Squirrel Cat

Cairo has always had different relationships, or conflictships, with each of the 3 cats:

Man he hovers over like Man is the weak link in the herd [which he is--so old, he's lost all his body fat, his fur thinning and now white close to his skin, a walk that's like a creep through glue];

Oshi and he alternately hate each other, are nearly homicidally jealous of each other, or want to kill, or at least play roughly with, each other, and will not separate, no matter how loud the growling, hissing and scrambling get;

Tabby, the youngest cat, was softening her hardline position but Cairo was too much of a dog to lick her on the top of her head which she offered him every time she came near him.

Then Cairo saw Tabby climb the neighbor's crape myrtle. He seemed a bit stunned by her dash up the tree. The only things he's seen climb trees are squirrels he nearly chokes himself trying to get to.

Since then, he has been obsessed with Tabby. He growls, yodels, whines when she comes inside and chases after her, intentions unclear. He gets more hyperactive than usual and can't hear any commands, not even the word "cookie," his favorite word other than "Cairo," and one of us has to scoop up Tabby and place her somewhere out of his reach, or grab Cairo and hold on with both hands and a little body weight to keep hm from running to her so fast he bowls her over. He gets this look on his face these days like, DAMN! Y'all never told me she was a SQUIRREL, too?!?

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pics by dsbnola

Love This Detergent

This is totally out of character for me but I love this laundry detergent.

For most of my life, I've had various forms of rashes, mostly on my face, occasionally on my shoulders or arms. Once I started doing my own laundry and tried different detergents, I realized some made me break out more than others. [I went through the same trial-and-error with soaps. Oy. And don't ask about shampoos, conditioners, deodorants, lotions---a sensitivity that preceded fibromyalgia] Then fragrance- and dye-free detergents came out and I was able to link some breakouts to fragrances and dyes. I read a lot of labels and assumed as long as I was in this modern world, my forehead would continue to be scattered in, if not covered in, little skin-toned bumps.



Then we got a sample of Myndee Corkern's laundry detergent, that she created because she could not find one that didn't aggravate her daughter's eczema.

Oh. My. God. A subtle, clean smell in the clothes and sheets that leaves my forehead smooth. One little scoop [we have a front-loader/high-efficiency]. And the clothes are clean. I don't have to add borax or OxiClean or some other shit to get stuff clean, it just works. Check out Myndee's Etsy page. The scent names are NOLA style: Mardi Gras, Bananas Foster, Fleur de Lis. She has a Baby scent, too. AND she's local!---Fresh GraNOLA: small, woman-owned and -created business, quality product with the sweetest packaging and lovely little red scoops.

Fresh GraNOLA’s All Natural Laundry Powder is made from high quality, hand crafted olive oil soap and other natural materials. It's hard working, yet gentle enough for babies. It will leave your clothes smelling fresh and clean!

You know you want it now.

Tell her you read this post/heard about it from me. You can follow her on Facebook [www.facebook.com/freshgranola] and/or Twitter [freshgranolamyn].

And you will LOVE this detergent. I promise.

Draft Undone

So here's the method of my madness:

• I realize most of this first draft is wrong. But I have to finish it to have a complete, tangible draft to undo.

• Next, research. I can already visualize my plan.

• Next, a NEW first draft with the research, changes, unwindings, reknottings tucked into the manuscript and then weeks of deleting, pasting, moving, more deleting, drafting, moving, pausing, deleting and drafting.

• Then I will have a first draft. And can start revising, aimed at a final draft by this time next year. [I'm sure I'll regret saying that in May 2012.]

Draft Done!

It sucks monkey shit but now I have something to work with. Flawed, too narrow, factual details all over the place, but I feel a bit of cool relief.

Mid-Stream

I am deep enough in this first draft to be absent-minded, daydreamy, always a step back from the present, distracted, and even when I am not thinking I feel like I am thinking.

That's the good news.

The bad news is I am deep enough in this first draft to have it seeping from my skin and I am not enjoying sharing head space with my narrator right now. It's a fucked-up time for her and for everyone around her even if they think all is good and fine in the world. If I had the luxury and privilege of going into the full immersion the draft is teasing me with, I would gladly go over the deep end. But there are small animals to care for, physical therapy, meals, dirty dishes, calls to make, leads that fade and have to be picked up again later, family and relationships I actually like and don't want to drop for a few weeks/months/a year and the general need for non-writing in order to be able to think about writing and write.

So here I sit.

Dog Care

I have taken from the basenji's mouth:

aluminum foil

bark

beer can wrapped in a paper bag

bone knuckles

broken chicken bones

carpet fibers

cat claws

cat hair

cat litter

cat turds

charcoal briquettes

chewing gum wrappers

chunk of blueberry muffin

cigarette butts

clean napkins

clipped fingernails

coupons

crumpled paper bags

dirt

dirty napkins

dirty piece of sausage

dog turds

dry cat food

dust bunnies

flower petals

human hair

leaves

more carpet fibers

more cigarette butts

mulch

newspaper

piece of bread covered in ants

piece of onion

plastic bags

rocks

steak bones

unidentifiable pieces of plastic, various colors

weeds

wet cat food

wet half cigarette

whole chicken bones

And I have pulled a whole dried dracena leaf out his ass.

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photo courtesy of dsb nola, used under this Creative Commons license

Noelle Kocot

Amazing. Especially the last one.

Awkward

The health club--I mean, wellness center where I take a warm-water exercise class is, during the day when I go, a hot spot for older folks--they chat, hug, catch up, walk on machines or the track together or exercise in the pools keeping up a steady conversation. In the locker room, I am surrounded by naked, half-dressed, dressing, undressing, showering women 15, 25, sometimes 30 years older than I. One morning, groaning as I got dressed again, sagging and wrinkling and cane shuffling all around me, I realized that the song coming over the loudspeaker "face to face/and back to back/you see and feel/my sex attack" was Billy Idol's "Flesh for Fantasy."

Awkward.

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photo courtesy of Olivander, used under this Creative Commons license