People have started wondering, "What is emo? Am I emo? Could I be emo if I wanted to be? Is emo like one of those big elephant birds in New Zealand or whatever?" And that venerable institution, journalism, came to the rescue with the answers! Long live the free exchange of information!
28 October 2007
25 October 2007
Funniest Thing This Week
Okay, folks, this is seriously the funniest thing I've seen all week. Of course, if you have never spent much time in the Indonesian province of Papua, you probably won't think it's funny at all. I can't help you there. Unfortunately, the audio does not really sync with the video, so it requires patience and some careful attention to follow along.
Remember, Papua is the Silicon Valley of the Third World islands south of the equator.
Remember, Papua is the Silicon Valley of the Third World islands south of the equator.
16 October 2007
So THAT'S what happened to Common Sense!
Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as knowing when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the worm, life isn't always fair, and maybe it was my fault. Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not children, are in charge).
His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a six-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.
Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job they themselves failed to do in disciplining their unruly children. It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer Aspirin, sun lotion or a Bandaid to a student, but could not inform the parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.
Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband; churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims. Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar can sue you for assault.
Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.
Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason. He is survived by three stepbrothers; I Know my Rights, Someone Else is to Blame, and I'm a Victim.
Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone. If you still remember him, pass this on. If not, join the majority and do nothing.
His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a six-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.
Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job they themselves failed to do in disciplining their unruly children. It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer Aspirin, sun lotion or a Bandaid to a student, but could not inform the parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.
Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband; churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims. Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar can sue you for assault.
Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.
Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason. He is survived by three stepbrothers; I Know my Rights, Someone Else is to Blame, and I'm a Victim.
Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone. If you still remember him, pass this on. If not, join the majority and do nothing.
10 October 2007
Quippage and quotage
Charmed can actually be a pretty funny show. Not as funny as Buffy, but funny none-the-less.
Example:
Paige has lost her voice, so she is communicating via writing on a notepad. She is interrogating a demon the sisters have captured.
Paige (writes): WHERE IS OUR WHITELIGHTER?
Phoebe comes in, and sees what Paige is doing.
Phoebe: Did it ever occur to you that Kazi demons might not be able to read?
Demon (gratefully): I tried to tell her that...
Paige (writes): DEMONS LIE!!
Phoebe: Yes, but not about literacy.
Or some great exchanges between Cole and Phoebe (or Cole and, well, anybody):
Phoebe to Cole: Good people don't turn other people into water coolers!
On another occasion:
Cole: Don't you think you might be a little paranoid?
Phoebe: About my demon ex-husband from hell? No, I don't think so.
Cole trying really hard at the relationship thing:
Cole: Did you get my flowers?
Phoebe: Yeah. "Sorry I tried to strangle you." Probably not a card the florist gets to write everyday.
Or one-liners from the fabulous Piper, who tells it like it is:
-Life isn't a garden so stop being a hoe.
-Be careful of the feet you step on, they may be connected to the boot that kicks your ass.
-Phoebe, you're overreacting. That's my department.
Example:
Paige has lost her voice, so she is communicating via writing on a notepad. She is interrogating a demon the sisters have captured.
Paige (writes): WHERE IS OUR WHITELIGHTER?
Phoebe comes in, and sees what Paige is doing.
Phoebe: Did it ever occur to you that Kazi demons might not be able to read?
Demon (gratefully): I tried to tell her that...
Paige (writes): DEMONS LIE!!
Phoebe: Yes, but not about literacy.
Or some great exchanges between Cole and Phoebe (or Cole and, well, anybody):
Phoebe to Cole: Good people don't turn other people into water coolers!
On another occasion:
Cole: Don't you think you might be a little paranoid?
Phoebe: About my demon ex-husband from hell? No, I don't think so.
Cole trying really hard at the relationship thing:
Cole: Did you get my flowers?
Phoebe: Yeah. "Sorry I tried to strangle you." Probably not a card the florist gets to write everyday.
Or one-liners from the fabulous Piper, who tells it like it is:
-Life isn't a garden so stop being a hoe.
-Be careful of the feet you step on, they may be connected to the boot that kicks your ass.
