the feline report

Kittens in the window

Fluffpuff with perfect white eyeliner

Room service ~ all activity stops in the condos

Godiva eyes the food cart

I don't know how the SPCA names the animals, but I do know that most
new cat owners change the names and still the cats won't respond. As
we know, they each have their own inner name and we humans rarely get it right.
Tomorrow I'll post the famous T. S. Elliot poem, The Naming of Cats.

As predicted, MB had been adopted, I think it meant My Boy. But
now he might be Orange Slush or Nehi or god knows what. Also, a bunch
of kittens have brand new homes, but I stick with the sleepy set when
I visit. I have one problem cat named Tahoe and she is so restless that
I can't get a photo of her interesting face. She won't get adopted if
she doesn't learn to hit the lap for some cuddles and scritches.

Today I work with people. No more need  be said...

Samuel Beckett at ACT

Bill Irwin and Nick Gabriel in Endgame

Anthony Fusco in Play 

 

 

Honestly, I wasn't looking forward to two hours of Beckett last night
at ACT, but it was truly a memorable evening. It helps to be sitting
in the second row where we could see every tic and hear every
word of the two plays. Play features a man between his wife and his
mistress (and he still longs for a third woman). They are all in these
cocoons or pots, symbolizing, I guess, the restraints put on us by
our lives or ourselves. A short 22 minute play. Great.


Endgame on the other hand, is 90 minutes of the oh so talented Bill
Irwin who is constrained in a chair, plus he is blind and miserable. It's
constant rat-a-tat-tat dialogue about life, death, the world ~ you
know, the big topics. And yet there is humor in between the sorrow.

a good summer read

I always wanted one sister, never two. Here we have three Weird
Sisters, a father who quotes Shakespeare at every opportunity and a
mom battling cancer.  It's written in a very unusual style ~ always
from the "we and our" point of view, no matter which sister is
being written about. The sisters are all grown women now, home
together for the first time in years and they are less than perfect
family members or human beings, which makes them lovable to
us, of course. The author, Eleanor Brown, is the youngest of three
sisters and we assume she knows whereof she speaks. Although I
wanted to shush the professor father often, I did enjoy the novel
and how different/alike each sister is. Nice ending, too!

the shirt off his back

SHIRT

 

The last day of 2008 I woke
wearing the same blue shirt I wore
driving down through the pines
to hear Carlos Santana,
the hills a pale brown near Vallejo
where Bill Graham's helicopter crashed
in the power lines over the marshland.
The shirt hung on a shovel near Big Sur
smelling of almonds and sulfur
where I sat one morning reading Chuang Tzu
trying to understand about the Tao.
I wore it to feed Amy's chickens
and wrapped its loose arms
around my wife, who was smoking
outside by the mailbox, having swallowed
a fragment of glass in her coffee
the Advice Nurse said was most likely harmless,
trusting the colon's pulses to pass it
moment by moment.
We drove back north through Golden Gate Park
where an alligator once escaped
into the pond just off Lincoln Drive
and where Michael Bloomfield OD'd in his car
near the hall of flowers
and the Grateful Dead played for free.
We'd like to see them come back again,
the way Mickey Rourke showed up
at the Academy Awards interview
for his role as a broken-down wrestler
walking the two roads of grief and hilarity,
the cat's eye ring on his finger,
his silver tooth, his rat-goatee
and wraparound shades,
weeping into his water glass
mourning his dead Chihuahua:
I swear I'd give him the shirt off my back.
Joseph Millar

Blue Rust
Carnegie Mellon University Press

flix night in frisco

Of course this wasn't nearly as great as the book, but it is worth seeing
just to remind us of how things used to be, and it really wasn't all
that long ago. Viola Davis is outstanding while most of the white women
in Jackson, Mississippi are truly pathetic in their 50's ignorance and
bigotry. Certainly worth renting The Help with some Kleenex® by your side.

Adam Gopnik wrote an article in the New Yorker about how every
40 years we want to relive and examine the past. Mad Men is a good example.
He said 40 years from now people will say, "look, they had lattes
at 10am!" He argues that Mad Men isn't all that great of a storyline
without the details and lifestyle of the past. I disagree, or do I?

still loving DOWNTOWN

Spacious ING coffee shop

New heart in Union Square

Of course I enjoy the Big City more because I can take either Muni
or BART. Traffic is worse than NYC, I'm guessing. They serve Peet's
at the ING coffee shop and would give me some financial advice if I
wanted that with my latte. I've been saving with ING for probably 7
years or so, it's one of the marvels that really works for me in this online age.

