they are?). Below, please find Ernesto. He laid immodestly like this for about twenty minutes last night. It wasn't even that hot, so it's not like he had to air out. I don't know what his deal was. And Henri. This is the best of about 100 pictures I had to take of him. Every time I snapped the button, he would look down over move. He is bashful. The fatness that is Emma Carol. I showed this picture to a co-worker and she said, Did that cat eat one of your other cats? Look how stumpy she is too. Her legs are like two inches long. She makes me laugh more than any of the other ones because she always just looks goofy and unkept. Here, she appears to have been shot. More body parts. Someday, maybe I will post an entire photo. This is one of my favorite rings though.

I am now for sure a person who posts numerous photos of her cat. It's not totally my fault--Shawn continues to take them. I feel bad for Henri, the red-headed stepchild, who is often neglected and made fun of for his fatness. Still, admire the cuteness that is Ernesto.