Killing Mice, In A Manner Of Speaking

See this furry gray miscreant who's avoiding looking directly at the camera?  She's decided she likes to walk across and sit on laptop keyboards.  I wonder if it's a texture thing, sort of like how most people like to feel soft beach sand on their feet.

Yesterday, I was trying to use my computer to listen to a podcast while I worked on something else.  Stella walked across my keyboard several times, and after I shooed her away, the cursor had frozen.  I tried restarting, which is my standard trick for anything that goes wrong with my computer.  No dice. 

Using my phone, I looked for solutions to the problem (aside from restarting, which is evidently everyone's standard trick for anything that goes wrong with computers).  I stumbled upon an article that suggested that my mouse might have become disabled.  This article specifically implicated cats walking across the keyboard--apparently, they have a talent for stepping on the right combination of keys to cause problems.  So I tried going into the mouse settings (all of this had to be done without use of the mouse, mind you--hurray for mouseless navigation!) and sure enough, my mouse had become disabled.

Good thing I learned how to fix it because about twenty minutes later, Stella walked across my keyboard again and the cursor froze again.  Sigh.  I just hope she shows the same enthusiasm for killing rodent mice if they show up in our apartment again.

Stella Shares My Hobbies!

See this picture?  This is a picture of a cat taking a well-deserved rest after defeating a large piece of paper.  This is also a cat who puts a decidedly feline spin on human hobbies.

I've talked some on this blog about sewing.  I'm still sewing when I have time and am becoming increasingly happy with the results.  Not only am I ending up with more items that I'm willing to wear in public, I'm actually ending up with favorite items that I wear whenever they're clean.  I'm also learning ways to streamline my sewing process so I can spend less time prepping projects and more time actually sewing.  One of these ways is to pay to have PDF sewing patterns printed out on large sheets of paper so I'm not stuck taping small sheets of paper together.

For the uninitiated, there are two ways to buy sewing patterns.  There the ones that come printed on thin tissue paper, and there are PDF patterns you can download and print out at home.  I like the patterns that come already printed, and often buy those.  But some independent pattern companies sell only the PDF variety.  Also, sometimes the PDF patterns come with more sizes or other extra features.  So there are times when it makes sense to buy the PDF patterns.  But I always hated printing them out at home--there were so many sheets of paper to tape together.  And no matter how careful I was, something was always slightly "off" in the end.  Some people take the PDF files to copy shops to have them printed on large sheets of paper, but I was always hesitant to do this because I was afraid it would be prohibitively expensive.  But through someone's sewing blog, I found a company on the internet that will print the patterns on large sheets of paper for a very nominal fee and ship them.  Problem solved!

What I didn't know was that Stella would find her own way to participate in my sewing.  I learned the other night when I was tracing a pattern from one of these large sheets of paper.  The paper was dangling over the edge of the table I was working from.  All of a sudden, I heard a series of popping-like noises from under the table.  I looked, and there was Stella treating the paper that was dangling down like a punching bag.  Pretty amazing for a cat who startled at any and every noise when she first arrived here.

Usually, I put these large sheets of paper away for future use, but I sometimes keep them out when I'm still working on sewing something, in case I forgot to mark anything from the original pattern.  So, I caught Stella boxing with this pattern again last night.  Then, exhausted by her victory, she curled up on it and took a rest.

Meet Stella!

Scott and I had such a great time being owned by Laila the cat that we decided to venture into cat ownership again!  Meet Stella, aka the Russian Blue Menace!

We adopted her from the animal shelter a couple weeks ago.  Just like when we adopted Laila, the selection process was pretty overwhelming.  Stella was found as a stray, but I think she was probably someone's pet at some point, judging by her insistence upon sleeping on the bed with us at night.  The shelter staff think she is about 7 years old.

This kitty has clearly had some trauma in her life.  The shelter staff--who move animals around all the time--had quite a time getting her into her carrier so we could take her home.  She then proceeded to throw her weight around, yowl, and pant the entire ride home.  I had never actually seen a cat pant before. 

