Finger Lickin' Good!



Apparently, I taste good. Or I need to take a little more time in the shower.

Goblin and Sister are both lickers, but Goblin does it more and is much more demanding about it. Once he's decided it's time to groom his very big, hairles cat companions, he will make sure we sit still and take it. If we try to pull away whatever he's cleaning - fingers, toes, arm or leg - he'll grab hold (with claws), bite the thing to be cleaned into submission, then proceed.

Non-cleaning licks - kisses - are much more casual, involving one or only a few little licks in greeting. This is on fingers, ankles, and even noses during snorgle-time. Even though their tongues are like sandpaper, I'm charmed.

Edit: There wasn't supposed to be any sound with this one - I edited it out, or so I thought. We were watching Meet Joe Black. The movie commentary combined with our own is rather boring, so go ahead and mute it if it takes away from the cuteness of kitty licking.

Kitteh Wrestling!



This is how Goblin and Sister spend agood half of their time. The other half involves mostly sleeping. Yay for videos!

Music in the background is one of Matt's music projects, under his new name, Noisepsalm. (He also does some DJ stuff, under the name DJ Papa Pill; I get the two confused sometimes - oooops!).

Sleepinks.



For Mama Wren, who loves kitten toes as much as I do.

Thank you, Grampa.

Ok. At an hour-and-a-half before the cut-off time, I have completed my first assignment for my first term back in school. And, I think I kicked butt. I think. The assignment itself was easy, but the first assignment of the term usually is. This one seemed simpler than most.

Should I worry, then, that maybe I missed something important, and did not in fact kick butt?

Nah. I'm pretty sure I nailed what I needed to.

Getting back into the groove of school, I am very very glad I'm only taking one class per term. Although the subject seems pretty simple so far, it's still a challenge just with all the reading I need to do. This is the first class I've had that has two textbooks; all the others just had one. The reading assignment for this first phase (which has only two assignments - one week's worth) was six chapters total. With reading all day Saturday, my only interruptions being taking two breaks to put away clothes and wash dishes, I got through four. That's all day reading. And I'm a reader - I can zoom through an 800-page novel in a day, given the chance (and I have, when I had the chance).

This is tough. This reading is not fun, it's not particularly interesting (although not totally boring either). It is very dry, straightforward and uninspired. I find myself sort of zoning out and then having to go back and reread passages, so that although with all the various charts and such it's really not that much to read, it takes me hours.

So. Glad. I'm. Only. Taking. One. Class.

I will be far less stressed now with the lighter load, and with everything that's going on right now - especially with Matt's shoulder injury - that is more terribly important than I an reasonably express. Further, it will give me more time to do other things, like walking in the mornings with Mama Wren, and taking Tai Chi classes Wednesday evenings (Mama and I are starting that when the next class begins in July). I'll be able to spend time with Matt, with Goblin and Sister, with books, and with artwork.

As things slow down elsewhere in my life, school will become just one more part of the routine, and a calm will settle again. I'm looking forward to that.

This being Memorial Day, I find myself wishing my grandfather - a vet - were still alive so he could see how well I've done and am doing in school. He died before I decided to go back to school; the last thing he know on the subject was of my adamance against further college. He must have been disappointed on that score, but he never pushed me on it. Maybe he knew I'd change my mind one day.

I want to tell him thank you for setting up the fund that made college a possibility for me. I want to thank him for letting me decide when to finally put it to use, and for having the faith in me that although I may do things more slowly - like taking it one class at a time now - I will get them done, and done well if I have any say in the matter.

I can only thank the wind, and hope that if there's a somewhere, he'll hear it.

There is a cemetery just up the road I live on. I wonder if there are any veterans buried there, or just gold miners and gold theives. I should have visited it today - seen if any flags or flowers were there to say thank you to someone long gone. It's too late and too dark tonight, but maybe I'll stop by there tomorrow and talk to the wind.

Tooth Sun Dial



Mama Wren made a post about early-morning thoughts, the kind that tug you along when you're only half-awake and you hope they stick around when you become more lucid, but they don't always. Hers did, and the images her blog invoked just got to me.

I immediately saw a sun dial rimmed with teeth in my head, stark - dark and light. And because of the photo of poppies at the top of that post, the sun dial in my head was in a field of 'em. The image, stark and vibrant and strangely creepy as it was, would not leave me alone, begging to be drawn.

No. Painted.

Well, I can't paint at work (much to my dismay). But, I can sketch. And so I did. This is a very basic version of my mind's image, and not quite right in either the lighting or the details. The image in my head has more teeth and a different spoke-thingy (I'm sure there's an actual intelligent term for the spoke-thingy that casts the shadow that tells the time, but I don't know what it is, so spoke-thingy it shall be, so there.) Something less butterfly-wing-ish, more delicate, decorative but simpler somehow, and - somehow - sinsiter looking.

I want to paint this.

I've been wanting to take up painting again for a long time now, but haven't had much motivation. I recently read Stephen King's Duma Key, which is one of his best stories I've read in a very long time - one of his best, ever, IMHO. It is, of course, about a guy who paints, and - of course - these are no ordinary paintings. It got to me, too.

After reading that book, I was itching to paint, and then mere days later Mama Wren posted her Morning Whimsey post and a (sacrificial?) sun dial with teeth started haunting me, and I simply have to paint it. Without a proper set of paints, no easel, and no canvasses, I put a bug in Mom's ear about it and asked her to pass it along to my dad and grandmother, since my birthday is next month. Maybe I'll get a nice colorful birthday present and finally be able to properly illustrate the time-piece that keeps sneaking up on me, and nipping.