Cats and Bags

How to Catch A Cat

E was gone most of the week for a conference. Before he left, he was distracted preparing for a 3-hr long workshop to promote his software, so it feels like he's been gone a week.

It was quiet in the house. I puttered around in the kitchen fixing gourmet meals for myself two of the days, watched TV, surfed the web, read in bed. For 4 days, I was sole guardian of the cats. When E's around, he'd feed them and scoop the litter, and I would play with them. Not that I couldn't do those things either... feeding was easy. 1 cup, 2 cats, twice a day. Once in a while I've to make sure Salty doesn't stick his nose in Pepper's chow.

In the mornings it gets a little tricky. P & S scratch, claw, jump, nibble, trample, and do pretty much anything to get our attention, in the name of breakfast. By 6.30am, E would give up and roll out of bed, with the patience of a saint, and lovingly dole out their kibbles before climbing back into bed. When I have to be up in less than an hour, it's harder to keep a good humor about it. To protect my beauty sleep in my kitty-feeding aide's absence, I decided to keep the whining brats in the office downstairs. I enjoy the fuzzy company when I read in bed at night, but it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.

The charming thing about a townhouse that predates even my grandparents' births is that over the years, the walls have warped ever so slightly that none, and I mean none, of the doors close the way they should. (Except the front door, of course.) It does wonderful things for our sense of privacy. At best, you can wedge a door shut by pulling it tightly against the frame, but the latch doesn't do anything. The problem is compounded by the fact that of the doors that close, the cats have figured out how to open them, and can sashay in and out wherever they please (imagine my near-heart attacks stepping out of the shower). All... except for the office door (dun dun dun!) So right before bed, for 3 evenings, I play hide-and-seek with the cats, trying to cajole/trick them into following me, the Pied Piper, so I can quarantine them behind the single closed door for the night.

Making a cat come to you isn't easy, and I don't feel good about resorting to trickery. Salty had to think it was playtime (his fuzzy toy with bells coyly slithers into the office...). Pepper had to think it was mealtime - I open the closet door where we keep the cat food, and instead of scooping up kitten chow, she gets scooped up (and lets out a confused "meow?") and tossed into the office. In the mornings, when I finally release them from 'prison', they meow frantically for breakfast and attention. I fill their bowls, and peace is restored.

E's back, much to the cats' relief - everything's back to normal. No more crazy woman trying to lock them up.

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I finally finished The Time Traveler's Wife. Amazing story, I gotta make E read it. At the third to last page, the floodgates opened and I started bawling. All of a sudden, I could feel Clare's emptiness and loss, I missed Henry deeply for her. I loved the ending, and I loved that when I finally put down the book, everything made sense despite the inherently illogical plot. Very satisfying read. Now I'm afraid I might not enjoy Love in The Time of Cholera as much - it may be written by a literary master, but it's got a bit to live up to.

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Bag-O-Rama

Went shopping with Liz on Saturday - my last girly hurrah before the hubby returned. We must've walked into more than a dozen stores. She's now well-equipped for the spring/summer, and I procured for myself not one, but two bags: a utilitarian Ann Taylor brown leather shoulder tote, and a cute petite black Coach satchel. A bag for all reasons and seasons! I've never been into bags until the last year; I'm slowly unleashing the inner bag diva and embracing the bag lady in me.

It's nice to have E home again. As much as I enjoyed having time alone, I did miss him. Now if you'll excuse me, we have some catching up to do.... >;)

Artsy fartsy

Went to the art museum today - lately I've had this strange urge to walk around aimlessly and watch people and things... no reason at all, just feel like it. It's too cold for the park, so I headed to the galleries.

E was a good sport and tagged along. We got in free; he as a student, I as a former docent. As soon as we walked through the double glass doors, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. The polished hardwood floors, tall sterile white walls, bright lights, and space... the art therapy begins.

The first few galleries we walked through showcased stuffy Victorian and Renaissance paintings and elaborate furniture. I learned a new word: garniture. Dictionary.com says it means something that garnishes (heh, duh), but an art buff will say it refers to a display of Chinese porcelain, in odd numbers, atop a cabinet or mantle. It's a European thing. Strange, no? A series of tilting helmets led us to a hallway filled with ancient relics from Asia and Africa. Ancient art is sometimes cool, but mostly creepy.

As we progressed on through the eras, back to the Renaissance and onwards to Expressionism and Surrealism, I became convinced that I will never understand art. Torn muslin, a wrangled piece of aluminium, paint splashed arbitrarily, and my favorite - an utterly blank, white, piece of canvas - these all have some abstract message behind them, from the atrocities of the Holocaust to the profoundness of life, the artwork being the physical expression of that epiphany. My 4-year old nephew could easily be the next Jackson Pollock, but his spaghetti scrawls won't be selling for millions of dollars.

