This is your brain on catnip.

Anybody else remember an old YA series — I believe it was by Andre Norton — in which it turned out that felinus domesticus were actually stranded descendants of kitty-shaped aliens, who had returned to rescue them because humans were about to go boom?

I ask merely because there is a short crack, under one of my living-room baseboards. And for the last while my own fuzzy buddy, Jasmine, has been spending more and more time crouching and staring at this crack. Hard. Without moving a muscle. After half-an-hour or so she stretches, shoots me what could easily be interpreted as an Ominous Glance, and stalks off to resume normal cathood for awhile; then it’s right back to plumbing the mysteries of the woodwork.

I would chalk this up to one more example of inexplicable LOLcattery (this is, after all, the same feline who excitedly paws at the screen whenever In the Night Garden comes up on TreehouseTV) but that’s the thing — this isn’t random. It’s a crack, and it could reasonably be assumed that something might be coming out of it that would attract a cat’s attention. Especially a teenage cat. 

But there isn’t anything, as I discovered when I tried crouching along with her for a full ten minutes. Even ran a ruler under there, just in case the somethings had run and hid at my approach. Jasmine gave me a seriously annoyed look at this; evidently, I was cutting into her quality chatting time with the mothership. Or whatever.

I just hope that when the crisis comes, she remembers all those steak tidbits. Not to say the faithfully cleaned litter box. After all, (pace Dave Barry) she’s sitting right here as I type and hasn’t yet tried to stwqqwdfdsgfghpw


The Seven Days meme: Day Two

day 01 | a song
Day 02 | a picture
day 03 | a book/ebook/fanfic
day 04 | a site
day 05 | a youtube clip
day 06 | a quote
day 07 | whatever tickles your fancy


Ooh, picture day! And… I spent the whole afternoon planning out the Book entry. You see, Mom? This blogging business is hard. Yeah. You smell that when you come near to ask me about doing the dishes? Genius, burning. Absolutely.

Anyway, because you can get away with anything as long as you have cute cat pics, I present a gallery entitiled Current Kitteh Portraits; or a Faithful Record of the Only Moments Jasmine Has Stopped Moving Long Enough to Be Photographed Over the Last Month.

(That’s Shoemom she’s reclining on in the one pic, BTW.)

The warm fuzzies start here…

Son of kitteh picspam III: Enter the dragon

…or, more accurately, enter our adult cat, Dolly, with whom kitteh has established a relationship not unlike the one in that Looney Tune with the big bulldog and the eager little mutt. Complete with happy bounces across the living room: "We’re pals, ain’t we, Dolly? Yup, you and me, right?"

Meanwhile of course, Dolly is throwing me pleading looks like "Do you really hate me this much?" I am not thinking there is much maternal instinct there. She finally snapped the other night and raised a threatening paw… which Jasmine promptly charged like it was the best toy she’d seen in weeks. Next thing you know they’re in a full-on game of Whack-a-Groupie. It was hilarious.

However. If there is one great leveller in the feline world, one language they all understand, it is: sleep. Big kittehs, bitty kittehs, get them dozy enough and it’s warm fuzzies all around – literally. I don’t wish to get into cliches here, but it does strike me that a bit of Sleep-Eze mixed into the water supply of, say, Syria would not hurt international tensions any.

Cozy cuteness under here…

More kitteh picspam!

Look, yes, I know I should be writing on more adventurous topics. I really should. Like for instance, that time I wrote about filling in for my supervisor, and got my first taste of management, and how that was pretty cool? Yeah, well, my buyer has been travelling in New York all this week. Also the department planner is in Europe somewhere. Probablygorging on good beer and schnitzel right now, the fink.

Anyway, this left yours truly alone to hold down the fort…rather in the manner of Custer at Little Big Horn. Really. Vague delightful visions of cool efficiency and calm authority vaporised the first damn day. Which, incidentally, was Tuesday, thanks to the stat holiday.

