Houdini Cat

I officially own Houdini Cat. Just when I figure out where he is hiding, he goes and finds another place to disappear to. It usually takes me a bit to find him, but ultimately I do.

Saturday we had a discussion about him hiding behind the dryer - I won. then we had a discussion about him hiding underneath the furnace pipe - I thought I won. But in the end he knew my disdain for copious amounts of dirt and dust webs, so he won. This now adds a new layer of responsibility - hoping he doesn't get burned by the furnace.

I honestly thought owning a cat would be all love and sunshine and a very rewarding experience. So far, I think the cat hates me. The only rewards I have reaped are re-insulating a segment of wall that he tore the insulation out of, making sure he hasn't burst into flames from hanging out under the furnace pipe, and picking cat piss clumps out of the litter box. I am also convinced that the reason the cat hangs out in the furnace room so much is that he is trying to learn how to sever the gas line so that I will meet an untimely explosive death in my sleep.

But, overall the cat appears to be healthy. I can't entirely tell if he is eating, but he manages to keep up enough strength to scratch the crap out of my arms whenever I try to hold him.

Despite my rant, I am glad I have him. He is making me be a more responsible individual particularly since I now have to check behind the dryer every time I wash my socks n scivvies. As I thought about his relative safety whilst hanging out behind the dryer, I thought about dryer safety in general - particuarly that one fateful weekend. It was the first weekend I was living on my own when I started university.

I remember the day well, the year was 1988 and it was one of those perfect September days where the sky was blue, there wasn't a cloud to be seen, and I frittered it away by doing my laundry. My roommate, Mary, had gone home for the weekend, so I was home all by myself.

Things were going very well, I had done a wash load and transferred it over to the dryer. I had just finished putting in the next load of washing when my box of Bounce fell off the back of the dryer. I went around to retrieve the box when all of a sudden the dryer started shaking profusely and practically started to walk across the floor. I thought "how strange, I know that washers do this, but I did not realize dryers did this." After much shaking, the dryer quit. I thought "well that didn't seem to take very long, but thank goodness it is done." I reached down to open the door, but stopped suddenly due to the thick, dark grey, pungent cloud of smoke billowing out of the back of the dryer.

"CRAP the dryer caught fire!"

Oh God oh God oh God oh God! What do I do! Think, think, think...... Ok, rip the clothes out of the dryer to remove the "fuel". Done.

CRAP, smoke is still billowing out of the back. What do I do? Think, think, think...... call the fire department!

Recall that the year is 1988 and I came from a farm. Back in those days on the farm we did not have 9-1-1, and that an actual telephone number was proudly displayed on a sticker on the phone with an emergency location code to give to the operator.

I ran upstairs, picked up the phone and looked for the sticker.

CRAP there is no sticker on the phone! What do I do? Think, think, think...... Look in the phone book.

CRAP can't find the number. What do I do? Think, think, think...... Run downstairs and check the situation.

CRAP smoke is still billowing out of the back of the dryer.
CRAP what do I do?
CRAP what am I still doing in the house?!?!?!?!

As I ran up the stairs and out of the house I thought to myself "Go to the neighbours and get them to call the fire department" So I ran down the driveway and noticed a man walking down the street. ....

Imagine the man walking down the street. A rough looking character, if you will, with a black leather jacket slung over his back. He was having such a lovely time staring at the clear blue pleasant sky. He even looked like he was singing a happy tune in his head. He was walking with one of those slow relaxed saunters taking in the sights right up until he saw a young woman standing in the driveway yelling:

HEY YOU!!! CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT!!! MY DRYER IS ON FIRE!!!

man: WHAT?!
me: CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT!!! MY DRYER IS ON FIRE!!!
man: Well let me look at it.
me in my head: Perhaps you should run up to the 7-11 at the corner and get some marshmallows so you can roast them over my sweat socks!
me actually saying: JUST CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT
man: Relax! Let me look at it!
me: fine

By the time we got inside, smoke had stopped billowing out the back of the dryer. At least it was hanging in a thick pungent cloud at the ceiling of the basement so I did not look like a complete fool.

man: I think it is okay.
me: I think we should call the fire department.
man: just go get a screwdriver and I will open up the back and double check.

I got the screwdriver, he opened the back and checked it out.

man: it's okay, I don't see any fire anymore. I think it was just that the motor blew and what you saw was residual smoke.
me: are you sure?
man: yes
me: ok. Sorry to bother you, you can go now.
man: it's okay, its not every day that I get to be a hero. By the way, for future reference the phone number for the fire department is 9-1-1
me: that works here?