Fortunately, she calmed down once we let her out of the carrier.  But...it is generally agreed upon that pets should occasionally leave their homes for veterinary care.  At a bare minimum, our county (and I imagine, most counties) want proof of an annual rabies vaccination.  The shelter itself wanted us to get Stella a vet appointment within 7 days.  We decided to give her two weeks to settle in before attempting to take her anywhere.

The day of the first vet appointment came today, and of course, we had to try to get her in the cat carrier.  "Try" is the operative word here.  We failed after many attempts, and I had to call the vet's office in defeat.  I have a couple of souvenir scratches on my arm (she didn't swipe at me; I got them from her hind foot while she was trying to spread herself out so as not to fit into her cat carrier).  I just dropped a bunch of cash on Amazon ordering a larger pet carrier and some pheremone spray that is supposed to make the cat carrier seem more calming.

Wish us luck.  We rescheduled for next Friday morning.

A Seagull Vignette

We went wading in beautiful Lake Champlain.

A seagull decided to investigate our shoes, which we left on the beach.

Still there.  I didn't think our shoes smelled great, but do they really smell bad enough that the seagull views them as a potential food source?

And he finally walks away, greatly disappointed.

Life's Little Triumphs: Finding Lost Earrings!

I actually experienced this fun triumph a couple of times in the past several weeks.  The first time was when I found a pair of earrings I'd been looking for since shortly after we moved back to the US from Kazakhstan.  I had pretty much concluded that I must have somehow left them over there, since that was the last time I had worn them.  It wasn't a huge deal--these were earrings I had made, and I could have made another pair, but I just didn't feel like it.  And I kept thinking that maybe they would show up.  Anyway, after all this time, I found them mixed up in some bracelets!  (Yes, it's entirely possible that I have more jewelry than any reasonable person needs). 

My second recent experience with finding lost earrings is more interesting.  I signed up to participate in an study on campus involving an EEG to help advance the cause of science to get paid $40.  I lost and found an earring while in the process of washing my hair in the sink afterwards.

Let me back up a bit.  I participated in another EEG study a couple years ago also to advance the cause of science to get extra credit in a class I was taking at the time.  From that experience, I knew I would end up with gel in my hair.  But I remember it not being all that much gel.  I seem to recall the researcher giving me a couple alcohol wipes to get the gel out of my hair afterwards.  I remember that these wipes didn't remove all the gel, but they removed enough that I didn't feel too self-conscious when I went to class afterwards.  So when the researcher I worked with last week showed me that they had shampoo, conditioner, a comb, towels, and a hairdryer to deal with my hair after the EEG, I just assumed that everyone else who had participated was exceptionally fussy about their hair.

I was wrong.

After the researcher removed the cap with all the electrodes, I discovered that my hair from about my forehead to the top of my ears was saturated with gel.  And I had six hours of class to attend before I could go home and take a shower.  I don't feel the need to look nice for my classmates, but I have some sort of standards for appearing in public.  So I found myself bent over the sink, working hard to rid my hair of the excess gel.  The gel didn't come out with just water...so I had to use shampoo.  Then I had to use the conditioner so my hair didn't get horribly tangled.  In the process of all of this, I heard what sounded like a small metallic object fall.  I checked for all the jewelry I had worn in.  Everything was there except for half of one earring--the backing was still somehow adhering to the back of my ear lobe, but the earring itself was missing.  These weren't expensive earrings, but they were earrings I liked--small silver earrings shaped like fish bones.  I was proud of the fact that I had had them since high school and still sometimes wore them. 

I started looking around the area frantically.  I tried to peer down the drain, fearing that was probably where it landed.  I spent several minutes doing this, and almost gave up, thinking I could ask the researcher to let me know if she found an earring.  But then, just as I was giving up, I saw something small and shiny next to the baseboard.  To my relief, it was my earring.

