Friday, October 26, 2007
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Styx Album Cover
When I was coming home from work yesterday afternoon, the air was freshly washed by a heavy downpour.
The sky was full of clouds and yet managed to also be brilliantly bright blue. As I turned east to head over to K-Mart on my way home, I saw one of the most clear and perfect rainbows I think I have ever seen. It was a complete arc, which doesn't always happen, and it spanned the entire width of my vision.
Nestled within its arms, huge clouds of black, grey, and white all tinted with shades of the oncoming sunset, equally huge patches of clear blue, and one large, glowing moon at 3/4 stage, doing its best to outshine the sun.
Now that I was completely wowed by just the sky, out of the south came an airplane, making its own counter arc and flying right through the center of everything.
It reminded me of an album cover from Styx, from their early years before Dennis DeYoung took over. It was amazing.
The sky was full of clouds and yet managed to also be brilliantly bright blue. As I turned east to head over to K-Mart on my way home, I saw one of the most clear and perfect rainbows I think I have ever seen. It was a complete arc, which doesn't always happen, and it spanned the entire width of my vision.
Nestled within its arms, huge clouds of black, grey, and white all tinted with shades of the oncoming sunset, equally huge patches of clear blue, and one large, glowing moon at 3/4 stage, doing its best to outshine the sun.
Now that I was completely wowed by just the sky, out of the south came an airplane, making its own counter arc and flying right through the center of everything.
It reminded me of an album cover from Styx, from their early years before Dennis DeYoung took over. It was amazing.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Infestation
My life is destined to be dramatic in every way, in spite of the fact that I really prefer non-drama. This week's theatrical piece took the form of billions of itsy, bitsy, jumping, biting, and very annoying fleas.
I've lived in Florida about 2 1/2 years now. There hasn't been a single flea on my cats or in my home since I got here. A short while ago, I allowed some friends of my roommate to take shelter here while they rearranged their living arrangements. They had no pets anymore, but they used to have at least one cat. I took some of said cat's toys off their hands, thinking to help them out, and thinking the boys would enjoy them. I'm pretty sure that's where the fleas came from.
Since then, a great deal of items of cat paraphernalia have been removed from the apartment. This weekend, I had a lot of things planned, which I still managed to attend. But smack in the middle of all of my plans, I had to get up early on Saturday (OK not as early as when I worked at McD's, but still earlier than I wanted to). I got up, located a couple of newspapers, two sets of foggers (I wasn't playing with this) and a large package of Arm & Hammer baking soda.
I came home from the store and loaded the boys into their carriers (surprisingly, Binks still fits in his - I expected to need to buy a bigger one). I backed my truck up into the shade and opened all the windows and left the back open so they'd get the wonderful breeze, then came up here and began the extermination process. (There was no way I was leaving this up to management considering how the AC issue has been treated.)
Over the regular counter spaces, I simply laid newspaper out to protect the surfaces. In areas of the kitchen where B and I keep our boxed foods, spices, cooking implements, etc., I bunched things as close together as I could and piled them up where possible so I could bundle trash bags over them. In my 850 sq. ft. apartment, I laid out 5 bug bombs. I wasn't playing. I put one in each bedroom, one in the hallway space between the bathroom and AC unit, one in the kitchen and one in the living room. I wasn't thinking about the fact that the one in the hallway was positioned under the smoke alarm, and as I set off the last one in the kitchen, I heard the alarm going off. (Have to remember to replace those batteries.) I made sure the neighbors knew the place wasn't really on fire so they wouldn't try to get into the apartment, used said neighbor's sink to wash the poison off my hands (my claws got in the way when setting the switches) and got into the truck with boys.
My plan was to drive around Titusville for the 2 1/2 hours the bomb packaging said I needed to allow. And that's what I did. Why drive around instead of board the cats somewhere? 1-The cats have fleas. Couldn't leave them with a friend, because then the friend would have fleas. Couldn't afford boarding prices because I'm trying to save up $$ to go home in November. 2-Where was I going to spend that 2 1/2 hours anyway? Might as well spend it with my terrified babies trying to comfort them as much as possible. There were lots of places in Titusville I had yet to drive to by myself. Might as well check them out since I had all this time to kill.
