Summation

Leaving home for a week, is not without consequences. The most obvious being the ass-load of dirty laundry.The washing machine is suspicious of all this activity. I heard the rumblings of discontent when it was communicating with the coffee maker. Who knew two people could wear so many clothes. In my opinion, a single pair of pants is one pair too many. There’s never a big enough hole for my tail, and they ride up in the crotch.

When the folks returned, the grass was dry, the newly transplanted azaleas looked like death warmed over, and twelve inches of water had evaporated from the fish pond. We need rain, but who in the southeast doesn’t? The good news was the grass didn’t grow in their absence, or is that the bad news?

Anywhoo, Dirty Girl and I have shown our appreciation for their return with all the subtleties cats have in their toy chests. Dirty Girl has cried uncontrollably for the two days, she’s kept them company in the kitchen, and in the shower. Thanks to our diligence, the Missus hasn’t spent a single moment on the can without at least one of us barging in to remind her she was absent for an entire week. If that isn’t love, then I will never experience the real deal.

The bed’s been crowded. The Mister doesn’t mind too much since we tend to sleep on the Missus’s side. Hell, she’s not doesn’t require much real estate with those short legs. She practically sleeps in the fetal position. So there is usually space for both of us.

As if that isn’t enough togetherness, we’ve been providing them with early wake up calls. Saturday, the Mister caved early, but the Missus stayed in bed. Unacceptable behavior on her part. Dirty Girl and I took turns performing the bed dance to ensure that her extended shut eye was completely unproductive.

For those interested, I have posted more vacation pictures at Flickr. It’s more of the same, but for some reason they captivate me. I promise more substantial posts later in the week and hope you will forgive me for all these fluff pieces.

Poetry Friday: Cloud

Well, it appears that Friday is upon us again. Mona has given us the thumbs up and the word for this week is cloud. Due to time constraints, I was unable to provide a proper illustration.But, as consolation art, I offer you a photo from the previous week’s vacation. If I didn’t know better, I would say that Mona selected the word for my benefit alone.

The dangerous thing about Poetry Friday, is I am easily influenced by the greatness of others. It’s hard to attempt an original poem, when I recall the lyrics of great songwriters, poets and artists. The temptation to “borrow” from their brilliance is overwhelming. It’s only fair that I mention and offer proper accolades to those that inspire me when I hear the word, clouds. The first is the wonderful Kate Bush for her song, “Cloudbusting”. The second is the poetic and feminist Tori Amos with “Your cloud”. Last but certainly not least is the English landscape painter, J.M.W. Turner. His atmospheric perspective, makes Sunday afternoon painters turn green with envy. The Missus had an opportunity to view his work in person ten years ago. To say she was captivated doesn’t do the gentleman’s work justice. Without further procrastination, I present you Poetry Friday:

Floating, falling, yearning; calling
out loud; compose yourself.
Rushing in on the breeze
Slipping from grasp,
Through rough fingertips.
Shape shifters, heart lifters.
Overhead, free of dominion

Doppelganger
Confined by my ribcage
Weightless but burdensome
Enigmatic, another paradox.

Floating on a sea of green
Cool grass against bare skin
Lightly tickling softly
at the base of the neck
seduced by the smell of earth in spring
wondrous thing

Warmth of sun peaking out
an attempt to shout past the gaseous mass
Sky blue, escalates my gaze.
Vision crisp and clear,
Heart obscured by haze.

A fluffy bunny, a quiet lamb
Clouds crowd in
A traffic jam
Winds rolls in; animals retreat
the mist which obscures my soul dissipates

Dispatch from Higher Elevations…part deux

Dear Patches,

Friday we will make the long drive home. It’s interesting that each trip, has a different subconscious theme from it’s predecessor. Each year the hiking has become more of a draw. I was looking forward to hiking possibilities as early as January. Getting away from home for a few days seems to be more important each year. Maybe it’s on account of being more introverted that the Mister, or maybe it’s because there is still so much in the world to see and experience.