I feel like there should be some lessons for me to share about this experience, so I'll give it a try:

1. Don't have an EEG right before a first date, job interview, or wedding.
2. Don't spend time or money fixing your hair before an EEG.  And if you have long hair, you'll want to just put it in a ponytail for the rest of the day.
3. Washing hair--especially long hair--in the sink is never going to be a quick and easy process.
4. If you're going to wash your hair in the sink, take off all your jewelry first and put it in a safe place, far away from the sink.  This way, you only have to deal with the aggravation of the hair-washing itself, not the aggravation of looking for lost items.
5. Maybe a better triumph than finding lost earrings is to not lose them to begin with.  

Person First, Spouse/Parent Second

We have a new-to-us professor for one of our summer classes.  He wanted to learn more about us, so on the first day of class, he had each of us stand up in front of the classroom and answer questions from our classmates for 60 seconds.  I wondered what questions I'd be subjected to, and hoped none of them would be too awful.  The first question I was asked wasn't awful, exactly, but it was interesting:  "What was your maiden name?"

My classmate looked startled when I told her I'd kept my name when I got married.  Then the next couple questions I got (from another classmate) were about Scott.

I'm not expecting my classmates or anyone else to show interest in any specific areas of my life.  But since I personally believe there is much more to my life than my marriage, I found it telling that that was the area at least two people found the most interesting.

This incident made me think back on a t-shirt I saw in the window of a bridal shop some time ago.  The slogan on the t-shirt was "Pour me some bubbly, I'm getting a hubby."  That slogan made me cringe at the time for reasons I couldn't fully articulate at the time.  But I realize now that what I find so distasteful about it is that it's treating marriage like an achievement.  To be clear, I think that happy marriages are a wonderful thing and that weddings can be celebrated as a joyous occasion.  But treating them like an achievement brings to mind images of people training for some sort endurance event and carrying spears to hunt a spouse and bring him/her home as a trophy.  I also feel that the "marriage as an achievement" burden falls particularly heavily on women--no matter what else you do with your life, nothing quite lives up to getting your M.R.S.

Parenthood is similarly treated as an achievement.  Just like with marriage, I feel that this burden falls particularly heavily on women.  Also, like with marriage, I believe that becoming a parent is an occasion to be celebrated, but I really can't view conceiving a child as an achievement.  Being a good parent is an achievement, but that is a process rather than a single event (and unfortunately, much rarer than conceiving a child).

With both marriage and parenthood, there is a lot of luck and timing involved.  Luck and timing are just that--luck and timing.  They may be joyous occasions, but they are not achievements.  Treating them as such implies that people who don't get married or don't have children are lacking in ambition or talent.

I've come up with some t-shirt slogans of my own to replace that cringe-worthy "Pour me some bubbly, I'm getting a hubby."  I think they may be particularly useful for women, whose true achievements that they have worked for often fly under the radar.  But men may feel more pressure by these cultural ideas than I realize, so I've created ones that should work for everyone:

Start a commotion, I got a promotion.
More champagne for me, I got my degree.
Bask in my glory, I published a story.

Scott came up with an additional one:
It's no longer a prob, cuz I got a job.

The more milestones to celebrate, the merrier.

Life's Little Triumphs: Scavenging Season Is Upon Us!

There is definitely a money-spending side of me, but there is also the side of me that loves getting something for free.  And in the summer, that free something could be berries!

Earlier this week, I was taking a walk with Scott when I noticed ripe berries on some mulberry trees.  Very fortunately, I had a plastic bag with me so I wasn't confined to just gobbling up what I could on the spot.  Mulberries can be tricky to pick since they're on trees and there are a lot of high branches, but I'm tall enough to be able to get some of them.  I went picking again today, and got a pretty decent haul.

I have special affection for mulberries because even though I'd probably seen them plenty of times in the US without realizing it, I first became aware of their potential as a food the first time I visited Syria in 2001.  I bought some juice from a street vendor that I thought (from looking at the source fruit) was blackberry juice.  It was delicious, and much sweeter than I expected it to be.  Someone told me later that it was probably made of mulberries.  I also saw some big, beautiful mulberry trees in Uzbekistan.

Later this summer, I'm also hoping to score some free wineberries and blackberries (hence the need to carry plastic bags with me).  Summer has its limitations, what with the humidity and the mosquitoes, but berry-scavenging is something I can get behind wholeheartedly.