Just got back from the monthly meeting of the Sunset Hill Community Association. The SHCA is possibly Seattle's oldest continuously active neighborhood group. It was founded in 1922 by 10 residents organizing around the installation of a waterline in the area. ("Sunset Hill" is bounded by 24th Ave. NW on the east, Shilshole Bay on the west, the Ballard Locks on the south, and NW 85th St. on the North.)
Founded to urbanize the area (and quite successful at it), the association is now headed in the other direction, attempting to hold off the inexorable onslaught of wall-to-wall condominiums headed our way from downtown Ballard.
We met tonight in the original clubhouse at 30th NW and NW 66th, built in 1927 and currently undergoing interior renovation. After endorsing a slate for next year's officers and trustees (one of whom turns out to be a neighbor from our old place in Wallingford, who also moved west), we heard a panel of master gardeners.
Here are a couple of hot gardening tips from them, plus a tip from me:
1. Kelp
Use kelp, available in mixable powder or pre-mixed liquid form, on plants before or after planting. You can't use too much kelp!
2. Corn Gluten
Prevent weed seeds from sprouting by sprinkling corn gluten on gravel paths and lawns walkways every six weeks. (Don't sprinkle it where you want plant or grass seeds to sprout, but it's OK to sprinkle on plants and lawns that are already past the seed stage to prevent weeds.)
3. Chicken Grit
My tip: To improve garden drainage and prevent water from pooling on top of new compost, apply plenty of chicken grit along with your compost or potting soil when planting. (Chicken grit is sharp shale, and will make soil nice and loose. Avoid using fine-grain sand, which is round, rather than sharp, and can turn your soil into a form of concrete.)
One master garden had a tip for sprouting sweet peas, which I'm not going to include because sweet peas are mildly poisonous for cats and I don't want to encourage people to plant them. You can find numorous sites on the web with lengthy and hair-raising lists of plants "poisonous" to cats. I believe it was Cat Watch, Cornell Veterinary college's feline health newsletter (subscription only, contents not available online), that had an article a while back on the issue and pointed out that only a few plants are actually deadly. (Leading the deadly list are the Easter lily, Tiger lily, and Asiatic lily, and the very common day lily. Apparently just getting pollen from these plants on the nose is enough to kill a small kitten, and many kittens die from kidney damage within a couple days of contact with Easter bouquets.) Other plants, like the potato, are merely irritating. Sheba, our deaf white cat, is a "chewer," and she went around drooling for a couple days after nibbling on a potato leaf in our neighbor's garden—more annoying for us than for her, apparently.
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
Monday, March 22, 2004
test test test
Images?
It appears I've figured out how to place graphics into my blogspot posts! Watch for more interesting images in coming days...
It appears I've figured out how to place graphics into my blogspot posts! Watch for more interesting images in coming days...
Saturday, March 20, 2004
Friday Five, again
From the Friday Five (see link at right) again...
If you...
1. ...owned a restaurant, what kind of food would you serve?
Farinata
2. ...owned a small store, what kind of merchandise would you sell?
Used mysteries
3. ...wrote a book, what genre would it be?
Mystery
4. ...ran a school, what would you teach?
Writing
5. ...recorded an album, what kind of music would be on it?
Traditional (bluegrass, Appalachian)
If you...
1. ...owned a restaurant, what kind of food would you serve?
Farinata
2. ...owned a small store, what kind of merchandise would you sell?
Used mysteries
3. ...wrote a book, what genre would it be?
Mystery
4. ...ran a school, what would you teach?
Writing
5. ...recorded an album, what kind of music would be on it?
Traditional (bluegrass, Appalachian)
The smell of socks in the morning
The latest issue of the excellent Netsurfer Digest points out the sure-to-be-controversial site Pick Up Your Own Damn Socks. [This site is now defunct--MT] Likely to be more popular with those who pick up socks--their own and those of others--than with those who are scratching their heads over why anyone would bother either to pick up socks or to write about it.
The East Side Camellia Mystery
Twenty years ago, when I had just moved to Seattle and was temping as a secretary at Metro, I spotted an ad in The Weekly for editors and writers for a new magazine. Desperate for a writing gig, I answered it. An aspiring publisher had a concept for a national magazine, similar to Psychology Today but focused on law and true crime. The job market must have been truly grim in those days because he was able to pull together a strong group of professionals for the first, and only, issue. It included an experienced graphic designer, a veteran copy editor recently laid off from the Tacoma daily, a professional photographer and a Pulitzer Prize-winning ex-reporter from the Seattle Times, now working as a private investigator. The magazine never got past the first issue, but that issue had a big impact on my career, enabling me to get a job in communications and re-start my professional life.