Anyway... despite not being able to grasp some of the art (we are but common folk), we had a good time.


Giant dandelion: An exercise in futility


Great Love: My eyes hurt if I stare for too long

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Tried to make something fancy for dinner - rabbits with prunes. It's a popular dish among small restaurants in the French countryside, I was told. Except, since I was too lazy to pick up rabbit meat at Wholey's, I spared the bunnies for chicken and substituted the prunes with apricots (both swaps are totally acceptable, according to the recipe). So it's more like chicken with apricots... doesn't quite sound the same, but one can use some imagination. I didn't have enough of a pyromaniacal streak to do the flaming cognac bit, but nobody can tell anyway after it's soaked in red wine. Turned out well! I made sauteed potatoes and a simple romaine salad to go with it. This one's a keeper.

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I've jumped on the 'Heroes' bandwagon, and I'm officially a fan. The plot is riveting and the characters are well-cast; Hiro Nakamura is definitely my favorite. House and BSG currently take a back-seat - am I fickle or what?

All work and some play

Been busy - too much to blog about, too little time. Short trip to Erie, Feuerzangenbowle, more wine, virtual shopping in Australia, plans for the Jakarta trip, fleeting thoughts on various topics...

Jack is back - everyone's really psyched about the new season of 24, but personally I'm more excited about the mid-season return of Battlestar Galactica. Sunday's episode had a nasty cliffhanger - who are the final five?? Some speculate that Starbuck is one of them, despite it being highly implausible. My money is on Cally. Now that the D'Anna model series has been boxed, it'll be fun to see how Baltar will convince the others to rescue Xena, so the final five can be revealed. Ooh the suspense...

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Discovered this website lately. Cool beans! I was hooked on the Flash games, notably this one and this one. Very clever. Much like this series of games, though a lot more forgiving.

Time for bed... hope I'll be able to write more soon.

Oopsies

Gotta watch out for cuffed pant legs. Lesson learned.

Sashay to water cooler. Fill mug with water. Return to desk. (Pants go swish swish.) See the director (my boss) and senior VP chatting in her office. Smile. Heels get caught in pant cuffs, trip and flail, mug throws water on face. Conversation halts, all eyes on me.

Boss: "Are you okay?" Senior VP looks amused.
Me: "Yup I'm fine." Flash big grin. Water dripping from face, secretly wishing I could die.

@#%$*#%.

Fall

First week of fall. It's been the longest week ever. Maybe it's the dark, cold mornings... or the evenings that end so much earlier than I want them to. Lethargy all around, sweaters and knee-high boots, talk about Halloween and turkeys and such crap.

The good news is, it's symphony season again. Prokofiev's Violin Concerto No. 1 this weekend, featuring Leila Josefowicz; Shostakovich next week, and more excitingly, Bruch's Violin Concerto during Thanksgiving weekend.

Finally, at long last, I'm embarking on The Time Traveler's Wife. I was promised a good sobbin' in the last twenty pages. Need to finish reading Love in the Time of Cholera before the movie comes out next year.

Ugh. TGIF.

Worldly possessions ++

On Saturday I discovered that when given the chance, I'm just as likely to buy a pair of wide-leg pinstriped pants for work as I am to buy, oh, a bike. (The power of consumerism compels me!) No regrets, but I can't help feeling a little post-splurge guilt, and am dreading the next time I check my bank account. My justification is simply that I've thought about both for a long time, and there's no use dragging my feet any longer. Besides, the pants were on sale, and the longer I wait to get the bike, the more days of warm nice weather I will miss. (Although, I spied the trainers at the bike shop, which can come in handy during the winter.) The bike will even help me get in shape for the pants. Does it get better than that?

Number of dry clean only clothing I own: +1
Number of serious recreational purchases: +1

Unfortunately, I've to wait till the end of the week for my bike to arrive. In the meantime, I can look up every park and trail there is in the city.

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Lately I've been obsessed with bikes. I blame the bike fever on E's Ultimate teammate. We were invited to her housewarming party; she's a duathlon champ, and her rugged pro road bike hung on a rack in the house like a trophy, along with her boyfriend's. Her (deliciously hot German) boyfriend is also a serious rider, and partook in serious bike convos during the party. They were really into it. Her friends looked like models out of a fitness mag; they were in crazy good shape. Out of sheer coincidence and misfortune, I ended up being the fattest girl in the group. (I'm not obese - sure, I could lose a few pounds, but next to the girls, I felt like a whale.) After just a few minutes of hanging out with them, I had the sudden urge to bike. I wanted to be buff like them. I wanted to learn all about Shimano and Cinelli. I wanted to be able to talk to other bike enthusiasts about my speed and distance stats. I wanted to go on group rides around the city, parks, trails.

