I haven't written much about my trip home to San Diego, but I wanted to take a minute to mention my sister's new cat, Judeau. He is the most bipolar cat I have ever met in my entire life.

Meeting Judeau, then called "Boo" was fun. Katie brought my mother and myself to her new place of employment where she works with a theraputic riding program. Also included under the banner of the organization is an adoption center for dogs and cats. After a four month stay in an Arizona shelter, then Boo had been transferred to San Diego to improve his chances of finding a home.

Katie informed me that she had been watching the cat since his arrival and wanted to show him to us. We willingly went (MISTAKE!) and I encouraged her to take him into one of the private rooms to greet him one-on-one (MISTAKE!). The sweetest thing you ever saw, he glided out of the cat carrier and happily meowed and rubbed his cheeks against my sister's hand. Mom, Katie, and I shared a look and we all knew that we were adopting a new cat that day.

The agency waived the meet-all-members-of-the-family requirement, which was good, as my father had voiced his opinion recently that the household should be reducing the number of animals, not increasing. With the addition of Judeau there now have six cats, one dog, and two horses--much lower than our peak numbers of seven cats, four dogs, four sheep, three birds, four horses, two rats, a turtle, and an iguana. Dad was on a business trip for the next couple of days and we figured, correctly, it turns out, that he would give in once we all informed him matter-of-factly that a new cat had taken up residence.

Judeau's beautiful eyes are the clearest blue I've ever seen. He appears to be full-blooded Siamese, although not the creepy show cat variety. He looks like this:

We figured that once home, he would spend some time separated from the menagerie, and spend lots of time being petted and loved.

We were wrong.

The instant we loosed him in Katie's bedroom he disappeared into the far corner of the closet and started growling. No amount of food or cajoling would budge him. Any attempts to touch him were met with teeth and slashing motions that would have been deadly except that he had been declawed on all four feet. For three days he lived in closets and under beds, eating only when no one could see him.

On the fourth morning Judeau appeared to have a change of heart and wandered around the bedroom completely at ease, meowing and rubbing against furniture. We all thought he had settled down (MISTAKE!). Growling and hissing ensued whenever anyone came close.

By the fifth morning he would allow us to sit a few feet away while he ate, eventually bestowing upon us a rub against a finger or a shoe. One should not, however, believe that this was an invitation to pet the cat in any way. All petting must be done passively, in the form of standing still while the cat find places he enjoys touching. Hands should preferably not be visible during this time.

I'm told he is much the same now. Although Judeau enjoys being around people and has begun purring, he does not invite any touching unless he initiates it. And sometimes he'll go ahead and bite you even as he purrs.

The cycle of weird pets continues.

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This is a cool promo campaign for the new title Prayers for the Assassin.

Click the link and contribute to my campaign! Naomi Barlett for President-for-Life!

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...the mighty Seahawks have struck out.

Nice job ref. While the Seahawks certainly could have played better, some consistent officiating would have at least created a level playing field.

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1 Oh boo wah. If they'd have not sucked they'd have won too.

Posted by: eden at February 06, 2006 09:48 AM (M2PUd)

2 Nasty ol' Steelers fans. Congratulations. To the refs. They did a great job winning for you!

Posted by: ensie at February 06, 2006 03:18 PM (0Y/90)

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I'm going to where it's sunny tomorrow!

It's been raining pretty much every day since Christmas here, I think we've had three "dry" days. I place that in quotes as "dry" just means there is no active rain happening. Everything is still dark and sodden.

I realize that I live in the Pacific Northwest (sort of), but I feel justified in complaining after the following conversation occured last week:

Ensie: I don't want to be the wussy Californian here, but I'm really tired of the rain. Just as of today. It surprisingly hasn't really bothered me up until now. Am I just being a wussy Californian?

Frinklin: No. You're not. People who have lived in Seattle their entire lives and love the rain are sick of the rain.

Ensie: So, even the amphibious folk are trying to dry off?

Frinklin: Pretty much.

San Diego, here I come!