So, I turned on the AC and drove out along the road to the nature preserve on the Cape. I found some interesting side roads that were open to the public, that I'd never been on before. I spent the first hour and a half driving these. The only glitch during this time: I found a secluded spot to pull in and try to give the boys some water, and to pet and comfort them. I parked the truck and went around to the back, opened it up and sat in the rear with the cats still in their carriers. We were in a park pavilion that wasn't currently occupied, and the area all around it was nature at its best. Any number of dangers lay in waiting for two hapless cats who were fully declawed and never spent more than 60 seconds outdoors. So I didn't take them all the way out of their carriers. I opened the doors one at a time and blocked any leaps of faith with my body. There were none, though. They were very frightened.
As I opened the door for Binks, and began trying to coax him to drink water, two cars pulled up into my secluded area. I tried to signal them to go on past me (I could tell they were hesitating at the sight of an unfamiliar vehicle there). They didn't go past, so I closed the door on Binks and walked over to the first car to explain that I'd be leaving in just a moment. The driver looked into the back of my truck and asked what I was doing with those cats. Oh, great, I thought to myself, they think I'm trying to feed my cats to alligators. I explained that we had a recent flea infestation and I was driving around town (or the wilderness) until I could go back into the apartment with the cats. They nodded dubiously and waited for me to pack up and leave before proceeding forward to the pavilion. As I left, I watched for park rangers to come chasing me down and take away my cats. Thankfully, none appeared.
After this, I decided to go ahead and risk having the cats be scared by passing motorcycles (noise) and stick to more populated areas. Besides, I was hungry for lunch. I came back out into town, called a couple of people about Saturday's plans, and pulled into the drive-thru at Wendy's. I took the food to a local "mall" that doesn't really get much business, and parked in the back parking lot. I ate my lunch, then tried again to get the boys to drink some water. No luck. They were way too upset by all this, and I really couldn't blame them. I took each one in my arms for just a moment and petted their heads and loved on them, then put them back in their boxes and got moving again. (While we weren't moving, the AC wasn't running and it gets pretty hot back there.)
Only about 45 minutes remained at this point, so I just did a wide circle around the outskirts of town, then headed back home. Upon arrival, I parked the truck in the shade again and left everything open as before. Mike and Tabitha's girls were out playing, so I asked them to keep an eye out and make sure the boys were alright. They were happy to help. They're really sweet girls.
I came upstairs and opened up the house - every window, the sliding glass door; all of it. I turned the AC on full blast and turned on every ceiling and floor fan. I went back outside, took a puff on my inhaler, and sat with my babies for about 30 more minutes before trying to re-enter the disaster zone. Much better. I still wanted something over my face, but it was mostly breathable.
I moved fast and furious to clear everything away, vacuumed up the poison and baking soda from the floors and furniture, mopped the kitchen and bathroom and cleaned off the surfaces that weren't covered. Once I got everything to where I thought the cats wouldn't be too bothered, I brought the boys back inside and opened their cages. They were nervous about stepping out, just as if I had taken them to a totally new place and they weren't sure what to think.
Poor little guys. Not only have they been through numerous baths and flea dips lately (I had to put them back on Advantage, darnit) but then they got drug around in a moving vehicle (which they hate) and when they finally came back home, it smelled funny. I'd be pretty upset too.
But, when I walk across the floor now, nothing jumps up onto my ankles and bites me. When I pick up Mr. Bond and ruff his tummy fur (where it's white and I can see the little buggers) I don't see any fleas. They both still scratch. I hope that's left over skin irritation. The fogger package says the whole deal may have to be repeated two weeks later. In the meantime, I'll give the boys a couple more baths with the medicated shampoo the vet sold me. That seems to help.
This coming weekend doesn't have quite as much activity planned. Let's hope no new drama decides to inflict itself upon my boys and myself. Yaw will be out of town for work again. We suddenly have a rash of new clients and he has to go install all their stuff. So I'm hoping for a mostly quiet and restful weekend. And I'm sure my cats are as well.
