I'm a good cat mommy. My cats always have water -- it's in the bathroom so I don't have to transport water very far. And they have round the clock food. It's easier for me to just leave their food out all the time. This way they can nibble when they want to, and they don't get fat. And the food is just outside my bedroom door, so I can see when they need food -- it's also neat to watch them eat.
So why do both of the cats insist on drinking from my dripping taps? (Plumbing Very old, unfixable without total replacement and pipes that don't fit etc.) Kaliko has been drinking from the bathroom sink for a long time, but now Kia has discovered the bathtub tap. She gets her face totally wet and can barely drag her old body out of the tub. (What a lot we have in common.)
They are so cute I can't stand it. =^••^=
Monday, 25 June 2012
Mixed Minded
I've just realized that I haven't posted anything about Mixed Minded, and it's been a month since I was there. This is a memory I want to preserve.
I had fun. In fact, I loved it. I love the art I created. I loved working on art and finishing it in one session. I especially like meeting Karen Ellis of the art house studio, and getting a welcoming hug from Donna Downey. They will never read this, but thank you so much. You were both so kind to me. In fact, just about everyone was helpful, going out of their way to offer assistance, so I didn't have to move. I wish I could have taken more classes, but I took the right amount for the limitations of my body.
The only bad thing that happenend, and unfortunately I got a little upset about, damn it all, is that my heat gun ceased to work. It must have been the fuses and electric at the hotel because the power kept going off while 30 or so women all used heat guns at the same time. I would guess there was a power surge that wiped my heat gun out. Unfortunately, it also destroyed the one that Karen leant me. I feel very bad about that.
It was nice to be with creative women. I did notice some of them were a bit clique-ish, and one was kind of nasty to me. What is it about me that makes me dwell on the slights and my shortcomings instead of rejoicing in a glorious weekend? Especially as inspiration and creativity was what the conference was all about. I am going to try to change my outlook a bit. I may never be able to write the kind of 'be happy' statements that abound in this arena, but I can try to be more positive. And I will.
Fabulous time. I even conquered a detour with lousy signage on the drive, and I got all my stuff out of the car and into the house by myself. Not sure this çonference will be offered again next year, but if it is, then I'm going. Maybe I should look farther afield for more creative things to do and attend.
I had fun. In fact, I loved it. I love the art I created. I loved working on art and finishing it in one session. I especially like meeting Karen Ellis of the art house studio, and getting a welcoming hug from Donna Downey. They will never read this, but thank you so much. You were both so kind to me. In fact, just about everyone was helpful, going out of their way to offer assistance, so I didn't have to move. I wish I could have taken more classes, but I took the right amount for the limitations of my body.
The only bad thing that happenend, and unfortunately I got a little upset about, damn it all, is that my heat gun ceased to work. It must have been the fuses and electric at the hotel because the power kept going off while 30 or so women all used heat guns at the same time. I would guess there was a power surge that wiped my heat gun out. Unfortunately, it also destroyed the one that Karen leant me. I feel very bad about that.
It was nice to be with creative women. I did notice some of them were a bit clique-ish, and one was kind of nasty to me. What is it about me that makes me dwell on the slights and my shortcomings instead of rejoicing in a glorious weekend? Especially as inspiration and creativity was what the conference was all about. I am going to try to change my outlook a bit. I may never be able to write the kind of 'be happy' statements that abound in this arena, but I can try to be more positive. And I will.
Fabulous time. I even conquered a detour with lousy signage on the drive, and I got all my stuff out of the car and into the house by myself. Not sure this çonference will be offered again next year, but if it is, then I'm going. Maybe I should look farther afield for more creative things to do and attend.
Sunday, 24 June 2012
Mutant Flies
Let me start off by expressing just how much I hate insects. They give me the creeps, make me shudder, make me hide under the covers. I can't even touch pictures of them in magazines like National Geographic.
Suddenly, two days ago, my kitchen was invaded by flies. Not just any flies, but huge, monstrous, probably alien flies. How did they get so big and where did they all of a sudden appear from? I have managed to inhumanely destroy a few of them, but it's become a running battle. There is currently one ensconced in my bathroom, buzzing merrily away, hiding from me and my pink fly swatter.
As I sit here on my bed and write, another one is periodically flying around my bedroom. I sit armed with trusty pink swatter waiting for him to alight somewhere with a hard surface (not the TV screen for which he seems to have a certain fondness). Damn fly will not cooperate. I just begin to think he may have left the room for other climes when he pops up and charges my bedside lamp. It is now 2:30 a.m. I may never get to sleep because even if he settles down for a nap, I get the creeps thinking of him roaming about in my air space as I try to sleep. Eeww. I need to be rescued by a superhero, but not one like spiderman or batman -- much too insect-like.
Suddenly, two days ago, my kitchen was invaded by flies. Not just any flies, but huge, monstrous, probably alien flies. How did they get so big and where did they all of a sudden appear from? I have managed to inhumanely destroy a few of them, but it's become a running battle. There is currently one ensconced in my bathroom, buzzing merrily away, hiding from me and my pink fly swatter.
As I sit here on my bed and write, another one is periodically flying around my bedroom. I sit armed with trusty pink swatter waiting for him to alight somewhere with a hard surface (not the TV screen for which he seems to have a certain fondness). Damn fly will not cooperate. I just begin to think he may have left the room for other climes when he pops up and charges my bedside lamp. It is now 2:30 a.m. I may never get to sleep because even if he settles down for a nap, I get the creeps thinking of him roaming about in my air space as I try to sleep. Eeww. I need to be rescued by a superhero, but not one like spiderman or batman -- much too insect-like.
Wednesday, 6 June 2012
Note to Self: Things not to do again
So I'm having a fairly good RA day. It's early in my Orencia cycle and I'm tired of having things I want to do and not doing them. I decide to drag my planters out of the wasteland I call my garage and start planting the tomato plants I bought weeks ago. I wasn't surprised when my body said enough before I actually got the plants into the soil. That's OK, wasn't expecting to do too much. I'm nearly there and I can finish later.
Then, later in the day I decide to wash some newly bought fabric. (My brain still thinks my body is going to let me do some quilting.) The quandry -- brave the stairs to the washing machine in the basement, or hand wash? My knees say hand wash. Apparently my knees did not consult my hands. Wringing out wet fabric -- not a good activity when I had already been using my hands. Ouch. I can't express how much I hate this disease. I hate it that tasks that I wouldn't have thought twice about a few years ago and that seem so simple are now something that has me wringing my hands in pain tonight.
Then, later in the day I decide to wash some newly bought fabric. (My brain still thinks my body is going to let me do some quilting.) The quandry -- brave the stairs to the washing machine in the basement, or hand wash? My knees say hand wash. Apparently my knees did not consult my hands. Wringing out wet fabric -- not a good activity when I had already been using my hands. Ouch. I can't express how much I hate this disease. I hate it that tasks that I wouldn't have thought twice about a few years ago and that seem so simple are now something that has me wringing my hands in pain tonight.
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