Cats' Christmas

We had a feline family fight a couple of weeks ago. Mom Jasmine and Mittens started a ruckus in my brother's room one night. It sounded loud and angry and serious. Paribanour surprised me by immediately leaping out of her chair and running into the room where she broke up the fight and chased Jasmine back into the living room. All the tails were bushy and all the fur was bristling for days (Paribanour gets a cool, spiky, Mohawky thing running down her spine when she's all het up). Jasmine and Mittens couldn't stand to be in the same room together and even took meals apart. They've finally gotten over whatever it was (or maybe just forgot) and have started grooming each other again. Might be the desire to share the space under the Christmas tree.

The Christmas tree is up. And decorated. So far the cats have knocked down one ornament and that was probably my fault for placing it too low. They have not been playing with the tree although Mittens has claimed the space right against the base as her nap area and both she and Jasmine take turns snuggling up around the penguins or, when they desire to not be seen, tunneling under the tree skirt.

There are a half dozen largish wreaths on the dining room table waiting to be placed and I found Jasmine curled up inside one this morning. She looked both comfortable and cute so I left her there. For now.

This holiday season kind of snuck up on us thanks to the warm weather. We've had the air off and the windows open continuously pretty much since Hallowe'en (with one exception for a week of torrential rain mid-November). The cats, for the most part, are behaving themselves around the screens and not clawing holes even when there is some animal out there in the night darkness whimpering under the mango.

Mittens, the littlest one who had the big adventure, is the exception. She's a climber and can not resist working her way to the very top of the floor-to-ceiling screen by the front door. She makes a fair amount of racket in the process whereupon I go out to investigate to find her at or above eye level, looking like one of those plush toys with the suction cups on its feet that people stick to their car windows. I look at her. She looks at me. I quietly ask, "What are you doing?" She puts her nose against the screen, looks at me again, and slowly climbs back down. Repeat every third day.

The Hallowe'en candy is gone, except for one Reese's cup I've been hoarding, and not counting the three bags my brother stored away in a closet thinking (erroneously) that they'll still be there for next Hallowe'en.

The Thanksgiving leftovers are gone, except for four containers of turkey soup, and not counting excess food that didn't get cooked and is just waiting its turn in a normal meal.

The penguins are out and the cats are (now, temporarily at least) on their best behavior.

Let's do Christmas!

A Night on the Town

Mittens, the little clone of her mom, stepped out last night. Technically, she fell out. She (or her sister or her mom) managed to tear a hole in the screen at the base of one of the dining room windows and she went through. I believe accidentally although I can't be sure. She likes climbing screens and can frequently be found hanging by her claws at human eye level, or higher, in the front foyer. (When I confront her and ask, "What are you doing?" she just looks over her shoulder at me and slowly climbs down backwards.)

The front door and several windows were open because Rainy Season is over, despite hanging on long enough past its scheduled end to completely ruin any chance of seeing the last Super Blood Moon Eclipse, and temperatures at night have dropped to the point where air conditioning is superfluous. It's nice to let real uncanned air in finally.

I didn't realize Mittens was outside until she tried to get back in the front door and her sister, who also didn't know didn't recognize her and started hissing and growling at her through the screen. Mittens was already scared at finding herself out in the world, her sister's reaction didn't help at all, and when I tried to open the front screen door she freaked out and ran (stopping just long enough to try jumping back in the window which didn't work).

After securing Paribanour back inside, I left the front screen door open and placed some food and water in the foyer to entice Mittens back in. I figured it took the better part of three hours before coming out of my closet after her adventure with the paper bag and it might take that long for her to calm down again.

I spent those three hours wandering around in the dark calling, "Here, kitty, kitty," knowing full well the futility. She is completely unequipped to deal with the world. The most she's ever seen out the windows are birds and squirrels. She has no concept of dogs, opossums, hawks, alligators, coyotes or cars. I hoped she would stay on our property and hide in the nearest underbrush and, if that's what she did, she did it well because I couldn't find her.

