Good old country comfort

November 5, 2010

Comfortcat2_blog

I’ve never thought of myself as someone who takes comfort in things. I’m not the one who runs out to shop when I’m in a mood (what mood is one in when one comfort shops? I don’t even know), or who binges on donuts and potato chips when I’m upset. Buying a new pair of shoes does not make me feel better.

Nevertheless, I cannot deny how much I enjoy food and drink, and how I use both as comfort and reward. I know donuts and potato chips are technically food, but they’re junk foods so I discount them—empty calories of processed flour, sugar, potatoes. I feel slightly superior that my comfort food takes the form of pizza (dairy and vegetables with a little flour in the thin, flat crust that I prefer) and beer and wine (I experience a chemical imbalance from it).

Comfortfood1_blog
Comfortfood2_blog

I engage in a favorite comfort combo is when I’m feeling lonely. Not because I’m always alone because I’ve freely chosen and embraced the singleton lifestyle which I’m generally fine with, but due to those periodic occasions when I actually wish I had another person around. Nothing soothes me like a big old broiled steak, a giant salad with lots of veggies and vinegar and oil dressing, a movie such as “Bridget Jones’s Diary” or “Under the Tuscan Sun” or a James Bond (wha?) and a bottle of red wine, preferably one of my favorites like Pepperwood Grove Old Vine Zinfandel (a steal at about $7 or $8 per bottle). I’ll be hopelessly weeping by the end of the movie but the next day I’ll feel very satisfied and emotionally refreshed.

I guess beer’s just a general reward for having made to that point the next day. There aren’t many days that go by right now that don’t include a beer or three. I suppose I use it to compensate and comfort myself for the things that I have to deal with in daily life that I’d rather not have to, like working for a living. Not the best reason, but there it is.

Comfortfoodpizza_tweak
Comfortfood_tweak

Pizza always brings pleasantness to my life—sometimes more than others, as I have forgotten how to stop eating after a sensible amount. I LOVE PIZZA om nom nom nom nom …

When I am getting lunch during a work day, one of my favorites is the lunch special at D’Amico and Sons. I get the Caprese Panini and Tuscan Chicken Soup. That’s a fancy way of saying tomato soup and grilled cheese. Who doesn’t love and wouldn’t be comforted by that? Delicious tomato-based soup with a cheesy overtone and gooey mozzarella sandwiched (pardon the expression) between perfectly toasted and crinkled slices of Italian bread.

I’m sure I could come up with a few other go-to comfort foods (can you say Chipotle chicken burrito, black beans, easy on the rice, sour cream, cheese, tomatoes, and green salsa, or The Brothers Deli totally awesome clam chowder on Fridays?) but I won‘t try. You get the idea.

And as for comfort of the flesh and blood kind, how about your cat lounging on you, or giving you a kneady back rub before she flops herself down against you for the night. What’s that? You say you have a human partner? Kids? Pshaw.

Comfortcat1_blog

 

 

Inertia, part 3

September 16, 2010

Neareststoplightshubert_tweak

Well, it’s been a little over ten months since I berated myself and bemoaned my apparent lack of motivation to accomplish my life’s big goal, moving to London, England. The Shubert Theater managed to get off its ass and begin restoration. Let’s take a look at how I’m doing.

As a result of making new friends in the Tweak Today community, some of whom live in London, I resolved during the winter that after I got my (U.S.) income tax refund in February or March, one of the things I’d do with the cash was book a trip across the pond. 

Although I have previously lamented that in this down market, my mortgage traps me unless I want to take quite a hit in selling price, one positive is that the mortgage interest credit on my tax return provides for a sizable refund. Once a year, I clear up all my outstanding financial obligations (including paying my friend who floats me for Minnesota Twins baseball season tickets for the previous summer) and take my three pets in for checkups.

This year, I took care of myself first. I spent a lovely nine days in London the end of June beginning of July and hung out with my new friends. It was a good trip.They both live “in town” and I got a lot of time walking around on my own during the work day and going about the business of locals in the evenings. It gave me a good opportunity for a better-informed evaluation of how I might actually like living there. I was not dissuaded from my desires.