I did some smart shopping at Macy's, my old hangout when I worked
at the Big Box. Then I visited my eye doc who gave me the thumbs
up as we studied my eyes through his very cool computer. Many
diseases are first noticed inside the eye and I always learn a thing
or two from him. For instance, there are some studies suggesting that
high cholesterol and macular (sp?) degeneration are connected.
Maybe. In any event, no new glasses needed. Yes!

Did I tell you that the fog is back? Such fun peeling off all the heavy
clothes to try on summer frocks.

social skills refreshed

yesterday

today

We haven't entertained for too long, so last night we had some delightful
friends over to enjoy poached salmon, boiled potatoes and sugar
snap peas. Lots of good talk and laughs and a very special lime pie
from the Great Ducknik Plotnik. It's hard to believe that we used to
pull this off when we were both working, but we did, and a lot more
frequently than we do now. Still, it's a pleasure to have the whole day
to putter and cook and anticipate the evening. And now to put the
"good" dishes away and reinstate our little piles of tidy/messy
everyday Stein living.

generation K moves in

Ikuko is pensive

Petra ponders her future

MB is his name

Always ~  clean aprons for the volunteers

Just 3 of the many new kitties

Maybe Denby? Inky? Castor? Pollux?

Amber is tiny and crazed

The kittens have arrived. Many have been in foster homes, learning how
to use the litter box and relate a bit to humans. The only adoption of one
of "my" cats was Florida, all the rest were kitties, preferred by children
of all ages, or so it seems. So I spent most of my morning with my older
friends: Tahoe, Fujiko, Beauregard, Denby, Inky, Windixie, Petra, Castor,
Pollux, Pearl, Sergio, Smokey and MB.

I've decided that one of the reasons the SPCA trains and recruits so many
volunteers (there are 800 of us) is because we are also the logical new
adopters of the older, wiser, calmer cats. Mister orange MB is a new arrival
and I bet he'll have a new home by next week. We'll see.

school kids

I surreptitiously snapped this pic during a break on Saturday. The photos
are all by the founder, Jane, the mess all by the students. It has that
cool creative feel, doesn't it? The Writing Salon in SF is in a loft space
on Alas Poor York Street and I could walk to/fro from Casa Verde. (For a
few decades Husbando and I have not been able to say "York St." without
adding the Shakespeare line.) Tedious, I realize.

Class was terrific. Mostly I learned that I have to get the god damn first
draft done and take it from there.  I presented my vague plot outline and the
teacher and a few students did help me with comments. Am I not brave?
The rest of the day was spent on characters, plot, the usual. All things I
sort of vaguely knew but needed to be reminded of again. It was a VERY
good day and Ellen and I both benefited.

yellow step roses

Nancy sent me these glorious roses for Mother's Day. As most of you know,
I'm one of those strange women who did not want children. I have never for
one moment regretted that decision, but it took a bit of courage back in the day
to tell people that, so I'd usually say, "but I have four step children," and that
would suffice. Having step children is the best of both worlds ~ a personal
investment in the future, lots of family drama, celebrations galore, and none
of the daily work and stress of the actual raising of children. I always knew
that motherhood is the most difficult job in the world and I do salute all
mothers everyday, but especially today, their day. Good job!

back to school

I came home from a l-o-n-g day of retail yesterday and revised my plot
outline for the umpteenth time ~ you do remember Ellen, don't you?
Today I'm taking a Writing Salon class on the Mystery Novel and
I'm so looking forward to it. The same teacher (Elaine) that I had in January,
the one who pushed us to read Great Expectations.  When I first started
writing seriously about 10 years ago, I was nervous about reading my
stuff (garbage) in public. No more, not after Tiapos and many classes
and listening to other writers with the same problems and issues. Now
I look forward to being with other writers ~ a friend compared this to
plugging in the computer for a recharge. I need other writers and I can
take a little constructive criticism, along with lots of encouragement, of
course. Get me to the classroom!