Jasmine and Paribanour, meanwhile, were acting very tense and alert. They knew something was wrong. In the end, they started staring out the glass doors into the lanai and when I turned on the light there was Mittens . . . who ran again when the lights came on.

So I moved the food and water from the front foyer to the lanai.

Five minutes later Mittens knocked on the front door to come in. (She does that. The other cats, when they're in the foyer, just gaze longingly through the side window hoping to catch a human's attention when they want in. Mittens has learned to knock.)

At first she was a little skittish and the others a bit standoffish. She was still excited and had, I suppose, picked up a bunch of outdoor smells which unnerved the other two. Eventually everyone got over it and I was able to tell my brother a humorous story when he got home.

All the windows will remain closed until repairs are effected.

She Who Hesitates

Ours are indoor cats. Nevertheless, they like to go "out," out being the screened in foyer leading to the front door which has hidden gaps somewhere down in the corners that allow smallish lizards (and, once, a baby black snake) in. The cats know they can occasionally chase a lizard, although they haven't caught one in months.

Recently, Jasmine, the mom, has got it in her head that she is the one to go out first and if she is preempted for any reason will not go at all. She will saunter, trot and (very rarely) gallop to the door indicating her wish to visit the foyer. On having the door opened for her she then stops dead pondering the commitment required to choose here or there, in or out.

The kids, on the other hand, experience no such existential qualms. They hear the door open and come running. If Jasmine makes up her mind before they arrive they will happily follow her out. If she remains racked by indecision they will scamper on past as if this were their first invitation to an incredible adventure.

Which pisses her off to no end.

If she was standing, she'll sit. If sitting, she'll glare at them until we give up coaxing and close the door. Or sometimes she'll just look at us to say, "Good riddance to them, I didn't want to go out there anyway" and then walk away.

But she does care. Once in a while, when the kids are either entering or leaving, if they are in range, she give one or the other a hiss and a swipe of her paw. But she absolutely will not go out unless she's first.

The funny thing is: the deference she demands would be hers if she were just a bit more decisive.

In a couple of weeks it shouldn't matter anyway. As the temperatures cool down and the humidity drops we'll be able to turn off the air conditioning, throw up the windows and leave the door open while we're home.

Freakout!

The littlest cat, Mittens, the tuxedo cat clone of her mother, likes her privacy and will disappear for most of the day, sleeping in closets, boxes, behind books, etc., mostly coming out for meals. (Despite this, she is a friendly kitty and, almost every night, accompanies me down the hallway to my room when I'm ready to retire, climbing on the furniture, changing the discs and/or tracks on my CD player, knocking over books and begging to be petted.)

Yesterday afternoon, she was in my brother's room napping in a large twine-handled, flat-bottomed, paper shopping bag, the kind with the store's logo printed on the sides. Unfortunately, when she woke up she tried to exit the bag through the twine handle which was big enough to accommodate her head but not the rest of her. She turned so the rest of her was outside the bag but couldn't figure out how to free her head.

So she panicked.

She ran.

She ran around my brother's room, around and over his bed, knocking clothes on the floor. Around his easy chair, spilling another bag containing empty aluminum cans awaiting recycling. She ran out into the living room, dragging the designer bag around her neck, spilling a couple of Mom's ceramic vases (miraculously not breaking them), skidded across the coffee table scattering magazines and newspapers, up one side of the couch and down the other.

The more she ran the more the bag flapped behind her and as it flapped it turned and as it turned the twine noose tightened around her neck scaring her even more.

My brother chased her as she crashed through the dining room and flipped a chair over. The other cats scattered.

We finally cornered her in my room next to my easy chair she loves to claw, under the table she hops on to preen for my attention every night. My brother held her still, wild-eyed and panting, while I carefully untwisted the bag and pulled the handle over her head. She was so traumatized she didn't even notice us laughing our heads off.

As soon as she was free she made a beeline for my closet, climbed a couple of boxes and hid behind my shirts. She stayed in there for a little over two hours. Her mom and sister came into the room a couple of times and just sat by the closet door. It was nice to know they were concerned.

We shall have to wait and see what lessons, if any, were learned.

