We had a bit of sun at the end of January, so Chris and I were quick to pull out the pins and blocking mats. Going clockwise from upper left:
• My Aestlight knit in Crazy Zauberball, the teal/brown colorway—this picture doesn’t do the color justice. We’ll have to do another photo shoot now that it’s unpinned to share it in its full glory.
• The Saroyan I knit in Outback Wool for my mom as a Christmas gift—which has become a Valentine gift since I’ve been sick all winter.
• A cozy little ruffled moss stitch shawl in a pattern I made up off the top of my head last January, while we were on our road trip delivering Penny to her new home. The yarn is from a small, independent dyer out of Fresno—Barking Dog.
• Chris’s Labyrinth—a magnificent piece of work and an exercise in faith, as she knit the whole thing from written instructions and couldn’t really see whether the pathway was correct until she finished. It was!
None of these count for 10 Shawls in 2010, but I did finish a piece that will count as shawl #2: an Autumn Lace Scarf in Malabrigo Sock.
I’ve just had an email from Penny’s new (well, since January) mom and am happy to report that she has settled in nicely. She talks a lot, takes possession of many furnishing—including some she shouldn’t—and loves her scratching post, especially when it’s sprinkled with fresh catnip.
I’m working up on campus now getting ready for the start of a new academic year and am so happy that Penny has a forever home and is no longer living in the drainpipe around the corner from my office.
I know I haven’t been posting much. I’ve been designing and knitting socks like a fiend all summer–and hope to submit the patterns places, so can’t really say anything about them.
Today’s the All-Star game, and even the cats are getting into the spirit.
That’s Miss Timmy, aka Little Timmy Fast Paw, the closer on the baseball team Melissa and I are forming, the Whatif Puddin’s. We’re still short a few players, so we figured we’d give you an update and see if your have any prospects to help round out our roster. To sweeten the deal, we’ll send one of Miss Timmy’s cards to anyone who proposes an addition to our team. Cats only! No dogs, gerbils, ferrets, budgies, or rabbits. (Although Archy says he wouldn’t mind a gerbil or a budgie—wink, wink!)
First off, pitching:
We’re a bit short-handed here. We’ve got Little Timmy Fast Paw, who’ll keep the team ahead in the ninth. Archy “Mad Eye” Katz will lead off our rotation, but after that we’re coming up empty. We could use another four pitchers for our rotation–and a few more good paws for the bullpen.
Catching:
We’re hoping to draft Penny from Seattle for the season. Nothing got by her back when she lived at my house (particularly not other ctas), so we think she’ll do a fine job covering the plate. We need an additional cat (large paws preferred) to act as back-up catcher.
Infield:
Sparky will be playing first. We’re putting Oliver from next door at short—first because she is short, but also because with her crush on Sparky she’ll jump at every chance to “make a play” with him. We’re also sounding out my friend Ellen to see if her cat, Toonces, wants to be our utility infielder. He’s the kind of cat who’s at home all over the place (the entire neighborhood is his fan base), so we think he’ll be able to work comfortably at a variety of positions. That leaves us still looking for second and third base.
Outfield:
Bea “The Black Hole” Schwartz-Noir will be playing right field. That way she can keep an eye on her nemesis Sparky. We expect she’ll suck in balls with the efficiency of a singularity. Damian “Mr. Whippy” will be playing center. (We confess that we told him he’s at center because he’s the center of the game—but it’s really because we think he’ll do the least damage out there.) That leaves us in need of a left fielder and a utility outfielder as well, just in case Damian strains his tail or knocks out one of his teammate’s teeth in a wild gallupmh toward the ball.
Designated Hitter:
Neither Melissa nor I believe in the DH, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared. We’re thinking the neighborhood scrounge, Mooch, will be just the fellow to “clean up” at the plate.
Staff:
Maggie “Ma” Moo-Woozle will be our equipment manager. She can use her excellent wood-furniture-destroying skills to customize the players’ bats. We’re making Mortimer, who lives in terror of pretty much everything (I thinks he’s afraid of nothing, too, so far as that goes), third-base coach. That way he can focus on just yelling “Run! Run! Run!” Positions still open: coach, first-base coach, pitching coach, and trainer.
So—if you have cats who are ready to play ball, send us their stats. We promise them a full-season contract with a no-trade clause.