I've lived in Florida about 2 1/2 years now. There hasn't been a single flea on my cats or in my home since I got here. A short while ago, I allowed some friends of my roommate to take shelter here while they rearranged their living arrangements. They had no pets anymore, but they used to have at least one cat. I took some of said cat's toys off their hands, thinking to help them out, and thinking the boys would enjoy them. I'm pretty sure that's where the fleas came from.
Since then, a great deal of items of cat paraphernalia have been removed from the apartment. This weekend, I had a lot of things planned, which I still managed to attend. But smack in the middle of all of my plans, I had to get up early on Saturday (OK not as early as when I worked at McD's, but still earlier than I wanted to). I got up, located a couple of newspapers, two sets of foggers (I wasn't playing with this) and a large package of Arm & Hammer baking soda.
I came home from the store and loaded the boys into their carriers (surprisingly, Binks still fits in his - I expected to need to buy a bigger one). I backed my truck up into the shade and opened all the windows and left the back open so they'd get the wonderful breeze, then came up here and began the extermination process. (There was no way I was leaving this up to management considering how the AC issue has been treated.)
Over the regular counter spaces, I simply laid newspaper out to protect the surfaces. In areas of the kitchen where B and I keep our boxed foods, spices, cooking implements, etc., I bunched things as close together as I could and piled them up where possible so I could bundle trash bags over them. In my 850 sq. ft. apartment, I laid out 5 bug bombs. I wasn't playing. I put one in each bedroom, one in the hallway space between the bathroom and AC unit, one in the kitchen and one in the living room. I wasn't thinking about the fact that the one in the hallway was positioned under the smoke alarm, and as I set off the last one in the kitchen, I heard the alarm going off. (Have to remember to replace those batteries.) I made sure the neighbors knew the place wasn't really on fire so they wouldn't try to get into the apartment, used said neighbor's sink to wash the poison off my hands (my claws got in the way when setting the switches) and got into the truck with boys.
My plan was to drive around Titusville for the 2 1/2 hours the bomb packaging said I needed to allow. And that's what I did. Why drive around instead of board the cats somewhere? 1-The cats have fleas. Couldn't leave them with a friend, because then the friend would have fleas. Couldn't afford boarding prices because I'm trying to save up $$ to go home in November. 2-Where was I going to spend that 2 1/2 hours anyway? Might as well spend it with my terrified babies trying to comfort them as much as possible. There were lots of places in Titusville I had yet to drive to by myself. Might as well check them out since I had all this time to kill.
So, I turned on the AC and drove out along the road to the nature preserve on the Cape. I found some interesting side roads that were open to the public, that I'd never been on before. I spent the first hour and a half driving these. The only glitch during this time: I found a secluded spot to pull in and try to give the boys some water, and to pet and comfort them. I parked the truck and went around to the back, opened it up and sat in the rear with the cats still in their carriers. We were in a park pavilion that wasn't currently occupied, and the area all around it was nature at its best. Any number of dangers lay in waiting for two hapless cats who were fully declawed and never spent more than 60 seconds outdoors. So I didn't take them all the way out of their carriers. I opened the doors one at a time and blocked any leaps of faith with my body. There were none, though. They were very frightened.
As I opened the door for Binks, and began trying to coax him to drink water, two cars pulled up into my secluded area. I tried to signal them to go on past me (I could tell they were hesitating at the sight of an unfamiliar vehicle there). They didn't go past, so I closed the door on Binks and walked over to the first car to explain that I'd be leaving in just a moment. The driver looked into the back of my truck and asked what I was doing with those cats. Oh, great, I thought to myself, they think I'm trying to feed my cats to alligators. I explained that we had a recent flea infestation and I was driving around town (or the wilderness) until I could go back into the apartment with the cats. They nodded dubiously and waited for me to pack up and leave before proceeding forward to the pavilion. As I left, I watched for park rangers to come chasing me down and take away my cats. Thankfully, none appeared.