Suburban Zooarcheology

I came home yesterday evening to find my brother had lopped off more than a dozen fronds from the pineapple palm out front. It is now possible for a full-size adult human to walk around the tree without ducking. (He did a similar chop job with the orange tree by the driveway last week that went even further. I'm not sure whether he got carried away with the pruning or he was cutting it down and just stopped part way through. See: Redneck Studies: The 70% Complete Solution.)

There's a good view of those nasty spikes

I discovered two things as I gathered up the fronds and placed them by the side of the road for trash pick up.*

First: Pineapple palm fronds have long, thin, spiky and incredibly sharp stiletto-like leaves at their base which are quite capable of stabbing one in the hand, thigh, calf or anywhere else that gets too close and they will draw blood.

Second (and less painful but much more interesting): A 'possum up and died under the pineapple palm. I found parts of its disarticulated skeleton pressed into the ground. I have the skull, both halves of the mandible, both femurs, and several vertabrae (probably lumbar, but I can't be sure without others to compare them with). No ribs, no tail bones, no other leg or foot bones although I may just have missed them since they would be very small and it was getting dark.

The bones I do have are in perfect condition. No breakage, no scratches, no teeth missing. And clean. The animal must have died a while ago because there was no soft matter anywhere. (There was the very faintest odor which was sufficient to intrigue Paribanour when I went inside and presented my hands to her but it was faint enough that the other cats were totally uninterested.) skullsunlimited.com is asking $50 for just a skull (of course) and mine is every bit as good and I have the other bits, too.

These are from washington.edu and not mine, but mine look just like this

They're all laid out right now on a fertilizer bag by the front door until I can find a proper way to display them. Some sort of shadow box or something. In the meantime, I'll go back out under the tree and see if I can find any more pieces.

UPDATE: I went back out last evening while it was still light and found the pelvis, more long bones (not sure which), some more vertabrae including tail bones, and several ribs. Still haven't seen any of the very small foot bones.

* We get three trucks coming through on trash day. One automated truck for recyclables in their designated container, another automated truck for non-recyclables in their separate container, and one truck with humans attached picking up "yard waste," basically anything plantish larger than lawn clippings that used to be growing on the property.

Jump Starting the Cats

We turned on the air conditioning for the second time last evening. Just for the night. It was muggy and sticky and my brother wanted to get a good night's sleep as he had to get up early this morning. So we went around closing all the windows and the front door and cranked up the air, mostly to remove the humidity.

Prior to this, the cats had been flaking out in various locations. Mittens was in my room lying on a bookshelf by an open window. Jasmine was splayed out in the foyer not even pretending to look for lizards and had to be shoveled inside so we could close the door. Paribanour was installed in her usual spot atop the TV. Not one of them had so much as twitched for more than an hour.

The dehumidification was palpable almost immediately. I put down their evening kibble.

Within minutes they were chasing each other around the house, banging into furniture, bouncing off the walls and skittering around their humans. Up the end and across the top of the couch, onto my chair and over me, through the kitchen into the dining room, down the hall crashing into the closet door and then racing full-speed back through the living room into my brother's room and another crash. Repeat with variations.

After about twenty minutes of frenetic mayhem, they all collapsed in the living room.

The air conditioning is off again, for now.

Signs of Spring

The mango tree has blossomed, is still blossoming, produced so many blossoms we caught birds nibbling on them and yet the tree is still full of little mango fruits.

The jasmine is blossoming and the warm night air, clear and calm and full of bright, sharp, glittering stars smells like a Persian garden.

The green parrots are back, as are the ibis, the hawks and the vultures. And the blacksnake. And the toads which have been clinging to the glass doors of the lanai and driving the cats crazy with frustration.

All of the doors and windows have been open for over a month now, at least the ones with screens to keep the bugs out and the cats in. Somehow, the occasional lizard still manages to find its way in, though.

The bulldozer arrived bright and early and spent three hours scraping the topsoil off half the open field across the road in preparation for someone building a house there.

