My cats have grand tails.

Not Mama Hennessy; hers is spindly, but then she grew up a stray. The others: Almost too much tail for one apartment! They should be show-offs out on the street/alley!

Day [fill-in-the-blank] of Unemployment

My sleeping schedule is all screwed up, as I knew it would get, having nowhere to go and nothing to do. Today, though, I actually had something to do: Fill out paperwork at the university temp agency. Bus runs right from my apartment to the place downtown, so I, in a small way, looked forward to a peek back into my old bussing lifestyle. Trip uneventful; mildly excited to see LIFE again! Various people in various states of dress walking around on city streets! (My old workplace was 2 miles from my home; car trip took 6 minutes at its fastest [15 at the slowest]. Car > parking lot > ugly building. Voila. Mildly depressing.)

The bus stopped directly in front of the temp agency. Once there, I was met with a check-in screen at the counter, which I'd never seen before. I tried to touch various fields, to no avail, and finally had to ask, dumbly, "What do I do?" (In my defense, the last time I temped was early 2014, a mere 5 years ago. At that time, the temp office was located ON campus, and "check-in" consisted solely of greeting the receptionist and having a seat. So I don't know that my inability to recognize what I should do with the screen was THAT crazy! It's only been 5 years, not 50!) :)

After meeting with the employment counselor (who remembered me from 5 years ago!), 'twas discovered that I couldn't actually do any university temp work until I received my final vacation-hours check from my regular job --- allegedly scheduled to be deposited November 1. ("Allegedly" because my old place of employment screwed up my paycheck at least 7 times during my years there.) So I'll be twiddling my thumbs for the next couple of weeks. Although I HAVE had a small freelance editing job for the past 2 days --- just 10 hours' worth of work, but it's something... (And the work was done from around 5pm to 10pm --- seemingly great; "Wooo! I work whenever I want!" But no, I don't like working those hours stone-cold sober and chain-smoking. I previously liked working on my Joan Crawford website, and drinking beer, during those hours for fun --- AFTER coming home from 8 hours of getting paid!)

After the temp meeting, I considered jumping on the bus and riding to the end of the line just for "fun" or, more like "something different to do." Nah. I was just rather tired and depressed by the idea of no schedule/no money for 2 weeks, so just wanted to go on home. On the bus back, a crack addict asked me if I worked at the School for the Blind. I looked just like someone.

The Beautiful Ones

Ginny: In case you didn't know:
 Your beloved Prince died of an overdose.
Your beloved Heart: Ann Wilson got really fat and adopted kids.
Our beautiful Jessica Lange ("Frances Lives" T-shirts): Aged into the exact same Grand Guignol characters that my own beloved Joan Crawford played in her later years.
The girl you left me for as a teen is now with a large black woman. (Facebook tells me this.)
I am with no one.
Nothing much else happened.
I remain posed over the vent in the upstairs of your parents' house, with my nightgown blowing up, and you telling me that I looked like Marilyn Monroe.

Three Letters from Ginny

Ginny, don't leave me.

From my poem for you in the Summer of '83: "A soul mate comes once in a lifetime / So I'll run with the chance / To smoke and dance and sing / And let you know / That nine out of ten / Are always there for the breaking." I still miss you.


I received 11 letters from Ginny between 1983 and 1986. Most in '83/'84. She died March 27, 1988.


9/28/83

Calligraphy on envelope: Ms. Stefanny Jones/W0354 Jester Center Halls/Austin TX/78784. Reverse side of envelope: "It's not as long as it looks - so remember while you're alone in this big, big world, looks can be decieving!"

Stef,

      I talked to Mom about why they thought UT was too far, and she said that she'd like for me to be able to come home more often, but I wouldn't if I was living on campus at U of Azle. Daddy's in Austin now, so I'm sure they'll be able to come down for visits, cause he drives to Austin, and he goes pretty often.

     I've pretty much decided against a doctrate, it's too fucking much trouble. I haven't got the foggiest idea about what I want to do. All I know is I want to do something important. I want to be on the cover of the Rolling Stone - Maybe I could be Reagan's mistress!

     By the way, speaking of doing something important, the one & only, Joel V. Miller [my senior-year high-school boyfriend], still works at the big "K." God's on his side though, and it's his will that Joel is there. I wish I could be so lucky. Had you not denied the "Holy Trinity" maybe you could be so lucky as to still be working there.

      I've started saving to pay for that Goddamn call, I've got $4.00 (000000!) I figured I could have $100 save by Easter! Think the bill will come before then? I haven't the slightest idea what they'll do. Probably just make me pay for it, and take my phone privelege (for the rest of my life in this world)

      I told them you got a long weekend because of exams at the end of Oct., but that your mother might have to go out of town, but you wanted to come home. And she volunteered to let you stay here, so if you want to come. Then, by all means, do.

     You know the English test I told you I fucked? I fucked it, bad, I made a 30!, not good. But I hope it won't affect my grade that much. I just figured my avg, and it'll probably be a low B, depending on what I make on the Beowulf test & worksheet, and then my 6 wks. Well, now that I think about it it'll probably be about a 90, if I make a 90 on both tests, and 100 on the worksheet. My other grades are no prob. But, Mrs. Smith told us last week that the test we had today would be our last grade for the 6 wks. So I don't if Beowulf will be on this 6 wks or next.

     I hope it goes on this one, it'll bring up my grade if I do well on it. I know, now, what you mean & about her explaining everything over. It drives me mad!

     Did I tell you already I dropped out of band and started tennis? Band sucked out loud, Friday night games, UIL, Parades, and 7:30 practices were more than I could handle. Tennis is easy as hell. All we do is knock the ball back and forth, he doesn't even watch us or tell us what to do or how to do it.

    One more thing then I'll go We, I are doing an article for newspaper on stores selling liquor to high school kids. Me & Kim & Mary are going to go to some stores and see how many will sell to us. It'll be a blast. It was my brilliant idea, but with my luck I won't be able to buy any, anywhere, but still it'll be fun to try.

                                                              Love,
                                                                 Ginny

p.s. I'm having my score (ACT) to UT, I mailed the thing today.

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

11/3/1983

Envelope addressed in calligraphy: Stephanie Jones/W0354 Jester Center/Austin, Texas/78784

Notebook paper. Circled on top: "I am not a sarcastic, smart-ass, bitch, thank you - and all your goddamn college friends that -
The Punker, the Burper, The Modal, the Satanic Worshipper And The Lesbo!"

