Sleepless in Squill

Nursing a hot cup o' tea, surfing aimlessly, reluctant to go to bed. Just came back from the lamest party ever, and I feel vastly unsatisfied. Hubs has gone to play a very late night impromptu scrimmage of Ultimate with his friends, who quit the party early too. So here I am - tea, laptop, kitty, some peace and quiet.

The new biking regimen is going well. I think I will call my silver stead Spiffy. As evidence of my zealousness, within the first 3 days of acquiring the bike, I put well over 15 miles on it already. It felt like death, especially when climbing the hilly streets of Pittsburgh, and yet it felt so good. It was strange to cross over from cyclist-hating motorist to furious pedaling car fodder, nearly overnight. I became instantly grateful that we live between 2 of the city's major parks, so I don't have to piss off more drivers and pedestrians than I would otherwise. Schenley and Frick each have scenic trails that go on for miles. Spiffy's virgin trip was to Frick - sadly, I was so winded just from getting there (4 sloping miles) that we only dabbled in circles before turning around. The next day we tried Schenley's Bridle Path, a winding gravel trail that took us through the woods, minorly interrupted by a 6-way intersection, up along a lake (the same one where we buried Mojito, our pet fish), and ending back where we started. That was almost 9 miles from start to finish! Been building resistance and stamina on the new trainer for an hour everyday. Last weekend, we ventured a little further and went on the Eliza Furnace Trail. Still don't have a bike rack for the car, so we biked it to the trailhead, did the whole stretch and back. Feeling good - maybe in a year, we'll be ready to do a century ride.

L and W planned a vacation in Nicaragua last week, so they left their summer 'charity project' with us. They took in a stray teenage cat for foster care, whom they later found was pregnant. Three kittens and a vet trip later, they are *almost* ready to be put up for adoption. Pepper hasn't been too pleased with the guests, and the feeling is mutual with the mother cat (she doesn't have a name yet - used to be called Skanky McKnockUp, now she's just Little Girl). Growing up, I've heard cats fighting in my neighborhood, but it's not the same at 2am right outside your bedroom. Out came the guides to handling multi-cat households and mediating kitty conflict.

On the other hand, raising kittens has been fun. Of the 3 kittens, two are snow white with grey patches like the mother, and the third's a tuxedo kitty (must be what the dad was). Tuxedo kitty is Paco, from 'apocalypse', and the twins are Corky and Tu Madre (short for tu madre es nada, 'your mother is nothing'). Watching the 3 of them play, tumble, nibble, is beyond fascinating. The finer points of cat psychology probably has enough substance for a doctorate thesis. Each kitten has a distinct personality - Corky, for instance, has an unmistakeable middle child complex. They are smart, cheeky, aggressive, and yet they're barely old enough to mew (so far, they can only manage squeaks - the cutest squeaks, that can melt the hardest of hearts). Poor Pepper, unfortunately, has been exiled in her own home; she hides like a felon and dashes (only when necessary) between the bathroom and kitchen. Guess she hates company. She purrs like mad when we scoop her up at the end of the day to the bedroom, where she redeems her dominance for the night.

Tu Madre is curled at my feet, napping... Having 5 cats scampering around is kinda fun, I'll miss them. L and W will be picking them up tomorrow, and it'll just be Pepper again. We haven't decided if we're ready to adopt a second kitty.

Think I'm ready to hit the sack. 'Night!