What does this have to do with camellias? One of the features for the magazine was a whimsical back-of-the-book column. For the demo issue, it was written by the reporter/private eye, and it was about a case he'd undertaken. It took place in early spring, camellia season. An East Side psychiatrist was finding camellia blossoms arranged on his front lawn in the middle of the night--but only when he returned from an out-of-town trip. Suspecting this might be the work of an obsessed ex-patient, and failing in his own attempts to catch the prankster in the act, he called in the professionals. When he next left town, they set up a stakeout from the upstairs of an empty house across the street. After a couple of nights of watching his house, the investigators were ready to give up. Over coffee at a nearby Denny's one of them remarked that she'd sat there all night, and all she'd seen was the shrink's cat, going back and forth, and back and forth. The light went on! Returning to the client's house, they found a tell-tale grouping of camellia blossoms in the front yard, carefully assembled by the feline. To make matters even more amusing, the client initially refused to accept their explanation. Eventually he had to agree. It seemed that he had rescued the cat, it was tremendously attached to him, and, for whatever reason, dealt with his absences by creating floral arrangements.
Our enormous pink camellia bush is in bloom. Today I came across one of our cats, batting tentatively at a fallen blossom, and that story came back to me. I can't remember the name of the writer, or the name of the magazine. But I'll never forget the East Side camellia mystery.
What does this have to do with camellias? One of the features for the magazine was a whimsical back-of-the-book column. For the demo issue, it was written by the reporter/private eye, and it was about a case he'd undertaken. It took place in early spring, camellia season. An East Side psychiatrist was finding camellia blossoms arranged on his front lawn in the middle of the night--but only when he returned from an out-of-town trip. Suspecting this might be the work of an obsessed ex-patient, and failing in his own attempts to catch the prankster in the act, he called in the professionals. When he next left town, they set up a stakeout from the upstairs of an empty house across the street. After a couple of nights of watching his house, the investigators were ready to give up. Over coffee at a nearby Denny's one of them remarked that she'd sat there all night, and all she'd seen was the shrink's cat, going back and forth, and back and forth. The light went on! Returning to the client's house, they found a tell-tale grouping of camellia blossoms in the front yard, carefully assembled by the feline. To make matters even more amusing, the client initially refused to accept their explanation. Eventually he had to agree. It seemed that he had rescued the cat, it was tremendously attached to him, and, for whatever reason, dealt with his absences by creating floral arrangements.
Our enormous pink camellia bush is in bloom. Today I came across one of our cats, batting tentatively at a fallen blossom, and that story came back to me. I can't remember the name of the writer, or the name of the magazine. But I'll never forget the East Side camellia mystery.
Friday, March 19, 2004
Go ahead, ask me
It's been a frustrating, relentless work week. Nothing bad has happened, per se, but the succession of long, pressure-filled days has been like a steady buzz of static eroding my patience and interfering with my perception of whatever pleasantness may be going on around me.
A few of the people I usually try to avoid have called this week, as well as a few I now plan to avoid in the future. While talking with them, I usually retreat into a cringing vagueness because I dread questions like:
"You're going to New York on the 23rd? Oh, why don't you reschedule for May so I can go along?"
(Because if I'd wanted to go to New York with you, I'd have asked you in the first place.)
"I've taken down some enormous paintings that seemed a bit outdated. It occured to me that if you painted your livingroom orange and got rid of some of your furniture, they'd look great at your place. I'm too busy to move them, so when can you come pick them up?"
(Right about the time hell freezes over and you get frostbite.)
"I know you use a Mac, but my PC has crashed and I can't seem to reload Windows. Do you know anybody who knows a lot about PCs who could fix it for me right away?"
(Yes. And they are listed in the phone book under "Computer Repair.")
OK, rant mode off. I am still awash in waves of incredulity about these bozos.
Eight years ago I herniated a disc and one of the therapies the neurologists tried was a seven-day course of anti-inflammatory steriods. It didn't help my back at all, but it was fantastic for my mental health! While taking the steriods, I actually said all the things I now only imagine saying to people. Things like:
"What's your point?"
"You're hallucinating."
"Why would I want to do that?"
"Beats me. It's your problem."
"Not interested."
"Paint your own livingroom orange."
After a few days, my husband (who'd been the surprised and amused recipient of a few of these highly uncharacteristic drug-induced responses) remarked "Well, now you know how I handle pushy people."
I suppose if I'd stayed on the steroids my responses would eventually have been accompanied by bursts of fire from an attack weapon. In hopes of maintaining my new-found talents, I went to a therapist. She played the jerk and I used my "buzz off" lines to diffuse her, but, as the drugs wore off, the delightfully icy calm I'd experienced gave way to my usual fantasies of flight.
I think I'm ready for more steriods.
A few of the people I usually try to avoid have called this week, as well as a few I now plan to avoid in the future. While talking with them, I usually retreat into a cringing vagueness because I dread questions like:
"You're going to New York on the 23rd? Oh, why don't you reschedule for May so I can go along?"
(Because if I'd wanted to go to New York with you, I'd have asked you in the first place.)
"I've taken down some enormous paintings that seemed a bit outdated. It occured to me that if you painted your livingroom orange and got rid of some of your furniture, they'd look great at your place. I'm too busy to move them, so when can you come pick them up?"
(Right about the time hell freezes over and you get frostbite.)
"I know you use a Mac, but my PC has crashed and I can't seem to reload Windows. Do you know anybody who knows a lot about PCs who could fix it for me right away?"
(Yes. And they are listed in the phone book under "Computer Repair.")