Thus the bike. Can't wait for it to come. E can't wait for the company. We'll be cheesy and have 'his' and 'hers' bike stuff. Psyched!

Futon, dancing on a treadmill

Proudly presenting... our futon.

Before:


All it took was some sponges, rags, deep ebony stain, and polyurethane to make unfinished wood look spiffy.

After:



Baby gives her stamp of approval

It's comfy! I just need to find/make red paisley pillows. When folded out, it makes a great full/queen bed. Glad we got the upgrade on the mattress.

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Found this video the other day. 4 guys + 8 treadmills = uber cool. Is this the awesomest thing or what?

Saturday

In past blogs, I seemed only capable of chronicling my weekends, and nothing more. Old habits die hard, I guess. I think it stems from a childish desire to tell someone all about my weekend, and since nobody really cares, it gets dumped into a blog. (That's what blogs are for, right? Public trash receptacle for your thoughts.) In my defense though, this was a rather good one, worthy of a lame post at least.

First, it rained. It was a merciful reprieve from the sweltering heat and humidity; the past week had been so hot that I would melt like a candle just walking down the street. Now it's cool and breezy, balance is restored and the world is happy again. E went to his Ultimate tourney despite the rain, won, and came back covered in mud. I sat at the piano for hours, happily, though I wasn't patient enough to work through the rest of the Bach fugue.

Made a hearty lunch - spinach salad with balsamic vinaigrette, Gourmandise Kirsch and crackers, shrimp cocktail, and cranberry tuna salad sandwiches. Broke out our new PB pitcher for lemonade. Puttered around the house a bit before deciding to go shopping. E tagged along. Had Chicago-style pizza for dinner (gorgonzola = good), where E revealed himself to be quite a pizza snob. Hauled the shopping home and fixed some lychee martinis. Meant to play BZFlag with E (as DaBlasta and MrsBlasta) but ended up surfing the web. Maybe tonight...


Lunch!


Bountiful harvest - denim jacket, stretchy tube, shirt and cute pumps for work


Lychee martinis with sake and gin


Toasty and stylin' the new merchandise with baby

Steak for din din. Cow yummy. Grocery shopping and more piano lined up for the afternoon. Still not done polyurethaning the futon... gah.

Love is...

This post is dedicated to the little things that make me happy.

* Skyr - I found this new-fangled yogurt-like snack during one of my rounds at Whole Foods. It's the best thing ever! Brilliant idea. I'm a nut for dairy foods, and this Icelandic creation has me hooked. It's thick, rich, creamy, and best of all, nonfat (imagine that! Can anything be more perfect?). Whole Foods sells skyr as a parfait with berries and granola, and I can't get enough of it. More skyr!

* Karrin Allyson's Footprints - Released in April, this kick-butt album shows up all her previous ones. From Paris to Rio had been a favorite of mine, but it's a different style and at risk of sounding like a traitor, I prefer the classic jazz sound of this newest album. It's odd hearing lyrics to well-known jazz classics not intended for song, but I thought it was a classy twist. I remember when I first heard O Baquinho on the classical and jazz station years ago, when she was still an obscure name... now, Karrin is heard almost every night on NPR Jazz. I love every song on this album, and Karrin is definitely one talented scat cat.

(Herbie Hancock was purchased at the same time; my collection grows. Eeeexcellent.)

* My Canon 75-300mm lens - It's a cheap piece of glass, no IS, but it does good work. Took this last week after one of E's Ultimate tournies:



You can see the freakin' craters! Holy smokes! Okay, so it's really grainy... But hey, you gotta admit it's not bad for a low-end basic telephoto and no tripod.

* Mini weekend trips - Our little road adventure to the Finger Lakes has been finalized. We're staying at a bed and breakfast and doing the usual - hiking, hitting the wine trail, exploring the gorges and waterfalls at the state parks... I'm especially excited about visiting the meadery up there, and the possibility of trout/bass fishing. If the insane heat hasn't done them in yet, we might pick strawberries at a farm. This will be a nice getaway; E is psyched too.

* Curious furballs - I made quiche a few nights ago, and E brought baby closer to steal a whiff (smell but no touch - that sadist).



Cutie + pie! Corny, I know :)

Sleepy time. Lots to do this weekend...

The Ex

The Ex visited this weekend. He was in Philly for business, and decided to stop by. Heh, stop by. (I guess when you live on the other side of the country, driving across the state in a company-paid rental car is nothing.) He looked good. He just earned his Masters from Stanford; between that and his degree from our alma mater, he's set to make waves. Still working for the same gov't defense contractor on stuff he can't talk about.

