Otaku

Even though today was a gorgeous day, and I did indeed spend a chunk of it outside gardening, a large part of it was spent indoors, parked in The Comfy Chair with a rotating cast of cats, reading the New York Times, well worth the $5 it costs to truck it into Humboldt County.

The magazine had an article on Will Wright and his strangely textile-free home in the East Bay hills. Back in the day, when it was still called the Computer Game Developers Conference down in Silicon Valley, Greg ran into Will. This was just after SimCity had come out, a gaming phenomenon. Greg was anxious to talk to Will, as SimCity was such a departure from the usual computer gaming dreck. But with SimCity being such a hit, everyone in the hall wanted to talk to Will Wright.

So Greg politely stood among the circle of people waiting for their chance. And waited. Greg was successful in catching Will's eyes, but Will kept on talking to others in the tightly-knit circle around him, including a pair of Japanese publishers. Very intense talk. Until one of the Japanese men happened to notice Greg standing there and broke off his conversation with Will, saying "Oh excuse me please, I must talk to Greg Stafford!" And the Japanese guy turned away and started talking to G-man. How rude, and how un-Japanese! He then apologetically turned back to Will and said, "Greg Stafford very famous in Japan."

I think that was the last time they, uh, met.

Dictionarian

We all know a dictionarian or two, don't we? Someone who just has to say, Isn't it pronounced in-ko-IT? I've never heard in-ko-ATE before... Or pointing out your confusion between tactics and strategy.

If dictionarian ever makes it into the Oxford English Dictionary, I think the first synonym listed should be prick.

Hazards

It's tough being a mailma'am. You wanna know how tough? So, last week at work I was on one of our walk-out routes—that's the kind where you don't use a mailmobile, you just grab a stack of mail and your satchel and head out the Post Office on foot. So while the regular guy was whooping it up on Kauai with his new girlfriend, I was watching the ink run on the sodden mail in my hands, since we got about five inches of rain these past seven days.

At least the rain wasn't particularly cold, or the ground frosty, or windy out. Those gusts coming off the cold, cold Pacific Ocean hurt. Especially in shorts.

The regular, though, he's a smart guy. Those walk-out routes use big green relay boxes to store the mail until the carrier gets to that part of the route. And this regular has rain gear stashed in each and every box, just in case. So on Saturday when the drizzle turned into a downpour I tucked the mail under my arm and high-tailed it to the nearest relay to grab a slicker. I threw my thoroughly-soaked cotton windbreaker in the box and trudged on.

By the time I got my windbreaker back (from the regular relief carrier who'd gone out that day) later Monday afternoon, it wasn't yet starting to smell, but it was pretty close. Still damp, still wadded up. If it had warmed up any, or if the sun'd come out, the heat inside the metal relay box might have dried my little jacket, but it rained all weekend.

And now my shoes smell. I never thought about it, but lawns have just as much dog pee as anything else a dog might deposit. And cutting across lawns all over town month after month, dewey, fog-kissed, urine-tainted lawns in leather shoes...so yeah, when my shoes get really wet, they smell like dog pee.

And then today I stepped in dog poo.

Food Surprise

Staring at a fridge full of left-over odds and ends, G-man took a culinary plunge today and for dinner made a batch of sopa Azteca. No recipe! Though he tried that route, looking online for ideas. He found some, but any recipe that starts with "Take a can of tomato soup and..." should be, and was, ignored. The sopa Azteca was not only delicious, but a stunning victory in the contest to make a pair of pork chops stretch for as many meals as possible.

Four!

Vivani Catpants was very excited that Mexican food was on the menu. I've been a cat-owner all my life, and these two cats (Gina and Vivani) are stunningly uninterested in people food. I've never seen Gina eat people food, not meat, not cheese, not ice cream. Nada. And other than Mexican food and tortilla chips and the occasional sip of milk, Vivi feels the same way.

But as we had sopa and chips, 'Pants came over and begged a couple of chips off Greg. (She almost never asks me.) When Greg extends his hand with the chip, she's gotta love on it first, rubbing up against it and Greg's hand a couple of times. Then she eats the chip.

After the dinner dishes were put away I headed for my computer for a little surfing, and I noticed that the package of imported (from Berkeley) mochi we'd opened last night still had one mochi left. Which I grabbed and started munching as I read the news and blogs I follow. Greg asked me a question so I turned away from my desk to answer him. Next thing I know...

Still Rainy

The backyard rain gauge is showing just about 4 inches of rain since this series of storms started, what, a week ago? But as I had the morning off, I wasn't about to let a little precipitation keep me out of the Bad Garden!

The straw mulch I put down kept the ground around the raised beds weed-free, but the blackberry...my on-going efforts at eradication lagged during the summer and fall, and it shows. So I geared up, grabbed my shovel and set to.

I like gardening, even in poor weather: I'm outside; doing something productive; and spending quality time with the cats. (Although Vivani sat out this session.) And poultry—they saw me heading to the boxes and came running.

The ducks are big piggies for worms, and they know now to watch me spade the earth. But they keep getting all up in my grill, making it hard to work. And I mean, way up there:

See, Carlin says, if I get my head in there while she's lifting a spadeful of dirt, I get the best choice of worms.

What's H.I. McDonough say about them babies? "They were all over me...it was kinda horrifyin'." I kept having to pick them up and move them bodily out of the way.

But they kept coming back. I switched to using a trowel.

After the blackberry, I moved over and started trimming back the one and only backyard shrub I bought and planted. It exploded in size and needed to be thinned and shaped to stop it from taking over the back corner of the yard. It was also harboring a secret stash of chicken eggs:

Eleven chicken eggs! Those girls have been holding out on me.

Soggy yardwork isn't the only thing we have to thank the rain for. A gutter over the back wall of the New Vitality Homeland stopped up and rainwater made its way into the closet in Greg's office. We pulled everything out and called the roof guy. And while we waited for him to fix the problem, the gatitas holas discovered the warm and soft blankets folded near the heater. First Orange Gina found them, then Vivani Catpants found Orange Gina.

Since Gina is half again as big as Vivani, Vivi's usual tactic when she wants something Gina has is to initiate a grooming session—which inevitably devolves into tussling and wrassling. And usually ends with Vivani getting what Gina had and gave up to get some peace. So when Vivi jumped up and started washing Gina's head, I grabbed the camera in anticipation of some cat-on-cat action:

They surprised me, though, and after Gina's head was nice and clean, they both laid down for a nap on the blankets. A first! Maybe in another couple of years they'll actually sleep together regularly.

Is not Kashmir one of the best rainy day songs?

Rainy Day

Vivani Catpants parked in the "thinking cup" as it continues to rain. The backyard gauge is creeping closer to 3 inches for this series of storms. I think it's time to bust out some applesauce muffins and have another cup of tea.

Survivalist Mentality

And that's not all of them!

I told you I've been busy canning...my step-son came over yesterday and knocked together some shelves out of the free scrap-wood I scored from the alley near the post office, and Greg got most of the jars out of their dungeon-drawer and out where we can see what we have.

While this new display points out just how much blackberry jam I made this summer and fall—we're not running out this year—it probably guarantees that the fruit chutney won't make it past solstice.

Ah, well. Let's eat!