It's all about perspective. . .

CIDER

Last night, I walked quite a few blocks of downtown Denver in a blinding snowstorm to get to the bus-station. Upon arriving, my hair was frozen in strange directions and I was soaked. My fingers numb and mascara running. The bus heater was barely on, and so I continued to freeze for another 20 minutes as we drove back up the freeway.

That said - it was probably one of the prettiest things I’d ever seen in my life. The snow blew down the vast corridors of buildings, changing stop lights into fuzzy representations of colors, and falling back up into the sky on crazy air currents. One of the reasons that I was so wet and cold is because I was walking incredibly slowly, trying to watch it all even as snowflakes lashed at my eyes. Before the storm hit, I was talking to a man and he was wondering if it was better to take his break outside in the cold or inside where he works. I told him; “Outside. Even though it’s cold and overcast, it is an extraordinary day. This summer, when it is scorching hot and everyone is complaining about how they can’t keep cool, you can go back to this day and remember what it was like to be so cold that your nose lost feeling.”

I really think that people have forgotten that everything – comfortable and uncomfortable – is an experience to be embraced. Just as a snowy night in downtown may not be the perfect 70 degrees to walk in; it’s still an experience having its own ethereal beauty. When you’re too caught up with how cold you are and how strange you must look with hair frozen at right angles to your head . . . you lose sight of what’s really going on. Nature’s Snowstorm Spectacular.

Technology

Last night in class we delved into the netherworld of UNIX. From my short history with that program, I’ve decided I can live a full and happy life if I never come into contact with it again.

A DOS-like command program, the server froze time and time again, as each of us attempted to create a simple text site that stated “Welcome”. I was sent into a demented help manual that didn’t let me out and then created a whole list of files that I couldn’t delete and couldn’t get out of. My friend, Chad created a site that said:

Welcome to my website
Welcome to my website
Welcome to my website
Welcome to my website
Welcome to my website
Welcome to my website

Even though he didn’t type it that many times, that’s how it came out. As he stated “I wanted people to feel really, really welcome”. Another friend became stuck in the text editor and was unable to publish or leave that file. We were in the inner workings of hell with no escape. Even the instructor resorted to faith as he said “You have to believe it will work! What the *&!% did that do?”

We ended up having to cut off the server just to exit the program, and we ended up leaving class about 15 minutes late due to this pleasant technology trip. Grumpy, tired, and sick of typing commands, I thought to myself as I walked to catch my bus home: “What about this technology is making my life easier?!”

Mutiny on the Bounty

CIDER

My father is out in California this week. It’s funny how things can link in your mind. We bought the family boat in Cali, and I’ve been thinking about my dad’s prized sailboat that sits in Pueblo Reservoir here in Colorado . . . and my dad.

Like most father-daughter relationships, there are times we get along, and times we do not. My dad has a personality that compels him to have everyone share in whatever great activity/hobby he’s into at that point in time. (I also, have this trait)

For instance, he bought a sailboat, so he can sail. But everyone else had to sail too; and while my parents were raised in Hawaii where sailing is the ‘in’ thing; their Colorado offspring do not share this passion. But, there were no excuses. Out to the boat we all went, so we could go around in circles on a rather tiny reservoir. I was there, Greg (before we were married), my two brothers, sister, mom, two dogs and vast quantities of food.

We had just ‘cast off’ (which doesn’t mean much when there is not wind) and had begun to drift slowly towards the center of the lake. Occasionally a wind would gust off from one of the nearby ridges, and instead of making us go faster, it would hit the sail with great (albeit brief) force, and then the boom would knock one of us nearly unconscious as it snapped around the deck. This began to annoy my dad. Although he would yell “JIBE!!!” milliseconds before this happened; none of us really knew what “JIBE!!!” meant, and were knocked silly by the boom as punishment. So dad took action. He began to utter mysterious phrases with great passion, often directed at one of his four children. Things like “COME ABOUT!!!” or “FALL OFF!!!!” to the poor soul who had been drafted into working the tiller; or - to the person who was sitting gazing at the water – “GRAB THE LINE AND PULL THE SHEET IN!!!!”

