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Salvador Dali in a lawn chair.
I'm invisible without 3D glasses.
JoJo (my 3-year old, ittybitty cat affectionately known to the world as MoJo-JoJo-Josephine-Baker or "Nyquil Kitty" because she puts people to sleep when she curls up in their lap) swallowed a two-inch sewing needle (one of the big ones meant for putting stitches in denim or canvas) this morning about 4:30 am.

I was at my desk, heard her start to hack, turned around and found her sitting on my sewing table where she likes to pull pins off a magnetic pin tray, bat them off the work table, and strategically place them for collision with bare feet. I noticed the absence of a large sewing needle where I had just two days prior lazily tossed it on the magnetic tray instead of putting it away, thinking, "I hope JoJo doesn't decide to eat the thread on that like Russ Matthews's cat and choke." (Aside: Thankfully, Russ's cat also survived. He found her while the needle was still in her mouth, and he took the time to write about it on livejournal where it seeded my memory and prepared me for the day my cat, too, would play "seppuku".)

The vet that I bombarded with apologies at 5 am told me to *try* to feed her bread and bring her in when the animal clinic opened at 7:30. I corralled JoJo into the bathroom so she couldn't hide under a bed or in the back of a closet. I sat on the floor,
she curled up in my lap, we waited for two hours of barely-controlled panic while her retching went from hysterical to occasional to once-a-quarter-hour.

When I was able to take her to the animal clinic, the vet tech, Mark, whose charming face was all smiles and six inches of a lovingly-tended, luxuriant chin beard (no mustache or side beard, which is an unusual sight), could sense the worry in me and whisked JoJo away for an x-ray. We were lucky — the needle was enormous and JoJo tiny, so it couldn't go very far. The needle had lodged in her larynx and not her stomach, which could have poked holes in her organs and necessitated surgery. So the vet sedated her and pulled it out via her mouth, and all is well. A couple days of amoxicillin and Izzy growling at JoJo for smelling like "the evil place", and we'll be back to normal.

I hope JoJo and I both have learned our lessons — I will put my sewing needles away and she (I daresay) won't pull a lady-and-the-tramp with a deadly object ever again.
4 Voices in a Chorus | Lift Your Voice Aloft
Somehow, it was tremendously difficult for me to throw away a bit of ribbon tonight. Seriously. It had no sentimental value other than I'd had it floating around my bedroom for several years. Yet somehow, I was trying to find ways to use it, the dingy old thing, as a bookmark (what it has been used for in the past), a pin-holder, a tie. There were four pieces of ribbon like this, and I only managed to throw away two...Something is buh-roken in Ginger's head.

I worked really hard (for me) today. I swept, mopped, dusted, scrubbed, sorted, stacked, shuffled, and trashed. And I'm not finished. I've got at least another day of this (although that day will probably not be tomorrow; gotta spend most of the day sitting at the Dodge dealership so they can flash the computer in my intrepid).

This is good for me, by the way - working consistently over a longer period of time. I have trouble staying focused unless something is finished in one or two sittings. So even though this cleaning is making up for six months of not-cleaning, it's good for me to learn how to stay focused on a project. It's hard for me to maintain a work ethic over aforementioned long periods of time, if there isn't a pressing deadline, if it's not the top priority, or it isn't in such a terrible state that I'm mad enough to do something about it.

So, it's good, for me.

music: Prince - "Little Red Corvette"

1 Quiet Voice | Lift Your Voice Aloft
I ruthlessly purged my closet last night.

Only about 25% of the hanging clothes remain on their hangers. The clothes I removed are now packed away into remarkably small boxes, which I labeled "5-15 lbs" and "10-25 lbs". I'm thinking about wrapping each box with birthday paper and an enormous bow. If I shed the amount of weight written on the box, I'll be rewarded with a present; I'll get to wear all these awesome clothes again.

And if I haven't lost the weight in two years, the boxes are going to GoodWill.

As for reaching these small goals (and also the weight-related goals on my 101 in 1001 List), Jimmy and I have made a bet. We have challenged each other to see who will lose the highest percentage of body weight by March 15th. For each percentage point that the other person loses, we will have to pay $100. Example: If Jimmy has lost 8% of his body weight, I will owe him $800. If I also lose 9% of my body weight, he'll owe me $900 (notice in this example I give, I am the clear winner).

Ideally, we will both lose considerable weight, and most of the money exchange will cancel out. However, we both have the potential to make over or LOSE $5000 (Jimmy could make $6000+ if he loses 2/3 of his body, but in 6 months, that would be unhealthy and unsustainable).

I am uncertain as to whether it would be a good idea to get our friends involved (to cheer us on, antagonize us, or make bets on the winner).
3 Voices in a Chorus | Lift Your Voice Aloft
I love to find unexpected places where wildlife refuses to give up its last, inhospitable patch of land, no matter how many millions of square miles of natural habitat we've stolen:
  • crickets chirping from the potted plants in the Olive Branch Kroger parking lot - last patch of green in a forty-meter radius;
  • the clever, willow-legged spiders that craft their webs in front of my kitchen window (and its never-dimmed stove light) where other insects are sure to fly;
  • a birds' nest cradled in the hook of a neon 'e' in the "Uniquely Southern" sign of Batesville's outlet mall.

Such a mix of emotions - pride for the resilience of animals, shame for the greed and waste of humans, the tiniest spark of hope that almost feels a betrayal.

One day, we'll ruin this place for ourselves, and it will all be yours again.

Tags: , ,
music: Bruce Channel - "Hey Baby"

Lift Your Voice Aloft
You know, I think I might be ready to let this place go. I logged on to make a post, checked to see if anyone else was actually updating, and most of what I see is twitter account syndication.

It's a shame, only in-so-far as I just bought a permanent account in December (and immediately fell into one of the longest stretches of non-use).
7 Voices in a Chorus | Lift Your Voice Aloft