Dearest Stefanny --
"The Gothic Hand" -- That's me! What can I say? What I do? To change your mind - I'm so in love you - Yeah, ah, yeah - Oh, excuse me, I just felt like singing -

       I'm taking the ACT 12/11, so get those brain waves ready. There is absolutely nothing happening, Azle's such a goddamn fucked up place - I finished my geometry test in like 5 minutes so I said, to myself, I said - "Boy howdy, wouldn't it be fun to write Stephanie a letter," and then this little voice went, "Why, it shore would!" So what the hell. I'm just havin' me a good ole' time, lemme tell ya. (Yeah, I know I misspelled sure, and I think I misspelled, misspelled) Can you dig it?

      Have you ever seen the Laverne and Shirley where "Squiggy" sings "If only I'd have listened to Mama"? Well, think about it -- and look at what he turned out to be - a real big time loser. I'm not preaching, and I don't really care what you do, well yes, I do, but that irrelevant, anyway - It's your life you can do what you want, it's your mind you can think what you want, hurt me sometime show me I'm wrong. Oops another song - back to the sermon.

     I really think your Mom's right - for once and only once - I mean, you told me when you were here that you had gotten used to getting drunk every weekend and had to - I know, I know, you don't really have to but you want to, I'm sure - And you've even gotten less considerate when it comes to drinking - I mean, when you opened the bottle as soon as we were upstairs when I was asking (or telling) you not too - Before you left, you were so concerned about me staying out of trouble with my parents, then after 2 months you come back and drink wine in my bedroom with my parents downstairs and liable to walk in - I know they didn't but they could've and they'd never have believed that I didn't want you to or that I wasn't drinking, too. But like I said before It's your life - you can do what you want -

    Now, to a happier note - hell, I don't know anything happy - Geometry's so fucking easy - it's ridiculous -

    I was reading Mom's prayers and she thanked god for your visit - I couldn't believe it -

    I haven't got any news at all - since you were just here I guess you've heard everything-

    I'll let you know about Dad coming to get you for Thanksgiving - closer to time -

                                                   Love,
                                                     Ginny

P.S. Is Toe-2-Toe anything like Cheek-to-Cheek?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

11/15/1983

Stef -

    Just a quick note to let you know everything's fine at home - Mom & Dad have decided to let me go when I want so I'm going to get an apartment here in Azle around the 1st of the year.

    I got a letter from UT and there's no way I can go there, so I'm going to W'thford. I've made up my mind, that I'd rather go to a smaller college, anyway.

    I hope to see you at Thanksgiving. Write me and call when you get here.

                                                         Love,
                                                            Ginny

Be Cool, Self

My last day of work was Wednesday. Thursday and Friday, I was cool. Got stuff done around the house, sent out resumes, made an appointment with a temp employer for next week.

Saturday (today), though: Slept most of the day, watched the Longhorns get beat(en), laid on the couch watching REELZ TV shows on dead celebrities. Judy and Elvis in prime-time, but the most interesting and well-done hour-long programs were early-morning, on a Russian actor/singer whom I now can't find the name of (terrible voice, bad Hamlet, looked like Russian Steve McQueen), and Austria's Falco.

By the time I finally roused myself off the couch, it was 5pm. I did manage to shower and dress and go for a beer/Whataburger run. After that, right back on the couch. (Flashback to unemployment in NYC and in Austin until 2014.)

By the time I got up again and made it to my computer, around 10pm, I was feeling surly, yelled at all cats to quit jumping on my lap (they'd been lying on me on the couch all day, and now that I was sitting up, I needed a break). At this point, the volume on my TV wasn't working, and I was fucking cursing my life and why things were breaking NOW that I was unemployed, etc. (I also had a barely heard phone conversation with the temp office last week; my tiny non-smart phone from 2007 is clearly not good enough in 2019.)

Be cool.

The volume on my TV has been sporadically fucked up since I bought it a couple of years ago (a shitty Samsung). If need be, I can move the bedroom TV (which I never watch) into the living room. I'm addicted to TV, but usually while on the computer, I put on music anyway... So I switched off the defective TV and put on George Jones's "Unreleased Duets," which I've been playing nearly every day for weeks and which immediately calmed me down. Then disc 2 of Essential Dolly Parton, now Essential Highwaymen. While transferring files from my e-mail to where they belong in my home Documents. (Sent from my work files over the past 2 weeks.) This was the real cause of tension: After I gave my notice at work, I had a butt-load of files such as 2014 through 2018 tax documents and 2016 car documents that I'd stored on my work computer to transfer over to my personal files. Plus dozens of editing samples that I'd now need for applying to new jobs. Oh yeah, and photos of Joan Crawford that I'd captured during free moments at work. Oh, and I had PhotoShop at work and not at home!

Sorry cats, I'm agitated.

Thing is, though: Sans any job whatsoever, I have money enough for the next 4 to 5 months. I can get a new phone tomorrow. I can get a new TV tomorrow. And PhotoShop is available for $19.99 per month.

Be cool.

Where to go?

Not much income, seeking to get away from Austin and its obnoxious tech influx: Where to go? I remember visiting and liking the East Texas pines of Memaw in my childhood and, according to Craigslist, there are cheap homes available there... but those homes are not my Memaw's home on Lake o' the Pines. How to get to where you want to be.

Day One of Unemployment

Gave my notice 2 weeks ago at work and have been sending out a few resumes since then, but today (Thursday, October 10) was my first day of actual unemployment.

(1) Last night and today, did laundry built up over the past 3 weeks.
(2) Updated various resume sites. Sent "goodbye" thank-you mails to a couple of nice people at my last job. Here's a sample:

Thanks for coming by my office to say goodbye before my departure on October 9. It was a nice thing to do, and I appreciate it.

Our conversations were some of the highlights of my time here! Many times I felt isolated, or labeled as "argumentative"... when in fact, I just liked to talk about things! :)  I enjoyed talking about things with you.

I also very much appreciate your permission to list you as a Reference. Your own writing was so precise, I hardly ever had to actually edit anything for you, but thank you. And thanks for hollering at me on the street over the years, whether by car or bike.

Go Hawks. [He and I both were raised in Iowa Park, Texas, home of the Hawks.]

 

----------------------------------------

 

My science editing job of 5 years that I just left was GREAT! It was intellectually diverse and serious and perfect for me. Unfortunately, my boss chose to give a newly hired editor practically the same salary as I was receiving, despite his 4 months of editing experience in comparison to my 20 years of experience. (Thanks to the Texas Tribune government salaries site for the information.) I debated, and some of my work friends debated, the wisdom of my quitting over such a thing... Some things are gray, but this was a black-and-white issue. There is NO WAY that someone with 4 months of editing experience deserves the same salary as me. The definitiveness of this fact made the decision to quit simple.