There's been an active For Sale sign on that field for a few months now. I can't tell if someone bought the whole field and intends to build on half of it or if only half of it sold. I'm sure it's zoned for two lots. In either case, a house on that site will severely cramp available parking for next Hallowe'en. But that's still several seasons (Spring, High, Summer, Rainy and Fall, at least) away for now.

Redneck Studies: The 70% Complete Solution

I've mentioned before my theory that the reason redneck properties end up looking like redneck properties is the subjects' congenital inability to complete any project. I hold to that premise.

Just a few recent items of note in passing:

My brother has a power wash machine that's been sitting in the garage for a couple years now. (I think the last time it was used was when Mom died and he blasted (most of) the outside of the house before the cousins came over for her wake.) A couple months ago he took it out and discovered just how easy it was to clean the driveway of twenty-odd years of weather, dirt and grime. He would do a smallish section at a time a couple times a week and we moved the vehicles around accordingly to accommodate.

Except he's apparently become bored with that now. The last 20-25% of the driveway, down by the street, hasn't been touched in weeks and there is no indication he intends to go any further. And it's not an even break between completed/untouched sections where he can pretend that it's a different color concrete or anything. It's just obviously not done.

The Christmas tree, at least, came down a week after I removed the last of the ornaments. He insists there is one proper way to assemble and disassemble the tree and he knows what that is. So it's in its box . . . which is still sitting in the hallway two weeks later. I do not know the location of his storage unit, neither do I have a key.

Meanwhile, though, he suddenly had the urge last evening to clean out the roll-top desk. It needed it desperately, having accumulated probably a decade's worth of holiday cards, utility bills, batteries (dead and alive), pens (dead and alive), address books (mostly alive), insurance calendars (assuredly dead), and other assorted ephemera and impedimenta. He had apparently finished by the time I came home since he was in his room watching TV having left the chair he was using blocking the doorway and all the drawers and top of the desk wide open. Do you want cats in your roll-top desk? Because that's how you get cats in your roll-top desk. They'd climb on it occasionally even when it was shut. I closed everything up.

I believe he honestly does not see finishing detail. And certainly does not see it as part of the project. The project was to take down the tree. It's down. The project was to clean out the desk. It's clean. End of story.

I don't know what the deal is with the driveway.

2015 So Far

Well, this new year seems to be starting off different.

Three police cars showed up out on our main road about 1:45 a.m., parked in a line about a hundred feet apart with lights flashing and stayed there for an hour or so encouraging a party down that way to break up. It was a pretty good party, too, from the sound and sight of it, with music, fireworks and a large bonfire. (I'm pretty sure it was just a bonfire despite looking as if the host house was burning down with flames rising above the roof and thick smoke billowing out since the fire department never showed up.) It took a while for the dozen or so cars to leave.

Fortunately, the police didn't come any sooner since one of the neighbors down our street had been shooting off commercial-grade fireworks from the pavement in front of his house. They were very impressive (Literally. You could feel the force of the shockwave when they exploded.) and quite beautiful and very loud. The cats hid. They started well before midnight so after an hour and a half someone came out and yelled at them to knock it off. They yelled back, "Happy New Year!" The complainers yelled back, "Happy New Year, to you!" and went inside. A couple of shots later the fireworks ended. That's how civilization is supposed to work.

January is a Blue Month for my platelet donations this year: my every-four-weeks schedule means I will donate twice this month. The first one was scheduled for the first of the year which wasn't going to work for anybody so we moved it to Friday, the 2nd. The regular RN was still out on vacation and the hospital was low on platelets so the sub asked if I'd be willing to do a double, which I was. All went reasonably well with only minor beeping of the machine. When we were done, however, the bandage was not applied tightly enough (can't place blame since I participate in that process). I mentioned that I was feeling a little light-headed when I stood up and another donor said, "Maybe it's because you're leaking all over the place."

Sure enough, the bandage was soaked through, blood was running down my arm, and drops were spurting out all over the floor. I hadn't felt a thing. I sat back down and we got it stopped quickly enough. They spent several minutes scrubbing and decontaminating the floor. I went home, threw my shirt in the wash and took a nap. We all promised to be more observant next time.

My brother decided to put the cats on a diet. It's only the mom, Jasmine, that's fat but they all eat at the same time from shared plates so they're all being cut back in both volume and frequency. One of the enterprising little buggers quickly figured out how to self-serve by nibbling/tearing a small hole in the kibble bag. It was perfectly done and only released food when they stuck their faces in the hole. The only reason I noticed was because they acted totally disinterested when I put out the scheduled meal, instead of the hunger-fueled frenzy that had quickly become the norm. So now the bag is in a sealed bucket and they're unhappy again.

Hardly a Creature Stirred

This was the most low-key . . . and enjoyable . . . Christmas ever.

The tree went up the week before along with the large Santa atop the bookcase, two penguins under the tree and a couple of large stockings on the front door, one inside and one outside. That was it. No creche, no exterior lights, no carol-wielding circus train. My brother did scatter some Christmas balloon figures across the lawn but never got around to inflating them.

We limited ourselves on the presents, too. Since my niece was the only one who sent a wish list, and since half her list consisted of books, I was happy to oblige her. My brother and I agreed to limit ourselves to only "stocking stuffers" which meant he gave me three small jars of flavored honey, a bottle of orange flavored syrup and a box of fudge while I gave him a case of beer and a bottle of honey roasted peanuts. We were both happy.

The cats, being natural born heathens and not, as we, lapsed communicants, received nothing. They were content to nest in the boxes and nibble on wrapping paper. Despite occasional manic bursts of running about chasing each other around and under the tree, they were (generally) very careful to avoid touching it and only a couple of the lowest ornaments ended up on the rug.

We had Christmas dinner mid-afternoon and in the evening I made about a gallon of split pea soup with a portion of the leftover ham. The cats turned down ham samples although I did catch one of them later gnawing on a piece of gristle she stole from somewhere. I now have pea soup, bean soup and turkey soup taking up space in the refrigerator and freezer and kind of wish the weather would cool off again. It feels weird eating hot soup when the temperature is pushing 80F.

If we can maintain this same level of concentrated placidity, 2015 could start off well.

More Sh*t My Brother Drags Home

Continuing the kleptomaniacal tale. This past week:

• More industrial size wooden pallets. We now have three complete plus pieces for a couple more. They're stacking up beside the carrotwood tree.
• A pair of wooden crutches with one missing rubberized foot. If he's planning on having a debilitating accident it's going to have to involve ending up with one leg shorter than the other.
• A short (maybe 2.5 feet tall) open metal frame on casters with closely spaced metal flanges facing inward on parallel sides suitable for holding food trays. Except for the inconvenient lack of height, something that might be seen on an airline or in a hospital for delivering meals.

On a slightly saner note: He went and got the Christmas decorations out of storage over the weekend. They were all piled up in cardboard boxes at the top of the driveway until it started to rain last night forcing us to run outside and chuck everything into the garage except the Christmas tree which resides in a waterproof plastic coffin that is now sitting just at the edge of the living room attracting the attention of the cats. My brother has moved his dead bicycle from the corner where the tree is supposed to go so we can probably expect assembly this weekend.

The Naughty Kitties' Reward

So I'm sitting last night with one eye on my laptop trying to get the CS50 shuttle game to work (good news: it does, for the most part. At least, I think, the hardest part is done) and one eye on the football game (I really don't know why this CS50 project is taking me so long) when one of the cats starts repeatedly bumping the toe of my shoe. When I look down I notice the other two right there as well watching her.

I lift my foot and there's a poor little tailless lizard trying desperately not to be seen. It was in such shock it didn't even try to avoid me as I scooped it up and carried it outside.

This is what happens when the weather suddenly warms right back up to the 80s (27C) and we throw open the doors and windows again.

The cats spent the next twenty minutes or so prowling around my feet and chair looking for their prey even though they all saw me pick it up. It doesn't make any sense to them that someone would just throw away a perfectly good lizard.

My brother spread a couple handsful of catnip on the living room rug. Jasmine and Mittens both got high as kites first eating and then rolling in the stuff. Paribanour ate more than the other two but just said "Meh," and walked away.

The MOOC and Me: Destroyer of Time

I have been remiss in posting to the blog, and much else besides, thanks to the latest homework assignment from my on-line programming course.

The last problem set was relatively easy and a great deal of fun: designing a financial services web page. This set, building a shuttle bus "game" is making me crazy. I just know the solution is much, much simpler than I am able to come up with and my Rube Goldberg construction is an ugly mess. And doesn't work. Right now, it insists on picking up only the passenger at the alphabetical end of the list of possible passengers. Which, admittedly, is an improvement on refusing to pick up anyone at all.

The problem is, the course deadline is the end of the year, and includes a final project which I haven't even begun to seriously think about, and I've already skipped over one problem set that was taking way too long and throwing the schedule into impossibility. The syllabus is not clear on the consequences if I can't submit at least a partial final project in time. I have no idea how the kids manage to do this in a 12 week course (with other classes!). I'd be living in the TA's office.

My consolation is that this is my favorite time of the year for food so when I start to get all cross-eyed at the screen I can just sit back with a large mug of tea, a plate of crackers with a wedge of brie and a pear and another plate of dried figs, dates, pistachios and a section of pomegranate. In a previous incarnation or two I was either French or Persian (or both).

The weather has been cold enough lately that the cats have discovered I can provide other services beyond provisioner of food and water and have started climbing into bed with me to absorb the warmth which is fine except that it's impossible to turn over with a cat wedged behind one's knees.

I just bought four pounds of butter and a new jar of cinnamon. Baking time! One batch of chocolate chip cookies is done. Oatmeal raisin is next on the list and, by then, we'll be well into Thanksgiving week cooking.

Steal From My Brother Once, Shame On You. Steal From My Brother Twice . . .

My brother has the learning curve of a lizard.

The police rang our doorbell at 4:00 this morning to let him know they had found his truck. (He was already up having been called by them a few minutes earlier to announce their imminent arrival. I woke up at the sound of the bell.) When they saw who was at the door, the cats all took off like the Angel of the Lord was come to take them to their just reward. We didn't see Paribanour or Mittens again for about six hours.

At first, this particular service--waking people in the middle of the night to notify them of the location of their property--seemed a bit, I don't know, superfluous, since the truck was in the driveway when I went to bed. (Apparently, I don't process too well upon first waking unexpectedly.)

The truck was not in the driveway.

It had been stolen.

It had been stolen and used as a getaway vehicle on a crime spree lasting several hours before being left in a ditch behind the town high school a couple of miles away. Several vehicles in our neighborhood (including, it turned out, Neighbor Dan's truck but not my car) had been entered and pilfered but it was my brother's truck they stole.

Because he left the keys in it.

He left the keys in it! After having his wallet stolen out of the truck only a couple of months ago, he left the keys in it!

So we stood in the driveway, under the eaves of the garage, in the dark and intermittent pouring rain with lightning crashing nearby and the tip of one of Neighbor Dan's palm trees rubbing against an electrical wire in the wind, arcing and sending sparks flying, filling the air with the scent of ozone and burning wood while my brother filled out a criminal complaint form and answered the same questions to each of the three officers who eventually showed up one by one.

They warned him that, although they would try to get the truck back to him as soon as possible, it might take a while if the forensics crew decided they wanted to look for DNA or fingerprints. Also, at the moment they were using the truck as bait, having staked out the area in hopes the perp(s) came back.

As it was, they called at seven to let us know we could come and retrieve it. It was stuck in the ditch, bogged down because of the rain. Neighbor Dan ended up coming by and pulling it out.

The truck works fine and, at first, my brother thought he hadn't lost anything, himself, but on further inspection a diamond ring that belonged to our uncle, of mostly sentimental value, and a check he had out to pay the utility bill, necessitating a visit to the bank to change account numbers, were missing. He added those items to the complaint form. Neighbor Dan may have lost a (full) cash deposit bag from his business. The problem with living in an area as safe as ours is that people get careless.

Let's hope, for my brother's sake, that third time's the charm.

Further Blurring the Distinction Between Here and There

It was a slightly less humid than normal evening last night, so when my brother went out to the bar to watch his Red Sox play (the local TV only carries their games regularly during Spring Training when they play right across the river, besides it's a good excuse to get out for a while) he let the cats out onto the foyer. Mittens wasn't interested but Jasmine and Paribanour took up the invitation.

An hour or so later, having put food in their dishes, I opened the door to collect them only to find both cats hyper-intensely poking at the base of the wall. I thought at first I might have to take another lizard away from them (all three of them had found one in my room a few days ago, sans tail (no idea if that was their doing), causing me to lock them out when it disappeared under the desk where I couldn't find it until I caught Jasmine with a tailless lizard corpse after I suspect it tried to get out of my room on its own) but I was wrong.

They had cornered a baby snake.

It couldn't have been more than a foot long and looked more like a really energetic worm. How it got inside? The same way the lizards do, I'm sure, probably even easier without legs sticking out. Why it came in FSM only knows. I confess to dancing out of the way when it wriggled too close; my excuse is I was barefoot.

I had to physically toss the cats back in the house (Jasmine twice) to get them to leave the poor thing alone and by the time I succeeded it had managed to hide itself off in some nook or cranny and I couldn't find it again. If it's smart it will figure out how to get back out in the garden where it belongs.

One Close Call

Holy Shit!!

I never want to be that close to a lightning strike ever again!

We're back in the cycle of afternoon thunderstorms and some of them have been pretty intense. Yesterday, I was coming out of the library as a storm approached (actually I was just stepping out long enough to make sure I had my car windows rolled up). The sun was still out although there were massive clouds gathering all around, including right over head. I looked up just in time to see the flash.

It forked into two main branches with a number of smaller ones splitting off even further. One branch arced over the library and the other came pretty much straight down. The crash of thunder shook the building and everything around about while the after-image was still burning into my retina. I could feel the concussive effect of the collapsing air pocket, much like standing close in to a fireworks display.

The crew of Mexican gardeners working on the lawn and the plantings at the base of the palm trees didn't react at all, but then they were all wearing industrial strength earphones to deaden the roar of their own equipment. I'd say that's a testimonial to the headgear's effectiveness.

We had another storm last night, after I got home, which moved directly overhead and was intense enough to freak out the cats. And another one is rolling in as I type. Still, I can't imagine I'll ever get that up close and personal with a lightning bolt again.

Chutney, Anyone?

We haven't had a storm like this weekend's one in over a year. I could tell by the way the cats freaked out.

It was a pretty good one, too. Came up out of the Gulf with howling winds, lashing rains whipping horizontally off the roof, lightning flashing all around and thunder rattling the windows. The kids didn't know what to make of it. They'd never experienced anything close to it in their short lives and sat in the middle of the living room shivering and crying softly. I tried to cuddle them but it didn't seem to help. They couldn't make up their minds if they wanted to be held or left alone.

Their mom, on the other hand, new exactly how she wanted to deal with it, although I didn't figure that out until after the storm was pretty well over. When it had died down to a mere downpour, I went into the kitchen and, while I was chopping tomatoes, the pantry door opened. There was Jasmine. When the storm started she'd managed to open the door, climb inside the pantry and close it behind her. She rode it out in the dark, but at least she was in a confined, dry place which made her happy. If we ever do get flooded out and have to evacuate, at least I'll know where to look for her.

Our low spot out back flooded as per usual but drained away again almost immediately. The only real down side to the storm (aside from a few broken branches in the street) was that it knocked down over two dozen mangoes--none of them anywhere near ripe, yet.

I collected them all once the rain tapered off to a drizzle and they're on the kitchen counter but I doubt more than half a dozen will ripen enough to be salvaged. Fortunately, there are still about twice as many still on the tree.

In the meantime, I'm off to find recipes for unripe Alice mangoes.

But, Then Again, It's Not the Last Minute, Yet

Well, Hurricane Season has officially started as of the beginning of the month and, although the daily rain cycle of last week has broken and the skies are clear again, already the local weather reports have added a special warning-imminent crisis segment just for hurricanes, of which there are none around and only one potential one way over the horizon on the Pacific coast of Mexico.

