Traveling with cats

Standard

2014-12-28 14.46.36So my husband and I have two darling cats and every year they make the grand trip 2.5 hours to my parents house for Christmas. The old girl has done this two times before but the kitten is new to the trip. We are currently about 1/3 of the way there and have already learned some important life lessons.

– Bringing two cats does not make it easier. The cats will not keep each other company. They do not comfort one another. At all.
– Covering the cat carrier only makes the young one more agitated. Agitated cats yowl  continually.
– If there is a place you do not want your cat,  it will gravitate there like debris caught in the pull of a black hole.
– You can’t drown out the cats by turning up the music. They take this as a challenge.
– Eventually,  if your cat will give up. Don’t expect this to be calming for you or the cat. The cat may go completely limp and you may have to take a moment to make sure your feline hasn’t shaken this mortal coil.
– A cat, when stressed,  sheds a lot. If the older one isn’t bald by the time we reach our destination it will be a miracle.

I am sure there is still much to learn from the fur babies currently having a staring contest in the back seat. The elder isn’t in a carrier and seems to be mocking the younger in her tiny plastic prison.

I shall continue to watch how this little social hierarchy works out. Merry Christmas and Happy holidays.

AI

A poetic twist… or a twisted poet

Standard

For those who don’t know, my partner in crime is a composer who is constantly looking for inspiration. One of the issues he runs into on a fairly regular basis has to do with lyrics; more specifically, copyright issues. Matt likes to look to poetry for his choral inspiration and regularly falls into the trap of not being able to use a beautiful piece due to copyright law.

This issue has led to Matt haranguing me to write him some poetry to set to music. When I asked him if he had a topic in mind, his answer was “not having to pay royalties” (and before you get mad fellow writers, he was joking. I would get my cut not to mention the ability to call myself a choral lyricist). Well, this is what I came up with – the first two verses were off the cuff and sang at him from the opposite end of the couch – the rest was a in a love note for him the following morning. I would call this a second draft as I have gone through to change some wording and phrasing to better the flow:

(also, my strength is prose)

Roses are red,
Violets are pretty,
Please move me the hell
back into the city!

This town is too boring
This place so mundane,
I fear living out here
Will drive me insane.

I miss all the noise,
All the culture and rabble;
My idea of fun
Isn’t Sunday night Scrabble.

Please let’s just move
To somewhere less quiet
So you don’t have to sit
Through my one-woman riot.

So Please, do remember
It would be a pity
To have me stay here,
And not live in the city.

Check him out at www.matthewdonnellymusic.com

AI

Back to writing – creepy is in the context

Standard

So, those that follows this blog have no doubt noticed a few months of inactivity. Simply put, some personal issues paired with some of the worst writer’s block I have ever suffered manage to make posting rather challenging. I am trying to write again. I won’t lie, I am toying with some ideas that I think, if executed properly, could be great…

… but that means writing again.

This is just something I splatted out onto the page earlier this evening. It is first draft; given a cursory glance for glaring typographical errors and nothing more. I would really, REALLY appreciate comments.

 


Creepy is in the context

                Today I went to the local bookstore to browse and maybe pick up some new reading material. One thing to know about me: I am an obsessive hoarder of books. Honestly, it is a disease. The look, feel and smell of a book are simply unparalleled in my eyes. Any bibliophile will tell you there is no substitute. I do own an E-reader, but a little electronic gadget will never stop me from adding to my ever-expanding book collection.

                That said, bookstores are my holy land and every trip is a pilgrimage. I step through the doors and show my reverence – not through anything as overt as crossing myself or anointing myself at the fount– but by breathing in. The scent coming from the rows on rows of books is enough for me.

                I immediately took to traversing the store, visiting my favourite sections and pulling random texts off the shelves when suddenly, nature called. I made my way to the rest room to do what needed to be done. While taking my pit stop, I started to indulge in the available scriptures; the writing on the wall, if you will.

                For those that have not frequented women’s restrooms in the past, the graffiti can range anywhere from a scribbled “Kaylee +Josh 4ever” that has obviously been scratched out with a Sharpie after forever just seemed a bit too long to platitudes about life, the universe and womanhood. As I said before, bookstores are my Mecca and it is interesting to get some insight into my fellow biblio-worshippers through their own writing.

                The wall in this bookstore lavatory is scribbled with a lot of female empowerment, concepts of love and relationships à la Jane Austen, rebuttals scratched down in feminist outrage and similar anonymous musings. Essentially, what you would expect in any women’s bathroom stall. I was having fun reading through my street-lit session when my eyes glanced across one little statement etched into the grout between two tiles. It was very innocuous in its intent but inside a toilet stall, it was downright creepy.

                 “You are never alone.”

                I said before, the bookstore is my sanctuary, my holy place. I am a book devotee and this is my place of worship…

                 … but I seriously hope that the god of books isn’t interested in what I do in the loo.