Cake, Cats, and Crochet

Yesterday, I satisfied a craving for cake that I've had.  I don't know why, but I've had cake on the brain for weeks.  I tried a new recipe from the NYTimes--the chocolate cake made with mayo instead of eggs and oil.  While it was baking, I worked on the crocheted pocket scarf/shawl that I'm making for Mama Teacher, with our sweet Hermione curled up next to me.  A lovely morning.  And yes, I had a cuppa.   All I needed was the snow that is falling today instead of yesterday.

NYTimes One Bowl Chocolate Mayo Cake

**I used Constant Comment tea and orange extract.

¾ cup/180 milliliters boiling water, or use hot coffee, Earl Grey tea or mint tea

¼ cup/25 grams unsweetened cocoa powder (Dutch-processed or natural)

1 to 2 ounces chopped bittersweet chocolate (optional)

⅔ cup/160 milliliters mayonnaise

¼ teaspoon kosher salt

1 ½ teaspoons baking soda

¾ cup/150 grams granulated sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract, or a dash of bourbon or whiskey (optional)

1 ½ cups/190 grams all-purpose or cake flour

 Confectioners’ sugar, for finishing

To a large mixing bowl, add cocoa powder and chopped bittersweet chocolate (if using). Pour in boiling liquid, and let it sit for a few minutes, then whisk until smooth. The chocolate will have melted, if you used it, and the cocoa dissolved.

Whisk in mayonnaise, salt, baking soda, 3/4 cup granulated sugar until smooth. Then whisk in a teaspoon of vanilla extract, if you have it (or a dash of Bourbon or brandy or just leave it out entirely). Finally, whisk in 1 1/2 cups flour (either all-purpose or cake flour), mixing vigorously to eliminate any lumps.

Grease an 8- or 9-inch pan (square, round, star-shaped, anything is good). Pour the batter into the pan, and bake at 350 degrees for 22 to 40 minutes, until the top springs back when the center is lightly pressed. The deeper the pan, the longer it will take to bake through.

Let cool, and sprinkle with confectioners’ sugar to finish.

The Owl and the Pussycat: A Tale of Two Animals

As you know, it is owling season for me here along the Connecticut coast, especially now since a Snowy was spotted nearby.  Last week, I went to a state park to look for the Snowy, walking up and down the boardwalk, checking the marshes where it had been photographed the day before.  No luck. And then I spotted a group of photographers in a distant parking lot, so I hightailed it across the beach, past a display of Kindness Rocks and several rock art formations ("Hi," "God," and a heart.)  There were four or five photographers and birders with binoculars, some standing on the bed of a pickup; they were all focused not on the beach but on the brush behind.

I whispered, "Good morning!  What are we looking at?  The Snowy?"

No, and they pointed into the brush.  It was an animal.  They were so excited.

I looked; I saw it.  "That animal at 11 o'clock?" I asked.  Yep.

"It's a bobcat," they said.

I raised my binoculars again and studied it again.  "Um, that's a marmalade tabby cat.  Not a bobcat."  They continued to stare, partly in disbelief, until one of the other photographers confirmed:  housecat.

I guess birders don't know bobcats.  I laughed all the way home.

I try not to get disappointed when I go looking, unsuccessfully, for the Snowy.  To paraphrase my dad, "A bad day birding is better than a good day doing chores and errands."  I try to think of it as a nice walk outside, but I can't help but be a little disappointed when I don't spot one, especially when it has been in the area.

And so, yesterday, when I saw that someone had posted about the Snowy being spotted that very morning, I headed out.  Mama was home with a head cold but decided to go with me.  And brought her camera.

I know you know from the pictures already posted how this turns out, but let me tell you the whole story.

We wandered for more than an hour.  First where the bird had been spotted; we checked with a gentleman who was also birding but he hadn't seen it.  Then we checked along the beaches, heading to the nearby point.  We talked to another birder there who hadn't seen Snowy either.  Sigh.  And so we decided to go home the way we came, via the marsh, for one last look.

That's when I saw her (probably her, or a juvenile, because of all the black flecks.)  By happenstance, I looked over the passenger's side at just the right moment and saw the owl on the ground.  Mama saw a blur and we rushed to find a place to turn around.  I figure I made more than a few moving violations, but there were few people around at midday.  We pulled up across from where I saw the owl and I encouraged Mama with the big camera to hop out; she insisted I get out, and so I did, running across the still-empty road.  And I just stood there, watching it.

The bird was about 20 feet away, on the ground in the brush near a canal--and a no trespassing sign!  It sat there--all thick and fluffy--just looking around, at me, at some of the passing cars, at who knows what.  I didn't want to stress or flush the owl, and so I didn't go any closer, stood still on my spot.  She was very white with many contrasting flecks.  Very puffy, too.  So still, except for moving her head (easily more than 180 degrees, but not the mythic 360) and squinting and then opening her eyes.

And before Mama could get back to our spot, the gentleman birder from the beach drove by!  He parked (illegally--I wasn't the only one making questionable maneuvers) and stood still watching and photographing, too.  We were just amazed at her beauty and quiet.

Mama returned and parked in front of him, deciding it was worth the cost of a parking ticket.  And then she took those gorgeous photos with her fancy camera.  The other birder left and Mama and I stayed to marvel.  The owl just kept her place.  And while we would have loved to stay until she flew off, we a). didn't want to scare her, b). had to get Mama to her doctor's appointment, and c). didn't want to cause traffic problems.

This is my favorite of Mama's photos.

I was in awe and joyful the rest of the day.  WE SAW A SNOWY OWL IN THE WILD!!!!  No binoculars necessary.  Complete luck.  I've been looking for a Snowy off and on for three years--and yes, we did see one last year (the kids and I) about 300 yards off in the marsh.  But this sighting was so much more amazing.  And I was glad Mama was with me (she hadn't seen it last year.)

Just a little bit of magic on a wintry day.

Highlights

So much to tell, so little blogging time while summer continues and school preparations begin.

We had a MARVELOUS time with Gommie!  And, as you saw from my earlier list, we managed to squeeze so much in--and that's with a very slow Tuesday when everyone was tired and blah (both kiddos seemed to be fighting something virusy.)  I'll spare you a day-by-day description in favor of highlights, in random order.



Schooner:  It's a tie for my favorite thing we did while Gommie was here, but since I hadn't done a sunset schooner cruise with lobster dinner before, I vote for it.  We headed to the port midday, stopping first for a quintessentially New England lunch at Abbott's Lobster in the Rough in picturesque Noank.  In a series of little shacks, we picked up lobster salad rolls, steamed mussels, steamed corn, frozen hot chocolates, apple crumble, and lemon slab pie with ice cream, all of which we ate overlooking a brilliant blue Sound with lots of white sailboats.  I felt like the cast of Carousel would burst out singing at any minutes!

Then we headed to the dock in New London where the Mystic Whaler was waiting for us.  It's a I-don't-know-how-many-feet-long schooner built in the 1960s and refurbished.  With three sails and wooden decks and detailing, it felt older to me and transported me back to the great age of sail (without all the danger and hassle.)  New London, of course, was a major seaport in the country's colonial past--we even sailed by Revolutionary War-era Fort Trumbull and another fort.  We cruised out past the London Ledge light and got some great photos.  Gommie, Mama, and the kids even helped haul the sails while singing a chantey! It really was idyllic.  And the food was good, too.  There was clam chowder, lobsters, tasty grilled chicken for me and Sis, coleslaw, rolls, and cheesecake.  Even though there were two dozen or so other passengers, it never felt really crowded.  And the crew was especially helpful and nice.  I think it'd be lovely to take an overnight cruise with them.  I know Gommie had a great time, which made it extra special to be able to find something new for her.  Being on the water and dusk are two of her favorite things.  Though, she refrained from calling it "the nicest time of the day."

Cats:  Our trip into NYC was a close second to the schooner cruise, especially because I think the kiddos had never been in the city with Gommie before.  We spent the day around Times Square, which is familiar to all of us, albeit never all together.  In fact, we really did the tourist thing, quite embarrassingly (and jokingly) pointing at tall buildings, stopping on the sidewalk for selfies, and going to tourist traps!  We did not, however, wear "I (heart) NY" shirts!  Our first stop was Madame Tussaud's, where there was a virtual reality Ghostbusters experience.  The kids and Mama loved donning the proton packs and hunting ghosts, but I didn't even try (the packs were 15 lbs) and Gommie got disoriented by the VR and stopped when it malfunctioned a bit.  The rest of the place was mostly uninteresting--the kids didn't know 90% of the figures and couldn't have cared less.  We did see a few they liked--Katniss from Hunger Games, some of the Avengers, and three of the Ghostbusters women--and decided if the whole place had been geeky was statues--Doctor Who, Star Wars, Pokemon, Studio Ghibli, etc--we would have had a blast.   Gommie did really enjoy posing with Hillary Clinton, too.

We had dinner at Sapporo, our favorite quick pre-show eatery (don't forget that it's a cash-only place!)  Sis and I had our usual katsu chicken cutlet, to which she added gyoza and I added the potato salad with sesame-Japanese mayo dressing; and there was the yummy house slaw and soup.  Bud got soupy noodles (because there was enough time before curtain) and Mama got cold noodles.  Gommie got this delicious gyun-don shredded beef rice with sukiyaki sauce (I think), which I think I'll get next time.

In the time before curtain, we perused both Hershey's and the M&M store, neither of which Gommie had seen.  Then, because it was hot out and we were a little tired, we sat in the Crowne Plaza--where there was the Liberty City Anime Con!  Gommie got to see all the cosplayers!  It was the perfect NYC people-watching spot.  With seats and AC!

Then it was time for Cats.  We had great seats, second row Orchestra on an aisle; we don't usually sit that close at all, but it was great to see the elaborate garbage set and the amazing dancers close up.  And, during all the action, numerous cats ran down the aisle beside us.  In fact, Rum Tum Tugger was flirting with me!  (I had the aisle seat.)  At one point during the show, some cats pretended to take a photo of Tugger and me together.  Later, when he came down the aisle, he purred, "How do you like my fur?"  And yet again, he winked right at me from stage later.  Funny.  You're a cute kitty, RTT, but not my type.  Amazingly, during intermission, they let you up onstage to take photos with Old Deuteronomy!  We didn't know this so Mama and Sis had left for the bathroom and missed it, but Bud and I went and Deuteronomy played with Bud's hair (or, made a gesture similar to one he made in "Moments of Happiness" about memory.)  It was amazing to see the house from the stage; Bud grinned from ear to ear the whole time.  I was really sorry Sis missed it; so was she.  The show was pretty much exactly how I remembered it from when Gommie and I saw it on tour in Houston, in, oh, the early 1980s.  Though, there wasn't any "Growltiger's Last Stand" this time.  I loved it then and I loved it again.  Maybe even more sitting with my mom, my wife, and my kids, all of whom were enthralled.  We've been humming the songs ever since.  And both kids read T. S. Eliot's Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats.

After the show (and the purchase of some pins and magnets and a eared hoodie for me), we had our requisite trip to Junior's for snacks for the ride home--chocolate egg creams, cheesecake, black and white cookie, Cel-ray soda, and some French onion soup for Bud to eat the next day.  I think we weren't asleep until 2 a.m., but it was worth it.


Food:  You know we love to eat out.  In addition to the Japanese food mentioned above, we ate at our favorite local Japanese place (after going to see Kubo and the Three Strings; more below.)  Mama, Bud, and Gommie had a big boat of sushi, while Sis had a chicken udon stir fry and I had chicken teriyaki.  There were also gyozas, harumaki, soup, salad, green tea, and mango mochi.

We also took Gommie to a new German place we'd found, since we know she loves sausages and sauerkraut.  The table was groaning with a sausage tasting platter (kielbasa, weiss weiners, and something else), raclette (cheese on potatoes and pickles), big buttered pretzels, currywurst, jaegerschnitzel, chicken schnitzel, cold potato salad, steamed mussels, apple strudel, black forest cake, and I don't remember what else.  Whew!

We also got take-out from the Italian deli, with various chicken parm and meatball grinders, seafood salad, chicken cutlet salad sandwich, etc.

I almost forgot the meal her first night at a local bistro--steamed mussels in wine and garlic (the better of the two mussels she had this trip), hummus with olive gremolata, salt and pepper shrimp, homemade bread, and roasted chicken.

Other food included the best local doughnuts, my own sourdough biscuits, Sis's oatmeal lace cookies

I'm sure I've forgotten a few places--I don't think I cooked much if at all.


Movies:  As a family, we've been going to more movies this year and we saw two with Gommie.  First, the kids wanted to take her to the new Ghostbusters, which she hadn't even heard of, to prepare her for the Ghostbusters experience at the wax museum.  She laughed through the whole thing, which was entertaining to Mama and me, since we know it's not her kind of film.  I enjoyed it just as much as the first time.  I think I liked Holtzmann even more this time!

On preview night, we went to see Kubo and the Two Strings, which Bud had wanted to see since spotting the first trailer.  And then we learned that the brother of a friend of mine was the production designer.  Wow!  It was a masterpiece.  And I'm not just saying that because Sew and Sow reads my blog sometimes.  It was beautifully made--with this incredible stop-motion technique--with papers and fabrics.  Oh, the flying origami!  The original story seemed taken straight from Japanese folklore (and I loved the details of the samurai armor, netsuke, wabi sabi-like rice bowl during a meal, the cemetery and lantern ceremony, etc etc etc)  And what a story!  No spoilers here, only to say I loved the non-violent resolution.  If you go--and you should--stay for the credits; there's a behind-the-scenes bit that Bud tells me shows the largest stop-motion sculpture ever made (how does he know that??)  We talked about it for a few hours straight--over a Japanese dinner, no less.  Oh, and we even got free little pins because it was preview night.


Maple Syrup Incident:  This was on my list so I feel I must explain it.  While trying to get food on the table before Bud had to go to kung fu, I realized an entire jug of maple syrup had been de-capped and upturned in the fridge, spilling all over not only a shelf but in both crisper drawers.  UGH.  Gommie saved the day with her thorough cleaning.  And Sis finished cooking Bud's dinner while I helped Gommie.  Bud was oblivious to it all and, probably wisely, stayed out of the kitchen.


Pokemon Go!  Gommie had a thorough introduction to the VR world of Pokemon when Bud directed her around town for two hours hitting many of the best Pokestops.  I believe she even got one herself.

Clockwise from left:  Sis, Gommie, me, and me again

Clockwise from left: Sis, Gommie, me, and Bud

Gommie's new tiles.  She really likes lace, on the bottom tile.

Zentangle:  Last but not least, we did some tangling.  Gommie poured over my new books and practiced some new tangles.  And we all made a couple of family mosaics together.  I had gotten Gommie a special Zentangle "No Mistakes" t-shirt and also some little carrying-pouches for supplies that we decorated.  It really is a wonderful thing to do together.  And she's gotten really good!


Games:  The kids save a lot of their game playing for Gommie, because she is so enthusiastic about it.  They played checkers, Simon's Cat, (tried to play) Harry Potter Clue, the 5-Second Rule, and Rummy Q.  We all played Telestrations, which Gommie picked up for us, a kind of old-fashioned telephone game plus Pictionary; we laughed and laughed at some of the outcomes (including "chicken man with furry face," "narwhal with legs," "bird in a pie," etc.)  Gommie was also game to try the Wii games Fantasia (directing an orchestra) and Just Dance (like Digital Dance Revolution.)  And we all told her all about Dragonvale.  Plus, of course, Pokemon Go, as described above.

And that's about it.  Sure, Gommie went to horseback riding lessons, kung fu lessons, piano lessons (albeit in the house), and ice skating lessons, too, and there was down time swimming at a neighbor's pool, watching Olympics and such.  But, mainly, I think we squeezed in as much as we had energy to do.  And we started making plans for next time!!!

Ups and Downs

Let's start with downs.  Our ol' man Mojito has lost 2 lbs and is starting to have kidney problems.  I've been giving him subcutaneous fluids a couple of times a week, which isn't fun for anyone, but should forestall problems for awhile.  He is 17 or so, which is 84 in people years.   He's been braver, even going upstairs. He now sleeps between our pillows and has taken over Albus's spot in the window by the dresser.  He still hisses at Hermione but doesn't run away so much.  All in all, he seems fine; if it weren't for the weight loss, we wouldn't have suspected a thing.

We think Mo has found his courage from Eris, our new 6-year-old silver tabby.  She doesn't take any gruff from Hermione--Eris stares her down and Hermione just backs up.   Albus gives Eris wide berth.  And Mo has taken advantage of the household upheaval to move around.  Eris lives in the front corner of the house by the couch.  She switches from Mr. P's (and before him, Morgan's) black cat tree, to the tall cat tree, to the short tan cat tree.  Apparently, at night, she sleeps on the arms of the couches or on the ottoman.  She loves to have her ears scratched, and sometimes her belly, but only just a tiny bit.  She apparently was an abused kitten in the very beginning and, despite a loving home for the last 6 years, she's still skittish about unexpected noises or people moving around by her.

All told, things are going well in the house cat-wise.  One day at a time.  And right now, they're all asleep in their spots.

Welcome!

We are happy to welcome a new addition to our family:  six-year-old silver tabby cat Eris**!!

She comes to us from some friends who had to make a difficult move and could not take her with them.  And so we had offered to take her.  Except it wasn't all finalized until late this afternoon.  Her owner brought her over around 5:30 and we put her in the basement "cat sanctuary" which we used with the boys just a year and a half ago.

And yes, she looks an awful lot like our dear Mr. P!  In fact, we were all a little shocked because she looks more like him in person, being bigger than her picture indicated.  But their faces aren't at all the same.


The kids are thrilled and have been down to visit a few times, with lots of pets for her.  She came out of her hiding spots under the cat tree and under the bookshelf within about an hour.  Now she's on the puffy hedgehog just hanging out.

And we're watching her via remote online camera to see what she's up to.

Yep, I think we're officially crazy cat people.  I just can't easily say "no" when a cat is in need.  That's how we got Hopalong, Fudgie, Christmas Snow, Pinkie Lee, and Lilac when I was a child, and how Mama and I have gotten Morgan, Mr. P, and Mojito.  Only Albus and Hermione were in any way planned; even Curiosity, procured by Aunt Banana, arrived because the hairstylist told my 5 year old sister that she had kittens to give away and, before the haircut was over, we were on the list to get one!

Still, we're happy to have Eris.  And even though she looks like Mr. P, she'll be her own cat and we're excited to get to know her.


**But we didn't name her.  To quote T.S. Eliot, or really Andrew Lloyd Webber, "the naming of cats is a difficult matter."  Eris is the name her last family gave her.  Bud is against altering it because it's HER NAME, which is fine.  Even if Eris is the Greek goddess of discord and chaos who started the Trojan War.  Maybe it's some kind of protection against the evil eye, like naming a child "Hiccup" (see How to Train Your Dragon.)  We're big on nicknames so I doubt it will be just "Eris" for long.  I already like "Miss E!"

Season in the Sun

Trigger Warning:  Sad cat musings.


Today was one of those sunny days that Mr. P liked.  We had the windows open, the sun streaming in.  Our three cats found places in the sunlight; Mr. P would have, too.  He loved last spring and summer in his cat tree by the couch, where he sat with me all the months that I recovered from surgery.

We miss him.  I miss him.  And most days I can think of him without getting teary.  Not today.  Because it was the kind of perfect, warm, sunny day which he hadn't experienced in a long while when he died in February.  I remember my mom telling me that one of my dad's last wishes for our cat Curiosity was for him to be in the sun as he died, but of course the vet couldn't do euthanasia that way.  Cats and sunlight just go together.  "We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun . . . "

Still, Mr P loved a soft blanket and cuddling on our bed in the depth of winter and spent most of December and January upstairs with us.  He was, after all, a very social cat, always "macking" for attention and demanding rubs.  In fact, I think it was his connection to us that alerted us to his illness. When he had that blood clot in his leg that fateful night in January, he didn't hide in the basement and die from congestive heart failure right then, he somehow climbed the steps on three legs and in pain and came looking for Sis and me in the living room, wanting to be with us and trusting we could help.  We did the best we could, even if in the end it couldn't be enough.

I'm just sorry he didn't make it to a last sunny spring day like today.   But I'll always remember him like this in the light . . . .

Our Weekend

We're doing pretty well.

My optimism about a "normal" week, even a new normal, was dashed when Sis developed a fever Thursday afternoon and so missed school on Friday.  This means, out of almost two weeks, we had one day that resembled our previously normal schedule.

Last night, we ate Vietnamese and watched Men in Black, not up for much else (we got Vietnamese because she doesn't really like it and wasn't hungry anyway.)

Her fever has broken, but she's still feeling pretty wiped.  So, we're home.  There's been a lot of "Phineas and Ferb" and chicken soup.  Right now, I'm introducing her to "Glee."  I'm not sure it will take.

Bud is at an all-day kung fu workshop.  He'll practice with his team, have lunch, hang out, and then go to a performance at a local community center later this afternoon.  It'll be a fun day for him and his team friends.    Mama's at IKEA to get a new bookcase; we're rearranging the basement some since there aren't any cats down there; Mojito now lives on the first floor exclusively, sleeping on the dryer (preferably running) and wandering around the living room and kitchen looking for attention (this makes us happy that he's no longer hiding down there.)  Albus and Hermione own the house again.  We smile more about Mr. P than cry, though there are a few tears everyday.

If all goes well with Sis, we're headed into the city tomorrow afternoon to take Ma to dinner for her birthday and then . . .

We have tickets to The Secret Garden at Lincoln Center!!!!  It's a concert in honor of the 25th anniversary of this great Broadway show (which Mama saw with Daisy Eagan; I saw it on tour in Houston.  We both love it.)  Several of the Broadway stars we've seen recently are in it--Sydney Lucas (Fun Home), Sierra Boggess (Phantom of the Opera), Ramin Karimloo (Les Miserables), Telly Leung (Allegiance), and, yes, even Daisy Eagan!!

It's funny that we'll be in the same theater Bud performed in a week ago.

So, pretty good.

Tidbits Plus

We have been very pun-ny recently, mostly before sweet Mr. P died.

• Sis, when we were talking about "Ceiling Cat," which in our family is kinda the Spirit of cats gone by, said that our cat Albus must be "Cat-olic."
• Goo referred to our cardboard cat tree as "Fort McKitty."

Plus, there have been three other fun and distracting events in the last few days:

• Mama took Sis rock climbing!  Sis loved it; even Mama climbed the wall.  (Bud and I stayed home in our pjs.  I fell asleep and, when I awoke, I said, "Did I fall asleep?"  He replied, "Yeah, Mom, it's April.")  Sis would love to go again, but, until she is 13, she has to climb with an instructor.  Maybe we'll take the Girl Scout troop.  
• Goo stopped by on his way home for a swazu in Vermont.  He loves the scenery and the food--local restaurants, food purveyors, and such.  He brought four loaves of bread (challah, brioche, boule, and baguette) to share with us from King Arthur Flour, and a great Cabot cheddar, plus some maple syrup and even maple syrup cotton candy.  He stayed for a few hours chatting and keeping us company.
• Today, the kids went rollerskating (as part of a birthday party, which Bud squeezed in between two kung fu practices) for the first time.  Yep, on wheels, not ice.  Sis took to the rollerblades right away, though she realized she couldn't move in them quite the same way.  Bud wore traditional skates and soon had the hang of it enough not to hug the wall.  The rink was old school, with disco ball, flashing lights, indoor carpeting, and those molded plastic-coated benches.  They even did the hokey pokey and the limbo (Sis did well at this, mainly because she is so little.)   I have such good memories of rollerskating--I took lessons (and could "shoot the duck," which was a maneuver squatting with one leg extended!) and even had skates well into college (when I had a terrible fall and almost broke an elbow--the nurses at the urgent care clinic had to scrub my arm to remove all the gravel!  And also use tweezers . . . ugh.  I never really skated again, but I could relive the sensation today.  I'm not sure I'd ever strap on stakes again, but it sure would be fun (and terrifying.)  I think the kids will skate again.  And I'd love to watch.  
  

Waves

I'm not sure I can write about yesterday and what I have poetically referred to as our cat Mr. P entering immortality.  Maybe someday, if and when I need to.  Suffice it to say, we were all there and we were all able to say goodbye in the ways we needed, including Mr. P's original owner.  And it happened quickly, painlessly, and peacefully.  We are very sad but also grateful not only to have known Mr. P but also to have been able to let him go when the time came.

Luckily, it's our school's winter break starting today so we can spend some days grieving and recuperating.  Our mantra is "be gentle" to ourselves and each other, because we know grief can cause all sorts of emotions and behaviors--anger, sadness, listlessness, forgetfulness, regret, nostalgia, and then just moments of being really quite normal.  Everyone seems to compare it to waves--one that sucks you down and you have to swim back to the surface (Pema Chodron) or a succession of waves which you have to float between until the next one (and the peaks get lower or the distances greater and you see them coming.)  And so we go up and down.  We're also trying to "stay with it" (also Pema Chodron), stay with the grief, instead of staving it off and avoiding it with shopping, food,  endless video games, or whatever.  Similarly, also from Pema (Mama is listening to some of the Buddhist nun's sermons in her car), we are trying not to "escalate our suffering" with anger, meanness, avoidance, etc.; it's bad enough without our making it worse.  And we know that soon, we'll be able to remember Mr. P with more happiness than pain.  For now, though, there are tears and quiet pauses.

So, today, we're home.  (The kids and Mama got haircuts.)  Tomorrow we have an outing we planned a couple of weeks ago (after canceling our big trip to DC and Williamsburg which was supposed to be now; we didn't want to board a sick and anxious Mr. P.)  Saturday, the kids have a ROLLER-skating birthday party which is novel; neither has rollerskated.  Sunday, we might have another outing planned (we'll keep it hush-hush until it goes through, but it promises to be pretty exciting.)  And Monday will be more R&R before work and school.

We are grateful to friends and family who have called, emailed, posted, and even dropped by with cards and a beautiful plant (though thankfully not the kitten that the girl thought would cheer us up!)  We're okay and we'll be better soon.

Good Night, Sweet Prince

 . . . and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

Patron, aka Mr P, 2000-2016

Rest in peace, Mr. P.

May we who love you be comforted.

Purr On, Mr. P!

The cardiologist we saw on Saturday has every hope that Mr. P will be around for a check up in three to four months, once we tweak his meds some.  In fact, besides the congestive heart failure, the vet thinks Mr P looks great for his almost 16 years.  Still, we have to watch his eating (he needs to eat more--he's lost almost 20% of his weight, which isn't good under the circumstances) and his breathing (rapidity--more than 22 breaths in 30 seconds--indicates he's not getting enough oxygen.)  So, we've been doing both.  And he seems pretty good.  To say we were thrilled with both Mr P's improvement and the vet's prognosis is putting it mildly.  Of course, things could always change, but we hadn't dreamt of months, only just days or weeks.

"I'm too sexy for that bald spot."

A Little Kitty Mystery

I'll start by saying that Mr. P is doing very well, considering his terminal diagnosis of congestive heart failure.  He's having good days and nights and we're enjoying them together.

But yesterday, there was a moment . . . .

I had gone upstairs to feed him because he still needs to be encouraged to eat.  I opened the door--and no cat.  Not on the bed, in the litter box, or at the food.  I even checked the closet.  Then my foot brushed a warm, soft mass under the bed, the same place our dear Morgan would hide when he was dying.  Oh, no, I thought.  What happened?

But as I knelt to check Mr. P, I noticed he was very alert, not lethargic and indifferent . . . .and then something out the window caught my eye.

A gray and white cat.

At the second floor window.

The gray and white cat, standing on the little roof of our porch to get to the window must have scared Mr. P.  And now he was "waving" and "knocking" to get my attention.  I closed the curtains.

See, the same cat had been at Bud's window, also above the porch, the evening before.  We had called his owner, as we pulled him off the roof, to make sure he wasn't lost, but apparently he's a regular outsider and even more regularly gets into other people's houses!  So, we put him back outside.

I guess he was coming back for a second visit.  Well, Mr. P won't be inviting him in.  Mr. P was so scared, he curled up in my arms for a few hours, head tucked.  Poor thing.

I still don't get how the visitor got to the second floor.  The little tree in front doesn't overhang the porch roof and is too slight to hold a cat's weight anyway.   I guess he could have gone from my minivan to the garage, across to the small roof at the back of the house, under Sis's window, and then up and over the rabbit run to the front of the house and the porch roof.

But the foot prints in the snow seem to suggest he shimmied up the gutter . . . .

Stay tuned for the continuing saga of the visiting kitty.

Life Everlasting

“Don't be afraid of death; be afraid of an unlived life. You don't have to live forever, you just have to live.” 

The mother-daughter book club met last night to discuss Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt.  I won't give away the big spoilers but will say that the book explores questions of the meaning of life and death and the meaning that death gives to life.

But the meeting wasn't all serious discussions--though, the majority of girls opted for the choice the protagonist Winnie Foster didn't make (except my Sis, and a couple, who agreed with Winnie)--we were treated to flapjacks, just like the ones Winnie enjoyed with the Tucks.

Even better, the hosts served them with buttermilk syrup!!  I had never heard of such a thing, but it is amazing, sweet deliciousness--all sweet creamy buttery-ness.  I bought buttermilk today to make some with pancakes later in the week.

Sis, during the discussion of life and death, said that if she could, she would grant Mr. P immortal life.  So sweet.  He is doing remarkably well, all things considered.  We put him on an appetite stimulant and he ate almost two small cans (which is what he needs to eat to avert liver failure.)  He is also moving more--he's been downstairs twice (he's here right now!)--and being more like himself. He has even made his usual "mac" sound that we haven't heard since before last Wednesday.  And he's been sitting on me and leaning up against me, even curling up in my arms.  It's good to see our Mr. P's little light shine brighter.

Of course, we recognize that he is at the end of his life.  Stats seem to say that cats with congestive heart failure--and 40% don't make it through their first episode--usually live just months (which makes sense--I think humans only live about 5 years?), so we know our time together is short.  But knowing this reminds us to appreciate every day.

Which, in many ways, was the lesson of Tuck Everlasting.


Buttermilk Syrup
via Six Sisters Stuff

¾ cup buttermilk
1 cup of sugar
½ cup unsalted butter (1 stick)
½ tsp baking soda
1 tsp vanilla

In a medium sauce pan, combine butter, sugar, and buttermilk and bring to a boil. Once it's at a complete boil, let it boil for 1 minute. Take off heat and whisk in baking soda and vanilla. It will foam up during the boiling, and especially when other ingredients are added. Serve with your favorite pancakes or waffles. Best served warm.  Good on pancakes, fruit, with a spoon!

First 24 Hours

Mr. P had a big day, his first full 24 hours home after his medical emergency.

We made an appointment with a cardiologist, talked to the vets at the ER place, consulted our regular vet.

We medicated him, supervised his visits with kids and other cats, and kept him comfortable, safe, fed and watered him.

The biggest responsibility was making sure he moved around safely, i.e. that he didn't face plant off the bed, with one gimp from leg.  Unfortunately, he was very anxious and easily startled today.  I moved the computer on the covers and he jumped out of his skin; Mama brushed a tray with her foot and he threw himself off the bed.  I caught him twice, but once he got right past us both.  He then bolted down the stairs and then down the basement stairs; I was practically frozen in place with worry that he'd break a leg or his neck in a fall, but he made it all the way down.  And then used the litter box and lay down exhausted on the treadmill.  Even though there is a litterbox not five feet from his spot on our bed.

But the part I thought might be the hardest was pretty easy:  the NYCats' first owner came for a visit today, the first time he's visited since depositing them in our care 13 months ago.  We had always agreed that we would tell him of health emergencies; Mama called him early yesterday when it looked so dire, but when things settled down, he decided to visit today instead.  Mr. P was pretty sedate but let Mr C pet him; I couldn't say if Mr P recognized him, but Mr C thought he did.  Same with Mojo, who was ensconced on his warm dryer and welcomed the attention.  Hermione even got some pets.

It was nice talking to Mr C, who calls Patron his "lion," albeit a kinda failed Alpha one.  He recognized P's casual indifference to some of the pets by the turn of an ear and he said he was always a big purr-er.  He also characterizes Mojo as a sneaky little cuddler.  He thought it was funny that Mo burrows in blankets, something new.  He still loves his cats, of course.  But he also has been keeping his distance to respect our relationship with them.  And he is so grateful and happy for our care.

And so the day has come to a close with Mr. P sound asleep in Mama's spot on the bed, breathing comfortably.  It was a long day for all of us, but better than the alternative we thought was in store.  And that's great.

A Good Night

It was a good night.

Though, it reminded us a lot of having newborns in the house, when we were anxious first-time parents:  very little sleep, fitful sleep, tracking input and output, no verbal communication, difficulties and worries about feeding (and meds!), fear of falling/rolling off the bed, just general anxiety . . . . and so much love!

He slept on our bed all night and purred and purred.  Purr on, Mr. P!  It's one of our favorite sounds.

Thoughts and Prayers

Our dear sweet cat Mr. P has congestive heart failure and a blood clot.  It is touch and go now, with some hopes that the emergency vet can relieve the symptoms and stabilize him enough to come home and be with us awhile longer.  We've consented to palliative care and signed a DNR in the event that he deteriorates.  We don't want him to suffer and won't go to extreme measures to keep him with us.

Today was just normal.  He slept on our bed, between our pillows, all night, then was his normal self today, until Sis noticed him limping around 7 p.m.  I picked him up (which he didn't fight) and his whole right paw was cold and limp.  I knew it wasn't a sprain or break when he didn't object to my touching it.  I thought stroke so we went straight to the ER vet; Mama and Bud were at kung fu and joined us later.   We learned pretty quickly that it was congestive heart failure and a blood clot in his foot.

They have him on diuretics, in an oxygen tent for comfort.  Later, if possible, they'll tap his abdomen in a fairly non-invasive procedure to release the fluid.  If all goes well--and he doesn't develop another clot--we'll bring him home in 24-48 hours (probably the latter) and keep him comfy on meds; he might even stabilize for who knows how long.  Apparently, cats can live like this, happily but on meds, for awhile and through several episodes (though, apparently, they get harder to detect.)

But let's get through the night first.

Understandably, the kids are extremely upset.  So are Mama and I.  We love our boy.  We've given him a good home for the last 13 months.  We'd just like to have him as long as possible.

Purr on, Mr. P!

Christmas Gift!

We hope you had a very merry holiday.  We did and so there's a lot to tell, so let's break the last few days down into bite-size chunks.

Wednesday:
The kids had a half day of school, so I ran the last bit of my errands and then finished wrapping presents.  I delivered the pink scarf I made to my friend for her daughter and we shared a coffee.  Otherwise, it was a lot of traffic and rain.

At some point, I lost the tv remote control.  I had been wrapping presents (about which I am very proud--it's been a long time since I could sit and to the wrapping, but I could this year), answered the phone while pausing my annual viewing of Love Actually, and then couldn't find the remote later to unpause the show.  I joked on FB that I must have wrapped the remote into a gift.  Wrapping gifts in silence was an interesting exercise, for awhile.

The kids got home in jovial spirits--the real holiday had begun!  They stayed up til midnight, a kind of free-for-all, playing games and such.  See, they didn't need the tv remote to play their games.  I bribed them with extra screen time if they could find my flipper, to no avail.

Mama couldn't find it later either.


Thursday:
Merry Christmas Eve!

It didn't feel at all like Christmas, except maybe Christmas in Texas, very warm and wet.

Mama was off to work long before the rest of us even woke up but only had a half-day.  At home, we wrapped some gifts, had a deli lunch, and watched some Doctor Who--not only were we counting down to Christmas but to the Doctor Who Christmas special as well.

Mama got home midday and did a lot of her own wrapping, helped me make gumbo, and watched some Simpsons Christmas specials.  We also had a long nap, while the kids played Minecraft.

Then it was church for carols and candlelight, one of our favorite Christmas and Unitarian Universalist traditions.  We sing lots of songs (I love "In the Bleak Midwinter"), hear a few short and uplifting remarks, light each other's candles during "Silent Night," and eat some cookies.  It's a nice, quiet pause in the middle of the chaos of the hectic holiday, as encapsulated in this reading:

Christmas Prayer by Lois Van Leer 

Let us still the world for a moment
Let it be blanketed by a soft darkness that quiets
Let us be brought to our knees
By innocence
By hope
By peace
In this night
Let something be born in us
That heals all brokenness
That does not bow down to hatred and fear
But rather meets them gently and offers them love
Let us chose all the gifts of life we are offered
Tonight is about the impossible
But no more so than any other impossibility
That fills our days
So let us embrace a story, a myth
If for a moment
Let us be carried away in its arms
Held tenderly, rocked, comforted
Let this night, these stories transform our hearts
That we may become
Joy
Hope
Love
Peace
Enfleshed
Incarnate.
May it be so. Amen.

It was the first Christmas Eve in a long time that we didn't have Goo, who had to work the day before and the day after Christmas.  With all the food made and all the gifts wrapped, we didn't have much to do, except straighten up for Santa.

Ah, Santa.  He's been the topic of discussion several times this season.  It all started with the "sad, nostalgic" hug Bud gave me at Old Sturbridge Village, which I believe he meant in reference to growing older and not believing anymore.   Since then there have been more indirect queries and discussions.  On Christmas Eve, another one arose.

It was actually a double-whammy.  We were sitting listening to the soundtrack of Fun Home, break from carols, when Bud turned to me and asked, "How do two men have sex?" in reference to the song about the father and his high school crush.  Deep breath.  And I calmly explained the simplest of mechanics, to some discomfort.  There was a question about how that would feel good and I basically said that if sex didn't feel good--that it made them mentally or physically uncomfortable when they were older--that they needed to stop, because they were dong it wrong.  It was about pleasure.  Sis quietly leaned over, "So then how do two women do it?"  It was only then that I blushed.

Sigh.  Not the Christmas Eve discussion I thought I'd be having.

Then, in less than five minutes, Sis asked me, "Is Santa real?"

I think I liked the sex question better.

I asked if they really wanted to know.  Bud said unequivocally no.  But Sis did, so I took her into the kitchen and said.  "There is no one Santa.  All the adults in your life are Santa.  We all make the magic of Christmas.  And now you are growing up and can help make the magic, too.  But don't tell anyone the secret; it's part of the fun and the responsibility."  I reassured her that nothing would really change--we would still do cookies, and oatmeal for the reindeer, and stockings.  Christmas was still Christmas.

She said she'd guessed a few years ago because she found the "Santa" wrapping paper.  I knew it!  I knew she'd guess from the paper; she's just so observant.  We had tried to keep them separate and specific, but we must have faltered.  She wasn't upset though, just curious.  "So who buys your Santa presents?"  And her eyes grew wide--with envy perhaps?--when I told her that we bought our own presents!  She also wanted to know who ate the cookies.  We do, of course.

And Albus helped.

At some point, Bud peeked in but didn't really want to listen.  He knows but doesn't want to know.  Fine.  He's struggling with a lot of big emotions about growing up right now and there's no need to push.  He fears loss now that he better understands crisis and mortality (my surgery, the deaths of Aunt Sis and our friend Sunny) and struggles with change.  Last night, he looked at a selfie we took in front of the tree--"my face has gotten thin.  I'm not chubby anymore."  He isn't quite ready to get bigger.

So, we did Christmas Eve just like all the others--books and pajamas, cookies for Santa, reindeer food, staying up too late.  We eventually tucked them in and finished up Christmas prep.  There's always the last few gifts to locate and worries about whether it's all balanced (quality vs. quantity, you know.)

And then we got to go to bed, too.

Oh, it was our 7th wedding anniversary, but we don't pay much attention to this one.  The August 23 date is more our celebration time.  But we do try at least to remember we got legally married, in CT anyway (at the time not federally recognized, until 2014, then nationally legal in 2015.  Which doesn't include our Civil Union date in October 2005, a week after that was legal), on Christmas Eve.


Friday:

Christmas Gift!  (as my dad's side of the family says.)

The kids slept in, or more specifically waited patiently and quietly, until 7 a.m. to get us up.  Ma, Gong, and Goo arrived shortly thereafter and we all circled round the glowing tree.  We actually had some of the windows open and had discussed turning on the AC; it would get above 65F, with high humidity.  Most of us were in t-shirts.  And our only fire was a video on the tv!

But the warm weather didn't melt the spirits.

We started with stockings as we always do (when I was a kid, we read the biblical verses of the nativity, but since we hear those at evening service, we don't read them again now.)  And from the very beginning, it was a Star Wars:  The Force Awakens Christmas, just like I had a few times as a child; with five of us really devoted and all of us having seen it, everyone but Ma got some SW stuff.   Throughout the day, there would be SW ornaments, SW figures, SW magazines, several SW books, SW Legos, SW trading cards, SW, car windshield cover, SW measuring cups, SW micro-machines, SW Infinity figures, SW wall lights, SW t-shirts, SW bobbleheads, and, the two biggest of all, real flying Millennium Falcon drones and actual robotic BB8s.

There were some non-SW things.  I think.  Lots of Warriors books and horse-themed gifts (pillow kit, painting kit, plaque) for Sis; the Doctor Who Lego and a refurbished iPad for Bud; a Lego Dimensions game set for the kids; a Playbill organizer for theater programs and Shaun the Sheep and Felines of New York book for Mama; and some Great British Bake-Off books and Mandala coloring book for me.  As a family, we also got a guidebook to Colonial Williamsburg, where we'll be going for a slightly extended February school break.

And I got a Tile, which is a GPS-like locator system to avoid losing things.  Like the remote control.  Which Goo found wedged behind the small couch, where we'd already unsuccessfully looked.  But, yay for him! And for me.

We laughed about the Tile, now intended for the peripatetic flipper.  And about the empty gift I got.  Mama had gotten me an iPad stand for when I cook from the computer.  Except when I went to look at it, the box was actually empty!  We thought this was funny and referred to it again and again; she took it well, though was aggravated by now having to go deal with the store.  And I celebrated each time Mama opened a gift that she didn't know about (you know, since we buy our own presents.)  I think there were three--Playbill binder, Shaun the Sheep, and  Felines of NY.  That's a good year.  We also continuously pelted her with paper "snowballs" (since it certainly wasn't a white Christmas), because she was sitting next to the recycling box.  I'd say we rarely made the box, mostly on accident.

It was a big, indulgent, materialistic Christmas; the kind we actually always talk down but often seem to then create.  I figure it won't last much longer, as the kids' wishes for toys decrease (though Mama's wishes increase.)  It also brings so much pleasure to Mama to spoil the kids.  And that makes me happy.  We just try to throw in extra charitable donations and acts of kindness to somewhat balance it out.  All the while, talking about it.  Not ideal.

I will say that one of my favorite gifts was actually unwrapped today:  handmade gold-painted pasta ornaments in the shape of symmetrical mandalas with the kids' photos in the middle, which they made at school this week.  LOVE these.  We don't have many school ornaments and so these are extra treasured, along with the ones from preschool.

We ate, too, though it's never the focal point of Christmas.  I gave up the big roast dinner a few years back and have been much happier ever since.  We had a corned beef hash and also orange biscuit breakfast, followed by gumbo and muffulettas later in the day.  Not many snacks, just some Christmas cookies.  And cheesecake.  A big, delicious, plain cheesecake that I bought a few years ago  from a friend at an auction for another friend but didn't collect until now (the cheesecake is not years old; the idea of the cheesecake is.)  And it was so good!  Best part was the crack, seriously, which signified the crack in the Whovian universe for us, perfect on the day of the Whovian Christmas special.

After opening gifts and eating, we spent the rest of the day playing with said gifts.  Ma and Gong helped Sis put her horse puzzle together.  Bud put his Doctor Who Lego together.  Mama, Gong, and co flew the drone outside.  Everybody drove BB8s around the living room, intriguing the cats.  Goo played video games with the kids.  I read and crocheted.

And at some point, Sis went outside to the neighbors and took a rope climbing lesson.  In short sleeves.  Our neighbors are Jewish and were having a non-Christmas gathering of family and making a lot of food.  So they invited us over for some; we took cookies and cheesecake.  And Sis got a lesson in rope climbing from the dad of the house.  I can't explain exactly what she did--there were clamps and belaying lines and carbiners and a full-torso harnass and she was supposed to bend a knee while extending an arm, then stand up on a rope and start again. Harder than it looked, I'm sure.  But she had a good go at it and then swung around and hung upside-down.  Goo tried it too, but Bud took a pass; I didn't even think about it.  Some of the other kids and adults tried, too.  And all we could all talk about was how warm it was.  Most were in a single layer, not a coat in sight.   The mom was even in flip-flops!  It was a quirky but welcome addition to our Christmas day.

The cats stayed mostly upstairs, though, when Albus and Hermione did venture down, they were rewarded with the big cardboard cat tree Mama had made for them.  Mojo eventually came out and sat in his spot in them middle of the couch  under a crocheted blanket most of the day.  At one point, he somehow slipped out from underneath his blanket and Goo gamely remarked, "You left the cat open."   Mr P couldn't handle any of it and hid on our bed upstairs.

Ma and Gong left soon after and ran into a ton of rain that never made it to us; they did get home safely, though.  Goo stayed until Who-time, playing games and eating dinner.  We're so glad he could join us.  He really makes the holiday special and is an integral part of our family celebration, for both Mama and I and the kids.

And then it was Doctor Who time.  The return of River Song, after too many sad episodes saying goodbye to Clara (who, thankfully, we learned in the last of three episodes, didn't actually die.)  It was great to see Alex Kingston in the role again and it was delightfully funny, with some great one-liners but also some touching twists and speeches.  The only tears were happy ones.  (Yep, I'm still hormonal.  Cried at carols on Christmas Eve, cried reading my SW magazine, cried watching DW.  Blah.)

The kids stayed up late, as part of their Christmas celebration, playing with their toys and snacking all  over again.  I think we were all asleep after midnight.

I don't know how many magical childhood Christmas we have left.  It definitely changes as children age, not bad and in many ways perhaps less frantic and more reflective, just different from the joy and exuberance (and yes, greed) of the first decade or so.  But this year at least, they still didn't sleep and they still squealed and hugged in gratitude and laughed and were merry the whole time.  And that, for us (since we aren't Christians anyway, but Unitarian Universalists celebrating family and the wonder of every child), is the reason for the season.

Bittersweet

It was a bittersweet morning doing Christmas cards.  I keep a long spreadsheet of addressees and like looking over it, even if I've lost touch with many of the people and no longer send cards.  I took the radical step of paring down my list considerably; just don't feel the need to send cards to so many anymore, which makes the task more pleasurable.

But this year, it wasn't quite a pleasing walk down memory lane:  two people I've sent cards to for years died since last Christmas, my beloved Aunt Sis and my friend Sunny.  Sad not to write their names on an envelope and send them holiday wishes.

I'll keep their names on the list so that I can remember them at this time each year.  And I know it will sting a little less each year, but this morning it was hard.

Because Cats

In more ways than one, we need some photos of lovely colors and peaceful cats today.

First Anniversary

A year ago yesterday, we welcomed 15-year-old brother cats, Patron and Mojito into our home.   As you may recall, they were being surrendered by their long-time owner whose daughter had developed some allergies.  The cats themselves were somewhat unhappy with the situation, too (there was a new French bulldog.)  The owner was going to give them to a no-kill shelter, but we took them instead.  

We weren't sure how geriatric cats would handle such a huge change.  And there have been some touch-and-go moments, both with Patron's health (now called Mr. P) and with relations with our existing cats.  Otherwise, it's better than we could ever have hoped.  The NYCats no longer hide in the basement under the bookshelf but wander all over the house.  Right now, P is on our bed on the second floor.  And Mojo (or Mo-jee-to, Jeetz) loves to sit on the couch next to or better yet under afghans; he likes yarn.  There's not even daily hissing between them and the Connecticats, which is excellent.  They've worked out the timeshare.

And we love them.  Mr. P sat next to me all spring and summer as I recovered from surgery; Mojo eventually came up, too.  Now he sits on my lap whenever he can, especially when I'm crocheting.  And the kids both like petting Mr P and holding Mojo.  It's wonderful.

And so some of my favorite pictures of our "new" ol'boys, who will be 16 come March.  (P is more easily photogenic than M, who likes to hide under blankets.)

Mojito aka Mojo

Patron aka Mr. P