I figure it would still be at least a couple of years before I could make anything happen. The notion that I’ve had in my head since London won the 2012 Summer Olympics is that if I planned my arrival for soon thereafter, there might be ample more-reasonably priced living accommodations. On the other hand, if I somehow got myself there, you know, soon, maybe it would be easier for me to find a graphic design job or otherwise in the run-up.

It’s me. It will be later rather than sooner. And so far this entry is idle chat about my vacation, not a change in behavior.

What I have started doing is going through stuff around the house with an eye to downsizing before a cross-ocean move. Or because I simply have too much crap and I had houseguests. The casual observer would be hard-pressed to notice any difference, but I know the progress I made. A couple of my neighbors have much less stuff than I and have brought out the potential in their units. I want mine to be like that when I sell.

I did pass my 15-year anniversary at work and have no doubt that I’ll make it to 16 and beyond. Changing jobs wasn’t really the point of any of this, at least not until I’m looking for a job in London.

For a while I had been watching less television and doing more writing, reading, anything, but that bloom mostly faded. I still haven’t finished The Stuff of Thought, but I did manage to breeze through a romance novel in less than 24 hours this past weekend.

I don’t think there are obvious outward signs that my state of being is any different. About the best I can say is that I am quite certain that I’ll book another jaunt to London this winter when airfare is at its cheapest and I could accomplish the trip from a couple of paychecks rather than shooting my wad on high-season summer prices. I don’t need warm weather to have a good time.

On the indisputably positive side, a year and a half later I am still working out at Curves regularly. And, after the aforementioned ten months, still writing this blog.

 

The links, except the one about the Shubert, are all to previous blog entries which are related to one degree or another.

Zombie Apocalypse

September 13, 2010

Zombieapocaplysecjremotes_blog

If zombies suddenly busted through my wall, the first things I’d likely have within reach would be two remote controls and my faithful companion. Possibly my iPhone.

CJ is a creme puff who would be more likely to crawl into the zombie’s lap (if it happened to sit down for a rest before savaging me) than try to defend me against it. My only hope would be if she purred it into oblivion. On the other hand, maybe it would be so charmed by her that it would forget about taking a bite out of me (and hopefully her).

I can’t imagine I’d fare much better with either remote control. One is for the TiVo, the other is for my stereo through which I run the audio. If the zombies were susceptible to certain kinds of music (like the aliens in Mars Attacks! were to Slim Whitman), maybe I’d have just enough time to put something on.

But I’d probably just be eaten. Would you fare better?

Zombieapocalypsefinger_blog

A kernel of purpose

August 9, 2010

Nickthecat_blog

It was bound to happen eventually. It was finally going to be the blog entry in which I pondered the meaning of life (doing so without God’s aid, since I don’t believe in that*). And once again I am spared answering the bigger question.

I don’t know what the serious answer is to the bigger question. Maybe if I did, I’d feel more fulfilled in my life. There are probably several actions to take with outcomes to experience that would make me feel more fulfilled. But I continue to coast along not really seeking out anything through soul searching or other means.

Certainly there are things that give my life a drop of meaning in the small, immediate scope—the three wonderful creatures I live with, bowling, karaoke, my favorite beers, my online social life, my dab of a real social life. But I basically go to work, live paycheck to paycheck, and don’t push hard or at all for anything different.

Today I took it upon myself to be proactive with my neighbor cat Nick who is under my care for the upcoming week. This upcoming week we are also to have some of the hottest, most humid weather of the summer. Nick doesn’t have air conditioning. When I went up to his place to get the lowdown on his care, it was a hot day. It was miserable in his apartment.

So I brought Nick downstairs to mine. I have air conditioning and I’m not afraid to use it. Just ask the electric company. I weighed his physical comfort against the mental stress of being plopped into a strange environment that includes my two cats and rabbit. My conclusion was that while he may be used to being hot, he’s used to being hot when Ruth is there to monitor his health. I’m not there. I decided that I didn’t want to risk his expiring from heatstroke on my watch.

Okay so on the one hand I’m still being selfish because I don’t want the guilt from a dead cat. But I also genuinely don’t want him to be uncomfortable. I feel a little bit like my caretaking of Nick is giving me just a kernel more purpose for a few days. Nick seems to be appreciative.

