October 31, 2008
Of Sharks, Skeletons, and Frogs
One would assume that the fact that I recently spent some time in a “behavioral health ward"—for your edification, that’s the politically correct euphemism, and it really annoys the good folks at my hospital when I say anything different, so I say something different as often as I can—would be proof enough that I’m a little unhinged. But, no, I bring you more and better proof. The excursions for the cruise came out this week, and in and among some gentile cultural walkabouts, I also signed up to swim with sharks, swim with stingrays and go parasailing.
Hey, where’d everybody go? I’m harmless. Really.
I finished the pink hat.
Guess which one of these two items I find scarier.
I figured out why this acrylic was turning me (even more) into a woman on the edge. It wasn’t so much the color, or the feel, or the squeakiness; it was the fact that the yarn is so fibrous that you literally have to rip each stitch into existence. Insert the needle, wrap the yarn, start to pull the needle through, meet resistance as one of the kajillions of miniscule layers of fiber wraps around the needle, yank hard—with actual, forceful bicep flexion—until the fiber rips with a horrendous tearing sound, the new stitch comes through, you ignore the a slight feeling of nausea, finish making the stitch, repeat. Hundreds and hundreds of times. But the hat is done, and I can go back to the Good-Enough Gansey.
The cats and I are still getting used to each other. I thought that it would take them a week, maybe two at the outset, to settle in and develop their permanent habits and patterns. But, even now, months later, they do something different, show new behaviors, every day. Their 36 toes are certainly keeping me on my 10.
Recently, no thanks to the colder weather, they decided they both want to sleep between my legs, both snugged up tightly to my crotchular area. Joon is petite, but Benny is tall and long and lean, the feline equivalent of Yao Ming, so together they make a pretty sizeable bundle of cat. Furthermore, I sleep on my stomach, which means that, in order to accommodate them (which I don’t have any control over because, remember, all appliances and animals in my house are smarter than I am. The cats just wait until I fall asleep and then climb aboard.), I have to assume a position which makes me look much like a dead laboratory frog, ready for dissection. Pretty. Very seductive. Looks something like this:
This works acceptably well until they decide to fight and turn into a roiling, growling, hissing mass of flashing fangs and teeth, all while still snugged up tightly to my crotchular area, at which point the laboratory frog invites them not to be on the bed anymore. At which further point, they wait until I’m asleep again, and climb back aboard.
Do you have a door to your bedroom?
Posted by: SarahSeattle on October 31, 2008 02:00 PMI do, Sarah, but on the one hand, the whole point of having cats is sleeping with them; on the other hand, I didn't realize this was what they would choose. Urk.
Posted by: Ryan on October 31, 2008 02:03 PMIt could be worse - they could decide to sleep on your head. My first cat tried that with me for a while, until I launched him across the room in a panic one night. Claustrophobic me waking up with eight pounds of fur on my face...no good.
Posted by: Imbrium on October 31, 2008 02:10 PMMy husband clued me in to the fact that I can roll over under the covers, even if both cats are snuggled up tight to me on top. It does work, although I have nearly dislocated a knee in the process.
Chill weather = kitties turn into limpets
Posted by: kmkat on October 31, 2008 02:18 PMI'm here reading, but I don't often have something witty to say. Keep up the good blogging.
Posted by: LisaK on October 31, 2008 02:51 PM"I also signed up to swim with sharks, swim with stingrays and go parasailing" Woo-hoo! You go girl!
Fortunately my cats and I have an understanding: The couch is fair game for cuddle time. The bed is not. They sleep on their side, I sleep on my side. Then again, I'm one of those people who toss and turn during the night, so they've learned trying to cuddle is dangerous. They sometimes cuddle with me while I read, but both know that when the light goes off, they have to move. I suppose it also helps that they don't like to sleep together. Sophie usually sleeps where a partner's head would be if I had one and Priscilla goes off to sleep in her bed on the floor. Anyway, I hope you and yours find a harmonious sleeping solution soon. Maybe a heating pad on low on the other side of the bed would lure them away?
Ooooh, those yarns where you have to literally rip each stitch into existence make me so tired. About two years ago I decided that I will never, ever again knit with Lion Brand Homespun, despite the fact that it's lovely when finally (FINALLY) knit up and it's very soft and cozy. Oddly enough, I can crochet it without having to rip each stitch into existence, so Lion Brand doesn't have to worry that I'm never buying Homespun again. I'm just not knitting with it!
Oh, those kitties. I love a good kitty story, and the more they're inconveniencing their human, the more I love it. Can you tell I've been owned by a few kitties over the years? :)
Posted by: jules on October 31, 2008 03:39 PMLOL. I envisioned starched Nurse Ratchit-types cocking a stern eyebrow at you and warning, "Ms. Morrissey! Behave!"
It's settling into winter here in Mongolia, so my little girl cat has taken to nightly dives under the covers with me. Big fat Moojie, he has enough padding but still sleeps tight to my legs.
Posted by: Cuzzin Tom on October 31, 2008 04:46 PMI love that you go out of your way to annoy the behavioral health types.
I have swum with stingrays, and it's FANTASTIC. They're undersides are so smooth... I've probably swum with sharks, too, only I didn't know it...
A friend of mine who rescues cats (and so has between 10 and 30 in her house at any time) bought a queen sized bed because she didn't have enough room on her twin. She said she still didn't get any more room - the cats outlined her in whatever position she fell asleep in, and she was pasted there all night long.
Door to the bedroom? HAH HAH HAH. We also have a door to our bedroom. The racket that ensues when we try to close it is pretty spectacular. Scratching, banging, meowing... Cricket makes it VERY clear that she does not tolerate closed doors.
And, by the way, "my crotchular area" is my new favorite phrase.
Posted by: maeve on October 31, 2008 05:42 PMDude. Did you HAVE to knit the pink squeaky stuff?
'Cause it just doesn't seem to go with the shark-swimming reputation. Also, your description of that stitch just made me flinch, for reals.
Step. Away. From. The. Squeak.
Posted by: Lee Ann on October 31, 2008 06:32 PMI also sleep on my stomach and have a cat who likes to snuggle up to the crotchular area...I call him my 'ass cat'. Yup, I'm totally not crass.
Posted by: Leslie on October 31, 2008 09:27 PM