TEA WITH ME
Just whatever I'm thinking about and feeling today.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Sherlock Holmes
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Rain
Rain
During a storm I can see the wind as it moves through the trees, and watch it push leaves, twigs, and other items across the pavement in the street in front of my house. The trees bob up and down, leaves fly through the air, and rain makes an unending flow of patterns in the ebb and flow of the capricious wind.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Holy Week
The sad thing is Jesus and Christianity get the bad rap for our bad behavior. Mahatma Gandhi said, "I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. They are so unlike your Christ." It is sad. It is true. But Christ was the Son of God, and perfect, and no mere human being can obtain perfection. So we are left to make mistakes.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Slumdog Millionaire
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Kristallnacht
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Tom
I was going through my tea cabinet today, and came across my Mexican Sweet Chili herbal tea, from Yogi Tea. It contains, among other things, cayenne and black pepper. These are the last ingredients listed, so they're used in the least amounts, and truthfully I can hardly taste them. But they do give the tea a little "bite". The first ingredient is licorice root, and the licorice taste is distinct. It's one of my favorite herbal teas.
My mug is a tall, thin one, covered with pink roses. It was a gift from my favorite aunt and good friend, Georgia. When I use it, I always think of her, and all thoughts of her are pleasant. I love her and her husband, Uncle Ed.
Today's quote: "All the great things are simple, and many can be expressed in a single word: freedom, justice, honor, duty, mercy, hope." – Winston Churchill.
Tom came to us when my daughter Tara and her children moved back to Ohio from Georgia in 2001. They stayed with my mother until they could get a place of their own, and since Mom is not an animal person, we got Tom.
Tom was born in an apartment, and we kept him inside because he had no front claws, but he tried to get out every time the door opened. On occasion he would manage a jailbreak, but he never got past the bushes by the door. We figured he heard the call of the wild, but couldn't speak the language.
Things happened, and it was several years before Tara and her children acquired a house where they could keep pets, and Austin, my grandson, wanted "his" cat back. It was hard, but I couldn't tell him no. They packed up Tom one day and off they went.
It was about then that our younger daughter, Amber, called. Their apartment complex had changed hands and the new owners wouldn't allow animals larger than twenty pounds. Their dog Sally Mae was over seventy pounds. Could we take her until they found a new place? Of course we could.
That's how Sallie Mae came to live with us. And she settled in quickly, though she missed her other family and always got excited when they visited. But it didn't take her long to get used to the freedom of a fenced back yard that she could spend hours exploring. She especially loved lying out by the pool in the early morning sun.
While Sally was thriving in her new home, Tom was languishing in his. Suddenly the little family that had to give up their one pet had plenty of room, and before long they also owned a dog, two ferrets, and two more cats. Tom had a hard time dealing with all the noise from so many people and pets, and never quite adjusted to the large menagerie.
One day he got out, and they didn't find him for three days. Tara called and asked if we wanted him back—he just wasn't happy. I sighed and said, "Yeah, we can take him back," but inwardly I was going, "YESSS!" I had missed him.
For two weeks after they brought him back he stayed in the basement and wouldn't come near us. We left him alone, figuring he would rejoin us in his own time. Then one day he just appeared upstairs, and it was as if he had never left.
Life fell back into its same pattern, Tom trying to get out every time we opened a door, and Bill and I running interference. He seemed to resent the fact that Sally came and went, but he was house-bound. Then one day as I opened the door, I saw him preparing to make a run for it. I opened the door wide and said, "Okay, it seems to be really important to you, so go on out."
Bill said, "What if he doesn't come back?"
"I think he will. But he's not happy. And I want him to be happy."
At first Tom didn't make any attempt to go out. He just looked up at me, as if trying to decide if I was serious or it was a bad joke. Suddenly he lunged for the door, maybe deciding to go before I changed my mind. I watched him go, and then stood by the door to see what he would do.
He got to the end of the deck and hesitated before finally trotting out to the middle of the yard. It must have been too scary, because he immediately ran back to the door and started scratching at it. I opened it and he ran in and zoomed into the living room and disappeared behind the couch. I shook my head and went into the kitchen to start dinner.
A few minutes later I heard Tom meowing at the door. I went in and opened it and he inched toward it, and finally lumbered out. This time he went to the middle of the yard and actually stood there for a few minutes before coming back and scratching at the door.
Over the next few hours he repeated this process a dozen times, each time becoming a little bit bolder when he got outside. By the time night fell, he was ready for bed, and so was I. It had been a long, grueling day.
After that he came and went as he pleased, just like Sally Mae, and it pleased him a lot to "went". And he became more affectionate toward me. He would curl up beside me on the couch sometimes, which he had never done before.
He slept downstairs at night, and one morning in early November 2009 when he came up we looked at him and Bill said, "There's something wrong with that cat." He was right. Tom was all swollen around his head, neck, shoulders, and front legs.
I bundled him up and took him to the vet. I love my vet. She is so knowledgeable, and she's great with animals. She diagnosed Tom with a blood disease. She gave him a couple of shots and sent us home with several bottles of pills, and hope.
A couple of weeks later, Tom took a turn for the worse. He dragged around the house, looking miserable. At one point I picked him up to love him and noticed he had litter glued to his paws. Anyone who knows cats knows they keep themselves clean, and when I saw the litter on his paws, my heart sunk into my stomach. I knew it was bad.
I was supposed to get my granddaughter Celeste off the school bus that afternoon, and shortly before she was due I decided Tom really needed to see the vet. I called and they said to bring him in as soon as possible. So I put him in his carrier and put him in the car and as soon as the school bus pulled away Celeste, Tom, and I headed out.
When we got to the vet, she looked at him and said, "I was afraid of this." She examined him and, in a very sad voice said, "He's suffering, and there's no chance he will get better. What do you want to do?"
These things are never easy, and I didn't want to have to answer her. But the decision was made, and poor Tom was put down. Celeste and I cried all the way home, and I cried for weeks. I still cry when I think about him.
And then Zacc, who I blogged about yesterday, came to us. He didn't replace Tom, but he's part of the family now. I like to picture Tom and Sallie romping around Heaven together, much as they did the back yard, and that the angels love them as much as I did.
As usual, have a great day, and God bless you and yours.Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Zacc
Today my mug is white with three angels flying across the side. The angels have "quilted" wings and gowns, giving them a distinctive country look. Woven around the angels are the words, "Grandmas are Angels on Earth". This mug was a Christmas gift from my beautiful granddaughter Celeste a few years ago. I love that girl.
Today's tea is "Precious Dew Pearl", a green tea from The Tao of Tea. This is the most expensive tea I ever bought. Three ounces cost $22. And I can't say I like it all that much. I usually mix it with another tea, to make it more palatable, but today I decided to tough it out and drink it plain. I must be getting used to it, because I don't think it's awful.
I don't normally pay more than $5 or $6 for a box or can of tea—there are too many good teas out there for a nominal cost. But occasionally we go to Jungle Jim's here in Cincinnati, and they carry more teas than I can count in one trip. Each time we go I buy one new tea ("Yeah," Bill says, "we need more tea, don't we?"), and I really felt indulgent that day, and the name was so appealing. Well, names aren't everything, and this tea, as of now, is just tolerable.
Today's quote is from the fictional Sir Percy, from the novel The Scarlet Pimpernel: "This little revolution of yours is monstrous intolerable." I've been saying [kinda] the same thing to my Representative and Senators.
I was going to blog about Tom, my last cat, but Zacc, our current cat, has insinuated himself into my consciousness, so he's in the spotlight today.
Zacc (or Zacc-a-lac, or Zacc-Zacc-bo-back, or Zacc-a-roni) came to us after we lost Tom. I was sad, crying a lot, and friend I will just call Sweet Pea called and said, "My boss found a kitten, and she can't keep it—allergies—and since you just lost Tom, I wondered if you could take him."
"He's a stray?"
"Yes."
Bill was laid off, and we had just spent all our extra income on poor Tom, when he became so ill. "I can't take him. I can't afford to get his shots and any other meds, much less get him neutered." We hung up and I started crying again, over Tom, over money, over poor, pitiful me…
A night or so later, the phone rang again. It was Gail, er, Sweet Pea. "The woman who found the cat says she will take him to the vet, get him neutered and fixed up, if you'll agree to take him."
What? "She would do that for a cat she's giving away?"
"Yes."
"I'll take him."
A few days later I met Sweet Pea and she gave me the kitten (actually about three months old, close to being a cat), cat food, and a bag of litter*.
We had to figure out what to name him. It was just a couple of weeks before Christmas, so we thought about Noel, Chris, Angel, the usual. But Sweet Pea called to see how we were getting along, and she said, "You know, he was found in a tree. It seems to me that would be a good clue to what to name him."
In the Bible, there's the story of a tax collector named Zacchaeus, who wants to see Jesus when He passes by. But Zacchaeus is short ("wee", in the song), so he climbs up a sycamore tree to get a get view of Him.
Zacchaeus it was. Zacc for short.
We already had Sally Mae, our dog, and she had been raised with a cat, so she had no problem with this new addition to the family, but it took Zacc about a month before he finally decided Sally didn't see him as a walking appetizer. And a couple of weeks later they actually started interacting.
At first when Sally passed, Zacc acted like he didn't even notice. But over the past weeks he has been showing signs of depression. He isn't as active; he occasionally goes into a room and just stands in the middle and looks around. It's almost like he's either looking for her, or remembering her… Sometimes I'll be crying over her, and he'll plop down near me, watching me, just blinking. I often wonder what's going on in his little cat head.
But he's also gotten more aggressive recently, and at first I thought it was cabin fever. We have a fenced back yard, so he and Sally came and went as they pleased, as long as Bill or I was willing to play doorman. But sometimes I wonder if it isn't something more. I think he might be lonely. After all, Bill and I only have two paws each and we don't enjoy playing in the toilet. Boring.
Anyhow, he went through that "juvenile delinquent" period a while back, but then he settled down and started behaving better. But in the past week or so he's gotten back into the stalking, biting, scratching thing. We spend a lot of time filling the water bottle we use on him when he gets out of control.
And yet, in the evenings he's become more affectionate. It's like he needs the comfort. I don't know how much he knows or understands, but I think if he could just let go and cry, like I do, he might feel better. I try to tell him that, but he just won't listen. Cats.
Tea's gone, and I'm determined to make soap today. I love making soap. I'll blog about that some time. Maybe next week. But for now, the sun is shining and it's a beautiful day, so go do something. And God bless you.
*That Sweet Pea is so sweet. While Bill was out of work, she would often buy cat food and litter for us. I have so many wonderful friends. How blessed am I?