Les Semaines

January 28, 2007

what I'm thinking and doing § what I'm listening to § what I'm reading
what I'm writing § retrospective: old journal


The Paper Bag Princess and The Fighter

Jim's study is now infested with a bad case of kittens.

One is a dilute calico female. (They named her Judy Ann, and I have a cousin named Judy Ann who changed her name to Holly so we thought of naming her Holly. But maybe Atia, after the selfish villainess in the Rome series we're watching these days.)

The other is classic tabby boy with lovely thick markings and a delightfully spotted belly. (They first called him Flopsy, then Tyson because he fought to live. We may call him Titus, after another character in Rome.)

They were both rescued and are about the same age (2-3 months), but aren't litter mates. Someone brought her, starving, to the rescue place in a paper bag, so she's a paper bag princess (though she hates being enclosed now).

He and his biological sister (she didn't make it) were found nearly dead under a dumpster, starving and flea-infested. We have some video from their rescuers of them getting the zillion fleas washed off them and fed for the first time. So tiny and piteous!

Both are cuddlers.

Sophia knows something nasty is going on, and occasionally parks outside the door to Jim's study and may growl and hiss.

We dragged our mattress upstairs so we could sleep with them (Sophia never sleeps with us, but there's no way to close off our bedroom).

They are good all night! During the day it seems to be play & crash, play & crash, but they sleep peacefully with us all night.

boycatBoy cat.

girlcatGirl cat.

bothcatsBoth cats.


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There's a new Kristin Hersh, and the songwriting is terrific, but wow her voice is getting ragged--so ragged it hurts to listen to it sometimes.

last week's listening § next week's listening


Gail Carson Levin's children's fantasy novel Fairest is a fun, unique story with elements of the Snow White tale. Aza is the adopted daughter of innkeepers, and is ugly enough that people comment on it. She also has a stupendous singing voice in a culture where people sing constantly and singing is part of every ritual. Once, when she has hiccups, she discovers she can throw her voice, even while singing, and when by chance she first herself at court and the new and astonishingly beautiful queen discovers this talent, she finds herself coerced into being the queen's voice. A charming read.

last week's reading § next week's reading


Today, delayed because of kitten hunting and all, was our writing retreat day. We spent most of it here (Jim locked up with the kittens during our sessions, and us visiting between). At dinner time we raced over to West Seattle so Karen and Barry could be with their kittens, who are only a couple of months older than ours. Anyway, I did make some visible progress.

last week's writing § next week's writing

Retrospective: old journal

Either I've lost a journal, which is possible, or I really didn't write any journal entries between my trip to the Queen Charlotte Islands/Haida Gwaii in May and my trip to Wales in July that I begin below.

Wednesday, July 29, 1992

Toronto → London

Yesterday a day with Kathryn around Toronto, then the plane.

This morning Christina met me at Heathrow and we took the tube back to St. Alban's, trailing Fido the Recalcitrant Suitcase.

Then we took the tube to the V&A, which I remembered very differently from when I visited it as a teenager. Saw the Morris room, and some other Morris tiles and furniture and a few medieval crozers and things, then a weary tea and a return on the tube after walking around a church we couldn't get into.

Very sleepy--slept about three hours while Christina read. Then walked over to Covent Garden and a bookstore and had jacket potatoes and ice cream and walked around to a Tudor building and a Georgian street of row houses, now lawyers' offices.

Chatting. Christina talking with Matt.

Sleepy again.

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