The Scratching Post

I'm building a scratching post-type-thing for my cat. Actually, I mentioned to Biffy that I wanted to build a scratching post for my cat and she busted out her power saw and drill and pretty much built one for me using scraps from her house remodel project. Thanks Biffy! Right now it's in three pieces. I need to cover them in carpet and then Biffy will come over with her drill and put it all together for me. :) . My cat is very interested in the process. I brought the pieces of wood home, and she crawled all over them, inspecting our (Biffy's) work and testing everything out: The sniff test. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .What's in here? . Is it scratchable? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Is it comfy? . Is it jumpable? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Yep.

What a Difference a Day Makes. . .

Today- School Picture Day: . Yesterday- Ice Cream Day:

Hash Brown Culture Shock

We have a new intern at work. She's from Brazil. I was asked to meet with her and tell her about my job to help her understand what we do. We ended up talking more about Brazil and Paraguay and the struggles of moving to a different country and dealing with a new language and culture. Finally, she told me her favorite thing about american culture: Brunch. Why? "I just love the hash brown potatoes!!!" she said.

24 Years of Cats

Duke

My age: 2 through 8 Claim to Fame: Duke was a big cat. He owned the neighborhood. He would lay in the middle of the street and refused to move for cars. They had to honk their horn until we came outside and moved him. Snowy

My age: 8 through 23 Claim to Fame: The absolute coolest cat ever. No question. Rocky

My age: 13 through 15 Claim to Fame: My mom's cat. She wanted her own as Snowy belonged to me and Dr. G. Snowy hated him. He didn't last very long. Snowy had a mysterious grin on his face for weeks after Rocky died. . . Jasper

My age: 17 through19 Claim to Fame: My mom tried again. Jasper was very simple-minded, however, and no match for Snowy who again had a grin on his face after Jasper's mysterious disappearance. . . Chloe

My age: 25 through ?? Claim to Fame: Brilliant yet stupid. Plays fetch better than a dog. Falls in the bathtub regularly. Knows exactly what time to wake me up in the morning. Eats plastic whenever possible.

It's a Miracle!

The garbage can is gone!!! YAY!

Trash, Wind and Fire

It's been there close to a month now. A garbage can overflowing with trash, sitting on the side of the street waiting in vain to be picked up by the garbage truck which passes it by every week. I think it was abandoned there by the people who moved out of the house down the street. I'm not sure why they put it where they did-- not in front of their house, but about 50 ft down the street-- right beside my apartment. For a while I didn't think much about it. I assumed it would be picked up by Sanipac, the garbage company whose name is emblazoned on the side of the can. But then two Thursdays passed. The garbage truck came twice, picked garbage all up and down the street, and yet the abandoned can remained. Then the rains came, and with them brought wind. The wind blew even more of the garbage out into the street and, even more fun, up onto my porch. I decided to call Sanipac. Of course, I found out that they're only open until 4:30 and I work until 5:30 most days. I finally had a chance to call last Wednesday. I explained the situation and asked if they could come pick up the garbage can, explaining that it wasn't in front of any house but I gave the closest address and described the location of the can in detail (though it's not easy to miss.) The Sanipac lady said "OK. We'll come pick that up tomorrow!" and I hung up thinking "well that was easy." Tomorrow came and went. The garbage can remained. I called back Monday morning. I described the situation again to a different Sanipac lady and told her that this was the second time I had called. She said she couldn't find any record of my last call (Thanks! That's helpful!) but then after I gave another detailed description of the location, she said "OK. We'll come pick that up tomorrow!" That night someone set fire to the garbage that had spilled on the ground. (I live in a great neighborhood!) I was laying in bed and smelled smoke. In my half-asleep state I thought "oh, someone's having a barbecue. . ." not thinking about the fact that it was midnight. Finally I heard a commotion and looked out the window to see flames and a bunch of guys trying to stomp out the fire. They put it out eventually. But Tuesday came and the can remained. Today came; it's still there. Tomorrow is garbage day again. . . what are the chances that they'll actually pick it up this time?

I Spy. . .

I'm new to this side of the blogging business. After a couple years of reading the blogs of friends and family, posting only an occasional comment, I decided to branch out and start my very own blog. It's a little intimidating at first-- I have plenty of things I could write about but I'm not sure if I really want the world to read it. The thought of someone reading my blog without me knowing makes me very uncomfortable. So of course, before I went public with my blog, I got myself a handy dandy tracker (statcounter). Now I have a new problem: I know who is reading my blog! I don't know which is worse: knowing every detail about my blog visitors (down to the color of socks they're wearing) or being completely ignorant. Either way I'm paranoid, because now that I do know who is reading it and when and how often and for how long and from where, I want to know why and what they thought! At this point I would like to say hello to Nate in Alaska (Hi!). He's a friend of my brother, Dr. G. I could count on one hand the number of times I met him in person. I don't think I've seen him at all in the last decade (since Dr. G and Dottie's wedding, I believe), and yet he (and/or his wife, maybe) has visited my blog twice just today!!! What does he (she/they) think, I wonder. . .

My Cat is Famous!!!

She has joined the ranks of cats with stuff on them: http://www.stuffonmycat.com/index.php?itemid=2246

A kitten, named.

He has a name. Meet Gizmo.

The Nameless Wonder

My mom got a new kitten today. He is incredibly tiny and super cute but he doesn't have a name as of yet.

Her top choice is Columbo but my dad doesn't like that name. He prefers Stripe or Rat. I'm voting for Bandit or Smokey. We've compiled a list of other good options:

Scooter, Shadow, Rascal, Sprout, Smudge, Oscar, Cricket, Zipper, Basil, Casper, Skipper, Checkers, Gizmo, Spencer, Pepper, Bobcat, Winston, and Dudley.

Which one will it be?

Fried Chicken American and Drinks

That was the name of a restaurant I saw in Paraguay. I didn't eat there. I'm guessing from the name that it wasn't very authentic. It always makes me laugh when I think of it though. I have a list of phrases from Paraguay that will always conjure up vivid memories and make me laugh just as hard as the first time I heard them. A few of my favorites: Where's your teeth?!? One of my friends came up with this as a potential comeback to direct at the next Paraguayan who called us gorda (fat.) No muy antiguo Paraguayan museums are nothing like the Smithsonian. The exhibits are not well preserved, well displayed, or well selected. One museum we toured had random exhibits of clothing and such. They were disintegrating in their display cases. Each display had an index card taped to it with a handwritten description of the item and approximate year (e.g."Lace, 1926"). One fancy handmade skirt had an index card taped to it's case which simply read "No muy antiguo" ("Not very old.") I think we're burying the Pope! The death of the Pope was a big deal in Paraguay, a very Catholic country. It was all we heard about for days. The street vendors in the capitol started selling Paraguayan flags with the Pope's face on them. The Pope's one and only visit to Paraguay (in 1988) was replayed over and over and over on every TV channel and the song the children of Paraguay sang for the Pope during his visit 17 years earlier became the theme song of the week. We even had a national holiday for his funeral. Returning to our training center after the holiday, someone noticed an abundance of shovels (it was gardening day) and announced "I think we're burying the Pope!"

Preface

ikatu. . . puede ser. . . could be. . .