orange cats in detail

We've had five cats which is a lot, considering that my husband does not like
them. Uncle Junior came to us by accident (we thought we'd get a LOT of
cash to take him) and he was already about 10 years old and terrified. Even
I didn't fall in love with him for a few weeks. But then, but then...even dear
Husbando finally warmed a bit and would call to me saying things like,
"hey, look at Ju Boy, that big lug," and after awhile we didn't even care
about the money that never arrived. I am pretty sure that most orange cats
are male ~ the one above is typical, but he's not The Uncle. I found these points
online and I agree wholeheartedly:

1. They boost your self-esteem. Unlike any other cat, orange males seem to thrive on the very existence of their family. They also have a tendency to gaze at their humans lovingly.
2. Most cats hate the thought of too much human-time and plan their day accordingly. This is not the case for the orange male, for at times, they seem more like a dog than cat. They love to sit on your lap and are content as long as you are sitting near them and petting their fur.
3. Goofiness is a trait that orange cats are well-known for. It seems like they enjoy hearing their humans laugh. Whether its running around crazily or just acting like a clutz, they love to make sure you are happy.
4. Typical cats could care less when you walk in the door-if anything, it makes them unhappy to know that their independence is now thwarted for the rest of the day. Unlike this typical "I don't care about you" personality, orange cats are enthusiastic to see you at the end of the day. Most likely, they will sprint to the door to greet you.
5. Like most cats, orange cats are litter trained in a blink of an eye (unlike puppies and other pets!).
6. Did I mention that they love to sit on your lap and get attention from you?
7. Because of their extreme friendliness, they will easily fit into the routine of your home-no matter the other pets.
8. And, I don't think I've mentioned this yet, but they love to sit on your lap and get all kinds of attention...
If you are looking for your typical cat that exists in his or her own world, then the orange cat is not for you. However, most complaints about cats are about their selfish attitudes and completely different personalities from dogs. But, if you are looking for a loving, goofy, enthusiastic and attention-thriving cat, go for the orange male.

wednesday with cats

Beauregard

Windixie

Castor and Pollux

Pearl and friend

Luxurious cat condo

Inky's eyes are as big as his ears

It was one of those good/bad days for me yesterday at the SPCA.
First I checked the adoption file and I was elated that some of my
favorites have new homes. These include:

• Chic
• Puppy Chuck
• Cubby
• Macadamia
• Astrid
• Madeline

But I missed them as I made my rounds ~ orange cats go first and if
you've ever owned one you know why. I carry a little notebook and
my iPhone and now I'm glad because they quickly fill the empty cat
condos with the never ending supply of felines. It is kitty season and
we have a few on display. In the office there is a recent photo of a
pound with an ugly cage stuffed with kittens ~ the SPCA takes as
many as they have room for. In training we learn that when one cat
is adopted, two lives are saved because another furball is moved up
to a prime adoption location.

writer, teacher, feminist, mormon...

...and so much more. Have you read Terry Tempest Williams? Last night
Ginger and I went to the City Arts and Lecture event at the Herbst to
hear her speak. Refuge is one of my all time favorite books wherein
she writes of herself, her family and the Great Salk Lake. When she
sent her manuscript in the first time the editor wrote back, "this does
not work on any level," and she rewrote it word by word. You have to
admire her just for that...

Williams is one of the soft spoken very powerful feminists and G and
I plotted to march on Washington at the soonest opportunity. She is the
second cousin twice removed to Mitt Romney and she said, "we both
wish we were further removed from each other."

If you haven't read Refuge, do so. And she has a new book out entitled
When Women Were Birds which I will read one day soon. Did I mention
that she is a strong environmentalist? Yup, quite the woman. Quite.

(I moved the cats to today, feline-fear not.)

another SF walk spot

Neti talking to her daughter

This trail is new (to me)

Lots of kids and balloons

It's been YEARS since I've walked around Lake Merced which is 4.5 miles
and an easy hill-free way to get some fresh air and exercise on a sunny,
beautiful day. After our walk Neti and I had lunch at the Harding Park
Golf Course restaurant ~ my, that place is looking quite sleek and chi
chi these days. The food? Good and reasonable. We'll be back!

poem time!

The Conversation

Though he thought I was asleep in the sun, I was not. I was lucid.
For a long time I watched his ship departing
until the flag at the stern vanished, eaten by the gray horizon.
Then the gulls came, then the stars. I began to live between visions
of reunion and the truth shifting like tides against the dunes.
Under a tent of yaupons I built a hut of driftwood, using sea oats
for a threshold and the emptied halves of mollusk shells for the roof.
Butterflies traversed the shore. When I held the ocean's shell
to my ear we were one
vessel speaking to another vessel
about the rapture of the void.