Self-righteous as I am, though, the fact remains: Damn. I've now got to drum up something else!

 

George Jones & Georgette Jones "You and Me and Time" (2008)

Dear god, not ME psychologically wishing for my Daddy! But still: This is actually a good song (albeit a bit cheesy) -- the mighty George long past his prime, doing a favor for his wannabe daughter.
 

Dolly Parton "I Am A Seeker" (1975)

Dolly Parton "We Used To" (1975)

Instant Karma! (We All Shine On) Lennon 1970

Heard this song for the first time at 15 in the summer of 1980 on a tiny radio while being miserable during a forced week-long visit to my divorced father at his Air Force Base lodgings in South Dakota. My father had been emotionally nasty to me the whole time; I remember crying to my mother during her phone call to see how I and my brother were doing and saying that I would NEVER visit him again. (I kept my word.)

I'd been reading about the Beatles and their subsequent solo careers in the months prior to hearing this song and had been curious about it. In the midst of my summer 1980 misery, it gave me a sense of strength and hope. 

(By the time Lennon was shot to death on December 8, 1980, I owned the "Shaved Fish" hits collection, "Mind Games," "Walls and Bridges," and "Double Fantasy.")

''Tavern Choir'': George Jones & Jim Lauderdale (1988)

From Jones' "Burn Your Playhouse Down" unreleased duets album.

George Jones: Walk Through This World With Me (1967)

Waiting on a bus at Northcross Mall, circa 2010

One of the moments in my life that I remember:
The wind, the sun, the desolation.
The bus anticipation. Two JC Penney's shirts in my bag.

Good cop/bad cop

Workplace example:

One of the directors was trying to schedule a meeting with those of us in the Media Group who were involved with the upcoming Annual Report.

The director, for the past 2 weeks, sent out an invitation for 10am Thursday. EXACTLY the time of our only weekly Media Group meeting.

Each time, I declined the meeting from the director, responding: "This time is the weekly meeting of the Media Group. I can never make this meeting time. Any other time available?"

And, simultaneously, the boss of my Media Group was responding: "Sure. Perfect time."

Sheep/non-sheep.

George Jones & Tammy Wynette - One (1995)

After the fire. Tammy died of a prescription drug overdose in 1998.

George Jones & Tammy Wynette: Near You (1977)

1977 (post-divorce)

Saturday: Second set of cat spaying

Mama Hennessy and Peter two weeks ago went relatively easily. (No one was expecting anything, so the protests were only AFTER I got them into their cages.)

This morning: I dropped baby Solomon easily into a carrier, but Sasha...It got violent. She ran and ran and ran and ran. I'd already closed the doors to the bedrooms, but she crashed into the bathroom shower and knocked over every shampoo bottle, ran back out and hid in every spot available. After 15 minutes of chasing and grabbing at her throughout my apartment, I finally captured her in the bathroom, clutching her with a towel and then dumping her in the carrier. It was all very traumatic. For me, because I hated to be the violent "enemy." (And I did have to end up being violent with her --- clutching her seriously despite her struggles.) But much more for her, because she didn't know what the hell was going on, just running and running, blind and scared. Surprisingly, I only ended up with one tiny scratch. (Most of her struggles were muscular instead of with claws.)

After dropping these two off at the spaying place at 8am, I picked them up around 5pm. As with Henny and Peter 2 weeks ago, once home, I delivered the two carriers to the spare room, along with food/water and the spare litter box. Both Solomon and Sasha, as with Henny and Peter, immediately dashed instead to my bedroom, under the bed.

About an hour ago, I was going about my business in the apartment and all of a sudden noticed that Solomon had crept out to the living room for the first time... As soon as she saw me looking at her, she ran back to my bedroom. I'm sad, because she used to love me.

Update just now (midnight Friday): Solomon and Sasha dashed in tandem out into the living-room world! Sasha is jumping up on my chair, etc. (seemingly too soon after an operation), and Solomon is traipsing all over the place. Miraculous dual recovery! (Sasha just jumped on my lap and she's tensely quivering, so I think she's still on the ketamine they gave her earlier.)

Dolly Parton - I Will Always Love You - 1974

Unromantic as it may be: Parton wrote this as a farewell song to longtime employer/mentor Porter Wagoner.

Dolly Parton - 9 To 5 (Official Video)

Found out last Friday that a new editor, a 32-year-old guy with only 4 months' editing experience, was hired with the same salary as me (20 years' editing experience, same education level, etc.). Monday, submitted my official request for an appropriate raise (at least $5K above what this guy is making). We'll see what happens.

Tammy Tammy Tammy

Batwoman/Cathouse

Solomon's tongue is out, as usual.

Comfortable

I think that my financial/work life is about to change. I've grown used to my 1200-sq-ft apartment and the rent that goes with it. I've grown used to being able to pay for stuff without thinking about it: car repairs, cat repairs. I've been able to order whatever cheap CDs, books, Old Navy clothes I wanted.

Question is: Am I willing to make a huge change based on principle, with the accompanying hardship, rather than continuing on with a mild level of comfort but at a place where I'm not fairly treated? At 54, do I have the energy to search for a new job --- knowing that the next thing could very well be worse? (At 30, 35, 40, you make those gambles---or, at least, I did... Into your fifties, though?)

Addendum 9/23: RE the above "mystery": A local paper, the "Texas Tribune," publishes exact Texas government-worker salaries every 2 years or so. A 32-year-old guy with very, very little editing experience was hired as an editor in my department 9 months ago (we were very busy, and the first four candidates turned us down). His annual salary, which I just learned from the Tribune last Friday, is only $1700 less than mine. Today, Monday, I requested a raise. (Based on credentials, I should be making $10K per year more than him, but I requested somewhat less.) We'll see what happens. I'm anticipating that they'll turn me down and that I'll leave.

Post-50: Revising "the pursuit of Happiness"

From the "Declaration of Independence":
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

At 54, I'll revise "the pursuit of Happiness" to "the desire to avoid any further pain." Such is ageing.

Sports-Fan Refresh

I'm a Texan who grew up in the Dallas/Fort Worth area. And I've lived primarily in Austin for the past 35+ years, graduating from UT in 1993. For the past 10 years or so, I've made do with one UT Longhorns T-shirt and a burnt-orange (but no-logo) sweatshirt. Cowboys-wise: One T-shirt and one sweatshirt.

There come a time for a refresh.

While cleaning out drawers a couple of weeks ago, I happened to try on that old Longhorns T-shirt... It was a "Medium" and "Medium" no longer fits me!  

Got to ordering online... Think I'm now stocked up for a while: New Texas and Cowboys hoodies, and two new Texas T's. Not that I'm going to any gatherings or anything, but sometimes I like to wake up on a game day and support.

Friday the 13th: Spay (and Neuter) Day

The beginning wasn't horrible. I put extra treats in the cats' food dishes about a half-hour before midnight, to ensure that they'd all be attracted to eat right before midnight, since the food dishes had to be taken away at midnight. Post-midnight, I put all food away and filled all dishes with water. Nobody seemed too freaked out.

In the morning, I didn't shower because I wanted to be out of the house immediately so the cats wouldn't be expecting their morning refresh for the food.

And getting Hennessy and Peter into the carriers also was not a problem. They weren't expecting anything, so I was able to grab and plop right in! The problem came once they were locked in: After about 10 seconds, the blood-curdling YOWLING started. The two caged beasts had to sit there for a minute in my hallway while I supplied the other two with the food that they'd been deprived of all night. They yowled. And yowled the whole time that I toted the carriers to my car. Sorry, neighbors.

Once in the car at 7:30am, and once on the road, I had a window-fog problem. The defroster wasn't working, or else I couldn't figure out how to set it right, but at any rate, I couldn't see while driving on some major roadways and so rolled my windows partially down to help clear the fog --- and of course the sound of traffic further freaked out the still-yowling cats, who had, of course, never been in a car before. The fogged-up windows persisted all of the way to the Emancipet clinic. (Normally, I leave for work around 8:15am --- and in warm-weather months rarely experience fogged windows; I guess that 45 minutes really makes a difference...)

Yowls and fog aside, I made it to the Emancipet clinic relatively painlessly in the traffic, arriving about 10 'til 8. There was a homeless mentally-ill young woman camped out at the door with her dog. I tried to make small talk with her: "Have you been here before?" She said "No," then said "Yes." Then she started asking me to do things for her, like hand her her bag, which was sitting only 1 foot away from her. Other people started to arrive, all with dogs, and the young homeless woman asked EVERYONE how old their dog was just so she could say, "So my dog's not the youngest then."

By the time 8:05 arrived, there were probably 25 people there --- every single one of them with dogs. Some barking, some rough-housing. Some of the pet-owners were hanging back from the entrance, but plenty of others were crowded around the entrance, where I was. My cats were still in their carriers in the back seat of my car. Quiet now, I'm sure freaked out by all the dog activity very close by. Once the doors to the clinic opened, the staff asked that we all line up in order of arrival... So I hauled my two cat carriers out and stood there in the midst of all the leashed dogs. The terrified yowling started again. And I don't blame them.

Once inside the door, an employee took my cats in their carriers to the back and asked me to have a seat. I'd already filled out the page-long paperwork and brought it with me. After a half-hour, someone saw me, asked me a few questions, and allowed me to leave.

I haven't had a cat in 10 years, but prior to that I have had cats that I took to regular vets. And the vets would ask you into the examination room with your pets and talk to you as they took the pets out of the carrier and interacted with them. Not so this time.

About 4:15pm, I got the call that the cats would be ready for checkout at 5pm. Peter had an undescended testicle, so his surgery was a bit more difficult, but nothing serious. When I arrived, things were quieter in the reception area, not the chaos of the morning. A doctor brought out Hennessy and Peter in their carriers. Hennessy's tail was jammed through the grill. The doctor said he'd tried petting it to get her to withdraw it inside the carrier, but she was too drugged up and/or scared to do so. She'd also peed on the towel, so they'd set an old towel inside the carrier and had the now-drying pee-stained towel draped over the top.

Both cats had been given ketamine for their operations and were shivering/shaking and swaying back-and-forth in their cages. (It makes me sick to know that young people willingly take ketamine recreationally.) Both were silent all the way home.

Once home, I put Hennessy and Peter in the spare room, along with the extra litter box and food/water. (I'd been advised that they needed a quiet space to themselves.) Once I opened their cages, Peter immediate ran out of the room and under the bed of my bedroom. Hennessy came out of her cage, but then wobbled back and forth and collapsed and then staggered away from me when I tried to touch her. I closed the door. When I came back 20 minutes later, she again freaked out and ran away. This time, I left the door open.

Later in the evening, both Hennessy and Peter came out into the living room, where I, along with Solomon and Sasha, had our usual places on or around the couch. Hennessy sat for a bit on the carpet, then retreated back under the bed of the bedroom. Peter eventually settled at the side of the couch. The next day, Saturday, Hennessy moved to the blinds in the kitchen, where she used to sit while watching her former outdoor life. She moved from beside the blinds to under the kitchen table. As the day wore on, and I was sorting laundry, she came to quietly watch what I was doing. Peter, during the day, found his way back to his place at the front window. Then he took his usual interest in my activities like laundry, etc. Then he started jumping up on the couch with me! (Which he wasn't supposed to do: No Jumping!) :)

As I write this at 1am, Mama Hennessy has jumped up to the back of the couch (her usual spot) to watch me as I write at my computer table, and Peter is lying at my feet (after he overenthusiastically climbed on my lap via his way to the computer table numerous times; I had to make him get down, all the while saying, "Be careful of your balls, honey. Please stop!").

p.s. The "other two," Sasha and Solomon, had a definite reaction to the initial absence and then reappearance of their family members. One, Solomon hissed at Peter. I guess because he smelled of the hospital and it scared her. Also: Both Sasha and Solomon were extremely much more affectionate with me once we all arrived back home. Solomon has always been affectionate, but this time he/she (still can't tell) was super-demanding. Not just lying on my belly every time I was supine, but also climbing on my lap even when I was upright and eating, which he/she had never done before. Same with Sasha. Usually the most aloof, she was constantly rubbing against me and lying on top of me when I was lying down. I HATE to think that they're trying, in their kitty psychology, to avoid being "sent away" like Hennessy and Peter were. Although... in 2 weeks, you two guys WILL be sent away! But look! Everybody comes home again! It'll be OK! :)

RIP Daniel Johnston

RIP Daniel Johnston. What Austin used to be like---gently weird and mildly disturbing. Today: Generic aggressive tech assholes and traffic.

Friday the 13th: A Day of Hell Coming Up

Gotta take Mama Hennessy and Peter in to get fixed at 8am Friday.

(1) I have to take the food away from all cats at midnight. (Henny and Peter per instruction because of their upcoming procedure---a dictum that, unfortunately, includes Sasha and Solomon, also.) They're not gonna understand.

(2) I have to chase and stuff Hennessy and Peter into carriers tomorrow morning.

(3) I have to drive to the Emancipet location, which, despite my trial run this morning, I still don't quite know how to get to. It involves massive highways and exits, and the Google directions weren't quite clear (as I discovered this morning). I'm going to be scared, and my cats are obviously going to be scared because they've never been in a car before. With someone who doesn't quite know where she's going.

Not looking forward to Friday the 13th.

That said: I need to pretend to be the middle-aged adult that I am and just DO all of the above in a stalwart fashion. All of the cats will be curious about where their food has gone. And Henny and Pete will obviously be freaked out about what's happening to them. I can't think about their psyches, just have to DO what I have to do.

Happy Birthday, George Jones!

1959 television.

Happy Birthday, George Jones!

1965 hit "The Race Is On" performed in 1995.
I was trying to leave work today at five 'til 5, to beat traffic. But ended up talking with a co-worker for about 10 minutes... When I got to my car, the very last 20 seconds of "The Race Is On" was playing on Austin's alternative station KUTX 98.9, and then the DJ reminded me that it was George's birthday! What a brief treat! (I NEVER hear George on the radio!)

Happy Birthday, George Jones!

September 12, 1931 - April 26, 2013

I Always Get It Right With You (George Jones w' Shelby Lynne, 2008)

Maybe I cursed when I should have prayed...

Emancipet now in Central Austin

As of September 6, turns out Emancipet Austin now has a Central location at which to get your pets fixed. Found this out after Saturday's disastrous, unsuccessful trip out to the Far South location. I then re-visited their website, trying to find an alternate route --- and discovered that there is now, as of September 6, a Central location. I then called them, asking to re-schedule my four cat appointments to the new place. Done! And weeks earlier than previously scheduled. And 8 miles closer to where I live, sans all of the construction. And thank goodness. Peter has been trying to hump his mother all week. And he's only 5 months old. The new spay/neuter schedule:

Peter and Mama Hennessy: This Friday, the 13th.
Sasha and Solomon: Saturday, September 28th.

I'm still tense about it: Mama H was a wild stray, and the 3 kittens have never been out of this apartment. Everyone is going to be freaked out by getting "trapped" in their carriers and then hauled off to the car, and then traveling in the car. And by not being allowed food since midnight the night before their appointments. And then getting stuck in a clinical environment and getting cut up. Not to mention, I still don't know how to get to this place, even if it's "Central" and not "Far South."

Just suck it up, Steph...and cats. p.s. Below are tonight's photos of BAD CATS, up on the counter where they're not allowed! :)  Top two: Mama Hennessy and Solomon. Three: Solomon tongue (in my experience, black cats have always been silky and weird, my favorites). Four: Peter (Mama look-alike), whose balls will soon be cut off. (Sasha is the good cat, not pictured up on the counter.)

George Jones: Bring on the Clowns (1975)

George Jones ~ Too Much Water (1957)

George Jones - Nothing Can Stop My Loving You (1958, Louisiana Hayride)

George Jones and Tammy Wynette: Lovin' You, Lovin' Me

Trying to Find Emancipet

On September 21, I have an appointment across town to get two of my cats --- Hennessy and Peter --- fixed at Emancipet ($69 per cat instead of $200-something).

Today, being utterly unfamiliar with the highways leading to that part of town, I did a Google search for directions and then made a trial run. (Because on Sept. 21, I didn't want to be searching for exits with two scared cats in my car.)

183 South was the specific highway I was supposed to take. Got on that OK. But a few miles south, the entire landscape turned into a mass of construction work. I had on paper what exit I was supposed to take, but that exit no longer existed. I took one detour exit, two exits, three exits --- all led to dead-ends where I was forced to turn around and get back on 183... and then forced to more dead ends.

My unsuccessful attempts to find Emancipet took over an hour today. I was extremely tense once the construction kicked in, but at least I didn't have any kittens with me during it.

I can't express enough how disgusted I am with the big piles of shit and bullshit signs that I encountered today. Google directions were wrong. The signs along the road were wrong.

Entertaining the troops

[Blogger has been messed up for the past few weeks. I have to add a white background to make sure the text shows up. Sorry for the ugly.]

Got indoor kitties? Gotta keep 'em entertained. 

p.s. This is the first time I've ever had purely indoor cats. And FOUR of them.

In the past when I had cats, I'd let 'em out in the morning, and let 'em in when I got home from work. I trusted that they'd entertain themselves.

Yeah, they did entertain themselves, but they also got run over.
After 10 years of not having a cat, this time I'm going to keep all of my cats indoors. And do what I can to entertain them.

OH LONESOME ME: Don Gibson (1958)

The first album my Uncle Monte bought was Don Gibson's, which included this song (1958).

20 days after your pregnant wife has been murdered...

... please do go and pose for "Life" magazine, you piece of shit.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The above reminds me of a Facebook scene about 5 years ago: A friend of my brother's that I'd known since he was a kid had a wife who had gone into a coma while in childbirth. The guy immediately started posting pictures on Facebook of the wife while she was in a coma, including him doing her nails. She died. He re-married a mere 6 months later (and posted pictures the whole time he was dating the new woman). Scummy.

First Recollection (Charles Manson, 1984)

I was in the back of this horse-drawn wagon
Some kids had a bucket over my head
They were poundin' on the bucket
The people drivin' the wagon (Uncle Jess)
Looked over the seat, down at me
And told me to "Shut up that racket"

5 days of vacation: Got hardly anything done.

 [Sorry about the background: Blogger isn't posting correctly, had to maneuver to get the text to appear not black against a black background.]

I slept a WHOLE lot. I read new books about Manson (by former followers Squeaky Fromme and Dianne Lake) and re-read old books about Manson (Helter Skelter, In His Own Words, The Manson File).

Apartment-upkeep-wise, which was my original main goal: I did put together one new bookshelf. But did NOT dispose of my old carpet (victim of flood at my old apartment and poop when I first got my kittens at my new apartment) and lay out my new carpet. (I also did not clean my bathrooms.)

I also did NOT take copyediting and proofing tests for a company I'm interested in. And I did NOT make a trial highway run to the place where my cats are getting spayed/neutered in 3 weeks. (Don't want to do the strange drive cold.)

But I DID do simple grocery shopping AND take my car to a drive-through carwash. My car has gotten filthy over the past year simply because I thought there were only two options for cleaning a car: (1) You have to get out and plug in quarters based on how long you think the cleaning will take you and then do the scrubbing yourself (plus the saving up of quarters); or (2) Pay $30 for a full service wash and interior vacuum/cleaning. I tried the latter a year or so ago, and the interior wasn't at all cleaned properly. Seemed like a big waste.

A couple of weeks ago, a co-worker explained about a third option: Just go to a drive-through carwash for $8/$10/$12/$14, based on the level of service. (1) I didn't know where such a thing was located. (2) All levels seemed like a lot of money. But I did find such a carwash, and paid for the $10 level. The result: Under 5 minutes of high-powered rags swishing at the car was not worth $10! And all of the built-up dirt was not gone. But, hey, I tried. I didn't like the car looking scruffy; it does look better now.

Two Hoots and a Holler: Middle of the Night (2013)

In Austin.

DON GIBSON: Sea Of Heartbreak (1961)

I first heard this great song in 1989 or so, watching Austin's Two Hoots and a Holler perform it at the Black Cat Lounge.

Charles Manson - Lie: The Love & Terror Cult (recorded '67, released '70)

This album only has 14 songs, but the CD that I have includes 12 more, all recorded 9/11/67:

[this album]

Look at Your Game, Girl

Ego

Mechanical Man

People Say I'm No Good

Home Is Where You're Happy

Arkansas

I'll Never Say Never to Always

Garbage Dump

Don't Do Anything Illegal

Sick City

Cease to Exist

Big Iron Door 

I Once Knew a Man

Eyes of a Dreamer

-------------------------------------------

[others on my CD]

Devil Man

The More You Love

Two Pair of Shoes

Maiden with Green Eyes

Swamp Girl

Bet You Think I Care

Look at Your Game (alternate version)

Interview

Who to Blame

True Love You Will Find

My World

Invisible Tears

--------------------------------------------

This week, I've been re-reading "Helter Skelter" after reading new autobiographies by Family followers Lynette Fromme and Dianne Lake. One issue in the "does Manson deserve any attention" debate: Did the guy have any talent, or was he just a hippie hanger-on and suck-up to people like  conservative "hippie" producer Terry Melcher (Byrds, Paul Revere and the Raiders)? One of the problems that I saw through the eyes of a mainstream producer/talent scout was the disparity between some of the songs like "Look at Your Game" and "My World," which were easy-listening pop, and "Arkansas" and "Sick City," which were much rougher songs from the dark soul of the folk/country/blues core, plus Manson's plain old punky throwaway stuff like "Garbage Dump" and "Don't Do Anything Illegal." How to integrate?

Of the above 24 songs, a lot was indulgent jamming and blather, but I could definitely see this interesting/important album coming out of it (my order):

Side 1:

Ego

Cease to Exist

Swamp Girl (a Frankie Laine cover)

Arkansas

Sick City

Big Iron Door

Side 2:

Mechanical Man [fade-in excerpt]

Look at Your Game, Girl

True Love You Will Find

Invisible Tears (a Ned Miller cover)

My World

Home Is Where You're Happy
Don't Do Anything Illegal [fade-out excerpt]


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p.s. Meth and violence were definitely on the scene in 1969. But there were also multiple instances of Manson asking multiple people in the year or two prior (generally philosophically): "Would you kill for me?" and "Would you die for me?" Numerous Family members are on record as saying, "No, man, that's not my scene" with no consequences. Manson was a mental game-player, and I think he was interested in seeing what people would do upon his suggestions. For being on the scene of the Hinman and LaBianca murders (prior to anyone being killed), I think he should have done about 20 years. Because of his intellectual honesty and the horror that he represented (and failed to refute on principle), he was interred for life.

Invisible Tears: Ned Miller (1964)

Thinking about them all of these years later...

...Roman Polanski and Sharon Tate are/were phony, shallow people (look at that stupid ascot). Charles Manson was not phony or shallow.

Charles Manson: Clang Bang Clang

Charles Manson: Sick City

Sick city, yeah, restless people
From the sick city
Burnt their home down
To make the sky look pretty

What can I do, I'm just a person
This is the line we always seem to hear
You just sit, things get worse
And watch TV and drink your beer

Walking all alone
Not going anywhere
Walking all alone
Nobody seemed to care

Restless as the wind
This town is killing me
Got to put an end to this restless misery

I'm just one of those restless people
Can never seem to be satisfied
With living in this sick sick sick old
Sick city

It may be too late for me to say goodbye
And I might be too late
To watch this sick old city die

Gone on the road
Yeah, I'm gonna try to say
Sick city, so long, goodbye and die

Who has twisted us around like this

Rilke (from the Eighth Elegy):
And we: spectators, always, everywhere,
turned toward the world of objects, never outward.
It fills us. We arrange it. It breaks down.
We rearrange it, then break down ourselves.
Who has twisted us around like this, so that
no matter what we do, we are in the posture
of someone going away? Just as, upon
the farthest hill, which shows him his whole valley
one last time, he turns, stops, lingers----
so we live here, forever taking leave.


Charles Manson:
The people you chose to raise me beat and raped me and taught me to hate and fear. From what I have seen throughout my life, the laws of the land are practiced only by the little guy. Those who have money and success abuse every law written and get away with it. I admit my reasoning comes from the wrong side of the tracks, but once these opinions are formed and reinforced a few times, it is hard to believe otherwise. So even if I don’t shed a tear, I console myself: I had some help in becoming the person I am.

Rilke

Manson

Day 1 of 5-Day Vacation

Always grand plans for a few vacation days... This upcoming stretch I feel actually relaxed and good about. 

I left work having kicked ass in the days prior. Plus: a co-worker I don't trust, either personally or work-wise, is now out for the next few months --- leaving a co-worker I DO very much trust in charge of a major project that we share.

Day One: Woke up at 7am. Went back to sleep. Woke up again at 10am. Swam. Ate, read "Helter Skelter," went back to sleep. Dusk: Woke up, fed cats both inside and out, went and bought beer, put together a small bookshelf that I'd ordered for my overflowing poetry main shelf and also transferred "kids' books" and "Mythology" to these shelves.

p.s. Cats, and my cats, are so interesting and interested in everything around them. Half of the fun of putting my shelf together and arranging the books was watching how my cats interacted with everything that was going on.

The Beatles: She Loves You (1963 in Manchester)

Paul has the greatest spirit! :)  Check out any of the early Beatles performances: He's always obviously, charmingly, geekily excited to be singing for you!

1963: The Beatles at the Royal Variety Performance

Pure happiness.

GREASE: John Travolta and Olivia Newton John - You're the One That I Want

Pure joy for me at age 13! And look how truly great John Travolta is!

Rizzo in GREASE: "Look at Me, I'm Sandra Dee"

While Tipper Gore's daughter set off a national firestorm in 1985 by listening to Prince's "Darling Nikki" in her mother's presence, I and my fellow 13-year-old neighborhood girlfriends got in more local trouble in 1978 for singing this song at the top of our lungs around our houses. (Pretty sure that it was the "lousy with virginity" line that tipped most of the mothers off; otherwise, I don't think they would have noticed.)

A funny side-note: After seeing the film with me at the theater, my mother actually expressed her official disapproval of the ending of "Grease," wherein Sandy "goes bad" by putting on spandex pants and teasing her hair. Even I knew, at age 13, that it was all in fun. (Except---see the next song--- I kind of DID want a bad boy like that, and to dance with a bad boy like that! Sandy's transformation was actually exhilarating!)

Rizzo in GREASE: "There Are Worse Things (I Could Do)"

George Jones: The Girl at the End of the Bar (1983)

If you'd ever been drinking
I know that you'd seen her
At the end of the bar all alone
She knows what you're thinking
When you try to approach her
And anything you say might be wrong.

She's not there for company
She don't like to remember
She once let herself go too far
She's not there to complain
She just wants to remain
The girl at the end of the bar.

The girl at the end of the bar
Who once let herself go too far
Now carries love like a scar
The girl at the end of the bar

She's had so many hard knocks
She don't play the jukebox
She's lived all those sad songs first hand
What's made her so bitter
And why love has quit her
Is because she has loved the wrong man.

The smile she's not wearing
Is the sign she's not caring
And it's part of her permanent scar
She's not there to complain
She just wants to remain
The girl at the end of the bar.

She's the girl at the end of the bar

George Jones: Hello Trouble (1983)

Charles Manson: Cease to Exit (1967)

Charles Manson: My World / Invisible Tears (1967)

Charles Manson: "My World" (1967)

New York City: 1911

Along with the beauty... every single one of these people are dead.

Poet Ezra Pound once insisted on the foremost importance of "place." I agree. But also, the character of the people make "the place." New York City today, for instance, is a junk heap. In 1911, it clearly was not.

Visitations

Woke up Monday morning after a vivid series of "visitations" from someone I once knew (who's still, presumably, alive).

Five or six different dream scenarios:

The First: "Angela" from "The Office," in "The Office" setting, was telling many of us gathered around about someone she knew going through difficulties, without mentioning a name. I was listening and suddenly figured out that she was talking about someone that I also knew. Small talk about "what a small world."

Next couple of scenarios: The person I knew was speaking directly to me, as if via a screen. She appeared in two different outfits. I could not understand her completely, but I sensed that her sister was about to die.

Final scenarios: The woman was with me in an academic setting, something like a president-of-a-university's office, with lots of wood paneling and heavy, lush furniture. She was an honored guest. Officials were milling about, greeting her. I felt like someone important for hosting her. I was in charge of the entertainment, and I provided her with a country artist (who had Tim McGraw's face but was running around on stage like Garth Brooks. I felt embarrassed because I wanted her to like the music that I liked, but these guys were embarrassing). The country show included a pre-teen girl making jokes. The person I knew/guest of honor then accused me of being sexually attracted to the girl. Knowing myself as having a pattern of being attracted to older people, and knowing the guest as being someone who was sexually abused as a girl, I protested. Woke up protesting.

I haven't been in touch with this person for more than a year. This dream aroused very powerful feelings. A deep concern, a want/need to protect her... and then, ultimately, also a deep need to protect MYSELF, to avoid being profoundly misunderstood.

Only in Austin?

"Daily Digest" group e-mail today from my apartment complex:

Can the person who took the faux mini guillotine from the red basket by my door please return it as it was for someone else to pick up.

Making My Bed (and now being able to lie in it!)

My bed has been a no-go zone since around May, when the kittens (born April 6) first ventured out from underneath it, to on top of it, to begin peeing on it---on the comforter, on the top part of the sheets, on the bottom of the pillows. I thought the pee would never end. As it turned out: Mini Solomon, initially the main pee-problem, has long since grown out of it. But in the meantime, the pee-stained bedding sat there; I have been sleeping on the couch ALL of the time to avoid dealing with it.

This weekend, though, I slept all day Saturday, then got up around 4pm determined to do EVERY bit of my wash: comforter, bed-pad, sheets, pillow cases, throw-blanket. Luckily, the apartment laundry was completely empty, all 4 washers to myself in the heat of the afternoon. After about 3 hours, I got everything (all bedding plus 3-weeks'-worth of clothes) done. I don't know that the comforter got that clean: I stuffed it into a small washer when I should have either taken it to a laundromat with an industrial-sized washer or to a dry cleaner's. Still: I did SOMETHING with it. And now my bed is (pretty much) fresh/cat-pee-free and ready for Fall (with the brown sheets instead of the red or burgundy; changing sheet hue according to season has always been my poor-girl's idea of...not "class" but rather simply "having enough money to own 3 or 4 sets of sheets instead of just 1 and being able to change them out accordingly"---like finally owning several pairs of white pants and shoes, in the past considered "extra," and looking forward to wearing them during the "official" 3-months summer season).

In the fall and winter, I'm looking forward to sleeping with all of the cats in the much-more-spacious bed. Right now, couch-wise, Solomon gets on my chest when I'm reading, then, when I turn out the light and turn on my side, settles on my hip --- he/she stays there for 3 or 4 hours at a time. Which is very sweet, but NOT when I'm trying to toss and turn and get settled. Hopefully the bigger bed will give everyone, including me, space to stretch out.