I look forward to your company in the studio and on the sofa upon my return. I must warn you, after seven days with a hot tube, you might need to work a little harder to win over my affection. After all, the Mister has been rubbing my back for the past few days…

So far, the Mister and I are tied at four games all on the miniature golf course. I guess tonight will determine which of us is the worst loser. Miniature golf is the universe’s mysterious way of testing my ability not to swear in front of families with small children. Luckily the Mister didn’t choose me for my quiet demeanor.

Wednesday, we drove to Pigeon Forge and spent the day racing go-carts, and goofing off in arcades. Talk about reclaiming your childhood. The Mister was somewhat threatened by more superior driving skills, so he pushed me into the wall, and broke my drive belt. I got stuck with a slower cart as replacement….not as much fun. I can’t seem to visit the go-cart track without getting t-boned at least twice.

We did two more lesser hikes. One to Laurel Falls which as a really amazing old growth forest. Tulip trees much larger than the ones where we live. The second hike was to Clingman’s Dome, the highest local peak, where we watched the clouds roll in and out.

I hope that you and Dirty girl are keeping each other company. We will see you late tomorrow night. Don’t forget to clean up behind the party, and please remember to check the dryer for beer cans.

Love,
Missus Chica

Dispatch from Higher Elevations

Dear Patches,

If you’re reading this, you must have suckered the cat sitter into a trip the the coffee house. I suppose your sipping a cream laden frappacino as you you read. You really should consider substituting a low fat latte. You know what that creamy concoction does to your delicate digestive system. Besides, you wear your cat bed like a bad toupee.

When we arrived to the outskirts of Gatlinburg, we pulled off at an overlook to discover people watching black bears. In the all the years we have come, we have never seen the bears in their natural habitat. We’ve seen ground squirrels, deer, eagles, falcons and rattle snakes, but never the smokey mountain mascot. We picked up passes to play mini golf. It makes for a pleasant way to pass the evening. The temperature is in the fifties and there aren’t many patrons at night. So far, the Mister and I are tied at three games each. I’m sure he’ll resume beating me properly after he recovers from Saturday’s hike. The golf course is a haven for feral cats. Last year, we watched an awesome cat fight on the eleventh green. They left enough fur behind to knit a cashmere sweater. Thank goodness I don’t have to worry about you getting into trouble.

Saturday, we hiked to Mt. LeConte. It was close to eleven miles, round trip. Mt. LeConte is one of the highest peaks (6593ft) in Smokey Mountain National Park. The trail is classified as strenuous….and Mister Hombre and I agree. At the top of the mountain, there is a lodge and cabins that you can stay in overnight……….if you make reservations in time. We didn’t plan that far in advance so we had to finish the trek in a day. I’ve included pictures. We had to push hard to make it the summit. Mister Hombre and I took turns cursing one another under our breath. But in the end when we looked at the surrounding scenery, it was worth it.

We will probably attempt a few more lesser hikes later in the trip. Today, we relaxed and rested our tired feet and sore legs. Mister Hombre has been keeping me company in your absence. He sits close to me on the couch, just like you, and he rubs me calves just like you do, but that might be T.M.I……

Dotting “I”s and Crossing “T”s

A month ago, I negotiated with Meno and Sari, for a Bott’s Dot. I promised, if received, that I would give it a proper home and do stupid tricks with it. I also promised there would be pictures.

After opening the package, I just had to try it on to make sure that it fit. It fits pretty well, but it might be too sacrilegious for a house cat to meander around sporting a yamaka. It also makes me want to break out in karaoke and sing Adam Sandler’s Hanukkah Song.

I decided I should try wearing it the other way. The only problem is it falls off every time I take a nap, and it really is a hassle to put it on straight.

Meno suggested using it as stand for the food bowl. It’s the perfect size and it makes the bowl more ergonomically friendly. Dirty Girl and I have decided that we prefer this arrangement, since it makes it so much easier to get the dregs out of the bowl. Rather than pushing the bowl around the floor, we can sit still and wait for it to swing back around.

Sometimes the Missus just leaves the Bott’s Dott on the kitchen floor to help direct traffic. We have spirited games of chase or hide and seek. I don’t spend all day surfing the web…

The Bott’s Dot makes a most excellent bed buddy. When the folks are out of town, I just want to curl up with it.