Archive for August, 2005
Today we went to the Aquarium of the Pacific in Long Beach. We’d never been there before and had so much fun! I LOVE aquariums and this was the best I’ve ever seen.
Me checking out the fish
Some fish. (I just like this picture because it came out clear. The fish paused in his swimming for a second and held still for me. The rest of his fishy bretheren weren’t as cooperative.)
I’m tickling the anenome.
The absolute coolest thing were the stingray tanks where you could actually pet them! They come right up to the side and poke their noses out. I told Hawk they were almost like puppies, the way they begged to be petted. They’re so soft! Kind of slimy, but very soft.
Me petting the rays.
Me, enjoying the rays.
We did NOT pet Dr. Teeth here.
This sea lion kept sticking his flipper in his mouth. I thought it kind of looked like he was gagging himself, like “GACK! Stop looking at me you freaks! Don’t you have anything better to do!”
A ray gives a ghostly smile while swimming up the front of his tank. That shape behind him is a giant spider crab.
Hawk checking out the anenome.
An tank in the “Tropical Pacific” exhibit. The colors are unbelievable.
Hawk’s favorite, the Leafy Sea Dragon.
My favorite. I think he is a Yellow Boxfish. He was about the size of a quarter. SO cute!
We called this the “Finding Nemo” Tank.
A really amazing neon starfish.
Seahorse love.
“A 73-year-old veteran, Bill Moyer, made the ultimate fashion statement at Bush’s speech in Utah yesterday: he wore a ‘bullshit protector’ over his ears.”
Yeah, I’m still here. Been a little down because of the death in the family, so I don’t have much to say.
I had a snotty email conversation with a woman from a cat adoption group (we want to get Cooper a new buddy right away, she’s really lonely), in which she informed me that her organization wouldn’t adopt to us because we let our cats go outside. I told her I thought that she was limiting the adoption options of the cats (if these organizations are so desperate to get their cats good loving homes, then why are they turning us away?) and she basically told me that she disagreed and that it was because we let him go outside that Thomas died (even though there is no evidence to support this other than the fact that he was outside when he died) and if we really cared about our cats we would keep them in (not in so many words, but her meaning was loud and clear).
Well, all she succeeded in doing was making me adamantly sure that letting Thomas go outside was absolutely the right thing for him, because in the long run he was a much happier cat because of it. It’s not like we force our cats to go out. Cooper stays in most of the time, but that wasn’t Thomas’ style. He was an explorer. And I’m not going to keep my cats inside if that’s not what makes them happy.
So, fuck her and the horse she rode in on. We’re going to get a cat from the pound instead. At least there we know that we’re actually saving a life (most of the adoption organizations are no-kill), plus they’re a lot less picky. The only down-side is that with the adoption organizations, they usually know a lot more about the cats - where they came from, whether they are good with other cats, dogs, etc. With a cat from the pound we’re flying blind. I guess if we get one young enough he’ll just be able to get used to whatever. We’ll see.
We’re also starting a bathroom remodel this weekend. By “start”, I mean “tear everything out of our bathroom until all that’s left are naked wall beams”. We’re going to do everything ourselves to save $$, but the hubby is a handy guy, and we’ve got handy friends, so I think we’ll be OK. At least we have another bathroom to use until the other one is done. I’ll keep you posted on the progress!
Saturday morning we got a call from our neighbor Mike, two doors down from us. He found Thomas under the deck in his backyard. He had died.
I pretty much knew that Thomas wasn’t going to come home. I had hoped, of course, but deep down I knew he was gone. It’s awful and I will miss him very much - but as I thought about it, I realized Thomas had a pretty good life.
He was a very sickly kitten. For the first two years of his life, he was pretty much constantly sick. He had digestive problems, skin infections and asthma. We carted him back and forth to the vet so many times, and the poor thing was miserable. He hated us, because every time we came near him it was to give him medicine or stuff him in his cat carrier for another vet trip. But about four years ago, all his illnesses cleared up and he stayed pretty healthy.
He could be the most annoying cat on the planet. He had the most god-awful, grating cry and would scream for hours and hours, for pretty much no reason. He was a horrible wuss, and he couldn’t wear a collar, because once we put one on him (with a bell) and the sound of the bell scared him so much he tried to “run” from it, and was horrified when it followed him! He hid in a closet for three days before finally getting the thing off. We never made him wear another one. Getting ahold of him to administer flea medication was like World War 3. You’d think we were skinning him alive. And clipping his nails? Forget it.
He would always keep the skittishness and a lot of the distrust of us because of all the medical stuff, but there were times that he wanted to be petted and cuddled. He had a great purr, more like a trill, and when you petted him, he squished his face into your leg and rubbed, writhing in total ecstasy. He loved being outside, napping in the sun and skulking around in the bushes. He loved to chase butterflies and grasshoppers in the yard and became quite a hunter. He adored our other cat, Cooper, and they would snuggle together and she would wash his head. I called him “my little lion” because of his great mane of grey fur, and more often than not, referred to him only by his nickname, Tommy Bean. When he was out at night, Hawk would “squeak” for him to come in, and Tommy would come running.
I will miss him every day, but I can think about him and the silly way his tongue stuck out sometimes, and his high, trilly purr and smile.
Thomas still hasn’t shown up yet. I do not have a good feeling about this. We put up signs along our street asking people to call if they’ve seen him, but I’m not expecting much. My poor kitty. At this point we think he’s a) locked in someone’s garage or something and will come back at some point, or the more likely b) got hit by a car. I miss my kitty face Tommy Bean 
Our cat Thomas didn’t come home last night. This is very unlike him. Usually, he comes in around 9 or 10, and if we can’t get him in then, he wakes us up in the middle of the night by screaming at the sliding glass door in our bedroom. There’s no sign of him this morning, and we’ve walked up and down the street calling him. I’m really worried. Please send good thoughts his way. I won’t feel better until we have him home.
Check this out - it’s an online grocery store specializing in hard-to-find items. From BooBerry cereal to my favorite Duncan Hines blueberry muffins (the ones with the crumb topping that I haven’t been able to find in years), they’ve got all your old favorites.
We’re off to San Fran this morning, because some friends of ours are getting married tonight. Yes, I am aware that it is a Thursday. It is also a potluck. You heard me. We’ll be back in L.A. tomorrow morning. Quite the whirlwind trip.
Matthew McGrory, the 7′6″ actor who played the giant in Big Fish, died Tuesday of natural causes. He was only 32.
