The Joys of Being Owned by a Cat

We didn't see ourselves as cat owners. When we said a final goodbye to our dear canine friend last fall, my husband and I agreed to wait before bringing another pooch into our lives. We said we would wait until we had completed the three trips we had scheduled in the winter and spring, and then we'd see.

Then my friend's cat got sick while my friend was out of state, so we took Sabrina in and nursed her back to health. When it came time to send Sabrina back home, we had a tough time giving her up and our lives were a little less full.

So we put the word out to our friends at Love-A-Stray that we would consider rescuing a cat, but not just any cat. We wanted a female, spayed, front-declawed (please, no lectures) with a warm and snuggly personality. It wasn't long before such a kitty was found, and we had a new critter in our home.

Belle - her name was Jingle Bells, but that wasn't going to fly - rules our roost. Fortunately, she has decided - for now - to let us stay here too. She talks to me constantly, squeaking and chirping and meowing. She expects a dollop of wet food every evening and will chew me out if I'm late. She is fascinated by our bedroom, where she is not allowed, and plots how she will sneak in. She also plots how she will sneak out into the garage. It's not that she's trying to run away, it's just that she's not allowed, which makes it more attractive to her.

Belle especially likes to curl up on my lap and stare into my face. She's completely entranced with the laser pointer. She also likes the stick with the feathers and streamers and will carry it around with her, much like a dog.

Our lives have changed so much, but it feels so right to have a pet again. The house doesn't feel empty, I have someone to talk to (and who talks back), and Belle clearly dotes on me. At least she has good taste! She's a messy eater who hates to get to the bottom of the bowl, and given the chance, she will drink from the toilet. Other than that, we're delighted to have Belle in our lives.

Thinking about getting a pet? Please consider rescuing an animal through Love-A-Stray: Click here for more information.

Cutting the cord

So today we cut the cord...literally. We no longer have a landline - a standard telephone line - in our home. This has been coming for a while. We keep expanding our mobile services, relying more and more on the little hand-held device that is so addicting.

Then one day we realize that the only calls we get on the landline are solicitations - sales, charitable organizations, political canvassers...and my mother. For this we pay $45 a month?

Now that I thnk of it, my son has never had a landline since he went away to college and then moved on to real life. If he can do it, why not me?

Our phone service was bundled with cable and internet service. I was warned "That's what keeps your rate so low. If you 'unbundle,' the prices for the other services will go up." Imagine my pleasant surprise at our new rate without phone and dropping a few cable services we pay for but don't use. The bill dropped by about $80. Wow - I can think of a few other things I can do with the money!

So I called my folks and told them to please use my mobile number. Right away, dad calls the landline and notices that the voicemail is still intact. He also calls back, worried that I have forgotten and put my old landline number on the resumes I am sending out in my job search. I reassure him that I have thought of that and am okay. "Just looking out for you," he says.

So I'll pack up the phones and put them away for now. Let's see how we do with completely mobile communications. We may never go back.

Diary of an unemployed writer

Monday - first thing this morning I got the news: I've been RIF'd. Thank you, it's been fun, here's your box. No hurry. Take time to say goodbye, hugs all around, but be gone by the end of the day. I call my husband, my son. I go to lunch with a co-worker who is retiring at the end of the month. We commiserate about what to do next over wine and pasta. We laugh - drinking at lunch and back to the office! What are they going to do - fire us?

At home we sit down with the bills, analyze our income, the small severance amount, our meager savings. How long can we subsist on one income and unemployment? What bills can we trim, what extravagances can we do without? Time for an honest appraisal. I am giddy with weak gallows humor. I practice saying "Would you like fries with that?"

Unemployment, day one. Thought I would sleep in, but my internal alarm wakes me at 6 a.m. Showered and dressed (no jeans!), have breakfast while reading the paper. I can't believe we put the Sunday classifieds out with the recyclables on the tree lawn! Set up the home office, the dedicated email account. Call the outplacement company. The return call is from a former co-worker from the 1990's! It's a small world after all. They can't get me into the program until the middle of next week, so I'm on my own until then. Cancel the fitness membership - walk for free or workout for $45 a month? No brainer. Also cancel the holiday weekend at Put-in-Bay and save about $500. Looks like we'll stay home, grill some burgers, maybe paint the bathroom. Whoopie! Eating at home saves money but more work. I start straightening and cleaning - not going crazy, just doing a couple of things like mopping the kitchen floor, clearing the kitchen counters. Bake some cookies - chocolate chip/pecan.