I’ll take what I can get.

 

*No disrespect to those who believe in God. It’s just not for me.

Favepartroutine_tweak

I???ve already extolled the virtues of hot water and the morning shower. I???ve said how I love to sleep and wish I did more of it. If you have pets yourself, you know that they can melt away the day???s troubles with a well-timed purr. That these things make up a feel-good trifecta is no surprise. What does surprise me is that in the suddenly summer weather we???ve been having, my flannel sheets are not too warm.

Mother Nature has been confusing us Minnesotans this spring. I don???t waste time getting the flannel sheets onto the bed in the fall. then we had an early warm spell, so I didn???t waste time taking them off as spring approached. Trouble is, the warm didn???t last for very long and we swung to unseasonably cool temperatures. The flannel sheets make a curtain call. The cool stayed around and the flannel stayed on.

Then, practically overnight, summer made another push into the scene. Being the cynical Minnesotan that I am, it took me a long time to be convinced that it wouldn???t snow again. The flannel sheets stayed on. Then, me being me, when I did laundry, I just put them back on rather than have to fold them up.

It has continued to be summery warm. I have flung open my windows. And I am completely surprised that I haven???t been roasting sleeping in those flannel sheets. I have come to this conclusion: flannel sheets aren???t warmer than regular sheets. They just seem that way in the winter because they???re fuzzy. They aren???t cold to the initial touch when you get into bed. You don???t have to wait for your body heat to warm up the points of contact.

Last fall I was surprised when an online acquaintance who lives in central Illinois???further south, more humid???said that he leaves his flannel sheets on year round. Now I know he???s not crazy!

June 2, 2010

10thingshappy_tweak

This cup of grapefruit juice*

I like orange juice and tomato juice, but I love grapefruit juice!

This lovely sunny day*

It is the last day of February. On days like this, you believe that spring is truly right around the corner, even though it’s Minnesota and you know there could easily still be stretches of sub-freezing temperatures.

Watching my cat spaz out with the twirling rainbows on the wall*

I have solar powered twirling crystals in my south window. Poor Dasie just never figures it out.

Saving 10–15 minutes in the morning by neither combing nor drying my hair*

On February 13, I stopped both combing my hair and giving it the tiny bit of blow drying that I do, just to see what would happen. I am not in the early stages of dreadlocks and my curls twist up less frizzily and more curly. The only downside is that all day I shed the loose hairs that were formerly removed during combing. Having that ten or fifteen extra minutes is well worth it to me.

Classical music on a Sunday afternoon*

In my quest to watch less tv, I have returned to doing something I used to twenty years ago, which is turning on public radio in the morning and enjoying it as the backdrop to the whole day.

How it’s light so much earlier in the morning

I know the time change will soon come and darkness will get another hour of morning time, but for now I’ll enjoy that it’s light when I should be thinking about getting up. It has been light when I do get up all winter …

That my rabbit feels better after having his teeth trimmed a couple of weeks ago

The watery eye has cleared up and Robbin seems to be in a better mood. I can even pet his head, something which he had shied away from for years. Now I know why.

The thought of planning my trip to London

I really must make time to do my tax return so that I can get going on this.

Video chat

It has been very satisfying getting to see people who I would otherwise have no opportunity to interact with “in person.”

Coffee in a paper cup

I don’t know why it is, but I really love drinking coffee from a coffee shop paper cup.

*pictured above

 

Perform a good deed

February 18, 2010

Dogood_blog

I am not a generous person. I have a hard time giving up my time, and an even harder time giving up my money. So when it came time to perform a good deed last week, my cavalier side came to the forefront. I noted that February is Pet Dental Health Month and that Robbin Rabbit was at the vet’s to have his teeth trimmed. 

Rabbits’ teeth tend to overgrow, and it turns out that Robbin had a couple of doozies. For a while (like, a couple of years), I had seen that his one cheek seemed a little puffier than the other. He has had a chronically watering left eye as well. A few months ago, it began to occur to me that maybe these two things were a result of renegade teeth. 

