we admit, we got the new staircase mostly for the dogs. the problem is, they both hate it. flannery will go up, but doesn't like getting past the newel at the top to come down. and ripley -- ripley prefers a carpeted step. these will get carpet runners after they are stained and sealed, but for now, we thought we'd get her practicing a bit.
right after the last picture, of course, she fell down, limped about tragically for a few minutes, and we haven't seen her go up again since. we'll get there.
it's entirely possible that this is contributing to her performance anxiety. the cats are offended that we are teaching the dog to climb the staircase. they are in for a rude awakening when she gets good at it.
we don't get pictures this silly everyday. i think gib and hillel are making their stance on this whole thing pretty clear.
say goodbye to that ugly staircase (after the holidays) -- it's outta here! and new ductless AC units in next week! improve improve improve.
crappity crappity crap.
once valentine's day has come and gone, i have no use for this winter thing. so tired of the grey, achey feeling; so tired of the soup and the stew; so tired of the dry itchy skin; so tired of the piles of coats and sweaters and gloves and hats.
what to do?
but huddle up on the couch with a little live courtroom coverage via court tv (ripley has a crush on vinnie politan...)
or, chase the beam of a laser pointer around the room. but it seems i'd be late getting on the bandwagon where that is concerned.
ho hum. we REALLY need some sun, and a few crocuses.
that was ben's request for a title for this year's hanukkah posting. there is a reason for this, although the reason is hard to photograph. it's the thing on the right; it's what i gave ben on the first night of hanukkah.
it's a menorah, and i think that's obvious. it's one of those "bubble light" things evocative of the 1940's (and ben and i do make an effort to pretend to be living in the 1940's as much as possible). i got it from the vermont country store, where ben and i have purchased many gifts for one another over the years -- hot water bottles, walnettos candies, brown bread in cans, jadeite mixing bowls. it's a lovely quaint site. and i was so excited to find this bubble menorah!
but a little perplexed when it finally arrived. because the box that it came in is labelled CHRISTMAS LIGHTS. CHRISTMAS CHRISTMAS CHRISTMAS is printed all over the box.
we were both mystified. it's pretty obvious that this is a menorah, isn't it? even in the half darkness?
this is our "regular" menorah, which, of course, we will still always use. the cats love it.
this is maybe not the best photo of the cats "loving" hanukkah, but we swear, they come running when they hear ben singing that prayer and striking a match.
taking a good picture in our dark den is a challenge, but we think the point gets across here. this is gib and hillel watching "their tape", which was given to us by my friend marlene. it's footage of birds and squirrels, nothing else. and as you see, the boys love it.
what exactly was our reasoning for not getting a second cat? (other than that we really didn't want one?)
i think gibson is happier than he has ever been. he loves hillel so much. we hear him using "words" we had never heard him say before, when calling to the kitten.
i wonder, though, if gib has any rudimentary way of noting to himself, "this kitten used to be much SMALLER than me. and now it seems to be getting LARGER." because hillel, assuredly, is going to be a much bigger cat than gibson will ever be.
trying to write yesterday morning, i almost threw hillel out of a window. bag bag bag. cord cord cord. box box box. bite bite bite. he seems to be in a constant state of preparation for some production of west side story, fighting and dancing his way through every moment of the day.
then he found the toy i had attached to the office door weeks ago. thank god. catch the refreshment here and here.
after a long friday night of letterpress printing, i looked up to see this on our front window: and, of course, ran outside to photograph her.
this is our "big girl", the mantis we've been seeing the most of these days. we haven't seen a male in weeks, come to think of it. ben has been seeing what he assumed was another female in the backyard -- now he thinks it was this one, since she's such a mover.
she would look down at me with the camera, with her big dark nighttime eyes, and then look back up to watch a car go down the street. very regal, very composed, very beautiful.
the boys got in the window, to see what we were up to. they might have seen the mantis, but were quickly distracted by the cords to the blinds.
our girl looked as though she would have been happy to play with a blind cord too. what a sweetie!
without the presence of hillel, i don't think something like this would ever have occurred; and yet, i cannot say exactly what hillel has to do with it, since he was not even present.
then again, flannery's new MEMORY FOAM BED (posh!) is rather irresistable to us all.
gibson loooooooves "flashies" -- especially the kind that glint off my watch around two in the afternoon. he waits for them, because he knows i will come into the kitchen around this time, and that they are best then. click on the thumbnail of gibson and his flashie to see the movie version of this phenom.
taken with the "night vision" feature on the camera (no, ben does not wear glowing green pants.) our animals are affection fiends. and ben is a snuggling bandit in the night.
gibson hadn't touched his ernie doll in literally over a year, until he HEARD me say "i'm going to go through gib's toys before the holiday and get rid of a few of them to make room for his new holiday things." now look.
maybe we need to talk to gibson before we bring any new plants into the house. this one has really affected him.
here you see gibson parker gibson dorko stopper levin, not playing with a paper star.
you see that, because it represents what is true. gibson has never, ever played with a paper star in his life. as this picture indicates, he has never been seen rolling all over the floor with a paper star between his paws, making cooing noises, and dashing up and down the hall while pushing a paper star in front of him. this photo proves once and for all that that never happens. and never will.
gibson, actually, is going through a phase of believing that he is dan elias, host of "antiques roadshow". we know this because he keeps coming up to us and saying "hi, i'm dan elias. welcome to antiques roadshow." does anyone else have a problem like this with their cat?
here's a shot of gib that you can only get from ONE special vantage point in the apartment. i am too ladylike to say exactly where, but maybe the name of the image file itself will give savvy readers a clue.
sometimes, there is a brief truce. not without loud complaint on flanny's part, and not without gibson exacting his pound of flesh (from ben's hand).
no, ben didn't go on a bizarre wild-oat-sowing spree. gibson went to the emergency room with what we thought was a blocked urinary tract.
immediately branded a "bolter" by the girls in triage, he was then given an ultrasound and it was reported to us that he "doesn't have a bladder." we found that surprising, as you can normally hear gibson peeing from a distance of about thirty feet. what has he been using, if not a bladder? no, the girls said, he doesn't have a blocked bladder. okay then.
he is back home and happy to be here. he just doesn't understand why we've suddenly become so fascinated by the clumps of stuff in his litter box. but he liked all the extra attention.
paid for by Cats for Frank Di Cicco, Gibson Parker Gibson, Treasurer.
it isn't anything he wants people to KNOW about, of course, but gibson DOES floss his teeth.
it's nice to know that my every move has captured the attention of SOMEONE. two someones. puttering in the kitchen, i turned around and was faced with this.
we weren't really sure what this new pose with the arm extended meant, but we're sure it was meant to impress us.
gibson controls all trains. he always has. he always will. no trains run without gibson's specific and divine will. happy holidays to all.
okay. so his birthday probably ISN'T really october 29th -- we made that up. and whenever his real birthday IS, maybe he isn't going to be five this year. but he's somewhere near there. AND, just MAYBE, gibson isn't his real name. but we got him presents. he got a zerbil, and a toukie. (if you never come to this house, you'll never know). and he seemed generally happy. this is his official "birthday" portrait, grainy and moody like gib himself.
what gibson actually enjoys is lying on my butt while i am reading in bed.
Gibson has a taste for dairy products... much in the same way that a crack addict has a taste for crack products. Watch out, there's no telling what he might do.
The couch is his. The pillows... his. The blanket... his. No, you may not sit here.
Take 3/4 cup vermouth
Add to 9lbs Gibson
Shake lightly
Pour and serve with lime twist