In Which: the librarian wastes a lot of time making silly movies.

The librarian challenges her siblings to recognize their inner John Travolta:

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

In Which: Fatty Kitty writes a Poem.

Ode to She Who Understands Cats
on the Occasion of Her 256th (in Cat years) Birthday,
with Apologies to Pablo Neruda.
 

The only child

the first miracle of six
who jumped
over barricades
like horses
and twirled,
dreaming,
amid grubby siblings,
of ballet shoes
no less grubby
with effort and
determination.

The faint light on her
upturned eyes
of stars
show through
branches
of a horse chestnut tree
with many faces
while Cats
circle
her ankles.

    

In Which: I become a Useful Item.

I am suddenly in demand. It appears that when the weather is cold enough, I am requested - no, I am begged - to come and sleep next to the librarian. Apparently it's not enough anymore to have a rice bag at the feet, and a hot water bottle in the Arctic regions (what she'd call her rear, but I Know Better. It's positively glacial.)


At any rate, the temperature hovers just below zero, this 1919 house is so charming and inefficient that it hovers ten degrees below the thermostat, and pretty little frost climbs up the charming wood-framed storm windows. And we wish the current Daily Inter-Lake editor's columns were included in the ground-up newspaper that is currently the sole insulation between the walls. Then there would be a lot more hot air in here.


The librarian took this picture to show how the snow slides off our roof faster than any other house on the block - because we have so much more heat escaping is the complaint.


Well, I'm doing my part. Of course, if I were fed more, I could become fatter and therefore a better source of heat. I think a little cream might even be called for. I think I'll pour on a little Fatty Kitty Charm. Excuse me. I must wander into the kitchen and state my case.

In Which: I meet a Formidable Cat

    AbbietheKitty asked about my recent trip across Minnesota, North Dakota, and Montana.  Thank you very much for your concern, AbbietheKitty.  The trip was fine.  I am not happy about travel, but one does what one must.  

    My librarian drove safely, if not quietly.  She sang along with the radio and CDs, played the harmonica occasionally, and cackled while listening to David Sedaris read "Naked."  I think I put up with it quite well.  She didn't need to stuff the motel pillows into the holes that led under that bed; I wasn't going to stay there.

     However, in Missoula, we stayed at the home of Ben and Amanda.  They look like this:

They appear to be normal, I suppose.  But their Cat, well...

 

He is Formidable.  

     For one, he is large, very large, larger than I, and nothing Fatty about him.  He is also very expressive.  You might even say articulate.  And what he was articulating sounded distinctly threatening. I think I'm glad I didn't meet him nose to nose, even if he does wear Soft claws.  

     But, what can one do when one's home is invaded by a Stranger?  I empathize with Hendrix.  We sniffed at each other with a door panel between us, but that's all we were allowed to do.  Who knows what great partnerships have been thwarted by over-protective companions, eh, AbbietheKitty?

In Which: I find a Role Model

My new favorite comic strip: Get Fuzzy

Here's the strip from Nov. 4, 2008:

 

  

  

 

You can find more of the Supreme Cat Here.

In Which: I am supplanted by squash

  Really.  You'd think that squash would be low on the hip list, but apparently not in this household.  The librarian and her siblings spent all afternoon on two pumpkins.

  

In the other paw,  I'm glad I wasn't attacked with special orange and purple tools.  At least they had the good taste to put a Cat on one of the vegetables.

Other excitement around here?  Well, not much.  I do live with a librarian after all.  Bruce gave Maggie 18 red roses.  Then they sat by the roses and held hands for awhile.  That was exciting.

        

                         

Frankly, anything to do with excitement has been overshadowed by this pile of paper:

 

This is what the librarian has to read for the rest of the quarter.  And it's not all of it, either.  Some were just too long to print out.  This pile is $45 worth at the copy shop.  I'm somewhat disappointed that I won't be treated to the librarian swearing at Bruce's "legacy" computer and printer anymore.  I enjoyed it immensely.  

In Which: I blame it on the librarian....

I always blame her.  That's what she's there for.  So, it is her fault that I haven't posted for a month.  She hogs the laptop because she's doing homework - at least that's what she says.  She went away for a weekend to be at school - at least that's what she said.  She says this picture is proof, and that it's her at the College Inn in Seattle, homeworking. 

h

Well, it certainly doesn't look very trysty.  And I did have a good time with Nancy Drew, She who Understands Cats.  So I suppose I'll forgive  her for the weekend away, but not for hogging the computer.  I'm only on it now because she finished a paper.  Harumph.  Well, to bed.  I hate to say it, but as soon as the librarian goes to bed, I simply must jump up there with her.  I can't resist waving my tail over her nose.  It's one of my bad habits features. Like this: purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr....