Why Charley Dislikes George

Bob is supposed to be Charley’s own personal mattress. A happy scene like this makes him mad enough to sneak off and piss on furniture.


It's that green-eyed demon, envy.

Making Do With Pets

When there are no small children in the house, sometimes people compensate at Christmas by treating their pets like kids.

With no toys for humans to assemble, Bob put together the cat tree that Aunt Shirley had given us. Velcro and Charley were as excited as two little kids.


Almost finished.


Charley inspects it.


Like little kids, the cats decide they prefer the box.


The toy we bought them at PetSmart wasn’t very popular either.


What they really liked was the ribbon and bows, they’re still hauling them around the house and playing with them.


People who have little kids around might not give pets as much attention.


That would be people in some other family. Lexi, her dad Dominic, and Bubba the dog play with Lexi’s new Tonka truck from Aunt Tina at Aunt Grandma Patty’s house.

Decorating With Cats

Our farm has at least 30 acres of Christmas trees, but we don’t have one in the house. I could give you all sorts of ecological reasons why not, but the truth is simply that we’re too lazy to do all that for just the two of us and the cats.

So I have a 3 foot tall fake tree, some lights on the mantle, and lots of poinsettias. I bought them for work first, and they were enjoyed there until the 23rd. Then I brought them home.


The cats like to pose with them. Or maybe it’s just that the flowers are in places where the cats usually sleep. Whatever.


Charley arranges himself more artfully than George does. Here he is on the bathroom rug.


I also have a few favorite decorations out. Two ceramic pieces made by Aunt Shirley.


A needlework made by Sarah long ago.


This lovely wreath (?) made by Bob in 3rd grade.


And this ancient, tattered Santa that has been through at least 50 Christmases in this house. The price tag on the back says 39 cents.


I decorated the cat's hidey box in the dining room so it wouldn't clash with the Christmas decor. I wrapped it and the big banana squash that weights it down in wrapping paper, and added a few fake poinsettias. Martha Stewart isn’t the only talented decorator around!


I have lots of wonderful ornaments, including some hand-blown ones that were in Aunt Bea’s family and some from John’s family. They are safely stored away, too delicate to decorate a tree in a house full of cats that love toys. I used to cut a branch from the blue spruce and nail it high on the wall, out of reach of the little boy and the cats. In my old living room with the 45 year old carpet and the 4 peeling layers of wallpaper, I didn’t care if sap ran down the walls. But then I had the room remodeled.

It’s OK. I have notes tucked away with the old ornaments that tell their history. And every ornament that anyone ever gave Bob has a tag on it with the date and who it's from. The little boy is all grown up now. He will have his own family some day and he can tell his kids about the old things. And his wife can worry about pounding holes in the walls.

Christmas Prep

I used to spend a week making cookies to give away at Christmas. I stopped doing this a couple of years ago when I became diabetic. This year Bob (who cooks for a living right now) asked if I’d make cookies. “Nope,” I answered, “but I’ll dig out the recipes and you can do it.”

So he did. This is the first day. The kitchen is still clean. Bob has a smile on his face.


And this is the end of the week. He’s still having fun, but cookie fatigue has set in. Bob ended up making LOTS of really nice cookies. We had a great time taking them around the neighborhood and sitting and talking for a while, and taking some to friends and relatives. The kid gets an A in cookie baking. (By the way, Weed is a small town in Northern California, a fun place to buy T-shirts.)


Ever wonder what the difference is between store-bought eggs and home-grown ones? Here’s just one difference: egg shell strength. The brown mutt chicken egg had a hard shell, it takes a real whap to break it. Then you pick up a store-bought egg and do the same, and it just mooshes all over everything.

Quoting Andy Warhol

The latest issue of Hobby Farms quotes Andy Warhol:

"I think having land and not ruining it is the most beautiful art that anybody could ever want to own."

Wow. I never imagined that a strange New Yorker could speak so directly to my heart. Thanks Andy, wherever you are. (I know he's deceased. Or "late" as Precious Ramotswe would say.)

Love to You All!

Merry Christmas everyone!

The Cap'n Entertains

The Cap’n is lucky to have friends like Wonder Woman and Hotei. They came to the party early with lots of Christmas spirit, to help decorate and get everything ready.


Hotei greeted the guests at the door. This is Vicky and Lillian. Vicky is Wonder Woman’s cousin. She’s a lady wrestler. Lillian is the oldest lady wrestler in the World Wrestling Federation (WWF). Wonder Woman suggested inviting them because Hotei is interested in a wrestling job.


Chicken rode with PeeWee, they arrived a little later, they got held up at the Rancho Murieta gate when Chicken couldn’t remember the Cap’n’s new address.


Q took these pictures for us. He says everyone had lots to talk about. The Cap'n has met aliens from all over the universe, but they're nothing like the strange people in the WWF.




When it was time to leave, Chicken had to catch a ride home with the ladies. PeeWee overdid it a bit at the bar, so he stayed overnight on the couch.



Katherine named the Cap'n's cat, by the way. He's Crusher.

Planning a Party

Capn P’s new condo at Rancho Murieta was nice, but it needed some work before he could throw his Christmas party. He and Chicken had been painting and puttering and had just stopped for pizza and beer when Q showed up.


He usually pops in to cause trouble, or at least create a mind-boggling problem. But this time he decided to be a good elf and help out. Q grabbed the roller and finished painting while Capn P got online and sent out E-vites. This time of year often brings out the best in people. And whatever Q is.

Gadding About

Yes, I got you all excited about the Capn’s party, and then left you hanging. There are pictures and stories coming. It’s just that I’ve been out gadding about and haven’t taken time to write anything. 'Tis the season, you know.

With my office mate Mel.


Kicking up our heels at an after-hours office party.


Stuffing our faces at our office potluck lunch.


Chatting with an old friend, Relda.


The Capn was also busy at my work, making new friends with E. (She’s just E - like Q is just Q.)


And (formerly) Grumpy Bruce...


and with some of the office decorations.

A Reminder

NOW is the time to be wearing your corny Christmas shirts and jewelry. If you forget, it'll be sitting in your closet for another year. Save the blacks and greys for after the first of the year, there's still plenty of winter to come. I want to see you all in your holiday reds and greens!

Open House

Here’s the living room of the Capn’s new condo. Why is it at Rancho Murieta? Because I had a picture of the golf course to use for the window. The tree is really cool, it has flashing lights. The fireplace is made out of Bob’s Legos, complete with stocking on the mantle and a set of tools for the fire. Please notice that the curtains and the couch pillows match.


There is a bookshelf on the left wall made out of bricks (Legos) and boards, just like everyone builds when they’re starting out. The bar is a knick knack John’s mom had. Behind the couch is a computer desk with a laptop on it, and a folding chair.


The book on the coffee table is from France, my friend Merlene picked it up there.

This was more fun than a person should be allowed to have on Sunday. Everything’s ready for the party!

So Darned Complicated

All I wanted to do was make curtains for Captain Picard. I started the project two hours ago. Since then I’ve taken a trip down memory lane, poked a hole in my finger, broken 2 fingernails, and marveled at how much we’ve lost as consumers.

The Cap’n is happy in my kitchen window, but he has no room to entertain his friends. So he leased a condo on the lake at Rancho Murieta. It’s unfurnished. Eventually I’m sure it will be tastefully decorated, but right now it needs a lot of things. I volunteered to make teeny tiny drapes.

I wasn’t going to drag the sewing machine out for this project. I have seam tape that you can iron on, so I dragged the ironing board out instead.

Do you iron? I do, sorta. At least twice a year. I have an ancient ironing board. Last year when we were shopping for Christmas, Bob suggested he could buy me a new one.

“Absotutely NOT!” I said. “You need to learn right now that women don’t like to get things like that as gifts. No housekeeping tools, NEVER!” And besides, why would you waste money replacing something you already hate?

“But the one you have is so grungy I don’t even want to put my clothes on it,” he pointed out. “The cats won’t even sleep on it, it’s gross.”

So one day when I was in some discount store, maybe Ross or Big Lots, I bought a new cover for the old ironing board. That was months ago. This morning when I pried the ironing board out of the hall closet (and had to rearrange most of the stuff that was stacked around it) I found that I’d actually stuffed the new cover beside it. Today was obviously the day to change the cover. Before it got lost.

First I tried to put the new one over the old one, like putting a new roof over the existing one and telling yourself it’ll provide more insulation.

It wouldn’t fit. The old cover was held on by some ancient things that had very sharp hooks on both ends and a spring in the middle. The new cover, I could see, simply had two velcro strips.

Is this an improvement, I wondered? I don’t know about you, but I think the only useful purpose for velcro is as a name for my cat. On shoes and coats, it’s useless after a week here in the country. It gets gummed up with weeds and lint and won’t close anymore. And then your new shoes look nasty, or your new coat looks sloppy.

So I cut off the velcro ties right away. Oops, I should probably have checked to see if the ancient hooks and springs were still functional. Hooks get dull, after all. And springs get sprung.

Nope, these were made in different times, when even little things were made to last. The hooks were still sharp, and the springs were very strong. Strong enough to pop the hooks into my finger. Wow! Sharp like a fish hook! That’s probably why these aren’t made anymore, we’re too stupid to use them.

I found there were not two, but five layers of old stuff on the ironing board. After I broke two fingernails trying to force the new cover over the old ones, I decided I had to take them all off so it would fit. They were all scorched. Those were the days before irons turned themselves off. One cover I remembered very well, it was on the board when I was in high school and used to do ironing for my Aunt Barbara for 30 cents a piece, I think. And yes, Bob, we did have electric irons in those days.

When I was ironing every day, I got 3 small warts on my right palm, where the iron handle rubbed on them. My mom tricked me into a trip to the doctor’s office and had him burn them off. I remember this vividly, I never forgave her for that. The doctor was an ass, a torturer. It’s no wonder I avoided the doctor’s office for years after that. I don’t really blame my mom for that anymore, but I did for at least 30 years.

I read the label from the new cover before I tossed it in the garbage. This is no common cover, I learned, it’s a Laura Ashley cover that doubles the life of your ironing board. (It’s already 50 years old.)

Why would Laura Ashley make ironing board covers? There are no Victorian roses or lace on it, it’s just a plain, white, cotton cover. The designer name doesn’t show anywhere. So if I leave the board out for a week, which I am likely to do, and someone stops by the house, they aren’t going to notice my ironing board cover and think I have good taste.

I understand Disney lunchboxes and maybe even Hannah Montana underwear for little kids, but aren’t we getting carried away with merchandising? Some things make sense. Michael Jordan basketball shoes. Tiger Woods condoms. But would you buy a set of Brittney Spears battery cables, for example? I do have a hammer with the Raiders logo on it, and that doesn’t make much sense either. But it’s a great hammer and it was only $3 at Ross, and if someone borrows it I know it’s mine.

After two hours of messing with the hall closet, refurbishing the ironing board, and trying to find the iron - oh, and then 30 minutes writing about it - I did finally get the drapes finished. And two couch cushions to match.

No photos today, but the Cap’n will be having a Christmas get-together at his new place and I’ll be taking pictures.

Stay tuned.

And More Cousins

Jen, Bob, Sarah, and Emily (1995?)

On my dad’s side of the family there aren’t many relatives. These are the “cousins” in the present generation. Bob and Sarah are actually cousins, Jen and Em are sisters, my cousin Nancy’s daughters. But I think of the kids as all cousins.

Thanksgiving is great because sometimes the cousins have a chance to get together. The girls are very close in age, and when they were very young we started taking their picture as The Three Evils. I don’t have the first picture of that scanned yet. Every time they get together, we take a new picture.

This was maybe 2005.


This was 2008.


This year, Sarah was home with baby Tessa (The Next Generation) so Bob sat in for her.


Hi Cousin!

Cousins

Tell me these two don’t look alike. Sarah is 7 years older than Bob. If you put them side-by-side, the resemblance was never there. First Sarah was a lot bigger, then Bob was a lot bigger. But if you compare them at the same age, I think the resemblance shows.


I’m also posting the pink picture because Sarah said her parents never dressed her up like a girlie-girl. They did, but mostly before she became such an extraordinary athlete and wore a soccer outfit or a track suit all the time. Here she is on her monocycle.


No pictures of Bob's athleticism. That's where the resemblance ends. He's a computer-chair potato.

What Evil Lurks?

While those “feel good” cat hormones in Feliway have made the other cats relax and coexist, I think they have made Charley evil.

Behind these little green devil eyes, the brain is planning destruction and chaos. In the past couple of days he’s peed on a (thankfully washable) couch pillow, stolen all the shoelaces out of a drawer, pulled the towels in the bathroom off the rack, and (my personal favorite) nabbed an entire piece of ham off Bob’s plate.

He knows he’s bad. Does he look like he cares?