Spencer, the Fedex Cat

Spencer loves the Fedex box.  It's his personal bed, boat, coffin, whatever.  It's cozy.  It reminds him of better days.

Fuerza Bruta and a Judging Porch.

This has definitely been an emotional rollercoaster of a weekend. 

First off, Spencer is doing better today, thank god.  Still a lot of gross stuff coming out of his eye, and he's still "coned", but the inflammation has reduced at least 50%.  I'm done having kitty heart-attacks. 

Last night I scored tickets to Fuerza Bruta: LOOK UP, which is absolutely amazing, and when they come to your city your have to get tickets and see it.  It's hard to describe - I could call it the Brazilian Cirque du Soleil, but it's edgier, more exciting, and more in-your-face.  It's been described as "part show, part dance party, and part sensualist rave."  The audience members stand on the stage and move around the space as the cast members perform on set pieces that move around and ABOVE YOU.  At one point a mylar pool descends to your eye level, maybe seven feet off the ground, water explodes from the ceiling and the performers start slamming themselves into the water, right above your head.  I was like a kid in a candy store.  Here's their official trailer:



At one point the cast-members roamed through the audience, breaking confetti-filled styrofoam boxes over people's heads.  Audience-members were begging to be "boxed", including me, and I WAS IN FACT BOXED!  Then the DJ starting misting water into the audience and everyone started dancing.  People of all ages.  Oh, and when I got home, there was confetti in my bra. 

I will go see everything this company ever produces.

Thanh and I went apartment hunting this morning.  We saw six places, and the last one might be the winner.  It's in Andersonville, close to one of my favorite coffee shops and an easy hop onto Lakeshore Drive for Thanh.   Today we weren't able to see the actual apartment because the tenant needs 24-hour notice, but we saw the garden apartment in the same building, and if the first floor is anything like the garden unit, it will be awesome.  3-bedroom, great kitchen, parking, and a BALCONY WITH SWING.  Um, Emjoy and I have always dreamed of having what we call, "A Judging Porch".  On which to sit and judge people who walk by, preferably while drinking wine.  Or, iced coffee in the summer.  Tomorrow we're going to be able to see the actual apartment.  Let's cross our fingers and toes.  (Don't get confused, I'm not moving in with Emjoy.  But if we do get that apartment, she has requested that the Judging Porch also be called, "Emjoy's Bedroom.")

I shouldn't be so excited about it, and I shouldn't be blogging about it, because I'm setting myself up for disappointment, but it's okay cause if this one doesn't go through, we now know what we're able to find within our price range.  So apartment-finding updates to come, and if all goes well, pictures of our new home.

Now, how can I suspend a mylar pool from our living-room ceiling..... 

Pet-sick. Pot-chocolate.

I just returned from our bazillionth vet visit.  Eye-opthamologist visit.  I'm very frustrated and sad, because Spencer is very frustrated and sad. 

He has this condition called Eosinophilic Keratitis.  This basically means that white blood cells, spurred on by the feline herpes-virus (which, surprisingly enough, the majority of cats have, so don't be grossed out), attack his eyes and he develops inflammation, eye ulcers and a whitish plaque that covers the front part of his eye. 

We discovered this about six or seven months ago when it attacked his right eye.  Luckily for us, the meds worked really quickly and he got better.  He just has to take eye-drops three times a week to keep it at bay.

Unfortunately, the condition has spread to his left eye, and this eye is not cooperating.  So we've been back and forth to the pet-opthamologist, adding on a variety of meds to kill the virus, reduce inflammation, reduce plaque, get rid of pain.  At count we are on one oral med and four different eye-drops.  Oh, and a cone around his head so that he doesn't scratch.

This morning Spencer hid under my bed, which he never does, and cats by instinct hide when they're really sick so that they're not vulnerable to predators.  Unfortunately I think he thinks I'm the predator, seeing that I'm always armed with something to stick in his eye, or lasso around his neck.  He can't clean himself because of the cone, and he can't really play, so he just lays and stares. 

The other day on NPR I heard a story about Gulf War vets who are trying to get the feds to legalize the possession of medical marijuana to treat post-traumatic stress disorder.  This one guy used to be a bomb-diffuser (think Hurt Locker), and for obvious reasons, cannot cope with residual psychological triggers.  He now has a grow-house where he grows different kinds of plants, only he doesn't smoke them, he reduces it to an extract to control dosage and puts it in his hot-chocolate. 

Now, I'm not comparing myself to a bomb-diffuser at all, that's preposterous.  But after this week, I could do with some pot-chocolate. 

P.S. (What's my position on legal med-marijuana?  Well, if you've diffused bombs for the United States of America, I think you should be allowed to possess and injest as much pot as you want.  Go at it.  Live free.)

I just coned my cat.

I just put a cone on my cat's head.  He gets ulcers in his eye, only they don't heal because he keeps on pawing at it.  So today I had to cut a dog-cone down to size and collar my cat. 

He's not smart enough to be humiliated.  He's just confused.  And I'm very, very sad. 

This is the cat that has two eyes, not one.  Somebody has put a cat-eye pox on my house. 

What are you reading, Tanya?

I'm reading this:

A Keeper of Bees: Notes on Hive and Home, by Allison Wallace.

It's a personal narrative - an around-the-bend autobiography of sorts, as reflected in the life-cycle, as well as the care and feeding of bees.  It's my summer book.  During the summer I like to read autobiographies by women that are philosophical in nature and have something to do with growing things.  Last year it was Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. 

I found this one on the "just-returned" shelf at the library.  It's interesting what you find on the "just-returned" shelf.  How to build a log cabin.  A guide to adoption.  Elmo's autobiography (no joke).  I like to peruse and see what kind of people come to the library and anticipate that someone has my same interests and will cut my "searching for that perfect book" work in half. 

If I wrote a personal narrative that was a philosophical, rear-view mirror type of book (i.e. "Let me tell you about bees.  They live in hives.  Oh, hives remind me of this time in my life.  Life is like a box of chocolates.  Speaking of chocolates, many chocolates contain honey.  Now back to how bees make honey....), I think it would center around breakfast foods. 

Speaking of breakfast food, I have a new saying for when someone ruins your day.  It goes as such: "Now, why'd you have to go piss on my waffles?!" 

Because think about what happens if someone did piss on your waffles.  Because of the shape.  And the indentations. 

"Waffles: Notes on Breakfast and Anger-Management".  A work in progress.