Ker-plat!

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POW!

Oh Lordy Lordy

What a whirlwind. I've been to Portland, Oregon attending a family wedding. We had an excellent time, until we went to the airport to fly home and realized that a communication error had led to us not being booked on a flight home. I spent more on the return ticket than I had spent on the rest of the entire trip.

The kitten was being checked-up on by Paws to Consider, a JP dog walking and pet-sitting service. She did really well. The pet-sitters left wonderful notes about how sweet and adorable she was, and she was very happy to see us when we got home. She hasn't acted ticked-off at us at all. She also had her first check-up, and things went well.

Now I just have to re-acclimate to work on Monday.

I wish I were this cute!

This is Foot Foot (after the Shags song). She has one peanut butter colored foot (back right) and three chocolate colored feet, or paws I guess. We could call her Reese's. But we liked Foot Foot better.

Foot Foot was born to the feral colony that lives next to our house. When we first moved into this apartment, a litter had just been born. I occasionally see one of those cats lurking around. All of these cats are shy and even fearful of people. No matter how careful and patient I've been, I've never been able to get closer than a few feet before they've bolted. This summer another litter was born. I wish I had the resources to do more for this group, but getting one female off the street and spayed, innoculated and into a safe home will help, I hope.

Labor Day morning, we were looking through the chain link fence that separates our yard from the scrap yard behind the office building next door, and we saw some kittens and the mother cat. They all bolted. Except Foot Foot. She just pranced back and forth, just on the other side of the fence. If we walked away from her, she ran after us, mewling all the way. We hung out on the back steps with the door open and a bowl of water for her. Once she let herself in, we knew we were going to keep her.

When she came in, I left her with the missus while I went to the store for a litter box and some food (and cat toys, and cat nip, and litter). By the time I came back, she was passed out on the missus' lap. She sleeps with us, she follows us from room to room, and she purrs when we scratch under her chin. Ahhh contentment.

Annus Novus

I am very connected to the academic calendar. Even though I am more-or-less done with formal schooling, living in Boston puts you on the September to August cycle. Everyone moves on September first, an odyssey I will never indulge in again.

September first this year marked one year in the new apartment. To celebrate, we adopted a kitten. It wasn't a conscious decision. The feral colony next to our house sheds a litter of kittens every summer, and usually none of those cats wants to have anything to do with people. They literally melt into the trees and scrap yards in the neighborhood. But one little kitten was being very brazen this weekend. She would take a few steps away when we approached her, but chase after us when we turned around and walked away. We gave her some water, and she followed us into the apartment. Once we closed the door behind her, that was that. She's a house cat now.

So, where's my money?

When I was little, my family were constantly reminding me to not talk to myself. I've always done this, and still do. It isn't like I don't know what the answers are going to be. I just like to have a little company. But what I remember most is my grandmother telling me that people would think I had money in the bank if I talked to myself.

Still, no money in the bank. I'm going to keep talking to myself, though.

Blu.....bla...blacccckkk

Blooorghh...Blahhhh. Blurp.

Ah. I feel better now. Sometimes my brain needs to upchuck, like my tummy.

I Was a Weird Kid...

...and I haven't changed much.

When I was six or seven, I got a desk for my birthday. It was the greatest thing I had ever been given to that point in my life. I was ecstatic. When I was little, I played "office" the way some little kids play "school." I would just sit at my desk and pretend to do paperwork.

Today, I was working on redesigning a form that my office uses to process work, and I had to ask a coworker about some edits I was making. She commented on how well I approached editing the form as if I were someone using it, and I started waxing rhapsodic about forms in general.

"I love forms. They're like the artifacts of policies, and policies are how we express what our priorities and norms are. When you look at a form, you see what's important to people."

"...um...

...yeah...

...that's great, Kev. Let me know if you need my opinion on anything else."

Cripes. It's no wonder I always get pegged as the dork in the room.