Unemployment, day two. File for unemployment - online, while on a conference call for a volunteer organization. Everyone shares their concerns and best wishes. Start a list of each call and e-mail contact I make, with notes for following up. Update my resume - takes me forever to figure out where I saved it from the last time. Well wishes continue to pour in from colleagues, relatives. Cancel the land line phone, which we had planned to do for weeks but never got around to it. Reduce our cable TV services. Never watch it anyway. Clean some more - scrub fingerprints from door frames and light switch plates. I now know what my cat does all day...sleep in my desk chair. She insists on sharing it with me, squirming between my back and the chair back, pushing until I scoot to the edge of the chair. Well, one of us was comfortable. I struggle to print business cards and waste most of the card stock because I can't get Publisher to adjust properly. I get twenty nice cards and a stack of off-center ones that I will reserve for updating family with my new address, and maybe for dropping into "free lunch" jars at restaurants. Go to dinner with friends, using a coupon to save $5. More where that came from.

Unemployment, day three. My cat now thinks I will be here every day. It is no longer a novelty to have me around, and she is bored with me. There's a professional association luncheon today, so I dress up, taking care with hair and makeup. Except only about 20 people show up because of the holiday this weekend. Still, I pass out a bunch of the few perfect cards from last night (and get a compliment on how well-designed they are!). Get a spam e-mail for a scam headhunter web site - Google it and delete it. Apply for my first opening since losing the job. Receive career advice from half a dozen people, most of it conflicting: Target large corporations; no, target small companies; no, target non-profit organizations. Hang out your own shingle. Take on freelance work. Take some time off and relax, but don't waste any time in this economy. Hold out for the money, perks, title, whatever; no, settle for less and you can work your way back up. Leftovers for dinner - getting two meals out of last night's dinner. I hate leftovers.

Everyone marvels at how calm and self-assured I seem, but in reality, doubts linger. I hear of people out of work for years. No medical insurance for years, forgoing needed treatment for serious conditions. I start to think about looking for work teaching cooking or selling fabric and crafts...and it's only day three! Good grief!

I promise not to turn this blog into a day-by-day, blow-by-blow description of the ups and downs of job hunting. Hell, even I wouldn't read that. Three days of self-pity is enough. Let's move on.

On Holiday in the Big Easy

New Orleans! The very name conjures up visions of brightly colored beads and feathered masks, the sounds of trumpets and drums and saxophones. I have been in the Big Easy for four fun-packed days. Let me tell you what I've learned so far.

1. This city is always just one heartbeat away from a party. Other cities say they know how to party, but this town leads the pack.
2. Old style dixieland jazz can peacefully coexist with new age rock. I sat listening to a jazz quintet at the Maison Bourbon. In between jazz numbers, we could hear the rock stylings of the band across the street. Funny thing is it seemed right.
3. Women clad only in bra, thong and black high heeled boots should not bend down to pick up whatever they have dropped - let it lie! 'Nuf said.
4. Anything tastes good smothered in powdered sugar. A hot beignet with plenty of sugar for dipping is pretty darned close to perfection. And every bakery has a sign claiming to have the best beignets in NOLA. It could take weeks to taste-test every one.
5. The party doesn't stop just because the power goes out. When a transformer blew up a few days ago, putting much of the French Quarter in the dark, the party moved into the street. You couldn't get a frozen daiquiri, but the beer was still cold if you could pay cash.
6. "Gaytown" is quieter, nicer, and cleaner than much of the rest of the French Quarter. The African-American cross-dresser stood in the center of the street, shouting "Welcome to Gaytown!" He was very cute (pert!), as was the window decorated for the gay heritage parade - complete with about 15 Ken dolls in drag!
7. New Orleanians (don't really know how they refer to themselves) treat their sports teams like anyone else - love 'em when they win, bitterly complain when they don't. This goes for college sports. We saw the Tulane Green Wave fall to the Houston Cougars...but it was a perfect day for baseball.
8. A $6 beer doesn't taste as good as a $3 beer - paying through the nose gives it a bitter aftertaste. However, Cafe du Monde recently raised the price of a cafe au lait - from $1.35 to $1.82.
9. Playing an instrument on the sidewalk does not make you a street musician - you still must be a musician. Every instrument can be found - guitar, sax, double clarinet, cello - even a wild group of youngsters playing percussion and brass - they sounded like a high school band let loose without a conductor - having a ball, and please drop a buck in the cardboard box at their feet.
10. New Orleans is the only major population center I have visited that does not hide its poor. The NOLA you see is the NOLA you get - it's all out there, with no apologies.
11. An informal tour through the lower 9th ward with a colleague left me speechless and in awe of our human arrogance. Rebuild if you must, but do so with the lessons from Katrina in mind - build raised houses, not on slabs.

More to come later...on cooking classes and voluntourism. Y'all come back!

Welcome to the family!

Parenting is rough. You start out with big plans for the future, but also with trepidation. Are we crazy, bringing a child into this world?

The excitement mixed with fear eventually gives way to fatigue, swollen ankles and heartburn. Then one day the child arrives, and you are awestruck. Soon you will be tired again, and then by turns exasperated, delighted and tired (oh, I already said that). Life will never be the same, and for most of us, that's a wondrous and great thing.

