About Cats

I'm not crazy about cats. I don't mean I hate them. I love animals. Cats just aren't my favorite animal. They seem to like me though. When I visit homes that have cats, they usually end up sitting in my lap. I love that. As long as they belong to someone else, I guess I like cats. I just don't like them in my house climbing on kitchen counters and tables. Years ago my ex-husband wanted a cat and his cat had a nasty habit of barfing on my carpet and furniture. I'm not crazy about cats. There were barn cats on our farm when I was growing up. But they were mostly feral and unapproachable. Except for one ugly cat that jumped out of the haymow one day and used my head for a platform to the ground. Imagine claws in your scalp from a surprise attack from above. That could be the basis of why I'm not crazy about cats.

The problem is that our neighborhood is over run with tame and wild cats. And this property seems to draw more then our share of them. Maybe it's the high deck, or hubby's trailer that sits out by the garage. Each gives a different high point in which to view the neighborhood. One of the wild cats is a black and white male who seems to be much too popular with the opposite sex. Hence more cats all the time. I've taken a dislike to this fellow and I try to interrupt his business, when it's in our yard, every chance I get. I know it's a total wasted effort, but...... (guilty little secret) it's fun. (I'll blame my grandson, he started it.)

A couple days ago I was headed out to lunch with friends and right there on the sidewalk, between the house and the garage, was Mr and one of his Mrs. She was making a false effort to crawl away and they were facing away from me. I got closer and then stomped and screeched. Well Fudge! They just moved forward a bit and continued their shameful public display. So I got more aggressive with the stomping right behind them. She took off and that male cat turned to me. Hackles straight up and crouched in attack mode. Which surprised me. He'd always run before, and I'd never been this close.

I was even more surprised when I realized this feisty cat only had one eye. The missing eye was not matted shut. There was a scar across his nose and up into his cheek that crossed the missing eye. It was not his only scar. It had healed a long time ago and I was faced with an old survivor of many battles. We stared each other down and then he turned with his back to me, and with tail up, just ambled away while I stood in awe.

I went on to lunch with my friends and temporarily forgot about him. But now he's sitting on the rail of our deck watching his domain and I have to admit, my attitude toward the dude has
changed. I'm thinking of calling him Feisty. The name fits. OH GOOD GRIEF! I'd better watch out or I'll find myself feeding him. And, I'm not crazy about cats.

Ramblings

Snow on the Kokosing River.
A little back water view.



It's been awhile and I feel like a ramble. No, that's not a typo. I don't want to rumble, just ramble about some of the things I've been thinking lately.

Weather first. Mid Ohio is covered in a beautiful, long lasting, deep, crap load of snow with layers of sneaky drop you on your can ice hiding therein. This is the first winter in awhile where the snow keeps coming before we see a melt. But, finally, there is promise that this coming weekend will bring temperatures in the 40's and all our beautiful white snow will turn to ugly mud. The only part I'll enjoy is the loss of ice. I took my camera over to the Kokosing River and captured the deep white blanket of snow and those pictures will be enjoyed when I have to scrape mud off my shoes. Oh, the joys of Ohio winter weather.

Actually the weather led to the second reason I was inspired to write again. I enjoyed my walk in the cold, but not enough to attempt it every day. So this morning, after Bear left for work, I decided it was a good time to clean out the fridge. I take pride in my organizational skills. I always know what is in that cold food saver and how long it's been there. Not this time. Imagine my surprise when I discovered a small covered Pyrex dish that still contained candied sweet potatoes left over from Christmas!! But that didn't compare to my surprise in finding that they still looked good enough to eat!!! Imagine, no mold or separation or yuk. No way was I going to taste test anything that had been lost to me for that long, no matter how good it looked. Shall I give credit to Pyrex? Or are the preservatives in this day and age responsible? That actually scares me. We've heard the jokes about all that stuff being in our bodies. Was it George Burns who said that was why he was alive so long? Yeah, alive, but pickled. That's how I see it. I threw the sweet potatoes down the garbage disposal, but I could not get them out of my mind. That's why the fridge job isn't finished and I'm sitting here telling you about it.

I wonder why my days go by and afterwords I can never figure out what I accomplished. I know I was busy.......all day.....but what did I do? I had time to think about what to put in my blog, but today is the first time in too long that I'm doing it. Surprise............time really does fly when you're .......................................old. And the memory really is the first to go.............Now what was I doing?


P.S. Went to the kitchen and now I remember what I was doing. Bear asked for his favorite cherry, cheesecake, graham cracker crust dessert. I told him I didn't have what I needed to make it. I forgot I'm so organized, and I found everything I needed. So the cooked thickened cherries are cooling, the crust is cooling and the philly cheese is coming to room temp. so I can mix it up. That's what I was doing. I started on the fridge, but got detoured when I found I had all my ingredients to make Bear happy....then I got on the computer.....one thing leads to another and most of my day is gone and lots of things are started, but the blog is the only thing finished. Or will be when I hit "Publish Post." (The day is not a total loss. Bear will be happy, if I get myself back to the kitchen.)