-Phoebe, you're overreacting. That's my department.
'Tis that time of year
That time of year when we celebrate the achievements of the ordinary scientist who just wants to find an answer to a gnarly--if often quirky--question or two.
The 2007 Ig Nobel Prize winners have been announced.
The 2007 Ig Nobel Prize winners have been announced.
04 October 2007
My Day
Didn't Eleanor Roosevelt have a [rather popular] column called My Day when she was the First Lady of the USA?
Anyway, my own day was eventful without being particularly interesting. I awoke at 5:30, but snoozed for a while. It's so hard for me to get up before the sun rises. I showered and got ready, scrambled with my bevy of morning tasks (usually including feeding and water the pets, checking the plants, and a few other household chores).
I stumbled out of the door, hauling my bag full of stuff that I would need for the day (e.g. purse, water bottle, lunch, various pieces of paperwork, and so on). I had some CDs that I could listen to in the car or at work. I stopped by Starbucks because I deserved a treat and because I had a gift card (a coworker gave me one he didn't want-- imagine that) and so did not have to pay for it.
My job is a few blocks from Starbucks, so I made it in by 7:30. However, despite me being a morning person, the early start didn't help. Even with some caffeine, I was tired and groggy all day. I hate that, because I'm unfocused and unproductive. I was done at 4 pm, and it was just icing on the cake to discover that I'd received a parking citation that (to the best of my knowledge) I shouldn't have gotten.
I was not a happy camper when I got home. I really needed to get my mail, as I was expecting a paycheck (one that has not yet arrived, which brings even more frustration). Well, no time to fret. I grabbed some other checks and headed to the bank, to do some business before it closed at 5 pm. With barely a break to breathe, I went to the Verizon store to examine some cellular phones, as we are changing our wireless service over to Verizon. I finally selected a phone that (1) would be workable for me and (2) more importantly, would be free with signing up for a wireless service package.
I zoomed to Jamba Juice to pick up some sustenance, both because I like smoothies and because I had a gift card that would pay for my purchase (long and pointless story as to how I obtained the JJ card). At that point, I was heading west, making my way to the gym, so I decided to stop by Rosalee's house, which is in that area, for a quick little visit. We chatted and I showed her that I was wearing the sweater I had bought with the money she'd given me for my birthday. It was nice.
I had to zip off in order to make it to the gym to change and try a yoga class. The class was fine, but turned out it was an hour and half long, instead of one hour. That threw off the rest of my evening. Post-yoga, I went to the grocery store (a necessity, since I needed food), and spent a while shopping, but managed to forget a few important items. Grr. By that time, I was starving (a smoothie is a good snack, but is, for me, an insufficient meal). I had to eat something when I arrived back home after 10 pm, after which I put away groceries and got stuff ready to take out for trash and recycle pickup tomorrow. Now, my tummy is finally settled, so I'm able to stagger off to bed, and hope my poor neglected cats will take pity on me and cuddle me.
Tomorrow is another big day that will start too early and probably go too long.
Anyway, my own day was eventful without being particularly interesting. I awoke at 5:30, but snoozed for a while. It's so hard for me to get up before the sun rises. I showered and got ready, scrambled with my bevy of morning tasks (usually including feeding and water the pets, checking the plants, and a few other household chores).
I stumbled out of the door, hauling my bag full of stuff that I would need for the day (e.g. purse, water bottle, lunch, various pieces of paperwork, and so on). I had some CDs that I could listen to in the car or at work. I stopped by Starbucks because I deserved a treat and because I had a gift card (a coworker gave me one he didn't want-- imagine that) and so did not have to pay for it.
My job is a few blocks from Starbucks, so I made it in by 7:30. However, despite me being a morning person, the early start didn't help. Even with some caffeine, I was tired and groggy all day. I hate that, because I'm unfocused and unproductive. I was done at 4 pm, and it was just icing on the cake to discover that I'd received a parking citation that (to the best of my knowledge) I shouldn't have gotten.
