A Full Sort of Life
We named the new kittens, finally -- the male is Dara (star), and the female Chanthra (moon). They now have the run of the house; this is excellent (for kittens), as it means that at any given moment one could be knocking over Sam's coffee, jumping out at one's sister from under the sofa, chasing one's brother around and around the stairwell, or quietly and seriously observing the Big Cat while she hisses.
That's all she does, actually, which the kittens have completely figured out. They don't run away from her any more. While she's actively hissing, they sit still and watch her -- as soon as she stops hissing and walks away, they cheerfully bounce along behind her. I give her a week.
Meanwhile, she's put on weight -- turns out that under the regime of Maggie the Cat, Girl of the Streets, Lila wasn't even getting enough to eat. Now she's nicely filled out and formidable-looking. Makes the kittens no never mind. They're convinced that they're supposed to be with her, so they stay. Till they get distracted.
On another front, some nights ago -- we're divided as to when -- we were lying upstairs and heard a crash. Sam went to see what it was, but it wasn't anything he could find, and we forgot about it. But yesterday, when I pointed out that the furnace in the 1790 half of the house wasn't coming on, although it ought, really it ought, Sam went to check it, and discovered that it was ok, except for a burnt out fuse, but the wall board next to it had fallen down, exposing bricks that Aren't Looking Too Good. This gave us an uneasy night -- but the bricks are all dry, just sort of crumbly looking; also, the foundation isn't brick; they must be just being used as insulation. So we're feeling better this morning, though we're having somebody out to look at it immediately, cause one of the things you have to be if you live in An Historic Landmark is proactive.
And, as I mentioned some days ago, we're still slogging it out till Thanksgiving, scholastically. My classes are all going very well, at least from my point of view -- don't know how much it matters if the professor's enjoying herself, but I am, in all the classes, so maybe they really are going well, who knows -- but it's hard to get the preps done, and I've got all afternoon booked, with paper-grading, play-reading, poem-downloading, and essay-reading.
Also, I've got to get ready to go to a Very Exciting Conference next week -- I'm going out to Santa Clara, to the Out There Conference, the first conference for scholars and staff involved in LGBTQ issues on Catholic college campuses. I'm going with a professor from theology, so we can divide up and go to different panels, and hear as much as we possibly can. And I'm charged with bringing home LOTS of pamphlets, and information, and phone numbers. I'll be there Thursday night until Sunday morning, and possibly I can meet with Bay Area friends, if they come on down to Santa Clara, but I won't be able to get up to San Francisco myself. Alas.
And now Lila, who's sitting on my lap whilst I blog, wants me to put cats up on the monitor. She likes the adult appleheaded Siamese. She does NOT like to see the kittens. Apparently, she's seen enough of those.
That's all she does, actually, which the kittens have completely figured out. They don't run away from her any more. While she's actively hissing, they sit still and watch her -- as soon as she stops hissing and walks away, they cheerfully bounce along behind her. I give her a week.
Meanwhile, she's put on weight -- turns out that under the regime of Maggie the Cat, Girl of the Streets, Lila wasn't even getting enough to eat. Now she's nicely filled out and formidable-looking. Makes the kittens no never mind. They're convinced that they're supposed to be with her, so they stay. Till they get distracted.
On another front, some nights ago -- we're divided as to when -- we were lying upstairs and heard a crash. Sam went to see what it was, but it wasn't anything he could find, and we forgot about it. But yesterday, when I pointed out that the furnace in the 1790 half of the house wasn't coming on, although it ought, really it ought, Sam went to check it, and discovered that it was ok, except for a burnt out fuse, but the wall board next to it had fallen down, exposing bricks that Aren't Looking Too Good. This gave us an uneasy night -- but the bricks are all dry, just sort of crumbly looking; also, the foundation isn't brick; they must be just being used as insulation. So we're feeling better this morning, though we're having somebody out to look at it immediately, cause one of the things you have to be if you live in An Historic Landmark is proactive.
And, as I mentioned some days ago, we're still slogging it out till Thanksgiving, scholastically. My classes are all going very well, at least from my point of view -- don't know how much it matters if the professor's enjoying herself, but I am, in all the classes, so maybe they really are going well, who knows -- but it's hard to get the preps done, and I've got all afternoon booked, with paper-grading, play-reading, poem-downloading, and essay-reading.
Also, I've got to get ready to go to a Very Exciting Conference next week -- I'm going out to Santa Clara, to the Out There Conference, the first conference for scholars and staff involved in LGBTQ issues on Catholic college campuses. I'm going with a professor from theology, so we can divide up and go to different panels, and hear as much as we possibly can. And I'm charged with bringing home LOTS of pamphlets, and information, and phone numbers. I'll be there Thursday night until Sunday morning, and possibly I can meet with Bay Area friends, if they come on down to Santa Clara, but I won't be able to get up to San Francisco myself. Alas.
And now Lila, who's sitting on my lap whilst I blog, wants me to put cats up on the monitor. She likes the adult appleheaded Siamese. She does NOT like to see the kittens. Apparently, she's seen enough of those.
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