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Lately, I've noticed a curious resistence to establishing my permanent residence in Washington State. While I applied for my WA driver's license the week after moving, it was only because my CA license expired on my birthday and I had no choice. I have yet to find a dentist, an eye doctor, a hairstylist, etc. The dogs still have their San Diego County rabies tags.

I can't help it. I loved living in California. There was a certain sense of pride that I lived year round where people want to vacation. I know I'll always be from California, but it just isn't the same. And I know there are those who laugh at anyone from CA and think we're all freaks--go ahead--I eat your hate like love.

I've been making strides--the Beetle has Washington plates now. The California registration had only expired in October. Apparently there is a significant fee it one is pulled over with a Washington driver's license and out-of-state plates. I courted danger every day for three months. The truck's California plates expire at the end of February. You won't see me anywhere near the Department of Licensing before the ides of March (and what's up with the "Department of Licensing"? Call it the DMV like normal).

I don't like the doctor I've seen three times. For some reason, my mind refuses to believe that he is my "real" doctor. I'm just seeing him until I can get back home.

I have an appointment with my old dentist on Thursday while in San Diego.

I don't feel completely alone in this. Violet has lived in Chicago for years now and still has her California driver's license. We discuss the pros and cons of driving cross country to get your car smogged very two years. She are I are convinced that eventually we'll end up back in our real home.

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I'm flying to San Diego for six days on Monday. Surviving a rapidly deteriorating work situation (not the job, but the people I have to be around while doing the job) has been my goal so that I could get to vacation time. After nine years I've hit three weeks of paid vacation per year--allowing me to take vacation now, in the summer, and again at the end of the year. Perfect.

And tonight I have ANOTHER sore throat. I missed three days of work last week due to some nasty thing that required antibiotics and involved a fever over 100 degrees. Then there was the giant canker sore on my left tonsil, which is just as stabbingly painful as it sounds. I swallowed approximately 230 throat lozenges.

I've already dosed myself with Airborne (beware, this link is rather annoying) and a decongenstant, to fight off both virus and post nasal drip.

Oh God--please let this be allergies.

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Since I had the breakdown a couple of months ago I've been on all sorts of lovely meds to keep myself stable and to help me sleep at night. When I was first given my four (count 'em!) new prescriptions I thought, this new doc might be a little drug-happy. But she was right and I feel about 200% better now that I'm able to get out of bed in the morning and not cry all day long.

But...

At my last appointment with Doctor Meds I started to wonder if this is the right person for me. A couple of the things that stood out include:

1. She told me that animals are psychic and can read our electromagnetic fields, auras, and our minds. Um, OK.

2. In order to "visualize" losing weight, I've been instructed to purchase a doll and stick balls of modeling clay on it. One ball = one pound. I will then remove the balls as I lose pounds. The doll must stay somewhere I will see it each day. My problems with this? Dolls creep me the fuck out and this is just generally a completely weird idea.

There are a few other quirks I've noticed, but she generally is a good person to talk to, and does have some practical advice for some of my issues. Why do I always run across the freaky Docs?

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1 Um... animals are psychic.

Posted by: onelazylesbian at January 27, 2006 07:49 AM (ez0cq)

2 I'm not convinced on that one. I know animals are incredible readers of very subtle body language--we give off unconcious clues constantly as to our frame of mind and our intentions. But psychic? Auras? I don't know.

Posted by: ensie at January 27, 2006 09:27 AM (0Y/90)

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My dad is an electrical engineer. Because of this, I've had a computer in my house since the day I was born. The original machine took up a six-foot banquet table in my parent's bedroom sending simple documents to a dot-matrix printer that screeched like a dying banshee. I often lay awake at night listening to the tortured ink scraping onto the page.

Being an insider in the world of computers gave my Dad access to all sorts of prototype games. These were the most primitive graphics imaginable. I would hunch over the black and green screen for hours shooting asterisks from my X-O-X X-Wing Fighter at Darth Vader's ><-O-><� Tie-Fighter. Atari was light years away. Heck, Pong was several steps up in the technological world.

