Archive for August, 2009


I waited until I believed the rain might have stopped, then headed home on my bike. I was completely wrong — it was sprinkling when I got on my bike (no big deal, I thought, it’ll taper off) but shortly thereafter started to actually rain. I was a little more than halfway home, riding north along a wide open soccer field, when I realized that the sun was very, very bright all of a sudden. I enjoyed the view of the summer rain falling gently over the grass, the whole scene highlighted by the shining sun — and I suddenly realized: it’s raining, and the sun’s shining brightly, and that means RAINBOW! I looked to my right, to the east, and there it was — a perfect rainbow splashed against the blue-grey clouds, its ghostly sister hovering above it at the ends.

As I rode, it got even brighter. At one point both rainbows were clearly visible from end to end, and the bright one was showing its “reflection” — the other side of it, under the purple, was blue-green again and I swear I saw orange at some point too. Were I less shy, I might have sat up on my bike and pointed, shouting “RAINBOW!” at the top of my lungs to all the people sitting dry in their cars. As it was I probably just freaked out a couple of drivers going the other way on the two-lane residential roads; I was well within my lane, but drivers get nervous enough around bicyclists, never mind when they’re staring at the sky instead of the road…


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Stressed-out kitty

So I couldn’t figure out why I was getting such crappy sleep. I mean, the new mattress and apartment would of course affect my sleeping patterns, but it was like I was just dozing for most of the night.

When Patch doesn’t get enough attention, he sometimes gets “all up ins,” as the slang goes, at night. Lying down with us isn’t enough at these times — he comes up and headbutts us and stands on sensitive bits and lays his extremely fuzzy tail over our faces. So I’m already trying to sleep on a new material (memory foam) in a new apartment at a new elevation (the bed is on the floor with no box spring, and we’re on the first floor instead of the third) with a cat trying  to get pets at all hours of the night, and it’s no wonder I wake up feeling like I’ve barely dozed.

We need to get him some cat grass, too, because he’s always had a taste for cardboard, as many/most cats apparently do, but now he’s chewing on plastic. When I get home from work this evening I’m going to dump out all the boxes (we don’t have places to put everything anyway because we don’t have much furniture), break them down, and throw them out to the garbage pile because my kitty is making himself sick on the tape. He threw up a record five or six times yesterday, once on our brand-new wedding gift rug, though I managed to clean it up well enough. I’m as glad as I thought I’d be that we have hardwood floors here.

I called the emergency vet last night after the last time he threw up, which had some plastic packaging in it. She suggested bringing him in, but since he wasn’t acting strangely and he doesn’t generally seem to chew on things when we’re not home and awake, I decided to wait and bring him to the regular vet this morning since I’m guessing it will be cheaper. She recommended taking his food and water away, though I gave it back to him this morning to see if he’d throw it up again, and two hours later he’s kept it down. So I called the regular vet and she seemed to think everything was all right until I mentioned he’d thrown up the plastic, when she said I should probably bring him in so the doctor can take a look at him. So we’ll leave in a few minutes.

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“The problem with defending the purity of the English language is that English is about as pure as a cribhouse whore. We don’t just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.”
–James Nicoll

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