I was not a happy camper when I got home. I really needed to get my mail, as I was expecting a paycheck (one that has not yet arrived, which brings even more frustration). Well, no time to fret. I grabbed some other checks and headed to the bank, to do some business before it closed at 5 pm. With barely a break to breathe, I went to the Verizon store to examine some cellular phones, as we are changing our wireless service over to Verizon. I finally selected a phone that (1) would be workable for me and (2) more importantly, would be free with signing up for a wireless service package.
I zoomed to Jamba Juice to pick up some sustenance, both because I like smoothies and because I had a gift card that would pay for my purchase (long and pointless story as to how I obtained the JJ card). At that point, I was heading west, making my way to the gym, so I decided to stop by Rosalee's house, which is in that area, for a quick little visit. We chatted and I showed her that I was wearing the sweater I had bought with the money she'd given me for my birthday. It was nice.
I had to zip off in order to make it to the gym to change and try a yoga class. The class was fine, but turned out it was an hour and half long, instead of one hour. That threw off the rest of my evening. Post-yoga, I went to the grocery store (a necessity, since I needed food), and spent a while shopping, but managed to forget a few important items. Grr. By that time, I was starving (a smoothie is a good snack, but is, for me, an insufficient meal). I had to eat something when I arrived back home after 10 pm, after which I put away groceries and got stuff ready to take out for trash and recycle pickup tomorrow. Now, my tummy is finally settled, so I'm able to stagger off to bed, and hope my poor neglected cats will take pity on me and cuddle me.
Tomorrow is another big day that will start too early and probably go too long.
02 October 2007
Charmed, I'm Sure
One TV show I've been watching (seeing as how I have little better to do) is Charmed, which airs a few episodes each weekday on TNT. It is kind of cheesy at times, and I'd like to say I don't know why I like it so much, but actually, I do. This show has a quirky charm (no pun intended), to be honest, and occasionally whips out a good quip or two; but ultimately, the real foundation of the entire series lies in its exploration of the complexities of relationships among close-knit, but all very different, sisters. The writing and characters of the show are far inferior to those of Charmed's fellow, and distinctly similar, WB dramas Buffy and Angel. Indeed, at first glance, Charmed seems to be almost a cheap knock-off of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, with its pretty and supernaturally gifted chosen females battling demons while constantly griping about the struggle to have normal lives (read: mostly, boyfriends and sex), not to mention the Wicca-infused girl-power rhetoric. However, Buffy was all about being the Chosen One, aware of the weight of the world on her shoulders, while Charmed is, as mentioned before, a portrait of the joys and considerable duties of sisterhood. On that level, really, it works. I don't know if men would "get" Charmed, as they can have sisters, but cannot be sisters. I am not disparaging brotherhood, just observing that sisterhood seems to be its own thing. Never-the-less, a good many men probably watched Charmed on the sly, without admitting it, due to the trios of beautiful, usually scantily-clad, actresses who were the stars.
Note: It must be said (though I wish it wasn't necessary) that I do not support the practice of magic in real life. I approve of it only in a fictional context.
Note: It must be said (though I wish it wasn't necessary) that I do not support the practice of magic in real life. I approve of it only in a fictional context.
Wake Me Up When September Ends
Well, in the month of September, I learned, among other things, that just because I CAN do 45 squats in a row, doesn't mean that I SHOULD. Words of experience, people. Heed them.
I have several social and political issues about which I should like to write on this blog, but for which I never seem to have inspiration when I am at my computer. Among these are:
-The thing about which everyone has an opinion these days - Ahmadinejad speaking at US university.
-Humpbacked whales, evolution, and the limits and hypocrisy of practicing scientists.
-Burma/Myanmar, and the fact that despite their claims, world leaders don't really want freedom and justice for all oppressed peoples. They are interested in helping only those whose oppression is not beneficial to themselves.
-The ridiculous and pointless political system in the US.
However, I don't know if I will have the patience or fortitude to write about those topics. Some of them just make me really irritated.
Any votes for topics you'd like to have addressed? Feel free to write in nominations for something not covered above.
I have several social and political issues about which I should like to write on this blog, but for which I never seem to have inspiration when I am at my computer. Among these are:
-The thing about which everyone has an opinion these days - Ahmadinejad speaking at US university.
-Humpbacked whales, evolution, and the limits and hypocrisy of practicing scientists.