OK, rant mode off. I am still awash in waves of incredulity about these bozos.
Eight years ago I herniated a disc and one of the therapies the neurologists tried was a seven-day course of anti-inflammatory steriods. It didn't help my back at all, but it was fantastic for my mental health! While taking the steriods, I actually said all the things I now only imagine saying to people. Things like:
"What's your point?"
"You're hallucinating."
"Why would I want to do that?"
"Beats me. It's your problem."
"Not interested."
"Paint your own livingroom orange."
After a few days, my husband (who'd been the surprised and amused recipient of a few of these highly uncharacteristic drug-induced responses) remarked "Well, now you know how I handle pushy people."
I suppose if I'd stayed on the steroids my responses would eventually have been accompanied by bursts of fire from an attack weapon. In hopes of maintaining my new-found talents, I went to a therapist. She played the jerk and I used my "buzz off" lines to diffuse her, but, as the drugs wore off, the delightfully icy calm I'd experienced gave way to my usual fantasies of flight.
I think I'm ready for more steriods.
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
Coming attractions
March 27 - Four years at my current (rather wonderful) job
April 7-13 - Passover
April 23-25 - Arbor Daze Festival, Euless Texas (performers include Alex Chilton and The Boxtops)
May 28-31 - Northwest Folklife Festival
June 25 - 9th wedding anniversary (with the right husband)
July 25 - Mom's 85th
July 16 - Brady's 50th!
July 31 - Nina and Mike's wedding (Brady officiates, I get to be one of the huppa holders)
August 14 - Nephew Luke's bar mitzvah
April 7-13 - Passover
April 23-25 - Arbor Daze Festival, Euless Texas (performers include Alex Chilton and The Boxtops)
May 28-31 - Northwest Folklife Festival
June 25 - 9th wedding anniversary (with the right husband)
July 25 - Mom's 85th
July 16 - Brady's 50th!
July 31 - Nina and Mike's wedding (Brady officiates, I get to be one of the huppa holders)
August 14 - Nephew Luke's bar mitzvah
Sunday, March 14, 2004
Friday Five, Sunday night
From Friday Five
1. What was the last song you heard?
"When You're Good to Mama" from Chicago (on my iPod)
2. What were the last two movies you saw?
The Big Lebowski (DVD) and The Return of the King
3. What were the last three things you purchased?
Groceries, books, and breakfast.
4. What four things do you need to do this weekend?
Write a book review that's late, clean ancient items out of the refrigerator, remove the mulch from the garden beds, and have dinner with my mother.
5. Who are the last five people you talked to?
A clerk at the Ballard Market; my mother; my father; various staff at the nursing home where my dad is.
1. What was the last song you heard?
"When You're Good to Mama" from Chicago (on my iPod)
2. What were the last two movies you saw?
The Big Lebowski (DVD) and The Return of the King
3. What were the last three things you purchased?
Groceries, books, and breakfast.
4. What four things do you need to do this weekend?
Write a book review that's late, clean ancient items out of the refrigerator, remove the mulch from the garden beds, and have dinner with my mother.
5. Who are the last five people you talked to?
A clerk at the Ballard Market; my mother; my father; various staff at the nursing home where my dad is.
The Kissing Hand
My friend Nina was in town this weekend and after breakfast this morning we went to the Portlock store near the Locks in Ballard to buy salmon. The shop wasn't open yet, so we wandered over to Epilogue, the used bookstore just down the street.
Nina, who teaches elementary school, headed for the children's books section, where a book cover immediately caught my eye. The Kissing Hand by Audrey Penn shows a mother and baby raccoon in the dark, silhouetted against a full moon. I picked it up and started reading about a young raccoon who is anxious about his first "night" at school. His resourceful mother comes up with a solution that allows him to bring the comfort of home and family along with him. The book, which Publisher's Weekly described--inaccurately, in my opinion--as "sugary," poses a problem, reveals a solution, and ends with a nice twist. The sophisticated illustrations of the raccoons' nocturnal environment, by Ruth Harper and Nancy Leak, hint that there is more to this than just a fuzzy raccoon tale.
The Kissing Hand has a 5-star Amazon rating, and the Amazon reader reviews are worth a book themselves. One mother wrote of using it after 9/11 to calm her child, who had become upset whenever the father (a police officer) went off to work. College students reported receiving it from their parents, and liking it. Another reader had given it to an 80-year-old aunt. Apparently this is a book for all ages.
Nina, who teaches elementary school, headed for the children's books section, where a book cover immediately caught my eye. The Kissing Hand by Audrey Penn shows a mother and baby raccoon in the dark, silhouetted against a full moon. I picked it up and started reading about a young raccoon who is anxious about his first "night" at school. His resourceful mother comes up with a solution that allows him to bring the comfort of home and family along with him. The book, which Publisher's Weekly described--inaccurately, in my opinion--as "sugary," poses a problem, reveals a solution, and ends with a nice twist. The sophisticated illustrations of the raccoons' nocturnal environment, by Ruth Harper and Nancy Leak, hint that there is more to this than just a fuzzy raccoon tale.