Due to a scratch in his right eye, I finally took Robbin in for a checkup (he’s an active, ridiculously healthy rabbit otherwise). The vet agreed that he needed to have his teeth done, which we scheduled after the course of antibiotics and ointment to treat the scratch. 

Early in the day, I interpreted this as my good deed, as it was for a creature other than myself and it would make him feel significantly better. 

It didn’t take long for me to begin feeling kind of shallow and frivolous presenting Robbin’s dental work as some sort of altruistic achievement. Maybe I would feel more fulfilled in life if I volunteered and did more good. Yet I don’t get around to it. 

So inspired by someone else, I took a rare action and donated to Doctors Without Borders. It was a little baby donation of $20, less than the smallest amount that’s given a radio button on their online form. I could afford to give more, or to give similar small amounts to a number of causes.

I don’t want it to seem like I’m looking for congratulations or pats on the back, but at least I did a little something, and that’s way out of character for me.

[Note: because I haven’t figured out how to replace a photo on an entry, this is a repost with a larger image.]

Things that make me happy

December 23, 2009

Blog_5thingshappy

I only had to come up with five, but once you think of one you think of 100. Here are the top pleasure-givers in my life.

The best

First by default are Robbin, CJ, and Dasie. Even if they’re not doing any of the innumerable cute and sweet things they do, I only need to look at any one of them to feel better. I treasure their companionship.

The other top vote getter is working out at Curves. Not only is it good for me but it makes me feel good. Really good! I’ve become a believer in endorphins, because for a good two hours afterwards, I’m very joyful, regardless of how my day had been going previously.

The rest in no particular order (well, in a little bit of order)

Writing this blog

Good beer (the two pictured are my favorites), and related to that, a nice wine buzz

Pizza

“Dancing with the Stars” — Say what you want to about reality tv, but you just can’t beat this show for feel good escapism, especially when people experience life-changing personal growth, like Kelly Osborne did this past season. The show is a joy to watch.

Anthony Bourdain — when I watch his tv show I just want to eat and drink. It’s fun.

Craig Ferguson — the man is a comic genius.

The thought of moving to London

Travel in general, especially long car trips by myself — Particularly effective if I can stay off the interstates and just take state and U.S. highways and go through towns.

Going to baseball games

Pigeons — I love pigeons. There are a couple of flocks that I encounter frequently. The one near my home has lots of mottled and white members.

Mother Nature — When she throws up a rainbow or shows me tracks in the snow, or one lone tulip in a random place, or Maxfield Parrish colors in the sunset.

Blog_petinventorycj

Okay, just so you know, it wasn’t my choice to finally write about my furry sweeties. Honest. I am merely a slave to the random topic that came up. So let’s not waste any more time.

My first rabbit (#1) was Hazel. He was a couple of years old when Dhia the cat arrived (tortoiseshell). She was six weeks old and imprinted on Hazel. I had never lived with a cat before, so when she was still spazzing out at close to two years old, I decided she needed a feline playmate. That’s when Yul came along (black). He was about three months old, still young enough to be influenced by rabbitly ways. Dhia and Yul were nice enough to each other, but they both loved Hazel.

Hazel lived to the ripe old rabbit age of 10-1/2. His mind was still strong, but his little body gave out on him. He sat in a shallow cardboard box when I took him to the vet to be euthanized. He gnawed on the edges while we were waiting, until I stroked his head and told him he didn’t have to fight anymore.

Don’t try and tell me we don’t have a connection with our animal friends.

I waited a few months before I brought Hilda home as a nine-week-old bunny (#2). She was a Checkered Giant (papillon), a breed I had decided on a few years before, not that I was rushing Hazel. I named her Hilda because one day when Chris Gargan was asking about Hazel, he called him “Hilda” instead. It stuck in my mind. She was a fine rabbit, and Dhia and Yul loved her even more than they loved Hazel. Unfortunately, the breed is relatively short-lived, and we lost her at 3-1/2 to what seemed like a bunny heart attack. We were devastated.

What am I saying? We’re devastated every time.

I didn’t have any ideas for our next rabbit. One day I brought home Daisy (#3). She was a standard Rex who turned out to be defective in a number of ways. She had a full-blown case of cataracts at five months (successfully operated on), and when she was spayed, the vet discovered she had only one ovary. She only made it to about seven months. I came home from work one evening to find her in a bad way. We went right to the emergency clinic, but it wasn’t long before she checked out. I’m convinced she had fought to hold on until I gotten home and we could say good-bye.