P. S. In case you hadn’t guessed, the artwork comes courtesy of Melissa. You can see her art here and read her blog here.
This past weekend, Penny made the journey to her new, one-cat-only, forever home all the way up by Seattle. Melissa and I drove her as far as Portland, Oregon. Then Carrie, of the Best Friends Network took over and drove her halfway to Seattle, where she met with Penny’s new mom Melanie for the transfer.
Penny was remarkably mellow in the carrier.
After about four hours she did get a bit restive, so Melissa and I took turns sitting with her in the back seat. She alternated between sitting in her open carrier and climbing up onto the available lap. No dramatic yowling or clawing—just a steady gaze out the window at the world going by.
We spent the night at friends’ in Portland, and Penny was glad for the chance to stretch out on a bed.
Our last morning with her was quite the purr-fest. If you turn up the volume, you can hear Penny purring as I hum to her.
I’m waiting now for a report from Melanie and will pass on news as I get it. I miss her terribly—last night was particularly hard—but I’m glad her needs are being met.
I’m in the middle of post-holiday, start-of-the-quarter chaos (actually chaos is too strong a word, but I can’t think of another), trying to juggle an assortment of unrelated responsibilities and activities. I didn’t make any resolutions per se, but I am trying to get things more in order and to establish some better habits.
• Cats. I DO have a home for Penny, but it’s near Seattle, so I’m still trying to find a way to get her there. If worst comes to worst, I can buy myself a one-day round-trip airline ticket and take her as carry-on, but the ticket would have to go on my credit card, and I’m trying not to use it. I’ve been posting on various animal rescue sites looking for someone who’s going that way and would be willing to take her along, but no luck yet. If anyone out there can help, let me know. I’m very excited about getting Penny to her new home as she and I have been having lovely cuddle sessions the last few evenings while Bea and Sparky have been out—I’ve enjoyed these, but they also remind that she needs more affection and attention than I can give her to be fully happy. Once she gets to a place where she doesn’t have to share the laps with other cats, she’s going to be in heaven!
• Exercise. After fighting a losing battle all of last year to lose some weight by eating less, I’ve decided to try another strategy and to really work at getting movement and physical activity into my life. If I can get my body to start feeling stronger and capable, that pleasure should help motivate me to work on healthy eating. I’ve got a twice-a-week-at-the-gym, twice-a-week-activity-with-Melissa, plus regular stretching plan going and have genuinely enjoyed it so far. Yesterday for one of our two weekly activities, Melissa and I headed to the local roller rink. We were both ridiculously wobbly at first, but got a bit steadier as we went on. We only lasted about a half-hour, but enjoyed it enough that we plan to keep going and see if we can build up our stamina. In particular I loved those wonderful, gliding moments when the skates moved smoothly under me and I felt my body sailing along with the music. That combination of sound and movement is so satisfying to me.
• Knitting. I’ve just finished another neck-warmer pattern and would like to write a hat pattern to go with it, but while the neck-warmer required increases, the hat requires decreases—and inserting these while maintaining the several pattern stitches I’m using has me stumped. Chris and I are also preparing for the Beginner’s Lace Knitting workshop we’ll be offering at our LYS on the 17th. I’ve got the pattern charted, but want to write out detailed directions that will make not just this pattern, but the whole genre of triangular shawls clear for first-timers.
• Food. As part of the exercising-not-dieting campaign, Melissa and I are trying a bi-weekly program that delivers local, organic produce to one’s home. We’re hoping that the delivery will make it feel exciting—like a gift—and that having things on hand will keep us from eating out so often.
I hope everyone else’s year is off to a good start, with knitting, health, and appropriate animal companions to add to the everyday joys.
Sweet Penny is still waiting for Santa to bring her a new home. Or perhaps to slip her into his bag and take her to a home of her own. None of the possibilities we’ve encountered so far has come through, but Penny knows there’s someone out there who will love just her.
For some inexplicable reason, both Bea and Sparky insisted on being outside Sunday night, even though it was raining. This meant that lucky Penny got to come upstairs and sleep on the bed. As I’ve mentioned, coming upstairs into Bea-and-Sparky territory makes her nervous, so we had a good twenty minutes of chuffing and patrolling of borders before she settled down. But once she’d decided she was safe, she curled up next to me with a purr so heartfelt it was almost bed-shaking. Every time I rolled over or resettled myself, she cozied back up and doubled the volume on her purr.