One of the games I had access to early on was a Beta version of a text game that I played obsessively. The 9-inch floppy disks would slide into the computer and Adventure (aka Colossal Cave) would begin. Oh how I loved Adventure. No images to slow you down--your imagination ran wild as you played. Being only 6 or 7 years old, I never progressed very far, but would play the same half hour introduction for hours at a time. I never thought to purchase the finished version of Adventure, but I’ve played it a couple of times online since—still only progressing only about a half hour into the game.

This great parody of Adventure really killed me. I nearly fell out of my seat with laughter and glee. Frinklin has consistantly mocked me when I try to describe playing a game that played like a “Choose Your Own Adventureâ€� book. The fact that over 250 people commented on his "Xyzzy" (*poof*) post confirms that my nostalgic memories aren't just fluff, but are the same as numerous other devoted Adventure players.

A sampling:

> GIVE CONTRACTS
Who do you want to give the contracts to?

> HALLIBURTON
What kind of contracts do you wish to give to Halliburton?

> NO-BID
You give the no-bid contracts to Halliburton.

> STAY COURSE
The situation in Iraq remains unchanged.

> STAY COURSE
The situation in Iraq remains unchanged.

> WEAR FLIGHTSUIT
You put on the flightsuit.

> SAY "MISSION ACCOMPLISHED"
"Mission accomplished."

> EXAMINE MISSION
The mission is not accomplished.

> STAY COURSE
The situation in Iraq remains unchanged.

Some insurgents arrive.

> STAY COURSE
The situation in Iraq deteriorates.

> STAY COURSE
The situation in Iraq deteriorates.

Some insurgents arrive.
There is a small number of insurgents here.

Genius!

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The food, not the parrot.

I'm cooking. Right now, as I type. I found what looks to be a great recipe for roast chicken and veggies in the new issue of BUST magazine. It's Martha Wainwright's recipe, to be specific.

If it turns out well I'll post the recipe. But you can always go out and get it yourself. It's so worth it, just for the article on Peaches alone.

I feel so wifey right now.

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At a certain point before going on vacation my body ceases to work. I have reached that point. I only have a four-day workweek, as Friday I will walk out the door of Bob’s Hogs in Tacoma and have no plans to return until early February. I’ve even managed to arrange a trip to San Diego to see how many feet my 15-year-old brother has grown in the six months since I’ve last seen him. You should hear him on the phone—he went from sounding like Mickey Mouse to Barry White in about 4 days.

I should be calling potential customers and filling out vendor registration forms. Instead, IÂ’m organizing computer files and blogging at work. Bad sign. I still have three more days to go.

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This is how Matchbox spent New Years.

In a closet, on top of the the shelves. We found him after the fireworks ended.

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Last year there was this lovely gem.

Each year during the week before Christmas I leave my laptop at home and step onto the sales floor for a full eight hours of sheer hell. By the time I go home on Friday I'm limping and bleeding, sobbing from questions such as this:

Ensie: Hello, can I help you?

Stupid Customer: Can you check on a book for me?

E: Sure. What is it you are looking for?

SC: Um, it's called Control Room. It's by, uh, Jazeera. Mr. Al Jazeera.

E : Do you possibly mean the documentary Control Room about the Al Jazeera network?

SC: There's nothing out there by an author named Al Jazeera?

E: No.

SC: OK, never mind then.

I cannot make this shit up, people.

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I had a pretty good trip to Dallas. Work-wise it was productive, and we completed the work we needed to get done ahead of schedule. The hotel was comfortable, and we went to the Cheescake Factory for dinner (Navajo sandwich, where have you been all my life?).

Especially cool, since Bob's Hogs and Weiner Pigs is a potential major client for the company we were meeting with, they wooed us. I haven't been on this side of the wooing before. I spent Monday evening with various account executives in their luxury suite at the Mavericks/Lakers game. I could really get into sports if a luxury suite was included.

Out of nowhere during the game, my boss turned to me and asked if I felt ready to take over a Regional Sales Manager position. Since a Regional Sales Manager position does not currently exist within Bob's Hogs, it was a bit out of left field. Apparently, I'm being groomed. All right. If you want to pay me more money just to continue doing the same thing over a larger area (and send me to San Fran every so often)--Sure! I'll take it.