Blue Oyster Cult: Joan Crawford (1981)

The junkies down in Brooklyn are going crazy
They're laughing just like hungry dogs in the street
Policemen are hiding behind the skirts of little girls
Their eyes have turned the color of frozen meat

No, no no no, no no no no no no no no,
Joan Crawford has risen from the grave
Joan Crawford has risen from the grave

Catholic schoolgirls have thrown away their mascara
They chain themselves to the axles of big Mack trucks
The sky is filled with hurt and shivering angels
The fat lady lives! Children, start your trucks

No, no no no, no no no no no no no no
Joan Crawford has risen from the grave
Joan Crawford has risen from the grave

(Christina, mother's home!
No, no
Christina
No, no, no, no
Come to Mother
No, no, no, no, no no no no no no
Christina)

Joan Crawford has risen from the grave

George Jones: The Very Best Of Me (1986)

If I should die before I wake
Darling to this world I will donate

Give my dry lips to Jack Daniels
Give the jukebox both my ears
Plant one foot in Texas one in Tennessee
and send my back side to my ex wife
tell her to seal it with a kiss
Girl, I'm leaving you the very best of me

I don't see why anyone would want my old bloodshot brown eyes
My old heart is gone and full of memories
But I'll donate all my parts to any other body that's in need
But girl, I'm leaving you the very best of me

So, give my dry lips to Jack Daniels
Give the jukebox both my ears
Plant one foot in Texas one in Tennessee
and send my back side to my ex wife
tell her to seal it with a kiss
But I'm leaving you the very best of me

Now when I stop and think
about the thing that I know I'm going to leave behind
I ain't got much of anything a body needs
But I'm leaving you sweet memories of our days and nights of love
Girl, I'm leaving you the very best of me

Give my dry lips to Jack Daniels
Give the jukebox both my ears
Plant one foot in Texas one in Tennessee
and send my back side to my ex wife
tell her to seal it with a kiss
But I'm leaving you the very best of me

Oh baby you've always had the very best of me

George Jones: I'm a Long Gone Daddy (1987)

A re-make of Hank Williams' 1947 hit.



Well, all you want to do is sit around and pout
And now I've got enough and I'm a-steppin' out
I'm leavin' now, hey, I'm leavin' now
Yeah, I'm a long gone daddy I don't need you anyhow
Lord, I've been in the doghouse so doggone long
That when I get a kiss I think that somethin's wrong
So I'm leavin' now, hey, I'm leavin' now
'Cause I'm a long gone daddy I don't need you anyhow

I'll go find a gal that wants to treat me right
You go get yourself a man that wants to fuss and fight
So I'm leavin' now, hey, I'm leavin' now
'Cause I'm a long gone daddy I don't need you anyhow
Lord, you start your jaws a waggin' and they never stop
You never hush your mouth until I blow my top
So I'm leavin' now, hey, I'm leavin' now
Yeah, I'm a long gone daddy I don't need you anyhow

I remember back when you were nice and sweet
Things have changed you'd rather fight than eat
So I'm leavin' now, yeah, I'm leavin' now
'Cause I'm a long gone daddy I don't need you anyhow
Yeah, I'm gonna do some ridin' on the midnight train
I'm taking ev'rything except my ball and chain
Well, I'm leavin' now, I'm leavin' now
'Cause I'm a long gone daddy I don't need you anyhow
Hey, I'm a long gone daddy I don't need you anyhow...

George Jones: Moments of Brilliance (1987)

I wasn't the smart one in class
And I wasn't the one who ran fast
I begin things then I don't follow through
But I have moments of brilliance with you
There are times when I'm flawless, perfection itself
There are times when I'm even amazed at myself
I'll admit it my talents are few
But I have moments of brilliance with you

I can't draw lines that look straight
I live life a half hour late
As a lover, I'm average, it's true
But I have moments of brilliance with you
There are times when I'm flawless, perfection itself
There are times when I'm even amazed at myself
I'll admit it my talents are few
But I have moments of brilliance with you
Moments of brilliance with you...

Willie Nelson "Always On My Mind" (1982)

Willie-the-Priestly version. (Emotion recollected in tranquillity.)

Elvis Presley "Always On My Mind"

My favorite raw, heart-breaking version. (Released in 1972, a few weeks after his separation from his wife. He died 5 years later.)

Tammy Wynette "Always On My Mind"

This could have been great sung from the woman's perspective. But... Tammy doesn't seem sincere at all.

George Jones "Hopelessly Yours" (1986)

In the week leading up to my birthday...

In years past, I've ALWAYS felt good, even when crappy things were going on. I've always felt somehow "cleansed" in August.

Not this year, though. Don't know why. Just getting old?

A week ago, I had to drive way across town for 30 minutes, taking 2 unfamiliar highways. (Usually "my world" pretty much consists of a 5-mile radius: work is 2 miles away, the grocery store is 2 miles away, etc.)

The day after this stressful trek, I woke up with a UTI (urinary tract infection) that has since not gone away after a week. The last time I got a UTI was the last time I had sex, which is a very long time ago! And even then, the thing cleared up in a couple of days. (Recommended cures for UTIs: Wash, wipe front to back, drink lots of water and/or cranberry juice. I've done all of these things!)

This past week, though, I've gone from severe pain, to aches and pains, to relief, and then back to severe pain/aches and pains again. Gotta work in the midst of all of this.

So, no, August hasn't been great so far. I've just been grateful for the moments of respite from the pain. And scared: As I get older, THIS is my future? Being grateful for respites from pain?

In my youth, my battles were mental...I'm now getting an inkling of the far-more-serious stuff that's in store for me.

1934: Joan Crawford by Hurrell

I feel like I'm living with a Victorian Boy Band.

Oh-so-pretty.

Tammy Wynette - Help Me Make It Through The Night (1974)

Not a secret message to anyone. Just an appreciation of Wynette's great voice/interpretation of this Kristofferson song.

Henny's Song: Hard Out Here for a Pimp - Hustle & Flow (2005)

Henny makes a break for it!

Henny, former feral cat, has been trapped inside with me for nearly 4 months now, since April 6, when she gave birth to her kittens.

Today, she made her first break for freedom!

I was in and out of the front door for a couple of hours Sunday morning, toting 3-weeks'-worth of clothes to the laundry room. My door doesn't close properly. If I just close it behind me without locking it, it comes open. I THOUGHT I was tugging it shut every time I went to the laundry room, but apparently, I didn't always.

After one trip, I came back to a door that had come open a couple of inches, with black kitten Solomon sitting right there looking out. And Mama Henny about 20 feet away, out in the rocky area in front of my apartment!

With an armload of clothes, I couldn't chase her down, but I made eye contact with her: "Henny! Hennyson! Come here!" She didn't move. Oh, shit. I went to put the clothes down on my bed, prepared to go out and run after her. (Honestly, thinking less about losing my cat than about my cat going out and getting pregnant again.)

But when I came back to the front door: She'd zipped right back inside my apartment!

Welcome home, Henny! :)

(Food, water, affectionate kitten fam now just grooming you and no longer annoyingly trying to nurse, affectionate person, AC, couch, TV, Tammy Wynette playing... vs: "It's hard out here for a cat...")