Pickles is known as what is known in the James-parlance as a Moosh Cat. That is, you can pick him up and he instantly gets drowsy. He loves to cuddle, and there's a certain heft to his back-half that makes him perfect for baby holding.
But, this morning, we had a Poop Foot incident. In his zeal for burying his poop, he stepped right in it. Before he could leave the bathroom-- because that would have been a disgusting disaster--I swooped him up and brought him to the sink to wash his baby poopy paw.
But he resisted! My normally Moosh cat became a crazed beast and scratched rips in my shirt and right into my back!
Of course, as soon as he was washed and I released him, he returned to his normal state of Moosh. But, I think I learned a lesson about the changeable nature of cats, when paw washing is involved.
So, I've had this sore throat for weeks now. And, although my friend Zyrtec is helping my other allergy symptoms pretty well, the throat thing has only gotten worse. Yesterday I had pre-cocaine Kathleen Turner's voice.
So, today, I went to see the wonderful Dr. Alexandra. I started complaining about my allergic throat and then sort of coughed and cleared my throat--coincidentally--and she got very wide eyes. Turns out that, going against House's one diagnosis that explains it all theory, my throat is unrelated to my allergies. It's the return of acid reflux.
I made a resolution yesterday. It was formulated as such. "I am going to get my crap together."
By this generally broad phrase, I meant that I was going to take control of the chaos in my house: cat fur, clutter, simple chores too long neglected, that damn decal for the living room wall, and, most importantly, clutter.
Simply put: I have too much stuff.
Did you ever notice that in those pictures of the nicely organized closets and rooms in and Real Simple and Martha Stewart is Great magazines that the people just don't have very much stuff?
That person, for example, has 8 pairs of shoes, plus two boots, and about six dresses. I wonder what she wears on Sundays. And this person seems to buy everything in twos. Or maybe they have their thin size, and then the same item in their post-cheeseburger size?
Also, all of their clothes always stay within a single color palette.
My goals are far more modest. Now where did I put the trash bags?
Only, Diana and I have different interpretations of the moral. Diana thinks this is an allegory about how she likes to sniff hedgie me. I think it's about how I am sickie (see my little cast?), and Squirrel Diana comes to give me her well wishes in the form of a little woodland kissy.
If there are any new home owners out there, maybe some with cats or partial ownership of cats, you should know about this new product: the Magic Coat Hair Remover.
It looks and feels like a sponge, but really it is magic. I used it on my microfiber "suede" couch. Tape rollers only picked up some of the fur, the vacuum only seemed to get the dust, but the Magic Pet Hair Remover really removed all of the furs. It looks as good as new. I highly recommend this product.
I had a dream last night that I was at NYU, living in Brittany Hall, and that I was preparing to give a speech about the dangers of letting your cats eat mellons because mellons absorb muscle relaxants from the ground water.
Not just for birthing me or introducing me to Beatrix Potter, Paddington Bear, and Ginny, and not just for feeding me (mostly canned tomatoes) for the first 18 years of my life or helping me write letters to Wonder Woman. But also thanks for giving me this pretty necklace.
It's a little glarey in this photo, but it's got three strands of little aqua-colored buttons attached by little aqua beads. It's my favorite necklace and it really dresses up any number of my plain gray and black outfits. Why, it can even make yoga pants dressy enough for the theatre. I get compliments on it all the time.
It also reminds me a bit of something my hero, Dr. Temperance Brennan, would wear. She always has such nice, big pieces of jewelry. Very anthropological.
Something that is also anthropological and also of psychological and phenomenological interest (maybe if I knew what that mean really) is that sometimes my heroes merge. Like when Bones dressed like Wonder Woman for Halloween.
Double the pleasure. Or like when Jessica Fletcher is in a Noel Coward play. Which brings us back to my necklace and my mom. Eagle bites weasel.
Sometimes, on rainy days, I am reminded that when I was Little Amber I had an imaginary friend named Nicky. I didn't invent Nicky, I borrowed him from the book I Am a Bunny written by Ole Risom and illustrated by Richard Scarry. I wrote a song about Nicky, based on the book.
Hop, hop, hop
I'm a little bunny rabbit
Hop, hop, hop Here I come
I'm a little bunny rabbit in a hollow tree
As... you... can plainly see Hop, hop, hop I'm a little bunny rabbit
Hop, hop, hop
Here I come
I'm a little bunny rabbit way down deep in a hole
My worst enemy is
The big black mole
Now,I really had no idea whether or not moles and bunnies got along. But I knew Nicky didn't like moles. We had that in common.
Like me, Nicky wore overalls, and had big front teeth. We both liked to be barefoot. And, we both liked being outside and watching butterflies. Nicky wasn't the healthiest little bunny, and was constantly having to go to the doctor or stay in the hospital bed next to mine. My evidence for this was the book Nicky Goes to the Doctor in which, well, it's pretty self-explanatory.
See how his little underpants have a space for his cottontail to stick out? Adorable... and functional.
The one difference between Nicky's visit to the doctor and mine was that, when he was done, Nicky got a red balloon to take home. Usually, I just got a bunch of nasty tasty medicines. But, Imaginary Nicky always shared his balloon with me, and that made me happy.
I love my friends.