-Burma/Myanmar, and the fact that despite their claims, world leaders don't really want freedom and justice for all oppressed peoples. They are interested in helping only those whose oppression is not beneficial to themselves.
-The ridiculous and pointless political system in the US.
However, I don't know if I will have the patience or fortitude to write about those topics. Some of them just make me really irritated.
Any votes for topics you'd like to have addressed? Feel free to write in nominations for something not covered above.
29 September 2007
Going on
I've been pretty tired lately. Either that, or ennui is making me sleepy.
I'm enjoying my job, at the Medium-sized Anonymous Engineering Company (MAEC). I'm learning a lot about civil engineering, architecture, and construction. I'm once again working with crusty, middle-aged male engineers, which is a demographic with which I am very familiar and comfortable. Overall, I like it.
Last weekend, Sara and Elizabeth came to visit. We watched Bones, put together a puzzle, went shopping, and spent time together talking, which was the most fun of all.
Speaking of Bones, did everyone get a chance to watch the Season 3 premiere episode that played on Tuesday night?
I'm enjoying my job, at the Medium-sized Anonymous Engineering Company (MAEC). I'm learning a lot about civil engineering, architecture, and construction. I'm once again working with crusty, middle-aged male engineers, which is a demographic with which I am very familiar and comfortable. Overall, I like it.
Last weekend, Sara and Elizabeth came to visit. We watched Bones, put together a puzzle, went shopping, and spent time together talking, which was the most fun of all.
Speaking of Bones, did everyone get a chance to watch the Season 3 premiere episode that played on Tuesday night?
20 September 2007
My kingdom for a copy editor!
I was flipping through one of Debbie's Cottage Living magazines the other day, and came across a reference to a furnishings designer who started her business working in a "chicken coup". Into my mind flashed a wild series of plausibilities and images. Did this woman's farm experience some sort of Orwellian, Animal Farm-style rebellion, centered, unlikely as it may seem, in the henhouse? Was there an event similar to the planned "great escape" of the movie Chicken Run? Did the poultry simply refuse to be kept down on the farm, after they'd seen Paree?
Obviously, the incongruity-resolution section of my brain kicked in after a few seconds, and I realized that the writer actually meant "chicken coop" and simply either typed it incorrectly (it can happen to the best of us) or substituted a word that looked like it should be pronounced "coop" but really isn't. In either case, the error lent some unintentional humor to the proceedings of an otherwise-routine article about stuff you can buy at Target, plus it just goes to show something about education in the USA.
Obviously, the incongruity-resolution section of my brain kicked in after a few seconds, and I realized that the writer actually meant "chicken coop" and simply either typed it incorrectly (it can happen to the best of us) or substituted a word that looked like it should be pronounced "coop" but really isn't. In either case, the error lent some unintentional humor to the proceedings of an otherwise-routine article about stuff you can buy at Target, plus it just goes to show something about education in the USA.
15 September 2007
Funny memories
I have no idea who this guy is, but his song is hilarious and pretty much dead-on. I now need to write The Talbot Song.
14 September 2007
By the Way
I am once again gainfully employed. I'm working in construction administration at a local architecture and engineering company. I enjoy the industry. I wouldn't want to do my exact job forever, but it's fine for now. I could, however, see myself doing something in the realm of civil engineering for a good many years.
Strangely, both of the coworkers in my department are LDS. Coincidence? Or a leading to return to some parts of my life that I might rather leave behind? It's reasonable to suppose that despite what I want, it's not really possible to just brush away pieces of one's past (or their implications). Are we, as humans, really essentially a summation of our past experiences? Or more appropriately, created in such a way to be shaped and molded by our past experiences? Are we, as Plato might assert, wax that is intended to be imprinted properly (i.e. to reflect the image of the True-cast Mold of the Creator), but can occasionally (or rather, in real life, regularly) be impressed upon by improper images (the effects of sin)? "What is good wax?" Is it possible that, even if we warm ourselves in the fire of the Spirit, becoming pliable and attempting to reshape our waxy selves in the Right Form, we cannot totally rid ourselves of the traces of bad imprints, until the Great Fire at the end of time melts us down completely and gives us new heavenly wax for eternity? And why am I trying to rid my waxy self of imprints that are not necessarily sinful, just because I want to be different from what I am?
