A Very Merry Cat Birthday

Today, in my best estimation, my cats turn 7 and 4. Sammy, born in Virginia, has been in more states than a lot of people. Wookie, once a wild Oregon kitten, is now the most spoiled of lap cats. We celebrated the day with some cloth mice and a new laser pointer. Perhaps a little catnip might be in order, although by the looks of them, they hardly need it!

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Besides enjoying cat birthdays, today I received some mail from my mom. She had enclosed a letter that I had written as a joke when I was thirteen. It was amazing; in tone, in humor, it sounded like I had written it just the other day. I thought I would have developed a little further from the mindset of a young teenager, but I suppose in essentials we remain the same as we ever were (in my case, sarcastic and difficult).

Fresh Perspective

Now that my summertime travels have ended, I've decided to improve my attitude towards my residence by changing things up a little. I like moving (on a yearly basis) and changing my environment (as often as possible), so when I live in the same dwelling for a long period of time (1 year and 2 months and counting) I become a rearranging maniac. I enjoy the challenge of finding all the possible permutations of my IKEA furniture in this one bedroom apartment. I think I've had my bed in every possible location except the living room.

Moving the furniture is not only an opportunity to tidy up a little, but it's a fascinating experiment in feline behavior. In my kitty subjects, the immediate alarm of change quickly changes to curiosity and sniffing of previously covered areas of carpet. Next comes perching on all pieces of furniture to test for new napping spots, followed by actual naps in the old napping spots' new locations. Now doesn't that sound like an interesting Saturday afternoon?

I've also found a hidden benefit to living under the harsh Florida sun. Some of the art decorating my walls has become dramatically faded. I could respond with anger to this destruction. (Well, I'll admit that was most likely my initial feeling. I am angry all the time.) Instead of lamenting (with rage) the slow disappearance of my lemur and monkey paintings from a Chinese calendar and the sad demise of an adorable tabby cat (also from an apparently poor-quality calendar), I logged on to do some on-line shopping for art prints.

There's no way I am in the market for an original piece of art. While it would be nice to have a one-of-a-kind painting, I'm just not rolling in that kind of dough (or any kind of dough, although cookie dough might be fun). I just like the reprints of captivating art that I can put in a cheap frame and stare at when I'm trying to think of the answer to a crossword clue. That said, some of the art prints I liked still soared past my budget, so I couldn't purchase everything that caught my eye.

I already have a Miro print in my living room that's mesmerizing. It's a surreal abstract of a figure playing a guitar and surrounded by funky animals. There's an attentive dog and a proper cat, a swooping bat, and even a frog all in bright blue, green, red, white and brown. I bet that's a fun place to live. To complement this wonderful Miro, I decided to buy a Picasso (well, not A Picasso, but you know what I mean). I chose one of his Cubist still lifes, a violin and guitar, which I though Miro's guitar player might like to look at from across the room.

I have Van Gogh's Irises in the bathroom. I love the way that man painted! My eye happily follows his swirls and swoops, while taking in his perfect colors. I almost bought a print of his Wheat Field and Cyprusses, which has always been one of my favorites, but I thought it might be better to branch out a bit. I already have Starry Night on a candle holder and a Van Gogh cookie tin with a different painting on each side from my Amsterdam days. I don't want to go ear-chopping nuts from overexposure.

In the bedroom I have a relaxing blue and white Georgia O'Keefe flower print and a bright, fun picture called Gatos de la Casa, which is just what is sounds like--3 cats in a sunlit room (plus a bowl with a pineapple and a bunch of grapes, presumably for the human of la casa, who is thankfully not pictured). Along with that is a Tibetan picture of the Guardian of the Himalayas (a beautiful woman in flowing robes on top of a tiger). To this mix, I decided to add a Matisse painting of a colorful room interior and another abstract (of cats, of course). I mean, what else would go?

To complete my redecoration, in an overt attempt at a cheerful second year in Florida, I bought a monkey picture. You always need some monkey art to make you smile.

Escape from Floridatraz or The Exile Returns

In the month since my last post, I happily left my laptop at home to visit friends and family across the country. In the green hills of western North Carolina, I could breathe deeply the freshest air since moving to Florida. The break from the monotonous flatness and humidity was overjoying. I could stare at the trees and the landscape for hours.

Then I flew to Washington State. Backpacking in the Cascades, away from crowds, drinking fresh filtered water from mountain streams, I reveled in the smell of the evergreens and the feel of the temperature dropping in the evenings. Imagine needing to wear long sleeves at times! One morning my toes were even cold! (I admit, my toes and nose have been cold in Florida, but only at the movie theatre or domed Devil Rays' game.) I patted rocks, poked squishy moss, hugged trees, listened to babbling brooks and watched wildlife (like a cute marmot, who also watched me and whistled shrilly to warn his buddies of my presence). I hiked nearly 40 miles and got pestered at times by mosquitoes and flies, but sore muscles and bugs and sleeping on the hard ground only meant that I was finally again in the alpine wilderness, where I am happiest.

North Carolina was pretty. South Carolina was restful. I'll even admit that Florida has its nice bits and interesting animals. But I only feel at home when I can climb thousands of feet, cross above the treeline and absorb the tranquility.