Wish It Would Snow

It's so hot. There are honey bees out pollinating things and that's cool. I guess. I like bees. They do important bee things, like make the world go 'round.

For that, sunshine is important. And heat and bright sunny days.

But man, I moved north because I get underboob sweat when I walk outdoors in Oklahoma from March-November. Sorry for crossing the too much information line, but it had to be said; nothing conveys feeling like discussing sweat in uncomfortable places. It runs over my ribs and hits my hip bones and generally bothers me.  That also means that I'm burning my pale skin and exposing myself to the sun's harmful rays.
Yes, that's really why I moved back to Washington state.  I was melting.  Now? I'm melting.

Yes, it's in the 90s every day right now. I hate it. Mostly I hate it because we don't have air conditioning in our house, much like every other person in this part of the state. We bought a little window unit for our bedroom, but Eleanor the kitty stays downstairs all day (I thought she was smart?) and ceiling fans and box fans only do so much.  The sweat is unimaginable, squirting from my armpits and dehydrating my poor body. On top of that, I'm working out twice a day because I'm training a person I work with and I'm doing my regular stuff with G at night.

So my life is about cold, fizzy hydration.  Thank goodness we have a Sodastream.

Rather than keep complaining about the big hot ball of gas in the sky, I'm going to remind myself of the things I love about winter.  Once March rolled around in Oklahoma, I'd start becoming anxious about the heat.  By May it would be 100 degrees outside in the afternoon and from June through September, it wouldn't get below 90 at night.  I'd say "I miss winter" and my friends would say "wait until winter, then you'll miss this".  But they were wrong.

I don't miss summer, ever. I love spring and I love fall best of all, but I'm not a summer girl.

So, some things I love about winter:

Vibrant Colors

Dormancy 

Warm houses on cold days!

Frozen Vistas

A reason to stay home and snuggle 

And everything moves at a slower pace. 

I can't wait! Oh, fall, get here fast. 

I guess in the meantime, I can settle for this: 

Summertime and the Living's Easy

I have been in a bit of a funk lately. I'm waiting for my final contract-the one that bestows upon me a permanent job with no expiration date.

I have paperwork assuring me that this will happen. I have my boss's assurance. I have his boss's word. But things move s-l-o-w in academe and my contract expired at the end of June. I'm on an interim until September. Ugh! It's frustrating because I don't feel comfortable going forward with so many plans until I have this big puzzle piece in place.

I can't complain; things could be worse.

So last weekend, G cheered me up by taking me to Leavenworth, Wa. We've been there before, but not in summertime. It's a little German village in the middle of Washington state.

It Looks Farther Than It Is

Oh, it was lovely.  We did a walking tour of Blackbird island, which is the man made by-product of a turn of the last century mill.  We at at Pavz, a cute little french cafe, and visited the Nutcracker Museum, which is fascinating and houses thousands of beautiful, unique and historical nutcrackers (and some that make you go  Ooo-la-la).  

Good night, Knight! 

A little inlet

The Wentachee River

Oh Nutcracker! I adore you!

Mouse King (Life Size)

Art Imitating Life 

We also stopped into the Icicle Brewing Company for a pint, since that's apparently something everyone does.  I made a happy discovery: half pints are available for beer.  Perfect. I like beer, but I can't have a whole lot of wheat, hops, or whole grain stuff AND I have a low tolerance for alcohol.  

Half Pint! 

We walked around town too, to look at the architecture.  We found a neat church-turned-hotel with an onion design on top and a beautiful door. 

The Steeple is Now Part of a Suite

What a Beautiful Door

The sun started to go down. The people floating the river on inner tubes all came up from the water and invaded the town with sand and shorts and sunburns. Usually I don't like crowds; they make me tired. I'm an introvert. But the walk helped and so did putting my feet in the water.

AAAHHHHH

So we lounged around town a bit more, smiled a good deal, and I realized that my bad mood was gone and that living my life waiting for my university to get off its ass isn't as much fun as having adventures.  