We are currently in transition-- AGAIN. Jeff is going to Phoenix to start work for a company there. We'll figure out a way to get me out there soon.
Strangely, both of the coworkers in my department are LDS. Coincidence? Or a leading to return to some parts of my life that I might rather leave behind? It's reasonable to suppose that despite what I want, it's not really possible to just brush away pieces of one's past (or their implications). Are we, as humans, really essentially a summation of our past experiences? Or more appropriately, created in such a way to be shaped and molded by our past experiences? Are we, as Plato might assert, wax that is intended to be imprinted properly (i.e. to reflect the image of the True-cast Mold of the Creator), but can occasionally (or rather, in real life, regularly) be impressed upon by improper images (the effects of sin)? "What is good wax?" Is it possible that, even if we warm ourselves in the fire of the Spirit, becoming pliable and attempting to reshape our waxy selves in the Right Form, we cannot totally rid ourselves of the traces of bad imprints, until the Great Fire at the end of time melts us down completely and gives us new heavenly wax for eternity? And why am I trying to rid my waxy self of imprints that are not necessarily sinful, just because I want to be different from what I am?
We are currently in transition-- AGAIN. Jeff is going to Phoenix to start work for a company there. We'll figure out a way to get me out there soon.
02 September 2007
Cow Town
You know you really live in a cow town when:
(1) A cow wanders onto the major freeway,
(2) The cow literally stops traffic, and
(3) It's front-page news!
No, I am not making this up. I have pictures of the front page to prove it.
(1) A cow wanders onto the major freeway,
(2) The cow literally stops traffic, and
(3) It's front-page news!
No, I am not making this up. I have pictures of the front page to prove it.
01 September 2007
Update, Part 2
In early July, I went down to LA to help Mom and Dad move up to their new house in Camarillo. Hard work! Mia toted cleaning supplies, Mom dealt with masses of mess, and the moving truck was more than sufficient to hold all their worldly possessions.
27 August 2007
Update, Part 1
What have I been doing this summer, when I haven't been posting?
Well, Jeff's grandfather died, as I've mentioned previously, and because it was unexpected and tragic, it took up most of our attention during the latter two-thirds of June. Olaf 's grave marker was still being made at the time of the graveside service. The roses mark the spot; he is buried right next to his mother, Lenora Feely.
The memorial service was in a church, and there was a flag thingie in the front, which was related to Olaf being a WWII veteran, along with a display with his picture and some other paraphernalia.
Mom and Dad came up for the funeral, to be supportive. A fun time was not had by all, even though the church provided a nice luncheon reception.
The next week, we got Rosalee a kitten to give her something on which to focus and provide companionship. Rosalee named her Mittsy. She's so cute.
Well, Jeff's grandfather died, as I've mentioned previously, and because it was unexpected and tragic, it took up most of our attention during the latter two-thirds of June. Olaf 's grave marker was still being made at the time of the graveside service. The roses mark the spot; he is buried right next to his mother, Lenora Feely.
The memorial service was in a church, and there was a flag thingie in the front, which was related to Olaf being a WWII veteran, along with a display with his picture and some other paraphernalia.
Mom and Dad came up for the funeral, to be supportive. A fun time was not had by all, even though the church provided a nice luncheon reception.
The next week, we got Rosalee a kitten to give her something on which to focus and provide companionship. Rosalee named her Mittsy. She's so cute.
Revamp
I have a new theme and a new look (currently boring, but I'm going to try designing a header and some other stuff) for my blog.
I'll be posting more, for real. I'm sure you're all relieved to hear it.
I'll be posting more, for real. I'm sure you're all relieved to hear it.
17 August 2007
Tujuh Belas Agustus (17 August)
It comes around every year, and while I do not actively celebrate Indonesia's Independence Day (as in, I don't take a holiday from work or school or anything like that), I usually observe it in some way. This year, I opted to make myself some nasi goreng (fried rice) and teh manis (sweet tea) for dinner. I'd been craving the fried rice anyway, I had some leftover nasi putih (steamed white rice) in the fridge, and I'm rather a devotee of the idea that kalau belum makan nasi, belum makan (basic translation: "If you haven't yet eaten rice, you haven't really eaten").
