Caper-Cat

My 16-year-old cat Caper, who was a wonderful and loving part of my life for 14 years, passed away this evening. I really love my cat, and watching him leave me was really hard. Caper was shy and pretty and delicate and furry. I always thought he felt just like velvet should feel. I have so many good memories of him, so many little things I knew about him … He was my friend and companion through many good and bad times. I feel like there’s a great hole in my life with his passing.

Here’s to you, kitty, for being uniquely you. May you have all the naps and catnip you could wish for in kitty heaven.

Caper at 2 years of age just after I got him, in my first apartment.

Caper playing “baseball” - we’d throw paper in the air and he’d whack at it.

I Need A Garage

I found out earlier today that it’s been flooding in Iowa - in fact, right down the road from where I have family in Black Hawk County. I don’t read the news, or watch the news, so I was completely unaware there was a disaster area in progress (Aunt B, I talked to mom, she says you’re fine, good to know!!!). I was looking at the news and seeing a lot of places I know that were under water. Very disturbing. I hope the water dies down and gets back under control.

Black-bellied whistling ducks in Jennifer’s back yard.

So yeah, I really need a garage, but all I’ve got is a parking lot, so I’m down here at my mother-in-law’s house borrowing hers. There’s decoupaging going on. I wish I could show you my hands right now. They are covered in primer, Mod Podge and polyurethane varnish. Yum! When it’s done, I will have some cool furniture, but at the moment it’s all sticky and drying in the garage. I have to say, though, that I am lucky to have a handy husband, or I would pprobably be wearing my decoupage project. This is not neat, and requires 4 hands.

Grapefruit in progress.

Jennifer, my mother-in-law, attracts wild animals like the rest of us attract mosquitos and flies. Did I ever mention the parrot that landed in her back yard? The raccoons and deer she used to take in? The squirrel that was sleeping in her bird feeder? The pregnant cat on her front step? I think I posted a picture of some ducks that have been hanging out every night here, I saw them this evening.

There’s some crazy plants around here. Jennifer’s grapefruit and tangelo trees have started to go nuts. This is the subtropics, after all, and citrusy things do really well. Then again, all her plants do really well. Her neighbor also has the green thumb I’ve always wished I had. She has a serious talent for placing flowers.

Hope you and yours are having a restful weekend. We’re having fun with animals. Jennifer has two dogs (a pug and a Lhasa Apso) that our dog usually “herds” when she’s here, as she’s younger and more energetic. However, this time we brought little kitten, who’s giving everyone a run for their money (including me). See you tomorrow! I’m off to apply more acrylic to my decoupage. And hopefully, I’ll try to avoid fumes, and all that nonsense.

Home is where your grandparents live

Several years ago my grandmother gave me the embroidery book on the right.  Purchased years ago, it is a 35-cent copy of 100 embroidery stitches.  As it turns out, they’re still making the book and I bought a new one a couple of years ago. They’re exactly the same inside, it’s just a new cover.

I was doing some embroidery the other day and chanced upon these while looking for a stitch. It made me think of my grandparents, who live in the Midwest. My parents are both from the midwest, and my aunts and an uncle still live there (hi Aunt B!).

Although I mostly grew up in Texas my summers and winters at my grandparents’ farm left a lasting, deep impression on me. When people ask me where I’m from, I think of the midwest as much as I think of Texas. It’s part of who I am.

The family farm and surrounding area is a vastly different place than was our home in the suburbs. The town my grandparents live in (that’s a view of the center of town down the “main street” in the picture to the left) is really tiny and quiet, whereas suburbia is large and noisy. At the farm there was room to roam - to shady creeks, sunny ponds, through fields of the blackest dirt, down quiet gravel roads. In the suburbs there’s concrete and houses and the neighborhood pool. Suburbia is mostly newish while the farmhouse was oldish and creaked. The farm had much more of a sense of place, a sense of roots and ties and tradition, all things I value.

My grandmother always had a big garden, and crisp, sweet corn was usually in season when I was there. Tall flowers, too. I weeded corn fields, sweating in long sleeves to avoid the sharp leaves. I fed cattle, and some noisy pigs. I had a fuzzy kitten named Diana one year. I always body surfed two-story bales of hay. I had a best friend named Katie. I went to the Maid Rite visiting grandma Smith, and looked through her humongous collection of Stuff packed into small areas. I froze my arse off in my uncle’s coveralls one winter playing with cousins. I wondered just how many relatives my parents had. I swam upstream against the strong Mississippi current and swallowed mud. I wondered what the one-room schools my dad went to were like. My patient aunt tried to teach me to drive a standard transmission on hilly gravel roads. There were holidays and snow, summers and creeks, but mostly there were people I loved.

It’s hard to say, when you think of who you are, to figure out where it all came from in making up the mishmash of you. This is one part of me that’s clear.