The man shot me a strange look as if to say "Where are you FROM?!?" but then wisely chose to exit the house. I gathered my wet clothes and proceeded to hang them in the back, secretly hoping that no one would steal my scivvies. Its not so much that I would miss the scivvies, it was more that the looming possibility of someone wanting my scivvies just freaked me out. As I hung the clothes, I thought about what could have happened had the whole house burned down. I finished up, and did what all good teenage girls would do in my situation - I sat in the corner on the stairs and cried. Then I thought "I need to talk to Mom. I am going to call her."

I phoned Mom, and her voice sounded rather concerned since I was phoning for the second time that day.
me: Hi Mom
Mom, with hesitation: Hellloooo???
me sobbing: Mom, my...my...my dryer exploded
Mom: OH MY GOD LET ME GET YOUR FATHER!!
me: No Mom, don't get
Mom: AL! LORI'S ON THE PHONE! COME QUICK!
Dad: Hello, what's wrong?
me sobbing: Dad, the dryer exploded.
Dad: WELL WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT ME TO DO ABOUT IT? YOU'RE DOWN THERE AND I AM HERE! GOSH, LORI, THINK!
me: Ok Dad. I feel much better now. I am going to go.

I resumed sitting in the corner crying until my landlady's sister came to the house. She made me a cup of tea, talked to me for a while, calmed me down, and then sent me downstairs to sit in the pungent cloud of smoke to watch TV. The dryer got replaced, but to this day I am still very skiddish about clothes dryers. Perhaps that would explain the piles of laundry that continuously build up on my bedroom floor.

This week was a pretty busy week for me. Went to the doctor on Monday for my annual checkup. Overall I am healthy, but I did mention to her that I was having troubles with not having any energy. She had planned on vampiring some blood from me, so she added in a vitamin D test, and it turns out I am deficient. I have to take supplements to compensate, but with a fabulous day out like today, I figure sitting in the yard will do me just as well.

For the first time ever in my blood test history, the girl could not find a vein. During her frustrated search she looked at me and said "next time would you please drink a bunch of water?" I wanted to respond "ok, but after this is over would you please use a real bandaid instead of cotton gauze and cheap tape that is guaranteed to rip holes in my arm?" Almost a week has passed and I still have the marks from the tape. In fact, when I get a blood test I am more scared of the tape than I am of the needle!

The other highlight of the week took place on Thursday - I became a new parent to Sylvester the cat. Having a cat is going to take some getting used to, like the added responsibility of having to look after someone other than myself, changing litter, sweeping up fur, etc etc. But I think it will be a rewarding experience once I figure out where the cat went.

I brought him home on Thursday night, and figured the basement would be the best place for him, since I can put his litter and food in the bathroom, and there is a big room for him to hang out in and look out the patio door. I got up Friday morning to check on him, and he was pretty traumatized. I picked him up and took him over to the patio door thinking he might find the birds in the back yard very interesting. The poor guy shook in my arms. I would have liked to have spent more time with him, but in order to afford the cat (and my house) I had to go to work to earn my keep.

I got home Friday evening and checked on him, he was still pretty scared. I got a couple of blankets and a pillow and spent part of the night with him. I offered him some tuna, and we actually bonded despite the fact he didn't eat the tuna. At one point he sat on top of a box in the corner, so I went upstairs to do something, when I got back downstairs I could not locate him. Turns out the top of the box collapsed inward, and he had fallen inside. The box contained scented candles, so when I rescued him I noticed he smelled very perfumy!

As I layed on the floor, his confidence grew and he started to explore the room. He was very interested in the crack under neath the door to upstairs. As I napped on the floor, he also became interested in the patio door. The sound of the blinds rustling was driving me nuts, so I went upstairs around 2 AM and slept in my own bed.

I decided that today I would introduce him to the rest of the house while I was home for the day. I got downstairs, and Sylvester had managed to open the basement door. Apparently my timeline for introducing him to the rest of the house was too slow for him!

I did not think my house was that big, but I have searched under every piece of furniture and inside every closet, and Sylvester is nowhere to be found. I checked the front door, and the deadbolt was still on, so at least I know he did not go outside. The patio door still had the security bar on it, too, so he has to be in there somewhere.

The only place I have not checked is under the basement stairs. I think he sensed my fear of spiders, and I figure there are a tonne of spiders living under there so he may have taken up shop there.

I hope he is okay. Like most cats, he is very nocturnal so I will just have to wait until tonight and see if I can hear the telltale jingling of his tags on his collar. At least he knows where the litter box is, and has used it, so I don't have to worry about any surprises.

I'm in my 40's and it Could Not be Any More Fabulous!

For the past couple of months I had a counter up on the site to count down the remaining days of being in my 30's. For years I had watched people get bummed out about turning 40, and really I can't understand why! I look at where I am now compared to where I have been, and things could not be any more fabulous for me. I have a great job, a great house, and a great group of friends. I travel the world as much as I can, and when I can't I am out and about seeing what I can get into. It took 4 decades to do it, but I finally found my happy place.