Politically and socially speaking, there are plenty of things I dislike about Republik Indonesia. Nevertheless, it does have a place in my heart, and not just because of the food (even though the food is really great-- way better than indigenous American food of any variety).
Politically and socially speaking, there are plenty of things I dislike about Republik Indonesia. Nevertheless, it does have a place in my heart, and not just because of the food (even though the food is really great-- way better than indigenous American food of any variety).
14 August 2007
Panjang Umurku
Yesterday was my Hari Ulang Tahun, known in the US primarily as "birthday". My parents were visiting, and while Jeff had to go to work, so I didn't get to see him all day, I had a lovely day of relaxing and doing what I enjoy: Starbucks for breakfast, a visit to the library, a stroll through downtown Visalia to look at shops with Mom. Then we had pizza dinner at Debbie and Jerry's house, and Rob and Candace were there, so it was nice to see them.
11 August 2007
The terror that flaps in the night
For Christmas, Sara gave me a set of Disney's Darkwing Duck cartoons on DVD (Yay! Thanks, Sara!). Darkwing Duck is my favorite cartoon of all time. I watched it when it ran on The Disney Afternoon in the early 1990s, and my whole family loved it. Unlike many silly or saccharine cartoon shows, Darkwing Duck has dark comedy with an edge, featuring humor of the gallows or even (occasionally) potty variety (several IMDB reviewers commented, and rightly, "I can't believe Disney did this-- and got away with it in an afternoon cartoon!"). The basic set-up is something of a satire of Batman: the main character has no supernatural abilities, but relies on handy technical gadgets and a modicum of crime-solving know-how to capture a variety of villains. There are puns, sight gags, inside jokes, running jokes, and a general hilarity related to the characters and the situations in which they find themselves. The alliterative and articulate masked mallard fights crime in the Gotham-like city of St. Canard and encounters evil-doers of both the mutant and simply psychopathic variety. In addition to Darkwing Duck (and his civilian alter ego, suburbanite Drake Mallard), series regulars include goofy pilot sidekick Launchpad McQuack (crossing over from an earlier Disney Afternoon series, Duck Tales), adopted daughter Gosalyn, and the Mallard family's utterly boring and predictable next-door neighbors, the Muddlefoots.
See as many episodes of this cartoon as you possibly can. Someday, you may need to know about vampire potatoes or that "the cows are not what they seem".
[Notice: Darkwing Duck, his image, and anything else pertaining to him, are property of DISNEY. Please buy only legally licensed Darkwing Duck paraphernalia (not that I've seen a big market for illegally licensed Darkwing Duck items, but still). Speaking of which, why doesn't Disney do more to market Darkwing, rather than that lame other duck, Donald, or even that mouse?]
10 August 2007
Lassie, eat your heart out!
As many of you know, Jeff and I are owned by two cats: grey tabbies named Touchy and Hobbes. [We are temporarily possessed by a long-haired calico named Nala, but she will be moving out to be with her true family in a few days; we're keeping her while her humans settle into their apartment.] I have no shame in admitting that a fair portion of joy and amusement in my life comes from these kitty cats.
Touchy is pudgy, a bit clumsy, sweet and shy. He will come and hang out with me, and follow me around the house like a puppy, but he is not a lap cat. Hobbes is leaner and meaner, the alpha cat in the household. He is not a lap cat, either, but he does make a habit of sleeping on our bed at night, and I like it, because he sleeps ON my feet, and keeps them warm.
Hobbes is the primary subject of my post. He is a cat that is far too smart for his own good. In our old apartment in Fullerton, Hobbes figured out how to open door handles; we always had remind guests to lock the bathroom door, lest Hobbes take it upon himself to open the door and invoke a rather embarrassing situation. Fortunately, our current home has round knobs, rather than handles, on the doors, and since Hobbes lacks opposable thumbs and is furthermore unlikely to acquire them anytime in the near future, we think things are safe for now. But Hobbes also took the opportunity, in the Fullerton apartment, to figure out how sliding glass doors work. He knew how to open the sliding door to our balcony. Of course, Hobbes is only 11 pounds and maybe 11 inches long, so he could not actually MOVE the sliding glass door, despite his best efforts, but it was pretty undeniable that he understood how it worked: when he wanted to go out onto the porch, he would stand on his hind paws, hook his front paw through the door handle, and lean back, trying to pull the door open.