The Kissing Hand has a 5-star Amazon rating, and the Amazon reader reviews are worth a book themselves. One mother wrote of using it after 9/11 to calm her child, who had become upset whenever the father (a police officer) went off to work. College students reported receiving it from their parents, and liking it. Another reader had given it to an 80-year-old aunt. Apparently this is a book for all ages.
Monday, March 08, 2004
Something fishy
I walked out onto our front porch at 11 p.m. to collect all the cats for the night and was reminded that we live just three blocks uphill from a huge body of salt water: Low tide.
According to the local tide charts it is indeed a relatively low tide (two feet), though not as low as the tides the past few nights. Looking through the charts (graphic versions) I see patterns I'd had no idea existed (other than the pattern of two low tides per day that I'd grown up knowing about at Cape Cod).
The strong smell apparently is a result of the combination of a low tide with onshore winds--or lack of the usual offshore wind. Now I'll have to go look for wind charts...
According to the local tide charts it is indeed a relatively low tide (two feet), though not as low as the tides the past few nights. Looking through the charts (graphic versions) I see patterns I'd had no idea existed (other than the pattern of two low tides per day that I'd grown up knowing about at Cape Cod).
The strong smell apparently is a result of the combination of a low tide with onshore winds--or lack of the usual offshore wind. Now I'll have to go look for wind charts...
Saturday, March 06, 2004
44 questions
Something fun from Mystical Forest:
1. WHAT COLOR ARE YOUR KITCHEN PLATES? Blue
2. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? Pale Gray for Guilt by John D. MacDonald
3. WHAT'S ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? No idea. I use an optical mouse.
4. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE BOARD GAME? Scrabble
5. FAVORITE MAGAZINE? The New Yorker
6. FAVORITE SMELL? Tea; also like the smell on the fur of a cat that just came in from the snow.
7. LEAST FAVORITE SMELL? Gardenias
8. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING? My feet are cold.
9. FAVORITE COLOR? Black
10. LEAST FAVORITE COLOR? Tangerine
11. HOW MANY RINGS BEFORE YOU ANSWER THE PHONE? Varies
12. FUTURE CHILD'S NAME: n/a
13. WHAT IS MOST IMPORTANT IN LIFE? Happiness
14. FAVORITE SOUND? Waves on the shore
15. CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA? Chocolate
16. DO YOU LIKE TO DRIVE FAST? No
17. DO YOU SLEEP WITH A STUFFED ANIMAL? No
18. STORMS: COOL OR SCARY? Cool
19. WHAT TYPE WAS YOUR FIRST CAR? I plead the fifth. Too embarrassing.
20. IF YOU COULD MEET ONE PERSON DEAD OR ALIVE WHO WOULD IT BE? Mark Morris
21. FAVORITE ALCOHOLIC DRINK? Kir with syrup by Hediard
22. WHAT IS YOUR SIGN? YOUR BIRTHDAY? Sagitarius
23. DO YOU EAT THE STEMS OF BROCCOLI? Yes. Peeled and steamed
24. IF YOU COULD HAVE ANY JOB WHAT WOULD IT BE? Mystery writer
25. YOU COULD HAVE ANY HAIR COLOR WHAT WOULD IT BE? The color I have, plus dramatic silver streaks.
26. YOU EVER BEEN IN LOVE? Yes
27. IS THE GLASS HALF FULL OR HALF EMPTY? Half full
28. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE? I Vitelloni (Fellini)
29. DO YOU TYPE WITH YOUR FINGERS ON THE RIGHT KEYS? Yes
30. WHAT'S UNDER YOUR BED? Two plush cat beds
31. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE NUMBER? 8
32. FAVORITE SPORT TO WATCH? Baseball
33. BIGGEST FEAR? Suffocating
34. THERE IS NO QUESTION 34 - PLEASE PROVIDE A RANDOM ANSWER Fried clams and a chocolate frappe
35. PERSON YOU SENT THIS TO WHO IS MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? My husband
36. PERSON YOU SENT THIS TO WHO IS LEAST LIKELY TO ? n/a
37. FAVORITE CD? Blue by Joni Mitchell
38. FAVORITE TV SHOWS: Hmmmmm. Futurama and Firefly
39. KETCHUP OR MUSTARD? Mustard
40. BURGERS OR HOT DOGS? Burgers
41. FAVORITE SOFT DRINK? RC
42. THE BEST PLACE YOU HAVE EVER BEEN? Sidmouth International Folk Festival
43. SCREENSAVER IS ON YOUR COMPUTER RIGHT NOW? My own .Mac screensaver
44. BURGER KING OR McDONALDS? Burger King
1. WHAT COLOR ARE YOUR KITCHEN PLATES? Blue
2. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? Pale Gray for Guilt by John D. MacDonald
3. WHAT'S ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? No idea. I use an optical mouse.
4. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE BOARD GAME? Scrabble
5. FAVORITE MAGAZINE? The New Yorker
6. FAVORITE SMELL? Tea; also like the smell on the fur of a cat that just came in from the snow.
7. LEAST FAVORITE SMELL? Gardenias
8. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING? My feet are cold.