It was mayhem. Those who didn’t respond as expected (all of us) were sternly rebuked for our lack of maritime knowledge; and soon the situation came to a head. I started snapping back, my brothers joined in, even our border collie seemed less enthusiastic then normal – and within a matter of mere minutes it was ‘Mutiny on the Bounty’. We were shouting, gesturing, the boat had decided to stop, my mother was attempting to lower blood pressures, and within all this pandemonium, my father decided to let us know just how furious we made him. He drew himself up and bellowed with great force; “THAT’S IT!!! I’M GOING TO FIND MYSELF ANOTHER CREW!!!!”

Well, that killed the viscous mood that we were all in. No matter how serious he was trying to be, ‘the crew’ couldn’t keep a straight face. The day turned out all-right in the end.

Harnessing Cats

I've found that the more I think of things to write about, the more my attention comes to rest on my cats. Greg and I have cancelled our DirectTV subscription, and have felt only minor withdrawal symptoms; I think because of the high entertainment value that cats have.

For example, Cider is now about 7 months old, and I want to get her used to a harness so that she can be out gardening with me without being an outdoor kitty. So we found one that matches her fur beautifully, and, following all the advice given us, tossed it on the floor so she could get Used To Its Presence over the next few days. She lost interest within about 3 minutes, and it sat on the floor in the exact same spot for the next 3-4 days. So, with her Used To Its Presence, I decided that it was time to put it on her.

She say patiently while I clipped it on, adjusted it to fit her tiny runt-frame, and then I patted her on the sides and scooted her out into the middle of the living room floor. She looked at me, disgusted, and then began to walk like an old sway-backed mare. Her body was stretched; her stomach an inch off the floor, and then the weight of it all was apparently too much. She collapsed onto her belly with great drama, and began pathetically scooting about, pulling herself with her two front paws and pushing with her back. I was in fits of giggles at this stage, and Cider, seeing that her flare for acting had not pulled my heartstrings nearly enough, burst into action.

BOING! High up in the air I saw a flash of tortishell fur, and then another streak as she re-entered the atmosphere and went tearing around the living room. She did somersaults, cartwheels, she hopped to the left, then the right; she flopped over on her side and began scootching again, only to be hit with another burst of energy as she went zooming to the den. Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. My sides hurt too much. I intercepted another wild dash and took off the harness, and with an indignant sniff, she went to get some food.

All the websites say that you should NEVER react to a cats behavior to the harness, laughing is specifically mentioned, so I suppose I'm a bad trainer in that fact. I need to keep putting it on and taking it off, and eventually we can work our way outside. As of right now, I don't see that happening anytime within the next 10 years. Especially if Cider has something to say about it.

Suntanning

_____________________________________________________________________ Today, as I write this – I am a major contributor to global warming, and will be for probably the next few days.

I've recently begun sun tanning again. I've been going for almost a month now once or twice a week in a very low UV bed. So there haven't been dramatic results, per say - but I like the slow and steady approach to this particular habit. To mark my progress, I keep sticking a little butterfly sticker on my skin which will show up lighter as the rest of my skin gets darker and darker. As of yesterday morning, there was no butterfly to be seen.

So yesterday I go in to see if my bed was open. It wasn't, but the helpful employee said that bed 2 was. It was a step up from what I was already using, but it had less intense something-or-other which dramatically reduced the chances of sunburn. It was, he told me in a matter-of-fact-voice, the bed that I should have started with. Splendid! Put me in for 10 minutes like the other bed! He paused, "Well, you could go longer in this bed, it won't burn you, and you’ll see results very quickly.” "Hmmm, ok, let's do 15 minutes then." He had a point, I had been at 10 minutes for 2 1/2 weeks now, surely 15 minutes in a lesser bed would do no harm. Perhaps that butterfly I'd been sticking to my skin would begin to show!

I go in, and cover my face, like always, and relax. There is something nice about laying on a warm tanning bed when its chilly outside, I just love it. I did get a little warm, but turned the fan up to compensate, and was fine. After 15 minutes were over, I went home to take a shower and then finish up some studying before class started later on that evening.