In truth, Hobbes has outdone himself. We now have a sliding glass door, coupled with a screen door, that leads to our back yard. It has been my habit to open the glass door in the morning, allowing fresh air to circulate through the house before it gets too hot (or what others would consider "too hot", since I myself don't usually feel the heat) by mid-day, and just leave the screen door shut to keeps cats in and bugs out. In the past few days, Hobbes learned how to open the screen door. Day before yesterday, I was out doing some yard work and heard a scraping sound from the direction of the house. I looked up and discovered that the door was opened about three inches, Nala was on the little patio, and Touchy was cautiously poking his nose outside, while Hobbes was nowhere to be seen. Oh, no! I ran and grabbed Nala, shooed Touchy back in, and began calling Hobbes. He didn't show himself, so I pulled a trick from the Bad Parenting Handbook and got out his favorite treat (powdered milk), intending to bribe him back into the house. I called him again and made the tsking noise the cats associate with treats, and sure enough, he came running back inside. Too smart for his own good.
All's well that end's well, but now I can't leave the glass door open even a few minutes, if I'm not standing right there to catch Hobbes poking his paw at the screen door and scooting it open. I'll have to rely on opening the windows to keep the the house fresh and airy.
Touchy is pudgy, a bit clumsy, sweet and shy. He will come and hang out with me, and follow me around the house like a puppy, but he is not a lap cat. Hobbes is leaner and meaner, the alpha cat in the household. He is not a lap cat, either, but he does make a habit of sleeping on our bed at night, and I like it, because he sleeps ON my feet, and keeps them warm.
Hobbes is the primary subject of my post. He is a cat that is far too smart for his own good. In our old apartment in Fullerton, Hobbes figured out how to open door handles; we always had remind guests to lock the bathroom door, lest Hobbes take it upon himself to open the door and invoke a rather embarrassing situation. Fortunately, our current home has round knobs, rather than handles, on the doors, and since Hobbes lacks opposable thumbs and is furthermore unlikely to acquire them anytime in the near future, we think things are safe for now. But Hobbes also took the opportunity, in the Fullerton apartment, to figure out how sliding glass doors work. He knew how to open the sliding door to our balcony. Of course, Hobbes is only 11 pounds and maybe 11 inches long, so he could not actually MOVE the sliding glass door, despite his best efforts, but it was pretty undeniable that he understood how it worked: when he wanted to go out onto the porch, he would stand on his hind paws, hook his front paw through the door handle, and lean back, trying to pull the door open.
In truth, Hobbes has outdone himself. We now have a sliding glass door, coupled with a screen door, that leads to our back yard. It has been my habit to open the glass door in the morning, allowing fresh air to circulate through the house before it gets too hot (or what others would consider "too hot", since I myself don't usually feel the heat) by mid-day, and just leave the screen door shut to keeps cats in and bugs out. In the past few days, Hobbes learned how to open the screen door. Day before yesterday, I was out doing some yard work and heard a scraping sound from the direction of the house. I looked up and discovered that the door was opened about three inches, Nala was on the little patio, and Touchy was cautiously poking his nose outside, while Hobbes was nowhere to be seen. Oh, no! I ran and grabbed Nala, shooed Touchy back in, and began calling Hobbes. He didn't show himself, so I pulled a trick from the Bad Parenting Handbook and got out his favorite treat (powdered milk), intending to bribe him back into the house. I called him again and made the tsking noise the cats associate with treats, and sure enough, he came running back inside. Too smart for his own good.
All's well that end's well, but now I can't leave the glass door open even a few minutes, if I'm not standing right there to catch Hobbes poking his paw at the screen door and scooting it open. I'll have to rely on opening the windows to keep the the house fresh and airy.
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