Husband Therapy Works Every Time

Um, Yeah. We're a Little Dorky. 

Then we rode off into the sunset.

Eleanor

Today is Eleanor the cat's 17th birthday.

Seventeen years. Wow. I opened a can of yummy canned food and let her have at.

I adopted Eleanor and her litter mate, Henry, in Las Vegas so many years ago. They were 4 months old when I got them in July and so I decided many years later that their birthday would be March 1. 

Fast forward from Las Vegas to Oklahoma where we lived for a long time. Where she had been a shrinking violet, she suddenly was able to sleep uninterrupted on my lap while I wrote papers.  As sweet and loving and silly as Henry was, he never would allow her to have my undivided attention; he was jealous and possessive of me and would sleep under the covers in winter.  At 21 pounds, he kept me warm for many years.  Henry died a few years ago from being fat and lazy (fatty liver disease) and Eleanor seemed to bloom.  She could get attention from me without her mean old brother trying to beat the crap out of her. Now she crawls under the covers in winter just like he used to and purrs and purrs to herself.  But if you call out for Henry, she gets wide-eyed and nervous and looks around for him. 

In her younger years she chased bugs and occasionally snuck out of the house to eat grass.  It always made her throw up.  Later, she would occupy the window, flicking her whiskers and involuntarily meowing slightly at the birds she so wanted to catch and eat.  Her one opportunity to do so was thwarted by those birds, who instead chased her back to the house between my feet, shaking and cowering, where she was safe.  Poor failed huntress.  Those birds never let her forget it either.

She's never caught a mouse.  She doesn't even like spiders.  Or dust.

In fact, if Eleanor were a human she would only be good at drinking, smoking and ordering in restaurants. 

That's fine with me.  She is a wonderful companion for me.  All I ask is that she keep me company from time to time, that she only poop in a small square space (my part of the deal is to keep that clean) and that she live as long as possible to provide continuity in my life. She does her part remarkably well. 

The added bonus is that she has apparently won over my husband, Grey.  He isn't allergic to her.  This is a minor miracle since he is allergic to all cats. Except, I guess, her. Not a sniffle or scratchy face. They're pals, even if they have had to hammer out their own relationship without me. She's the best non-human friend I have ever had. Don't tell Big Dogg I said that.

In January of 2008, she climbed in the car with me for a 4-day odyssey over mountain passes (a four cylinder pulling a trailer? Really?) in a move from Oklahoma to Washington.  We slid off the road a few times and were forced off once by a huge truck.  But we made it.  She's great in hotels. We did the whole thing in reverse eight months later, moving back to Oklahoma so I could pursue my doctorate.  And back to Washington in September. 

When I don't feel well or when I am just out of sorts, she comes to sit quietly nearby or snuggle up.  Before I met Grey, I'd have a fight with some boyfriend and there she would be.  We would sit and write together, or she would bump the book I was reading, or lay on the papers I was trying to grade.  And sometimes she wakes me up in the middle of the night for a drink of water. I don't mind those idiosyncrasies. Grey is remarkably tolerant. In fact, I think he gives her yogurt on a regular basis.  He is also really warm, and she like cuddling up to him in these cold months. I do too.

Eleanor has already exceeded the 12-15 year expected life span of an indoor cat, which she has always been. She takes prednisone and metrocloprimide twice a day, religiously.  OK, I poke it down her throat religiously.  Otherwise, her arthritis and twitchy tummy would have killed her by now.  As it is, she has a healthy coat, the ability to RUN up and down the stairs and a healthy kitty ego that makes her think she is the center of the world. Since we don't have kids, she kind of is the center of my world right now. Yes, my 80-year-old cat is a hoot.

If you asked her, she would probably tell you that she's just getting warmed up and that she will live well into her 30s in people years. All I can say is that I hope she keeps hitting the litter box I am glad.

Happy Birthday to the orneriest cat I know.  <3 p="">