When I put the counter up on the site, my intention was to write 10 posts to summarize each year I was in my 30's. Although my intentions were good, the reality was that I was only going to turn 40 once and I better make it memorable. Enter the planning and execution of the most spectacular birthday week ever!

The planning all started early in the year with me conceptualizing what I should do. I was on the fence - travel somewhere, have a small intimate dinner with close friends, or have a larger scale party with all my close friends. One night I went for drinks with my friend Kevin, and I was talking about my dilemma. He asked what my 30th was like, and I told him it was very uneventful since I had just moved to Toronto. He asked what my 35th was like, and I told him it wasn't bad, but there were some issues surrounding it. Kevin analysed my responses and said "Well you MUST give yourself a great big party!"

So the decision was made, and the party was born. And then it took on a life of its own!

First choice - where to have it. I thought about the Maddy, but a few of my friends don't like the Maddy. Then I thought about The Charlotte Room, but it was a bit out of the way. Then Paul offered up his condo, and Paul & Lisa offered up their party planning skills and I decided ultimately to have it there. Next choice - party room vs Paul's actual condo. The party room required a liquor license, which I felt was a wasted expense considering we could have bevies just as well in Paul's condo. With that dilemma solved, I had to move onto the food.

My intentions were just finger foods, but the party was starting at 7:00 and Lisa felt that people may be expecting a smorgasborg. Well, if a smorgasborg was what they were expecting, a smorgasborg is what they got! A trip to Costco, a few trips to the grocery store, and a trip to the market later I had a feast that could have fed an army!

Out of approximately 60 invitees, more than 20 people showed up to celebrate what I dubbed "My Last Weekend in my 30's". It was a fascinating cross-section of people - co-workers past, co-workers present, girls from my kayak class, and a number of other friends that I have just met along the way. I was amazed at how well everyone interacted with each other, and there wasn't a dull moment to be had. But perhaps the thing that struck me the most was that out of all the people in the room, there was not a single person who was there that knew me in my 20's and yet so many people had taken the time to come out to honour my milestone.

Paul made an awesome speech, during the speech he made reference to me being Grace, and him being Will. After all, he is the fashionable yet sensible gay man, and I am the tall skinny neurotic woman that he just can't seem to get rid of.

I had been warned earlier in the day that I would be making a speech. I was not sure what to say. Do I get reflective about my 30's? Do I speculate about what is yet to come? After much deliberation, I decided that the following summed up my feelings at that exact moment:

My father once told me that I would do well in life if I could have just one good friend. If that is the case, then as I look around I must be the richest woman in the world! Thank you for coming out to honour me, I love you all.

I figured the party would wind down around 11:30 or midnight, but the last guests did not leave until about 4:00 AM. I sat with a glass of wine out on Paul's balcony and reflected on the evening, retired to the yoga mat, and woke up with a nasty headache. The party was a success!

For those who could not make it to my last weekend in my 30's, a spillover party was held on my actual birthday. Rose, John, Rose's daughter, Paul and I celebrated at a couple of different Irish pubs. John was sensible and went home at a respectible hour, while the rest of us went up to the village. My birthday was so important that even Cher showed up to wish me well! Ok, this Cher is actually a drag queen, but the impressive part was that she does not normally like people to get their picture taken with her, but since it was my 40th birthday she humoured me and allowed the photo. Close to 11:00 I got tired, and decided to retire early since I had to work the next day. Plus I had to pack my bags and head to my hometown for birthday party number three.

Party number three was my family bash. My Mom did a fabulous job, and it was great to have my immediately family plus a couple of cousins I had not seen in a while around me. We had good food, good laughs, and it was an experience I will cherish for a lifetime.

I made it back to the city and birthday week drew to a close. I was happy because by this time I was all partied out, and wanted to resume my normal life. At least, as normal as my life can be!

A whole new season of backyard blogging!

Up until it got really cold outside, all my blog posts were written in my back yard. I don't have the nicest back yard, but it is a yard and I own it so I am darn well going to use it! The birds are happily using the yard, too. So much so that when Paul called me this morning he actually said "Did you get a bird? What's all that chirping?"

My rose bushes and lilac bush already have leaves coming out on them, my tulips poked through the soil a couple of weeks ago, and my columbine is happily growing up through the soil. I saved all the cash I was given for my birthday and intend on buying a few new bushes for it in a week or two.

My brother Doug gave me his old barbeque and as soon as I figure out how to hook it up I will be cookin some very fine chicken and stuff. Of course, I will also have to learn how to use the barbeque too.

This week I will have a new roommate. His name is Sylvester, and as you guessed, he is a cat. I'm a bit nervous about looking after someone other than myself, but I am sure I will do alright. I managed to keep my last cat Weasle alive, and lately I have done well with a peace lily. I'm just more nervous of the change than I am of actually looking after a cat.