After this, I decided to go ahead and risk having the cats be scared by passing motorcycles (noise) and stick to more populated areas. Besides, I was hungry for lunch. I came back out into town, called a couple of people about Saturday's plans, and pulled into the drive-thru at Wendy's. I took the food to a local "mall" that doesn't really get much business, and parked in the back parking lot. I ate my lunch, then tried again to get the boys to drink some water. No luck. They were way too upset by all this, and I really couldn't blame them. I took each one in my arms for just a moment and petted their heads and loved on them, then put them back in their boxes and got moving again. (While we weren't moving, the AC wasn't running and it gets pretty hot back there.)
Only about 45 minutes remained at this point, so I just did a wide circle around the outskirts of town, then headed back home. Upon arrival, I parked the truck in the shade again and left everything open as before. Mike and Tabitha's girls were out playing, so I asked them to keep an eye out and make sure the boys were alright. They were happy to help. They're really sweet girls.
I came upstairs and opened up the house - every window, the sliding glass door; all of it. I turned the AC on full blast and turned on every ceiling and floor fan. I went back outside, took a puff on my inhaler, and sat with my babies for about 30 more minutes before trying to re-enter the disaster zone. Much better. I still wanted something over my face, but it was mostly breathable.
I moved fast and furious to clear everything away, vacuumed up the poison and baking soda from the floors and furniture, mopped the kitchen and bathroom and cleaned off the surfaces that weren't covered. Once I got everything to where I thought the cats wouldn't be too bothered, I brought the boys back inside and opened their cages. They were nervous about stepping out, just as if I had taken them to a totally new place and they weren't sure what to think.
Poor little guys. Not only have they been through numerous baths and flea dips lately (I had to put them back on Advantage, darnit) but then they got drug around in a moving vehicle (which they hate) and when they finally came back home, it smelled funny. I'd be pretty upset too.
But, when I walk across the floor now, nothing jumps up onto my ankles and bites me. When I pick up Mr. Bond and ruff his tummy fur (where it's white and I can see the little buggers) I don't see any fleas. They both still scratch. I hope that's left over skin irritation. The fogger package says the whole deal may have to be repeated two weeks later. In the meantime, I'll give the boys a couple more baths with the medicated shampoo the vet sold me. That seems to help.
This coming weekend doesn't have quite as much activity planned. Let's hope no new drama decides to inflict itself upon my boys and myself. Yaw will be out of town for work again. We suddenly have a rash of new clients and he has to go install all their stuff. So I'm hoping for a mostly quiet and restful weekend. And I'm sure my cats are as well.
Monday, October 08, 2007
130 X 3
This is my 130th post according to my dashboard. Seems like I only started this stuff last week, but when I look back and see my older posts, I think "Jeez, don't I have anything to do with my life but put posts on here?"
Another 130. This weekend, 130 hashers gathered in Cocoa Beach, FL. We partied, we ran (some of us walked), we played drinking games, we sang bawdy drinking songs, we laughed and smiled, strained our bodies together in a joyful communion.
Now the party is over, the clean up is done. 130 hashers are presently returning to normality and the mismanagement staff is happily going over the weekend; did our visitors have a good time? did everyone get enough beer, enough food, enough whatever it was they needed? did we represent ourselves well and truly as BVDH3? I think that we certainly did. I think most of mismanagement will say they don't ever want to host something so large again. I also think that if I were to be given that task again, I would want exactly the same crew online to make it happen. It is exhausting work, but such a pleasure to see the other hashers so happy and know that we helped make it happen for them.
Now I've got to make my own return to normality. What's the third 130? The number of pounds of sweaty, smelly laundry I need to wash for Yaw and myself. Exactly one pair of jeans, one pair of socks, and a towel came home not smelling like sweat, beer, or some other unknown substance. I must have had a great time too...
Another 130. This weekend, 130 hashers gathered in Cocoa Beach, FL. We partied, we ran (some of us walked), we played drinking games, we sang bawdy drinking songs, we laughed and smiled, strained our bodies together in a joyful communion.
Now the party is over, the clean up is done. 130 hashers are presently returning to normality and the mismanagement staff is happily going over the weekend; did our visitors have a good time? did everyone get enough beer, enough food, enough whatever it was they needed? did we represent ourselves well and truly as BVDH3? I think that we certainly did. I think most of mismanagement will say they don't ever want to host something so large again. I also think that if I were to be given that task again, I would want exactly the same crew online to make it happen. It is exhausting work, but such a pleasure to see the other hashers so happy and know that we helped make it happen for them.
