Saturday, November 24, 2007

Holiday Excitement

I love my family. I really do. The holidays though? I always think we're going to be an essay in the next David Sedaris book. Admittedly, the holidays have officially begun, and we haven't had any kerfuffles. Not even a little one. No one has been in a snit, gotten her panties in a wad, said something outrageous at the dinner table, nor had too much to drink.

Peace on earth, good will to man. My fingers are crossed that it stays that way until after New Year's Eve when the planets return to their natural paths and my family settles back into their normal ways.

But if life offers too much normal, be suspicious. Be very suspicious.

Yesterday, after talking and knitting with a friend, I drove home. My husband hadn't returned from work. The house was chilly and the kitten was super excited. She was so excited she jumped out the back window and jumped back in the house. Since this had never happened before, I was slow to process what was happening. I felt certain that my husband must have started some odd project around the house that required leaving the back window open and the storm window hanging off of the frame at an odd angle.

About the time that the older cat strolled past the window to look in and greet me, I started to wonder what the hell hubby was thinking. He wasn't in the office, but the desk drawers were open and doors were open. "What a slob," I thought. I picked up my cell phone to call him, but he didn't answer.

Then I had another, more alarming thought and dialed 911. The nice dispatcher answered, and I told him someone had broken into our home. I couldn't explain why the computer, the tv, the radios were still here, but they were. The sensible dispatcher tried to convince me to wait in the front yard for the police while I babbled about my indoor cats who were currently delighted to be roaming wild outdoors. Finally, I heard what I was saying and agreed to go outside.

The police were very nice and thorough. After looking around, we did discover that a bicycle and camera were missing. The police supposed that the burglars were interrupted and had to leave. Several hours later, my husband noticed that his laptop and an air compressor his father built for him were missing. The air compressor is the only thing that cannot be replaced. I felt so grateful not to have been at home, and that no one was hurt.

The lingering questions are what bother me. Before the 80 pound air compressor was discovered to be missing, it looked as if the thief wanted easily portable items. We cracked jokes about how you know you live in a bad neighborhood -- the burglar has to steal the getaway bike. A day later it seems as if it were much more intentional and carefully planned. These items were in specific places in our house, and not much rummaging went into retrieving them. Did the person know us?

But these are the sorts of questions that are likely to remain unanswered. I'm trying to focus on being grateful that no one was hurt, and that the missing items are inconsequential. People have asked whether I feel afraid or whether I sleep well. I'm not having any troubles with fear or sleep. I don' t think this was violent or malicious -- simply unsettling.

Monday, November 19, 2007


The class on spinning yarn was so interesting, frustrating, and addictive. We used castle style wheels, and the instructor made it look so easy. She held the wool in one hand, patted it with the other, and viola! Yarn magically appeared. It was even more amazing when she plied it.

I, on the other hand, struggled to keep the wheel going. Even when the wheel did spin, it changed directions when I wasn't looking. This spinning business could take some practice. I'm intrigued and inclined to keep trying.

Monday, November 12, 2007


A wonderful woman named Dawn, who I've virtually met through the KIPers, is going to teach a spinning class. I'm so excited! It starts on Saturday.

Also, Norah doesn't use her scratching post. She uses a chair in the living room. I bought her the mother of all scratching posts. It's four and a half feet tall and it is called a cat pagoda. This is the only thing keeping her from being declawed -- the hope that she might use this instead of my chair. I wish she knew her options.

Since cats are all about visible damage, it is in the middle of the living room. Hardly noticeable, right? I like to think of it as an art installation. Notice the lifelike kitten at the top.