Soon thereafter, I contacted Hilda’s breeder for a new bunny, because I really liked the personality of the Checkered Giant. I brought home Belle(#4), and it was an instant lovefest between her and Dhia and Yul. Those cats adored that little creature, and I was convinced that she was going to be the perfect rabbit. She had all of the character of Hilda without the aggression. (Hilda sometimes had personal space issues with me. That’s how I got that scar on my lower lip.) But alas, she turned out to be a hemophiliac and died from post-spay internal bleeding at four months.

Belle was our third rabbit gone in less than a year. Maybe you’ll think I’m nuts when I say that I think the cats were jaded by all those losses in their reception to Robbin (#5). He was about eight weeks old and the cats liked him well enough, yet were a little stand-offish with him. It was for that reason that when Robbin was about three, I decided that he needed a companion of his own kind. I took him on some bunny dates to the Humane Society, and he picked Bibi (#6). They doted on each other. Bibi had come from another multispecies household apparently and didn’t seem too bothered by Dhia and Yul, who by this time were in their mid-teens.

Dhia had had a kidney attack and had to be hospitalized for five days. The vet was amazed that she pulled through. I visited her twice a day, and then gave her subcutaneous fluids for the last two years of her life. Yul had come down with hyperthyroidism and required twice-daily pills. He developed pneumonia at the end and didn’t make it through treatment at the vet’s office. He was 16-1/2. Dhia developed a bladder infection. She didn’t improve with initial treatment and when I took her back in for more potent antibiotics, she gave me a look willing it to stop. We gave her a different injection. She was 18.

That was a hard one. She was my Sweet Pea.

I figured it would be a good while before I began looking for a new cat. The universe had other plans.

My mom volunteers with the rabbits at her local Humane Society in central Wisconsin and gets me to go to their website to check them out. After I lost Dhia (that was in a March), I casually clicked over to the Cats section and was struck by a bolt of lightning when I saw CJ’s mugshot (black, inset). Look at that little white tuft and that cocked head!

It was April and karma kept her available until I could pass through town in May on my annual Chicago bowling tournament trip to pick her up. I kept directing my mom to visit her to see what she thought. My mom is not a cat person, but she and CJ formed an instant bond; so much so that when I met CJ for the first time, she shunned me for my mother.

That was a year and a half ago. I don’t know if it was the stress of welcoming a new, young, boisterous cat but within weeks of CJ’s arrival, Bibi developed gut stasis (a common rabbit ailment) and never recovered from surgery. She was such a sweetheart, and I was worried about how Robbin would react. Bonded rabbits often go into steep decline when they lose their companion. But Robbin’s still going strong. I think because he was an only rabbit for a number of years, and was very definitely the alpha over everyone of every species, he bounced back with no ill-effect. We’ll just stay a one-rabbit family now.

But CJ and Robbin never hit it off. I attribute that to CJ’s being a twoish-year-old adult by the time she met him. She was inexperienced in rabbit. She knew he was different but didn’t know what to do about it. It was for that reason that I decided she should have a feline companion, because she wanted to be friendly, but there wasn’t anyone to bond with.

I went on a few cat dates and finally decided on Dasie (black and white). She was about eight months old when she came home about eight months ago, and has been the light of our lives. She and CJ didn’t take very long at all before they became buddies. I’m certain that they actually like each other, unlike Dhia and Yul who were civil but always a little chilly.

You might think that CJ and Dasie would gang up on Robbin, but he’s still large and in charge. Neither cat really understands rabbit. They’re curious, but can’t stop themselves from swatting at his behind. This, in turn, causes Robbin to wheel around and chase the offending cat, sometimes back and forth from one end of the apartment to the other and sometimes not, but always with the result of the cat being treed on the bed, window sill, or other high place. I watch his ears. They’re not flattened against his back, so I think he’s not taking it too seriously. And I think the cats believe that it’s an elaborate form of play.

Nobody eats anybody else, so it’s alright.