We chatted about his impending Southeast Asian tour - Singapore, Jakarta, Bali, Kuala Lumpur. When he moved out to Silicon Valley after college, I gave him the contact information for my aunt and uncle, so he won't be all alone. My family can show him around and help him settle in, until he gets acquainted with the area and finds his niche. It was a favor my aunt was doing, because she knew I cared a lot for him even though she didn't care for my ang moh (ex-)boyfriend. Gradually, however, the ice melted and he became the babysitter, the English translator, the incontestable 4th mahjong partner, the surrogate son. Now, 3 years later and after countless subtle attempts to persuade me he'd make a good husband (despite earlier doubts), they're taking him to the places near and dear to their hearts. I think it will be a great trip for him. My mum thinks it's downright disturbing. E is a little jealous, but he 'won' as far as he's concerned, so it doesn't matter.

We reminisced, of course, and laughed about all the stupid things we did. Fraternity stories, spring break at a beach house in Jersey with our posse of 8, timeless quotes and moments, etc. We didn't talk about other things, the memories between us that we remember vividly but know are moot to bring up. E held his own, despite not being in on a lot of the jokes and "remember when"s.

The strangest moment of the weekend must've been when the 3 of us - hubby, myself, and the Ex - were sitting around the dining table, sipping on mojitos, E surgically transplanting one of our plants into another pot, dirt everywhere, the Ex talking about work, cat sitting contentedly on his lap. I had a moment of "whoa", like in the movies where everything suddenly moved like molasses, as I looked at the two men and thought about the choices I made. The well-built, charismatic engineer, who held my hand through college and whom I trusted with my life, and the slender, quiet programmer, my emotional anchor who I promised to love and cherish, till death do us part. They are so similar, yet so different, in too many ways. I couldn't be more glad that our lives crossed paths, but some memories and people are better left in the past. I was so proud of E for being the bigger man and taking everything in stride, and happy that the Ex and I are still great friends in spite of the odds.

He left before dinner to head to the airport, joking about what a bore his first-class trip back to California would be. We said our goodbyes, and as soon as the door closed, I soothed hubby's ego a little before letting the weekend return to normal.

(E rox my sox.)

Futon on the Fourth

July 4th was a gloomy wet mess in Pittsburgh. Too bad for all the BBQ parties and picnics that never happened (*hint of schadenfreude*). I was happy as a clam inside, with the iPod on shuffle as I stained the new futon a deep dark ebony.

If people knew exactly how excited this futon makes me, they might be a little scared. It's exciting for several reasons - it's a brand new piece of furniture, NOT a cheap dorm futon from IKEA, and we could afford it with our very own money without putting a dent in our wallets. What can be more exciting than that? Almost everything else in the house is second-hand, from college, or both - the dining table, office desk, pantry shelves, bed, dressers... Which makes this our first *real* homebuilding piece. When we move to a *real* place, it can have a special place in the guest room or study, and when we've little tykes napping on it, we can reminisce about how we bought it when we were still renting a place with crooked walls and creaking floorboards.

Speaking in the not-so-distant future, I'm ecstatic that I will finally be able to un-train myself from sitting the way I did on the old couch, for fear of it collapsing. The thought of being able to throw myself on the futon after a hard day's work, lean back during a movie, cuddle up with my laptop... mind-boggling!

It was a beautiful feeling, lathering the unfinished wood with TLC. Lying in a corner is the mattress, which we splurged on an upgrade for; picked out cream covers to go with it. *does a little dance* So far I've finished staining.. well, everything, and all that's left is the polyurethane. 'Before' and 'after' pics are in order - coming soon...

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I ran out of stain halfway through, and E, who was blasting marauders on EV Nova, made a run to Lowe's to get more. The poor guys there worked till 8pm (on the 4th!) because Home Depot was open that late. Tough. E swung by the fireworks tent along the way and picked up a bag full of goodies. No outdoor grilling for us, but dinner was satisfying all the same - buffalo wings, mac 'n cheese, hot dogs, corn on the cob. :) We snuck up to Schenley Golf Club's green and watched the fireworks in a distance, before setting off some of our own. Some kids in the neighborhood wandered over when we set off the whistling rockets and sparks, and a few guys opened up their windows and cheered... our own little fireworks show on the street corner.

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Muddled some mojitos tonight. Best drinks ever.

Baseball fans are nothing but trouble

I hate the Pirates. (Never mind this post.) Especially when they have a weekday afternoon game. Who the hell watches baseball on a Thursday afternoon?? Don't people have to go to work? The worst part is, the game ends right around evening rush hour. How retarded!! So thousands of angry yinzers sit in their cars, trying to squeeze past those baseball-loving skivers, while sitting on 50-yr old bridges with deteriorated supports, praying that we don't make headlines in the evening news. ("Thousands die as bridge collapses into river") I just want to get home dammit. Baseball season has quickly taught me the only proper use of the horn - liberally. There is no reason why it should take an hour to travel 7 effin' miles.

Bah! Aggravating.