9. FAVORITE COLOR? Black
10. LEAST FAVORITE COLOR? Tangerine
11. HOW MANY RINGS BEFORE YOU ANSWER THE PHONE? Varies
12. FUTURE CHILD'S NAME: n/a
13. WHAT IS MOST IMPORTANT IN LIFE? Happiness
14. FAVORITE SOUND? Waves on the shore
15. CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA? Chocolate
16. DO YOU LIKE TO DRIVE FAST? No
17. DO YOU SLEEP WITH A STUFFED ANIMAL? No
18. STORMS: COOL OR SCARY? Cool
19. WHAT TYPE WAS YOUR FIRST CAR? I plead the fifth. Too embarrassing.
20. IF YOU COULD MEET ONE PERSON DEAD OR ALIVE WHO WOULD IT BE? Mark Morris
21. FAVORITE ALCOHOLIC DRINK? Kir with syrup by Hediard
22. WHAT IS YOUR SIGN? YOUR BIRTHDAY? Sagitarius
23. DO YOU EAT THE STEMS OF BROCCOLI? Yes. Peeled and steamed
24. IF YOU COULD HAVE ANY JOB WHAT WOULD IT BE? Mystery writer
25. YOU COULD HAVE ANY HAIR COLOR WHAT WOULD IT BE? The color I have, plus dramatic silver streaks.
26. YOU EVER BEEN IN LOVE? Yes
27. IS THE GLASS HALF FULL OR HALF EMPTY? Half full
28. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE? I Vitelloni (Fellini)
29. DO YOU TYPE WITH YOUR FINGERS ON THE RIGHT KEYS? Yes
30. WHAT'S UNDER YOUR BED? Two plush cat beds
31. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE NUMBER? 8
32. FAVORITE SPORT TO WATCH? Baseball
33. BIGGEST FEAR? Suffocating
34. THERE IS NO QUESTION 34 - PLEASE PROVIDE A RANDOM ANSWER Fried clams and a chocolate frappe
35. PERSON YOU SENT THIS TO WHO IS MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? My husband
36. PERSON YOU SENT THIS TO WHO IS LEAST LIKELY TO ? n/a
37. FAVORITE CD? Blue by Joni Mitchell
38. FAVORITE TV SHOWS: Hmmmmm. Futurama and Firefly
39. KETCHUP OR MUSTARD? Mustard
40. BURGERS OR HOT DOGS? Burgers
41. FAVORITE SOFT DRINK? RC
42. THE BEST PLACE YOU HAVE EVER BEEN? Sidmouth International Folk Festival
43. SCREENSAVER IS ON YOUR COMPUTER RIGHT NOW? My own .Mac screensaver
44. BURGER KING OR McDONALDS? Burger King
Tuesday, March 02, 2004
Seen on the road
Bumper sticker spotted on an older truck in Ballard last night:
"Saddam--Weapon of Mass Distraction"
Googling reveals the history of this quote. See The Word Spy site.
"Saddam--Weapon of Mass Distraction"
Googling reveals the history of this quote. See The Word Spy site.
Monday, February 23, 2004
Best of Breed: CatMan cat trees
Editor's Note, Jan. 29, 2005: They're back!
The new owner of Catman writes
Editor's Note, Jan. 29, 2005: They're back!
The new owner of Catman writes
The original CatMan is a character from a small town near Tacoma, Washington, who made the toughest cat trees known to beast. A 10-year-old CatMan tree used by four aggressive felines looks better than most pet store cat trees after six months of use by one kitty.
The CatMan secret? Tough-as-nails sisal fabric wrapped around the posts (no wound rope, thank you), top-quality carpet in neutral colors, and superb workmanship. You got the impression that his product testing was conducted by a mountain lion. Expect to pay $150 for a waist-high CatMan cat tree and $250 for one of the six-foot deluxe models with multiple platforms. The CatMan wholesale catalog must have had 30 or more models, all of them obviously designed with cats, rather than people, in mind.
We have four CatMan cat trees in our house and they look great, even in a fancy livingroom or diningroom. The highlight of my CatMan experience was the custom cat tree he made for me some 10 years ago that has a plain wood, rather than carpeted, base. I needed it to outwit a cat, now deceased, that had been trained by a previous owner to use carpet scraps as litter boxes.
There are still some original CatMan cat trees for sale at the better pet supply stores in the Puget Sound area. Crown Hill Pet Supply on Holman Road in North Seattle has a few of the smaller slanted scratching posts and the waist-high cat trees (ask them to show you what's in their storage area, too). I plan to go out this weekend looking for one of the really huge cat trees, since these are apparently the last of this extraordinary line.
Thanks, ÇatMan, and enjoy your well-earned retirement.
The new owner of Catman writes
As the new owner of Catman Furniture (as of November 2003), I'd like to assure you that all Catman products are still available at many locations in and around Seattle, including Railey's, Bark (Ballard), Bridges Pets (Lake Stevens), Cats Exclusive Vet. Center (Shoreline), Eastside Dog (Redmond), Chirp & Co. (Tacoma), and Green Cottage (Fircrest and Gig Harbor). I can also be contacted directly through myMore bad news. Not only has Innotek discontinued the Puppy Trainer (previously known as the Cat Locator), but CatMan Cat Trees are being discontinued.
website, www.catmanfurniture.com, for retail orders and custom designs. All Catman products are made to the same exacting quality standards as they ever were, and highly in demand because of this. I hope that when you do need to replace your cat trees, you will contact me.