But, y'know, that named tropical storm could cross over Mexico losing most of its energy on the way and depositing the remnants into the Gulf where they might survive as some sort of disturbance that has a theoretical chance of affecting us. Someday. Maybe. It could happen.

It's never too early to start panicking.

On the other hand, it's been almost a decade since our last real hurricane and an awful lot of people have moved in since then and don't know--or just plain forgot--what a true cyclonic storm can be like. I know we've let our own food stocks slip a bit, and we haven't tested any of our batteries, lights, etc., recently.

My brother got a quote on replacing our roof but that's not something he intends to do immediately so, if we do get hit, we will be under a 25 year old roof.

And somebody official (not sure who) just released a new flood map of the county that puts us under threat for 3 feet of water from storm surge although it's not clear what size storm they're referencing, or its likelihood, or where exactly they measured the three feet from. If it's from the main road we could still be mostly O.K. since the house is built on a small rise (coincidentally, about three feet) above street level.

And now, of course, if we do have to evacuate, we'll need something to carry the cats in.

So maybe a little panic-mongering from the local weather folk is what we need to start prepping after all.

Transitions

Well, we broke down and turned on the air conditioning. Mostly for the dehumidifying effect although it did get up to 90F (32C) in the house the other day (which was only about three degrees less than outside).

The cats don't like it, which is a little surprising since when it is off they lie around like furry little rag dolls and when it's on they wake up, move around, play, eat, etc. Their disapproval stems mostly, I think, because we have to run around and close all the windows and doors before cranking up the system and that deprives them of their favorite hobby, clawing through the screens.

We set the thermostat at 83 because, like I said, it's mostly about the humidity. We're not officially in Rainy Season yet, but we've gotten into a cyclic pattern of bright, clear mornings and afternoon/evening thunderstorms. Once the storm passes with the resulting humidity drop, night time is wonderful with soft, cool breezes and we turn everything off and open all the windows and doors again. By noon the next day it's time to close up and repeat. Eventually, as we get into summer we'll have to just seal it all up completely until fall.

This Is How the Kids Learn Bad Habits

My brother spent yesterday afternoon repairing the screens on three different windows after two of the cats busted out of the joint over the weekend.

We're at that golden time of the year when it's warm enough not to need to keep heat in the house and cool enough not to need the air conditioning and so virtually every window is open 24/7. The cats like to sit on the sills and fiddle with the screens (or, sometimes, claw at them if they see, or imagine, something is out there).

Over the weekend, Jasmine and daughter, Mittens, managed to shred (very quietly, while no one was looking) the screen in one of the windows of the breakfast nook. They chose the window with the barbecue grill parked underneath so they didn't have a high jump down onto the ground but could take it in steps. I don't know how long they were out before I noticed how quiet it was and went looking, in vain, through all the rooms for them. It was a good ten minutes of searching before I noticed Jasmine under the mango.

This was Mittens' first time out and she seemed a little spooked by it all. She was still by the grill and tried jumping back in the window that way when I came for her, but I had already closed it. She was easy to catch and, I think, a little relieved to be returned to safety.  Jasmine, on the other hand, had made a career of living rough before she came to us all knocked up and she was enjoying herself out there. I couldn't get within ten feet of her. I put a dish of kibble in the lanai and tried to block off all but one access route but she didn't fall for it. I consoled myself with the realization that she's grown so fat she poses no threat to the birds, or the squirrel or any but the stupidest lizard.

Three hours later, after sunset, she came to the front door in the pitch dark and begged to come in.

I mentioned up top that my brother repaired three windows. That's because this wasn't Jasmine's first breakout. She went through the bottom of the screen in his bathroom window a couple weeks ago and I noticed her wandering through the lanai and snagged her then (which may be why she stayed out of it this time). She also damaged the window over his tub.

Meanwhile, Paribanour lay comfortably atop her DVR set top box the whole time. She got out, accidentally, once before for all of two minutes and less than a foot from the front door and did not like it at all, no thank you. She much prefers her TV/DVR/my laptop and other tech to adventuring in the wild.