So there I was, alone on the Dark Side of responsibility. Past weeks of being friendly and helpful when I had the time to be all came home to roost. Everything was a problem. Nothing had a simple solution, nobody could intuit anything; they all needed me to find it out and spell it to them in turn, generally using words of very few syllables, if the drift is clear.
I churned out Monday’s late reports and created SKUs and sorted routing issues for new vendors and sourced contacts for other new vendors’ packaging questions and tried to figure out why the report numbers didn’t match for other vendors and returned samples and tracked down missing samples and fended off another new vendor’s anxious questions about when their contract would be finalised…

…and it goes without saying that all of this needed to be attended to RIGHT THEN AND THERE or the world would naturally come to an end. It’s funny in hindsight, how your priorities get screwed up in retail admin. People are dying, wars are raging, Lindsay Lohan still has a career, but you delay one lousy day off approving a PO for sparkly tops and it’s like, Atlas wobbles.

All of this, mind, while battling a raging case of PMS. Oh, and a course of Louisa May Alcott. Why I thought rereading the Marches’ saga would be a good idea at this point I do not know. Hanging around actual Transcendentalists must’ve been just an incredibly annoying experience, back in the day. "Now, now, Shoe; impatience is your greatest fault, of which I’ve made a helpful list. No, don’t thank me; too many young women have gone astray through want of a helpful word to guide them through a proper understanding of their duty…"

Yea-ahh. By Thursday, I had just about got caught up to the point where I could actually consider starting any of the projects I’d planned. By end of day today, my stomach was knotting every time I even thought about checking my email. I ended up hiding in an upstairs lounge, playing Gem Drop. It was pitiful.

So, this weekend? Is all about the R&R. I refuse to even consider the possiblity of serious thought until Monday. And this is where having a smart, sweet, curious, just overall incredibly cool new kitten comes in just incredibly handy.

Soothing kitteh-ness coming right up…

The cuteness! It…is kinda soft & nice, actually.

So the official Cutest Kitteh Evar came home last night as scheduled. (Just as a minor parenthetical coolness, her first home was on Degrassi Street. Which yes, is a real little residential enclave tucked away down near the lakeshore, in Riverview neighborhood. OK, it’s actually spelled DeGrassi in RL, but still. Neat, no?)

I haven’t been able to catalogue too many details as yet, because while being a model kitteh in most respects Jasmine is still very skittish about being approached by people who are manifestly not her mommy, no matter how many times they try to tell tell her so. So our relationship thus far has consisted of kitteh playing and exploring, and me watching totally fascinated from a respectful distance.

But I knew the moment I put her down in my room that this was my destined pet and no other. Because a short while later I came back and found her curled up on the bottom shelf of my bookcase – not on the shelf, but up on the books themselves. Having first scritched and nuzzled a bit, making herself perfectly comfortable:

Rampant adorableness under the cut…

Happiness is…

…the sudden realisation that I don’t, in fact, have to wait for the Happiness Meme to come back around before posting a week’s worth of things that make me happy.

This is good. Because I really, really need some cheering up. I have hit a patch where even attendance at a three-day spiritual feast seems to be more about pointing out what I’m not accomplishing than feeling good about what I am.

Recent events have made it wrenchingly clear that what I thought was security has actually meant the avoidance of natural growth; the refusal to embrace change. Now I’m sitting here realising exactly what I’m missing…and even worse, realising that to make up for it, my brain has elevated one of the causes – aggravation over a memory of a minor TV show – into a Big Huge Honking Dramatic Deal that’s worthy of being posted for all the Net to see.

In retrospect, sitting around eating Oreos and reading Etiquette has probably not been the best way to handle this.

Yeah, it’s that bad. Double Stufs can usually beat ’em back when all else fails, but this particular crisis has all the annoying characteristics of a perma-angst. So…what I need to do is spend a little while among the genuinely good, not just feeling superior to the bad. Remind myself of all the good reasons there are to really reach out.

Let’s kick off with a tribute to the fuzzy little buddy that was providing this kind of therapy since before I even discovered the Interwebs, even. Seriously. Not many cats – nor humans, for that matter – have a default expression for"Mom, The Matrix is Just a Movie and You Really Should Relax Now, OK?"…but Lucy did.

Pretteh kitteh pics under the cut…

Quite possibly the best LOLCat EVER.

More fiction tomorrow, when just navigating everyday life will hopefully be seeming less complicated. I have heard of this depressive effect in re: flu before, but never experienced it til now. And never will again, if the deal with this Faust dude goes through OK.

Meanwhile, enjoy…

funny pictures of cats with captions
see more Lolcats and funny pictures

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