esprit de l'escalier

Frank and some apes

The internet changes your social life. Things like Facebook are great because you can find people you've lost touch with, but it's terrible because people can find you. My sister made me snort with laughter at my desk, quoting a favorite childhood movie in response to someone finding us. This is for her.

Guess who turned THREE?

Frank. Remember when he looked like this?



He's gotten a bit bigger.


He's been acting like he's a little under the weather lately. I hope he feels better soon! He's still the great little cat he's always has been. I'm happy he's in my life. Thank goodness for pets!

Spring is finally here

Today was brisk - I can say "brisk" now that it is officially spring. (It is never "brisk" in winter, only varying degrees of cold.) I'll take a brisk, blue-skied spring day, though, thank you very much. And I'll take a Friday that ends the quarter.

Sorry I have been MIA from this space - I have been buried in final papers. I'll be missing for a while longer, as I'm going on a little trip Sunday and will be gone for the week. I can't wait to have a week of relaxation, friends, and the ocean. Yay! Reading for pleasure! (Two excellent books on tap.) Photographing things that I don't see everyday! And I did I mention the ocean?

Before I leave, here's a photo of Frank to tie you over.

Puppy hoopla

Like a lot of people, I've been curious about what breed of dog the Obamas would settle on and what they would name this future first pooch. According to People, Michelle Obama says the new dog will join the family in the White House in April sometime, and will be a Portuguese Water Dog. Now, there was a time in my early twenties when I used to troll the pages on Dog Breed Info, trying to decide what the best breed would be for me, and I remember thinking positively about this breed. (I'm a sucker for bearded dogs. And those that don't shed.) Of course, I wasn't in a place in my life that could handle a dog, but it was nice to daydream.

I have to say this, though, Mrs. Obama, please do not so readily dismiss the name "Frank." It's turned out to be a great pet name, because the possible nicknames are endless. I think it would be fun if the Obama girls named the dog after a former resident of the White House. Or would that seem like they are picking favorites in history?

Also, my Frank was not pleased to learn his namesake is still considered to be the fifth worst president in history. All he can do is quote the Dude, "That's, like, your opinion man."

Dear February

Frank and I are so over you.

An anniversary

Two years ago my old roommate and I met my friend Jolynne at night in a Wendy's parking lot in a northern Chicago suburb.  She had a package for me, or rather, a kitten.  Her parents' cats had a litter and I had picked one out from a picture.  She handed me Frank, and he immediately scurried up and found a spot between my down vest's collar and my hair.  It was love at first cuddle.

Frank's growth and adventures over the last two years have been documented here (remember?), so really, it's all of our anniversary with Frank.  I'll scratch his belly for you.

Happy birthday Frank-o!

Monday was Frank's second birthday. He's currently curled at my side, sacked out from an intense back and head rub. I'm sure that he would prefer to be sitting like this, if only he weren't so big. It's hard to remember what a little fluffball he was, like below, or when Natasha accidentally punted him across the apartment.



Thanks to him I have found my inner, obnoxious pet owner. He really is a most excellent cat. And I love how much he loves my parents' house in Ohio. My mom and I get such a kick of him enjoying the yard (and himself). I love to see him use trees as his scratching posts, or hiding in the catnip, or climbing up trees. He's in cat heaven. Anyhow, here's to many more years with dear Frank! (And thank you for all of your well wishes and thoughts in the previous post.)

Puppies and music

This photo makes me think of this one This American Life episode about a man who tries to start a cable network of all puppies.  It even had a theme song that I would sing to you if you were here (friends Natasha and Shana have heard me sing this, much to their chagrin, as after it aired I sang it a lot).  In reality it's my friend Julie's new pug puppy, Gus Gus.  He is adorably sweet and I plan on stealing him (or at least pug-sitting) when he's housebroken.

Today I calmed my nerves with some Bon Iver.  His album, For Emma, Forever Ago, helped me get through a stressful spring quarter.  His music is very mellow, and, well, I love it (here are some songs).  He's coming to the Wexner Center Sunday night and I'm thinking of going.  I'm going to see She & Him Monday night (I've got an extra ticket, if anyone is interested), and I don't know if I'm up to doubling up or not.  Although I'd very much like to see both.

Frank in the catnip

I started writing about something and realized that I shouldn't.  Today wasn't the greatest day I've had.  It wasn't the worst, just frustrating.  Hope you all have a lovely weekend.  I hope to shake off these sticky, uncomfortable feelings of inadequacy and irritation and to sleep well for the first time in a long while.

Here are some photos from a roll of medium format film I exposed incorrectly.  I forgot to change the film type.  Oops.  Rookie mistake.  These two are nice, though.  Above you see Frank in a favorite hangout, beneath the catnip.  The one below is Frank and a friend, which is really way too dark and grainy, but still quite sweet.

Update: The day was an emotional rollercoaster and I've just said some tearful farewells to some dear people I've become very fond of. I hate goodbyes.

The case of the monkey's mysterious paw

(And by "monkey," I mean "Frank.")

Currently there is a doozy of a summer storm rolling in.  The wind has kicked up, it's dark and the rain has just begun.  (That's one way to get out of watering my mother's plants while she's away.)  The power has already flickered out once, which it does with regularity on our hill.  I'm hunkered down with a beer to watch the rain in the trees.  My crazy cat is yowling to go out.  This is the second time in a week that he has insisted on going out into storm.  He gets a big no from me.  (Ooh, the thunder has begun.)

The title refers to Frank's current mysterious limp.  Sunday night el gato was a no-show at bedtime, which happens from time to time, but he's usually at the door the next morning, ready for breakfast.  Six am came, no cat.  Around 7:30 he showed up in the kitchen window.  I opened the front door, expecting a darting grey streak between my legs.  Nada.  I looked out and saw him limping towards me!  No signs of a struggle, so I'm going to guess he fell off of something.  He's still limping, but I think it's only a sprain.

Actually, I ended up letting the cat out in the rain (I'm a pushover, what can I say?), and then watched him scurry around the side of the house.  There are deep eaves on the house, so he can skirt much of the house without getting wet.  It turns out Frank just wanted to sit on a bench and watch the rain.  He really did end up in the right family.

Sorry for my slowness on posting about my trip.  More soon.