Christine Garren

The Southern Review
Spring 2012

comedy, by any name...

I have no idea where we read or heard about Arab Labor, but it is an Israeli TV
series about a Palestinian reporter with an identity problem. Amjad and his
family live in Israel and each half hour episode proves once again that
if we are able to laugh at ourselves, maybe we can solve a few of the serious
world problems. This is surprisingly irreverent and I'm already looking
forward to the episode where the family is invited to a Passover dinner.
It took FOREVER to get this on the Flix®, or maybe they just have the
one copy, but I'm hoping that lots of diverse people get to watch, enjoy
and learn from this.

this part isn't work

 There are usually two turtles on this log (above)

These are just some random shots of my to/fro work experience in our
world famous Golden Gate Park. Of course we'd been here a few times
over the years, but it's so much different and better to get to know it
intimately and up close. Often I will just sit on one of the many benches
and pour a cup of coffee from my Thermos® as I bask in the sun and
watch all the people from around the world who wish they had some
place like this in their back yard.

it's a pretty place...

Even on an almost-rainy day. First I had breakfast with museum friends
at Zazie on Cole Street, then took the speedy N Judah to The Jewel
where I met Ginger for garlic fries and a hot dog. And oh, yeah, the
game. Our Giants looked listless. We were way up in the view section
with true fans (most had score books) and when one of our guys flew
out for the 33rd time the guy behind us said, "uh, that's not what we
had in mind." So much better than the usual boos and catcalls. The
Blogmaid gave me a ride home so, all in all, friends trump baseball,
which is really the way it should be. And today? Bright sun!

Flix® movie nights

 Tuesday night ~ I so tried not to feel a little sorry for J. Edgar

but this was a sad and mean man with too much power

during very difficult times. Great history reminders.

Wednesday night ~ the oldest drawings ever discovered

from 30,000 (!) years ago. The Chauvet Cave

as seen exclusively by Werner Herzog.

Highly recommended and fascinating...

another Ruby Tuesday

Sometimes I think I arrange these get-togethers so I can evoke that
old song. Anyway, it was a delightful day off, culminating in a
crepe and coffee at the Moonlight Cafe with Tanya and Ruby. Early
morning meeting at the deYoung this morning, so I need to hit
the oj and blueberries and move quickly...

monday morning ritual

I leave the house about 7:30am and walk to the SPCA ~ that's part
of the pleasure, a big part. I keep my iPhone, a small notebook and pen
in my apron pocket and visit cats for 3 hours. I try to spend about
15 minutes per kitten and note small improvements in the all
important friendliness of each cat. Yesterday, for instance, Tahoe
wanted to cuddle instead of bolt through the door and escape. There
is a chart on each cat condo and I note my visit time ~ each kitty
gets a visit everyday from a volunteer.

People ask me how I can leave when I fall in love with one or more
cats. It's really not all that difficult because they live in relative
luxury and get attention from the staff as well as volunteers. And
we all know that they need their sleep, about 20 hours a day, right?
(I could never leave a dog with sad eyes, that is why I chose cats.)

On my walk home I stop for a latte and morning bun at Starbucks.
Usually I can sit outside in the sun and luxuriate, much like the
critters I just interacted with. I check my iPhotos and decide which
furball to highlight on Facebook. Rudy the tuxedo cat in the bottom
picture was yesterday's choice. Check out his little black goatee...

shared frustration

MS,
I tried SEVENTEEN TIMES to post this message on your blog and I have now given up.
That word identification puzzle defeated both Jim and me this morning.

 Here it is:

I love the photo of the Mexican workers in their big sombreros.  Good timing;
tomorrow is Labor Day here.  It's a puente weekend, a bridge over several days
of holiday in celebration of the occasion.

This was my morning email from my friend Susan, who is also widely known as
The Fevered Brain. I so appreciate all comments to my blog and I too suffer
trying to figure out those pesky non-words that we are now forced to type before
we can comment. Most bloggers live for comments and learn from them, too.
Susan and her Mr. C. are busy packing up, leaving their home in Mexico so
they can return to Sacramento and I'm glad she took a moment to write. I did
send an email to Blogspot about this issue and so far no answer, no change.


You can read Susan's glorious and colorful blog under The All of It.
Many of you already follow her. See you soon, Fevered Brain, and 
travel with care, as always.