I looked at myself in the mirror to see how the tanning was progressing, and was a little worried to see the vast amounts of pink beginning to show all across my hide. I changed my plan to a milk bath to take some of the heat out of the ‘mild’ burn, and then went to class. When I returned home at nine, I changed into my pajamas, and noticed that I was putting off vast amounts of radiant heat. I went back to the bathroom mirror, where it was revealed to me that I now resembled a lobster. The good news was that my butterfly sticker showed. A pale outline among a vast expanse of red. The bad news was that tomorrow was going to involve much pain.

Today, I am the sun, clothed in baggy jeans and a loose shirt. I can barely carry my laptop bag, and last night Greg couldn’t sleep near to me for the amount of radiant heat that was warming our bed. My cats are especially drawn to me, as it must resemble sleeping on a heater, and I know that the global warming monitors will notice a sharp peak in Colorado for the next few days.

Greg's Blanket

_______________________________________________________

A few months ago, I made my husband a big blanket. At 6’7” all the blankets around our house don’t cover him all the way when he’s watching TV, laying on the couch, etc. So with my mother’s help, I undertook the daunting task of creating a blanket that was about 9 feet long and 6 feet wide. The blanket was completed, and Greg LOVES it, but I’ve needed to do all the little ties that holds the fabric with the fluff all together. I’ve procrastinated this task for almost 3 months now, as it is daunting at best.

Well, Greg finally convinced me that it needed to be done, and even said that he would help. So last night as we watched Star Trek TNG reruns, we began. Tie after little tie, about 6-8 inches apart, working from the middle out. The cats were overjoyed. Not only were we on the ground, but there was a blanket, AND thread!!!!! So they gleefully pulled the thread through right before we were able to tie it, pounced on our hands – barely missing the needles, and generally ran around like wild things. I am patient with them, as kittens tend to do things like this, but Greg doesn’t quite get the fact that cats will not behave when you ask or yell at them to.

So, after he did about a quarter of the blanket, his frustration was almost tangible, and we had not yet eaten dinner – NOT a good combination. I sent him into the kitchen to put the pizza in the oven, and continued on . . . for the rest of the blanket. He half-heartedly offered to continue, but I felt it was best for our marriage if he just sat and watched TV.

A few hours later, it was done. My back was sore, eyes strained, the cats were exhausted, and I had poked more than a few fingers. I handed the blanket up to a very happy Greg (my legs were stuck in the cross-legged position), he looked down at me lovingly and proclaimed:

“I just love it when we do projects together.”

Beligerent Kitten

My cat has grown belligerent.

Cider is my tortishell kitten, I rescued her mom off the streets, and after she had her kittens, found a home for the mom, and kept Cider as my own. She is our second cat, friend now to Leo, our orange tabby and first cat.

Cider is an incredibly friendly kitten, loves people and cuddling – and her full name, christened by my husband, is Cider Baby. Spoiled? A wee bit, but she is very mindful of her manners, so training her to be a good cat has proved to be a simple thing. Until last week:

She discovered that she could easily jump up on the kitchen counter and check out what I was doing when I was preparing meals or doing dishes. This is not sanitary, so it’s rather important to me that she does not continue on in this practice. I can push her off, pick her up and set her down, squirt her with water, soak the counter so it’s not that fun to be on – and she will still jump right back up, unfazed. Greg went to extreme measures the other day. She was in the sink, and he turned on the water, hoping to startle her off and really begin getting it in her mind that she shouldn’t be doing this. Full throttle, the water came out, I already felt horrible, but knew it must be done. The result? Nothing. My kitten sat there mildly interested in the fact she was getting wet, but not really concerned about it.

We were astonished.

And decided that water is obviously not a motivating factor for her.

So at this point in time, we are at a stalemate. Cider has agreed to not walk anywhere on the counter but the back part of the sink – where no food goes, as it faces out into the living room. So she will curl up there and watch me cook, happy as a clam, and keep her end of the bargain perfectly, but she refuses to not jump on the counter at all. I’m a little bewildered that I’ve been able to confine her to that area, but not teach her the counter is off-limits. I can only guess that she has her own idea of where she belongs, and as long as she can keep me company and see what is going on, it’s fine with her. So I’m at a loss at this point, and I suppose it’s not too terrible, but it’s the principal of the matter. My kitten has found something she likes, and I can’t seem to get it out of her system. And all this time I thought I was HER owner, not visa versa.