Editor's Note, Jan. 29, 2005: They're back!
The new owner of Catman writes
As the new owner of Catman Furniture (as of November 2003), I'd like to assure you that all Catman products are still available at many locations in and around Seattle, including Railey's, Bark (Ballard), Bridges Pets (Lake Stevens), Cats Exclusive Vet. Center (Shoreline), Eastside Dog (Redmond), Chirp & Co. (Tacoma), and Green Cottage (Fircrest and Gig Harbor). I can also be contacted directly through my
website, www.catmanfurniture.com, for retail orders and custom designs. All Catman products are made to the same exacting quality standards as they ever were, and highly in demand because of this. I hope that when you do need to replace your cat trees, you will contact me.
The original CatMan is a character from a small town near Tacoma, Washington, who made the toughest cat trees known to beast. A 10-year-old CatMan tree used by four aggressive felines looks better than most pet store cat trees after six months of use by one kitty.
The CatMan secret? Tough-as-nails sisal fabric wrapped around the posts (no wound rope, thank you), top-quality carpet in neutral colors, and superb workmanship. You got the impression that his product testing was conducted by a mountain lion. Expect to pay $150 for a waist-high CatMan cat tree and $250 for one of the six-foot deluxe models with multiple platforms. The CatMan wholesale catalog must have had 30 or more models, all of them obviously designed with cats, rather than people, in mind.
We have four CatMan cat trees in our house and they look great, even in a fancy livingroom or diningroom. The highlight of my CatMan experience was the custom cat tree he made for me some 10 years ago that has a plain wood, rather than carpeted, base. I needed it to outwit a cat, now deceased, that had been trained by a previous owner to use carpet scraps as litter boxes.
There are still some original CatMan cat trees for sale at the better pet supply stores in the Puget Sound area. Crown Hill Pet Supply on Holman Road in North Seattle has a few of the smaller slanted scratching posts and the waist-high cat trees (ask them to show you what's in their storage area, too). I plan to go out this weekend looking for one of the really huge cat trees, since these are apparently the last of this extraordinary line.
Thanks, ÇatMan, and enjoy your well-earned retirement.
Monday, February 16, 2004
The Valentine's Day Test
When it comes to Valentine's Day, there is no way a man, or a woman, can succeed in meeting any of the bizarre expectations--of romance, or of sex--set by Western culture. So the day boils down to a test of how well, how graciously and how creatively we handle failure.
My husband's approach is proactive: He sends an expensive, traditional dozen roses from an old-fashioned florist in his old neighborhood. The creative part is that he beats the crowd and sends them the day before, thereby giving me an extra day to be appreciative and sparing him a humiliating last-minute day-of dash to the supermarket for a bouquet of anything. I take the humorous approach, giving him what I hope is an amusing card and a fancy red tin filled not with chocolates but with his favorite low-cal bubblegum.
My friend Chris, recently separated from a longtime girlfriend, is dating a woman who has really put her stake in the ground about Valentine's Day. She won't have any of it. They went out the night before, and she refused to see him until 12:01 a.m. the day following. This works when you're dating, but as a longterm strategy?
As a source of stress for the single (the married get their stress from wedding anniversaries) Valentine's Day provides some of my favorite stories. I particularly liked one from an adventurous, recently divorced friend who picked up a package of lacy stockings at Nordstrom as part of her plan to entertain a new boyfriend on Valentine's Day. He was indeed entertained, but apparently more so than my friend. She went into shock a week later when she got her Nordies bill and realized that the stockings--now hors de combat--had cost her a cool $48.
My husband's approach is proactive: He sends an expensive, traditional dozen roses from an old-fashioned florist in his old neighborhood. The creative part is that he beats the crowd and sends them the day before, thereby giving me an extra day to be appreciative and sparing him a humiliating last-minute day-of dash to the supermarket for a bouquet of anything. I take the humorous approach, giving him what I hope is an amusing card and a fancy red tin filled not with chocolates but with his favorite low-cal bubblegum.
My friend Chris, recently separated from a longtime girlfriend, is dating a woman who has really put her stake in the ground about Valentine's Day. She won't have any of it. They went out the night before, and she refused to see him until 12:01 a.m. the day following. This works when you're dating, but as a longterm strategy?
As a source of stress for the single (the married get their stress from wedding anniversaries) Valentine's Day provides some of my favorite stories. I particularly liked one from an adventurous, recently divorced friend who picked up a package of lacy stockings at Nordstrom as part of her plan to entertain a new boyfriend on Valentine's Day. He was indeed entertained, but apparently more so than my friend. She went into shock a week later when she got her Nordies bill and realized that the stockings--now hors de combat--had cost her a cool $48.
Friday, February 13, 2004
Cat humor
People often send me links to humorous film clips about cats; most are forgettable, but here's a clip, by animator Jim McNeill, that really resonates.