Please, please, please, if you can think of anyone who might need a one-pet cat, tell them about Penny. She deserves to be so happy every night—not just on those few occasions when I manage to steal a moment alone with her. If you live at a distance, but are interested, let me know. I’m willing to literally go the extra mile if that will give her the home she needs.
Sweet Penny has just one wish for Christmas, and, try as I might, I haven’t been able to find it. I’m hoping that one of you can help.
Penny wants a home of her very own. A home with no other cats and no dogs. No quadrupedal pets to worry her and force her to spend her days at terror-level orange.
Over the past year at my house, she’s proven herself to be an exceptional cat: affectionate, playful, always ready to cuddle. Unfortunately, she just hasn’t learned to relax around my cats, and—after a year of trying—I’m accepting that that just isn’t going to happen. Being dumped by her previous owners and forced to scavange for a living has left her afraid of other critters (though she’s clearly forgiven humans for their part in her tragedy).
The poor girl has been forced to live pretty much in one room at my home. When the other cats are outside, I try to bring her into other parts of the house to keep me company, but most of the time she’s too nervous to stay—even with me there to protect her. At night, when I go to bed, I can hear her meowing forlornly before she settles down.
I can give her a home and food and as much affection as possible, but she’s never really going to be happy until she has an all-my-own home. Is there anyone out there (preferably within a few hours’ driving distance of the Monterey Bay) who is ready for a single pet?
Please help me help Penny. Surely there’s someone out there in need of a fiercely monogamous lap cat. Ask friends. Ask family. Talk to neighbors. Penny promises to repay the gift of a loving home and kind hands a thousand times over.
Here is Melissa’s rendition of the cats posing by the front steps in their Halloween costumes.
Top row, l to r: Archy as Zorro; Oliver (the next-door’s kitten, who has an unrequited passion for Sparky) as King Kong; Damian as the Pirate from Ipanema (he couldn’t quite make up his mind).
Bottom row, l to r: Beazor under the cloak of invisibility; Mortimer (a rather nervous neighborhood cat) as a dust bunny; Sparky as a cowboy; Maggie as Queen Elizabeth I sending off the troops to defeat the Spanish armada; and Penny as a ninja.
Normally the cats eschew politics in favor of more constructive activities, liking biting shoelaces in half and looking for new spots upon which to cough up hairballs. But every so often an issue of such importance arises that even the most narcoleptic of cats will drag herself up from her nap in order to speak (I guess that would actually be mew) her mind.
In an unheard of show of solidarity, Damian, Archy, Penny, Maggie, Bea, and Sparky (clockwise from upper left) have joined together to urge you to vote no on Proposition 8. Having been made legitimate by their mothers’ marriage in June, they have no desire to return to their former shameful state of bastardy.
(I have a few things to say on this subject myself, but I’m still wrestling with the words, so for now I’ll let the kitties speak for me.)
Of all the cats, I think Bea is happiest to have me back. When I’m away, she becomes a full-time outdoor cat, while Sparky and Penny go to full-time indoors. This is because a) It is absolutely essential to ensure that Bea and Penny will not cross paths in my absence, thus preventing the mother of all opera club gatherings and b) I’m pretty sure that if she were left locked inside for more than a single day, Bea would have no trouble digging through drywall, insulation, and all the rest to make her own exit, thank you.
I’ve said before that Bea is not a particularly affectionate beast, but really I’m not being fair to her. She is wonderfully affectionate and truly devoted to me–she just shows it in her own way. Most cats express their love in predictable ways: weaving in and out between your legs as you walk, giving head bumps, quickly claiming an available lap. Bea is more subtle than that.
How do I know she loves me? I know because she sits as far across the room from me as possible, her back politely turned, and purring contentedly. I know because she sits beneath my lawn chair when I’m sunning outside (just so long as I pretend I don’t see her). I know because, when I’ve been gone too long, she hectors me from across the yard upon my return, letting out a long string of her gravelly little smoker’s meows.
Around midnight last night, she woke me up demanding door service, then ducked quickly past me, avoiding any petting when I let her in. She scooted upstairs, took her position in the far corner opposite the bed, and purred away while I worked on falling back asleep.
Going clockwise from upper left:
