The House Across the Street

I was doing some engraving today that requires heavy-duty concentration (very expensive pieces)when I noticed this 30-some-odd white guy come out from behind my house & walk up my drive toward the street. He stood on the street looking around then proceeded away. I made a mental note of what he was wearing & his appearance in case a police report might be required later. Ten minutes later, my head down into the machine and my loupe to my eye, my screen door banged with a knock. I just about jumped out of my skin. It was the guy. "Have you seen a really little kitten", he asked. I stepped outside (sharp calipers in hand, does that make me parnoid?). He explained that he just moved into the house across the street & when he took out the trash today, he thinks his new kitten may have slipped out. He's had the kitten 3 days. It's small, he didn't know how many weeks old, but it's the same color as a cat he had seen in my yard (Cujo). I hadn't seen it, and I had been working in the sunporch all day, engraving. I told him to check at Catherine's-she puts out food for strays, and her yard attracts cats.
I resumed my work and as I worked, I thought of the same scenario played out in late September. A sixty-ish guy smelling very strongly of alcohol, knocked on my door looking for his cat. He had had the cat 5 years & was terribly fond of it. He had moved in the day before and intended to keep the cat in for a few weeks until she got acclimated. His wife went out to smoke a butt and let the cat out purposely, thinking it should just get used to the new environment. He called and called, but she didn't come. He was very distraught. I directed him to two neighbors who are out of work and who are crazy cat ladies; they would be more likely to spot the cat than I. I agreed with him that felines need to acclimate slowly to a new home and told him that I had put mine on a harness & leash the first few times out. We live on a busy street & there are frequent animal carcasses. A day later, he knocked again: kitty had come home-could he borrow my harness? I gave it to him and showed him how to put it on her, told him to keep it. He said he didn't like the apartment or the town. I never saw him again and I assume he moved back to his more rural town.
Two people in the same house in six weeks who move in and lose a cat within a day.

Then I started thinking; is my fate to always have a weird house across the street? This house in this small town has several units: I can't tell if it's 2 or 4. There is a never-ending parade of people moving in and moving out. Over the summer there was someone who played violin; he or she practiced in the afternoons, never at times that would bother anyone. It was lovely to listen to and do my work with music in the background. And then it was gone. I wonder why this one house always has trouble keeping tenants upstairs; the downstairs family has been there at least 7 years. They keep to themselves but their dog is always chained to the porch. A forlorn little terrier, my cats have no fear of him & taunt him by strutting on the doorstep, knowing he cannot reach them.

When I lived in the big, ugly city, the weird house across the street was a six-apartment tenement up the street a bit more, across from my friend Sue. There was an endless procession of moving in and moving out, children left unattended and hollering, drinking, fighting and blue lights in the night.
When I grew up in the big, beautiful city, the weird house across the street was a six-apartment tenement right across the street. We had no relationships with any of the myriad people who moved in or out, unlike every other house on the street.

As I worked and thought about all the weird houses across the street, I realized they have always been there and the theme is always the same. Absentee landlord who doesn't care & lets the place get rundown. Misfit tenants who take the place until they can find something better; they seem to move out the minute they do. And anything must be better, because they stay a month or two, a year at most.

Always having a weird house on the street has made me into a wary neighbor; the residents are never invited into my home, although I do interact civilly when necessary. Male residents of these houses make me conscious of my need to hold a sharp object in my hand, such as my keys or my calipers; I am pretty sure my voice registers in alto when I speak to them, and that my city accent comes out loud and clear. I've never had a major problem with the transient people in the weird house, but I don't intend to start now.

Does every neighborhood have a weird house? Or is it just a phenomenon I've discovered?

So Busy

Haven't had time to blog much this rainy summer. I am now on a real schedule,working regular days. It's much kinder to me in terms of energy. My commute is short and relatively pleasant and I am still deriving new shortcuts. I do so love a shortcut. My latest circumvents the local school system completely and hopefully will minimize crawling behind a bus. The main one involves driving past two ponds rather than a main road. No brainer.
The negative side is the total lack of organization, demanding and unrealistic customers and major personnel problems at this workplace. I like the group as individuals, but I cannot abide the DRAMA. A few of them can't help it, the drama imposes itself on their lives but the rest aspire to create it. I have spent a lot of energy imposing order, logic and routine into the environment. Yeah that's right-me, the Queen of Chaos, wielding order. Lots of effort but seeing results already. Lots of OT, due to a building remodel. I have banked enough time for a short vacation for the upcoming wedding and racked up some nice extrabucks.
The ability to keep to a schedule, and the need to unwind mindlessly has led to two new hobbies; television watching and jewelry making. The increase in income has enabled me to upgrade my cable. It helped that I got a flat screen in a flurry of mass consumption and had tech help to get it going. Now I have bright and clear picture coupled with a gazillion channels and for the first time, there is always something on. I am discovering indie channels, nat geo, history, sundance and HBO. No more HGTV most evenings. I started keeping a record of movies I watched. I still watch very little mainstream tv, but there's a whole new world out there.
The jewelry thing is going astoundingly well. I have made some really incredible pieces. It's a bit amusing the types of stone I have affinity for and keep gravitating towards. I have a good eye, and have been able to afford to indulge in good materials. For the first time in my life, I am letting myself spend some money to have fun. I don't drink, I don't go out much, I don't buy a lot of stuff for myself, so I indulge a bit on my hobby. It's working for me.
Fall is shaping up to be an incredibly busy time, so I am enjoying the every end of summer. It rained so much I never minded working a lot, but I did get to the beach once. I didn't get much down time, but then, when do I ever?

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

A week in between jobs. I thought of visiting a friend in the Caribbean-she got sick and came back to the states. I thought of accompanying Kate to California and sght-seeing a few days before her new job started=but my mom booked a trip to Atlantic City and asked Kate to Grampy-sit (he's been falling a lot).
So I decided to just stay home and maybe hit the beach a few days- the only days the sun came out were the days I had previous appointments.
But I did have a nice week. My sick friend came to recuperate in some peace & quiet, so I hung around and puttered and watched movies and so on.
The dutiful things I accomplished:
*Oil change and tuneup
*Eye exam and picked out new glasses
*Car inspection
*Banking
*Cleaned the kitchen really well
*Took old clothes to St Vincent dePaul
*Set up new computer
*Bought new tv (the girls set it up)
*Shopping trip with son for items for his new apartment
*Two trips to the transfer station
*Shopped for dress to wear to wedding
*Engraved 2 jobs & delivered both
*Cleaned the clothes closet & gave away a lot of stuff
*Scrubbed the bathrooms sterile
The fun things I accomplished:
*Went out to eat with Son, GF & friend
*Went to dinner w sister & friend after dress shopping
*Visited a friend for a jewelry consult
*Had an ice cream soda at Friendly's
*Took friend to visit some of her cousins, who were delightful to meet
*Played Bejeweled so much my hands ache
*Saw Star Trek again n the big screen with son & fiance & friend
*Cooked a spinach lasagna
*Made a vat of chili with rice & corn bread
*Made a vat of pasta
We watched a real lot of HGTV, but also saw lots of movies, both on TV and DVD, including:
*My Big Fat Greek Wedding (again)
*Pursuit of Happyness
*Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day
*The Color Purple (again)
*Night at the Museum (again)
*Harold and Maude (after many many years!)
*Young Frankenstein (after many many years!)
*Intolerable Cruelty
It doesn't look very restful, does it? And I still didn't finish vaccuming.
Tomorrow I start a new chapter in life. I look forward to it!

Ten Songs to Define Your Life

Kate sat on the bus with a music therapist who jawed with her a bit. She told about an assignment she had in college- to choose 10 songs that defined your life. Kate was intrigued. So far she picked two.
I had a much harder time, which intrigues the hell out of me. I am usually a sucker for a meme or a FaceBook quiz, but I admit this one has me stumped. Not the soundtrack that runs in my head- that would be way too easy- but a song that defines a period in my life, how I felt or behaved. Kate kindly pointed out that the chick who shared this nugget was probably 21 and at that age, you probably CAN define yourself in 10 songs. Three decades beyond that, it's more of a stretch.
I thought about songs that played repetitively on the radio/stereo in different phases of my life. Unlike the soundtrack in my head, this would be the soundtrack of the world around me as I lived my life. But the world doesn't define me. It shapes my reactions sometimes but it does not define me.
I need to think about this some more.
Kate figured that if I was having such a hard time with five decades, my Dad's nine decades would be interesting, so she posed the question to Hank.
Without skipping a beat, he replied "They're Coming To Take Me Away"...

The Puca and the Alarm Clock

I just noticed this is the 100th post! I guess it should be profound or special in some way, but frankly, I post when the muse hits.
The muse hit oddly last night at 3 am. I woke suddenly from a deep and sound sleep, turned my head and saw a HUGE (double the size of Cujo, my biggest cat) black cat staring at me, standing on the edge of my bed. It was big and black and it stared right at me. So I screamed. And the cat turned, jumped down and ran downstairs- at which point I was able to recognize from the sound of the patter of paws that it was Sorcha. Cujo heard me scream and came running to investigate-he is my self-appointed guardian, after all. Sorcha heard him come upstairs and crept back, jumping up next to me. I turned to the new clock radio and it was exactly 3:00 am.
In my disoriented state, the first thing I thought was "Puca!" The puca is a spirit, a shapeshifter that takes the form of an animal like a horse, a rabbit, or a cat. Usually it's a benign being that interacts with humans in different ways, mostly mischievous or annoying, but sometimes the puca warns of danger or guides a human away from danger. It is less of an omen than the Ban Sidhe, but some consider it malevolent.
Once my rapid heartbeat decelerated, and the two kitties settled in to sandwich me, I realized what had happened. Sorcha usually jumps up on the bed on my left side, but on this occasion she jumped up to my right. My new clock radio (which plays my iPod and allows me two alarms, one for work and one for other times) has a time display that is very, very bright. My old one had red lit numbers that glowed dimly. This one lights the entire room, which I dislike; I like my room very dark and never had a nightlight. It is set on dim- the brighter display is at bright as my lamp to me. When the sudden movement to the unaccustomed right side occurred, I opened up my eyes. With the bright light of the clock turned away from my direct view, Sorcha appeared larger as a shadow, and her tortoise fur appeared jet black. As a shadowed shape looming next to me (add in lack of eyeglasses contributing to vision distortion), her outline appeared totally unfamiliar, causing my reaction. Additionally, she usually vocalizes when I look at her (and she has a huge range of vocalization), and on this occasion she did not.
So my scientific analysis of the situation tells me that I simply mistook my own cat for a mythical creature in the wee hours. The inner Celt in me wonders if the puca acted through my cat to alert or warn me of some impending disaster. (Celts are always waiting for impending disaster- it's how we are hard-wired.)
Bottom line- note to self: find some kind of film to cover that damn alarm clock.
My personal puca is again competing for First Laptop position.

It's official.

Vigils and Beanie Babies

Vigil services have always been my favourite.
One of my earliest memories is being in the lower church with my grandmother, attending Stations of the Cross. This is done every Friday during Lent, so I got a weekly dose of chanting the Stabat Mater. I try not to miss this service on Good Friday, but this year was a no-go.
The Easter Vigil has always been my preferred service. The church I attended growing up is a huge affair and was considered as the cathedral site at one time. The service starts in total darkness- the priest carries in the Paschal candle, chanting three times "Christ the Light". Each time, we sing a response and we light out own candles from the huge Paschal candle, passing the flame from one to the next until the building is filled with flickering lights. Then with the Alleluia, the lights go on, the organ booms, and the ceremony goes full swing.
My church in Worcester-the parish where my heart belongs- did the vigil in spades. Properly done, the service includes baptism, profession of sin, and confirmation as well as the sacrament of the Mass. We always had at least 5 people being baptized and confirmed, one year we had 19 or 20. The service was usually bilingual or trilingual. Monsignor started the Paschal fire outside in a drum (the boys enjoyed the pyro aspect) and carried the flame inside. One year, the service started at 7pm and he got so carried away with his sermon AND we did ALL the readings from Genesis to St John (optional meant hell yeah)...I slunk out with the boys after Communion at 10:30 pm. We were starved- we had planned to go out to eat after. We did, but they were so surly, I never could get them to do vigil with me ever again and I had to tip the waitress big because Bren had a hissy.
I've tried hard to fit in at my little parish, but I just don't feel the sense of belonging there that I did in Boston or Worcester. It didn't help that the retired pastor was best friends with the priest who was in prison for molesting 20+ children and who got offed in prison by another prisoner. ("Why can't people who got molested just get over it and get on with their lives?") Then the parish got cut so we share the new pastor with another parish. They changed the Mass times and now it's a lot harder for me to make it to services regularly. When I go, most of the time it's at the other parish in the next town because those are the only services I can make it to.
So this year I got to do the vigil at the other church. I couldn't believe the place wasn't jam packed like my other parishes always were-only 3 families with kids under 12, mostly elders with a smattering of thirty-somethings. The altar looked very nice- they had a fountain set up, surrounded by hydrangeas, diffenbachias, and callas. The choir (beautifully robed in scarlet with white collars over their jeans and sneakers) was tuneful, but they didn't do any of my favourite Easter hymns. I had been humming "Resurexit sicut dixit" all day, so I was disappointed. At the Gloria, the fountain started to bubble, which was a nice touch, and drew my attention. Then I noticed- Beanie Babies.
Beanie Babies was a fad that totally bypassed my family, although I knew a few people who got totally into them and collected them the way my mother acquired Hummels and lottery tickets-religiously. I never associated Beanie Babies with Easter, but apparently the person decorating the altar thought that the little waterfall surrounded by shrubbery would be the perfect place to position a lion, a tiger and what appeared to be an iguana (though it could have been the Geico gekko for all I know) creeping out of the diffenbachia toward the holy watering hole. There might have been a dinosaur or two hidden in the hydrangeas of this little Jurassic Park tableau for all I know. And that pretty much blew my concentration on the sermon.
I guess if Easter can be associated with a bunny who gives chocolate, it can also be associated with little stuffed jungle animals coming for a drink.
Happy Easter!