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
It was a dark and stormy night. A cat meowed...
...and meowed, and meowed.
We are having problems with Socks, our 11-year-old longhaired tabby. Around 3 a.m. every night, he starts meowing. Little triplets of meows.
Socks has been meowing in the middle of the night for years, but usually there is only one episode, and it ends after you call out his name a few times.
Now, he has meowing fits about once an hour, and gallumphs madly around the upstairs (where we sleep). The other night I looked down the hall and saw him fly by a couple feet off the ground.
Socks, who was born in the woods to a feral mother and rescued by a rather clueless family, has always been a timid, nervous cat. He's not bright, but he has the "flight" response down to a "t." He fled the family (our neighbors) and after a few months of scrounging around moved in with us when he was about six months old. I couldn't touch him by daylight, but at night he'd creep up to the head of the bed and let me pet him.
Now he's quite a cuddler, and spends most of the afternoons sleeping on my desk or in my lap (he's part Ragdoll). But let there be the slightest noise, and he's off, with a horrible clatter of claws on the hardwood floor. You can't catch him, you can't pill him--you can't even find him. He is like a SF creature, able to flatten himself to a micron to get under sofas. Hours later, sure the UPS guy must be gone from the porch, he drags himself out from under a slipcover.
At our old place, Socks had been a real outdoors animal, living in the overgrown field beside our house. After we moved here, he got into the habit of going out only at night (with Betaille) or during the day when I was in the yard. Suddenly, about a month ago, he refused to go out at all. And the nocturnal meowing started.
My current plan is to grab him after he wakes us up, lug him down to the garage, and lock him in there for the night (where we can't hear him). The problem is, you can grab Socks only once, and I don't fancy nightly races around the house. Perhaps the solution is earplugs.
We are having problems with Socks, our 11-year-old longhaired tabby. Around 3 a.m. every night, he starts meowing. Little triplets of meows.
Socks has been meowing in the middle of the night for years, but usually there is only one episode, and it ends after you call out his name a few times.
Now, he has meowing fits about once an hour, and gallumphs madly around the upstairs (where we sleep). The other night I looked down the hall and saw him fly by a couple feet off the ground.
Socks, who was born in the woods to a feral mother and rescued by a rather clueless family, has always been a timid, nervous cat. He's not bright, but he has the "flight" response down to a "t." He fled the family (our neighbors) and after a few months of scrounging around moved in with us when he was about six months old. I couldn't touch him by daylight, but at night he'd creep up to the head of the bed and let me pet him.
Now he's quite a cuddler, and spends most of the afternoons sleeping on my desk or in my lap (he's part Ragdoll). But let there be the slightest noise, and he's off, with a horrible clatter of claws on the hardwood floor. You can't catch him, you can't pill him--you can't even find him. He is like a SF creature, able to flatten himself to a micron to get under sofas. Hours later, sure the UPS guy must be gone from the porch, he drags himself out from under a slipcover.
At our old place, Socks had been a real outdoors animal, living in the overgrown field beside our house. After we moved here, he got into the habit of going out only at night (with Betaille) or during the day when I was in the yard. Suddenly, about a month ago, he refused to go out at all. And the nocturnal meowing started.
My current plan is to grab him after he wakes us up, lug him down to the garage, and lock him in there for the night (where we can't hear him). The problem is, you can grab Socks only once, and I don't fancy nightly races around the house. Perhaps the solution is earplugs.
Monday, February 09, 2004
And what's under your desk?
My inkjet printer sits on a shelf under my desk. It ran out of paper this morning, and I reached down to get more paper from the package I keep right next to it. And grabbed something warm and furry, that seemed to slither around my wrist. Tarantula?
For whatever reason, our big black cat, Smokey, had decided to stand on the shelf amidst all the printer cables, and just happened to be down there as I went for the paper. He was nearly invisible in the darkness under the desk. Shudder.
For whatever reason, our big black cat, Smokey, had decided to stand on the shelf amidst all the printer cables, and just happened to be down there as I went for the paper. He was nearly invisible in the darkness under the desk. Shudder.
Saturday, February 07, 2004
Meet the Deaniacs
It's the name they've given themselves. The Deaniacs. They were there in force at our neighborhood caucus, marching up to any poor soul lacking a Dean button and, without even introducing themselves, putting their intense little faces up to ours and telling us how pathetic our candidates are and how anyone failing to support their candidate is ignorant, selfish, pitiable, and might as well be a Republican.
The best offense, in their downloaded-from-the-web playbook, is a good offense--and boy, were they offensive.
There are plenty of good reasons to support Dean, but I can now say from firsthand experience that the company sure isn't one of them. (Of course, not all of the Dean supporters were carrying on like Deaniacs. Some of them, in fact, looked mildly embarrassed by their bedfellows' tactics, and when the appropriate time came to speak out in the princinct caucus meetings, were quite eloquent and convincing.)
I caught a few minutes of Ariana Huffington's comments on today's "Left, Right, and Center" radio program and she described Iowa Democrats as horrified by the brusque, arrogant behavior of the Deaniacs. She then goes on to attribute Dean's poor showing there to the Deaniacs treatment of the natives, though I suspect that's an oversimplification.