The last part of my trip wasn't so great. The airport wait stretched to almost five hours after missing the earlier flight out. I blamed my upset stomach on turbulence, but after arriving home and diving for the bathroom it became official--I was sick. Really sick. The throwing up began at 10 PM. Fortunately it was limited to one night. Two days of lying on the couch immobile allowed my stomach to keep down two jello cups and one english muffin.

Today has been better—half of a sandwich! I can’t tell if I’m feeling faint from the slight fever or the lack any real food in almost three days.

So, life in short currently—travel, travel, work, work, sick, sick, sick—somewhat better today. Tomorrow I get my first full weekend since November.

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While I fully intended to post the pictures of snow, I've been out of town for the last week visiting various members of "my team" (doesn't that sound official?) in Oregon. Once you get past Portland, it's mostly fields and sheep. I did like the city of Corvallis, though. And Eugene is beautiful, although it does not contain a single non-one-way street within the entire city. A pain in the ass to drive if you don't know EXACTLY where you are going.

Currently, I'm in Dallas, TX, waiting for my boss and my boss' boss to show up. I'm so excited to spend the next two days with people I don't know and intimidate me grandly. Frinklin is home right now, putting up Christmas lights on our house. Walking the dogs around the neighborhood, we've see exactly two types of Christmas light displays; 1)Those that are not decorated at all, and 2) Those that are decorated so completely they prevent you from seeing the actual house on the other side of the light display. Is there no happy medium in Tacoma?

While our house will be subdued by this standard, I'm told we have way more lights than in previoius years. I was always a single strand of tasteful lights sort of girl, but enjoy the effect of icesicle lights. This year we have a light-up snowflake in the window, icesicle lights, and borders of other lights around the windows and doorway. I haven't seen it yet. I'm trying hard to trust Frinklin's judgement on this issue. I fear because my father-in-law is a BIG fan of covering every square inch in lights, and he is assisting with the light display.

Lastly, in this hodgepodge of random blogging, an experience Christmas shopping at a local store:

Frinklin and I purchase several CDs and wish the clerk Merry Christmas.

Clerk: Have a good Christmas. I hope it isn't too bad.

Me (to Frinklin): What did she just say? Isnt' that like saying "Happy birthday, hope it doesn't suck"?

I assume she's worked several retail holiday seasons and is just over it.

So--Merry Christmas to you all--hope it isn't too awful!

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It is totally snowing. Inches. That's right--plural!

God heard my prayer, "If it's gonna snow, snow a lot tonight, 'cause I have the day off from work tomorrow!"

Happy Birthday Frinklin!

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1 How cool! Happy Birthday, Frinklin! : )

Posted by: Violet at December 02, 2005 08:38 AM (i2vI3)

2 HB Frink! How ya likin' the snow?

Posted by: eden at December 02, 2005 10:57 AM (M2PUd)

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Big ups to Violet who sent a fabulous care package including pasta, hot chocolate, carmel sauce and more.

The best item in the package? A big 'ol can of Spotted Dick. Yum!

And it's microwavable!

So far it's gone to work with me, to work with Frinklin, and to dinner with my in-laws, just for fun.

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The forecast for Tacoma this evening:

Cloudy
70% Chance of precipitation
Mixed rain and snow expected overnight
Overnight low of 32 degrees

The forecast for San Diego this evening:
Fair and clear
0% Chance of precipitation
Overnight low of 50 degrees

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CRASH!

THUMP!

SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER...

"What was that?"

"Shhhh. Stay here with the dog."

A minute passes...

"Dammit!"

"Honey? Are you OK? Is it safe to let Jeffrey go?"

"Yeah. Come see the kitchen."

"Oh my God--there's dirt everywhere! In the sink, on the floor, all over..."

"Remember the plant that used to be on top of the cupboards? It's not there anymore."

Formerly penthouse dwelling plant is held at arm's length by one sad vine with an even sadder clod of potting soil attached.

"Dammit Percy! Do you want to get the vaccuum or should I?"

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