And while this little red-haired, pink-skinned, chubby-cheeked wonder is growing, you think ahead and begin to have hopes for his future. You hope he does well in school, has a best friend, finds a skill and a passion. And you hope he finds love.

No matter what you do - how many parenting books you read, how firmly you maintain discipline, how open and accepting and loving you are - there are no guarantees that this baby will have any of those things, or be the person you think he will - or should - become. You do your best, say your prayers if you believe in God, and try not to get in the way as he steps out as his own person.

My little boy is now 25. He did well in school. He had - has - best friends. He found many things that he is good at and passionate about. And now, he has found love. He and his girlfriend announced their engagement last week, to the great delight of my husband and me.

Sometime in the next couple of years, I will gain the daughter I have always wanted. And at some point after that, my son and his wife will experience the awe and fear of parenting...and the cycle will begin again. I am happy and excited, and from here, the future looks incredible.

Ode to Tea

Is there another drink - or another food - that is a soothing, welcoming, warming or comforting as tea? I have yet to find one, and frankly, I am not actively searching for one.

When I am blue, hot tea cheers me. When I am upset, it calms my nerves. When I am hungry, hot tea with Splenda TM keeps me from snacking.

When I ache, a cup of hot tea soothes me. Somehow, it braces me when I am tired and yet is a calming influence before bed.

Yes, like most Americans, I enjoy iced tea, but I use it as a hydrator - it quenches thirst and is tasty, but it is not the mood enhancer that the hot version seems to be.

My tastes trend toward black teas - darjeeling, oolong, orange pekoe - and almost never include green tea. Give me a cup of Earl Grey, with its floral aromas, or either English or Irish breakfast tea, strong and sweet.

Lately I have come to enjoy chai (of course, with Splenda and skim milk), even though spiced teas have never been attractive to me.

I like some herbal teas as well - rose hips, lemon and lemon grass, for instance. But hold the chamomille and the peppermint - smells like grass to me.

Ahhh! Here's a cup of darjeeling, lightly sweet, in a hand-painted ceramic mug (I know, because I painted it). I can feel tension draining away and a smile returning to my face. There's a pot of homemade beef vegetable soup simmering on the stove, snow is lightly falling and there is still a hint of daylight at 5:15 on a January evening. Hard to imagine a life any better than this.

A Fond Farewell

It has taken me a month to be able to write this post. On October 9, we said a final farewell to our little furry friend, Duncan. Life had become a struggle and we finally had to admit that it was time.

We found Duncan, or maybe he found us, when we had been dogless for over a year and were starting to look for another canine companion to join our family. This little guy, a miniature poodle, was found wandering the streets of a nearby community and was picked up for transport to the local pound. A dispatcher instead called Love-A-Stray, a local rescue organization, and that's how we found him. After being neutered and having nine teeth pulled, Duncan came home to us.

We have no knowledge about Duncan's past, but he became an indelible part of our family. He was old - probably about 17 when he passed away. He had a deformed spine, giving him a hunchbacked appearance. He almost never stretched out straight but instead curled into a tight ball of fur.

Speaking of fur, Duncan's was originally apricot, but by then was mostly white and very thin along his ridged back. When we picked him up, he had a raging ear infection that took months to tame. One ear stood straight out at all times. Sometimes it looked as if he was sending semaphore signals with his ears.

Duncan was very hard of hearing - this could have been the result of a long-term ear infection or just because of his age. He heard only sudden sharp sounds - the slam of a door, or a sharp clap of hands - but he could not tell where the sound was coming from. He rarely spoke - Duncan barked only twice in the entire 16 months or so that we had him, both times when he was very happy and excited about something. I think he didn't speak because he had nothing to complain about.

In the last year, Duncan's field of vision narrowed to a small area in which he could see movement and the contrast between light and dark. If he got confused about where he was, Duncan would stand perfectly still, staring down toward the floor. He stood so long that we worried he had gone senile or had had a stroke. But he was just waiting. If you moved your hand or foot through that little space he could see, he would turn and follow you, obviously happy. I think he was brilliant that way - he could have wandered about, walking into all kinds of hazards, but instead he stayed put waiting for someone to find him. I recall that our son learned in Boy Scouts what to do if he ever got lost in the woods - stay put and wait for rescue. Smart dog!

Duncan was a snuggler. In his last few months, he especially loved to lay in my arms, with his head on the crook of my elbow, dozing while I watched TV. I would sit there until my arms fell asleep, not wanting to disturb him.

I knew we would only have him for a short time, but I didn't want to face the facts - no one does. When we finally took him to the doctor's for the last time, Duncan did not go quietly. He struggled and fought to the end. He was a scrapper, probably all his life.

Our friends tell us how lucky Duncan was to have had the life we gave him - a caring home, a soft bed, plentiful food, love and affection. But honestly, we were the lucky ones.