Now I've got to make my own return to normality. What's the third 130? The number of pounds of sweaty, smelly laundry I need to wash for Yaw and myself. Exactly one pair of jeans, one pair of socks, and a towel came home not smelling like sweat, beer, or some other unknown substance. I must have had a great time too...
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
The Great Sky Painter
...was practicing on the Florida sky again this afternoon, and some more at twilight.
Ahhh....
Ahhh....
Monday, October 01, 2007
Stormy Weather
Wow, Nature is beautiful.
So there's this storm blowing outside. I have a vacuum to fix, so I'm mostly not aware of it as I take the beast apart again so I can install a new belt and hepa filter. When that's done, I give it a test run on the living room floor (hoping to at least make a fair swath in the kitty litter debris all over the carpet). At 9 p.m. I run the vacuum across the floor one time and get more hair, kitty litter and shoe gunk out of the carpet than the last 4 attempts combined. I'm tempted to continue, but I think I've probably strained the patience of my grouchy downstairs neighbor quite enough for the moment.
I empty out the canister and put away the vacuum cleaner and notice that there is some very heavy wind blowing about outside. Then I notice a freight train's whistle and "chugga-chugga" sound as it passes by up along US1. (Yes it was really a train and not a tornado.)
I step out on the walkway to watch the wind blow things about. Off to my right I can see the outside lights from another building. They shine through the branches and dangling Spanish Moss. The wind whips through the branches and causes the light and shadows to move like wild, enraptured dancers, whipping and twisting in the ecstasy of the moment.
I find myself pulled out closer to the edge of the walkway where I am no longer sheltered from the rain being blown towards the building. I feel the soft tingle of thousands of raindrops as they crash against my skin and run down my face, arms, hands. My feet feel the moisture on the walkway's concrete and the coolness of the surface is welcome to them.
It is humid tonight. According to the weather forecast, humidity is about 90%. With the wall of water whipping and twisting about on the rooftop across the way, I think to myself it's a good bit more than 90%.
After a few more minutes of letting Nature vent her fury on me, I decide to return to the shelter of the Palm Tree House and comfort my terrified Mr. Bond. And try to convince him to walk on the freshly vacuumed floor. Looks like I need at least another pass before it's up to his standard. Picky little fiend.
So there's this storm blowing outside. I have a vacuum to fix, so I'm mostly not aware of it as I take the beast apart again so I can install a new belt and hepa filter. When that's done, I give it a test run on the living room floor (hoping to at least make a fair swath in the kitty litter debris all over the carpet). At 9 p.m. I run the vacuum across the floor one time and get more hair, kitty litter and shoe gunk out of the carpet than the last 4 attempts combined. I'm tempted to continue, but I think I've probably strained the patience of my grouchy downstairs neighbor quite enough for the moment.
I empty out the canister and put away the vacuum cleaner and notice that there is some very heavy wind blowing about outside. Then I notice a freight train's whistle and "chugga-chugga" sound as it passes by up along US1. (Yes it was really a train and not a tornado.)
I step out on the walkway to watch the wind blow things about. Off to my right I can see the outside lights from another building. They shine through the branches and dangling Spanish Moss. The wind whips through the branches and causes the light and shadows to move like wild, enraptured dancers, whipping and twisting in the ecstasy of the moment.
I find myself pulled out closer to the edge of the walkway where I am no longer sheltered from the rain being blown towards the building. I feel the soft tingle of thousands of raindrops as they crash against my skin and run down my face, arms, hands. My feet feel the moisture on the walkway's concrete and the coolness of the surface is welcome to them.
It is humid tonight. According to the weather forecast, humidity is about 90%. With the wall of water whipping and twisting about on the rooftop across the way, I think to myself it's a good bit more than 90%.
After a few more minutes of letting Nature vent her fury on me, I decide to return to the shelter of the Palm Tree House and comfort my terrified Mr. Bond. And try to convince him to walk on the freshly vacuumed floor. Looks like I need at least another pass before it's up to his standard. Picky little fiend.
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