Our precinct awarded two delegates to Dean, one to Kerry, and one to Kucinich. I'm the Kerry delegate to the May 1 caucus (the next level up in the Washington Democrats' system).
The best offense, in their downloaded-from-the-web playbook, is a good offense--and boy, were they offensive.
There are plenty of good reasons to support Dean, but I can now say from firsthand experience that the company sure isn't one of them. (Of course, not all of the Dean supporters were carrying on like Deaniacs. Some of them, in fact, looked mildly embarrassed by their bedfellows' tactics, and when the appropriate time came to speak out in the princinct caucus meetings, were quite eloquent and convincing.)
I caught a few minutes of Ariana Huffington's comments on today's "Left, Right, and Center" radio program and she described Iowa Democrats as horrified by the brusque, arrogant behavior of the Deaniacs. She then goes on to attribute Dean's poor showing there to the Deaniacs treatment of the natives, though I suspect that's an oversimplification.
Our precinct awarded two delegates to Dean, one to Kerry, and one to Kucinich. I'm the Kerry delegate to the May 1 caucus (the next level up in the Washington Democrats' system).
Friday, February 06, 2004
Three signs of Spring
Went out to get the mail this afternoon and there were three minature irises in bloom beside the mailbox. Later, when I let Smokey the cat out the back door, he jumped up on the narrow deck that runs along the back fence, went to his traditional summer spot beside the statue of the Hindu deity, and curled up in the sun for a nap. Finally, I looked out the window of my office and there in the neighbors' apple tree, instead of the usual crows, was a robin.
A couple hours later it was gray and rainy again, but now there's no turning back.
A couple hours later it was gray and rainy again, but now there's no turning back.
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
The campaign trail runs through Seattle
The Kerry campaign celebrated a five-state primary victory in Seattle tonight, and I was there at the downtown Sheraton with my mom and several hundred others ranging from the wildly pro-Kerry to the definitely-leaning-in-that-direction.
Kerry's campaign had manned the phones Monday night to invite folks to Tuesday's rally at the Sheraton, something they probably regretted 24 hours later as the event overflowed from the grand ballroom into two other event rooms and hordes clogged the vast hotel lobby.
It was a nice opportunity to get a look at the crowd, a mix of mellowed-out old radicals, prosperous-looking yuppies, well-heeled gen-X-ers, and folks from various unions. It was not nearly as ethnically diverse as I'm used to seeing in Seattle, which led me to suspect that Dean is likely attracting the more artsy, diverse and hip contingent.
Prominent Democrats in Washington state have flocked to support Kerry in recent days. (Everyone loves a winner.) The festivities opened with an introduction by Governor Gary Locke, who, bless his soul, gave us a economic analysis of Bush's malfeasance before bringing on the candidate to the beat of Hendrix's "Fire." (I'm wondering, is this the campaign theme or a nod to Seattle's musical heritage?)
Kerry came across calm, upbeat, and intelligent, making a speech that ran down a list of campaign themes. Support for veterans and unions got a lukewarm response; education, jobs, and healthcare a more enthusiastic reception; and the crowd went just wild for environmental protection, the restoration of first amendment rights, tax reform, and crackdowns on corporate greed. Yup, this was Seattle, not Spokane.
Kerry invited us on a journey to rediscover America, and most in the pragmatic audience looked like they were packed and ready to go. I may be better aligned with Dean on the issues, but I'll be at my neighborhood caucus Saturday at 10, casting my vote for John Kerry. The man's a winner, and that's just what we'll need in November.
Kerry's campaign had manned the phones Monday night to invite folks to Tuesday's rally at the Sheraton, something they probably regretted 24 hours later as the event overflowed from the grand ballroom into two other event rooms and hordes clogged the vast hotel lobby.
It was a nice opportunity to get a look at the crowd, a mix of mellowed-out old radicals, prosperous-looking yuppies, well-heeled gen-X-ers, and folks from various unions. It was not nearly as ethnically diverse as I'm used to seeing in Seattle, which led me to suspect that Dean is likely attracting the more artsy, diverse and hip contingent.
Prominent Democrats in Washington state have flocked to support Kerry in recent days. (Everyone loves a winner.) The festivities opened with an introduction by Governor Gary Locke, who, bless his soul, gave us a economic analysis of Bush's malfeasance before bringing on the candidate to the beat of Hendrix's "Fire." (I'm wondering, is this the campaign theme or a nod to Seattle's musical heritage?)
Kerry came across calm, upbeat, and intelligent, making a speech that ran down a list of campaign themes. Support for veterans and unions got a lukewarm response; education, jobs, and healthcare a more enthusiastic reception; and the crowd went just wild for environmental protection, the restoration of first amendment rights, tax reform, and crackdowns on corporate greed. Yup, this was Seattle, not Spokane.
Kerry invited us on a journey to rediscover America, and most in the pragmatic audience looked like they were packed and ready to go. I may be better aligned with Dean on the issues, but I'll be at my neighborhood caucus Saturday at 10, casting my vote for John Kerry. The man's a winner, and that's just what we'll need in November.
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