Friday, October 21, 2005

TRAIN TALES I take the Gold Line in to work each morning from Pasadena to Downtown. A few years ago, I took a bus in. The Gold Line is different in that it considers itself "light rail." Actually, I'm not sure that the trains themselves think this—after all, they are not like the cars that one sees in the ads in SoCal which admonish children to not cross the street because "the car may not see you." That's always brought a chuckle. Anyway, the Gold Line is really a lovely way to go because it's built where the houses are not, for the most part. And so the way is wooded and pretty for a while, then you enter quaint little neighborhoods, both good and bad, and then into the woods again. You travel across the Los Angeles River (which, if your imagination is good, you can think of as a real river instead of a storm drain bearing graffiti) and on into Union Station. I have heard New Yorkers laugh and criticize because they are used to hundreds of miles of trains that run on time with no problems. Well, we're new to the train systems here and we have problems all the time. NY has had at least a century of trains and theirs bang on whatever the situation. I think we may still be a bit protective of the new cars and stations. The past week has brought loads of rain, and lots of thunder and spectacular lightening. It's not really cold here, but to see the people at the stations you would think it was -20. They have their umbrellas over their heads (no rain during the day to speak of), and down jackets and woolen head coverings. I felt underdressed in my sweatshirt and jeans. As soon as I reached the office, I took off the sweatshirt. I must explain that my office, engaged in the practice of corporate litigation only, is very "laid back." Our name partners wear shorts and T-shirts or Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops. They really don't care what we all wear, only that we get the job done. The only bad part about all of this is that some people simply don't know when to quit. We had an attorney who, until the past couple of years, tended to run around in tank tops and speedos. I expect he really was too warm much of the time as he could readily have been mistaken for game—shot and mounted. Or perhaps made into a rug. The other thing is that many of the young women here are on the zoftig side and they persist in wearing what we used to call "Hip-Huggers" with tops that are really too brief. So they resemble little stuffed kielbasa that have been sort of broken at various places with bits of sausage hanging over the bottoms and the tops. I think they are laboring under the misapprehension that they look good. But back to the train. The ride really is most beautiful in the fog and mist. Everything is mysterious and if someone rode out of a dripping glade on a horse, you wouldn't blink once. In the spring, the area is a plethora of color—real wildflowers with birds and bees and the good smells of the earth! This morning when I emerged from the underground train station, it actually smelled of fried potatoes, onions, and coffee. It's only 55 degrees, on it's way to 75 degrees, but in SoCal, it's winter. 10:29:31 AM    comment []

Thursday, October 20, 2005

SLOW DAYS—FAST COMPANY—TOTAL CAT-ASTROPHY OCT. 18. This last Sunday was the Pasadena SPCA "Feral Cat Spay and Neuter Day." I had wanted to get the last three of my little varments in before now, but the vets from Pas were called to assist in the Katrina Rescue and so were unavailable. So, I waited and the kittens were now nearly adolescent. Since I was yelled at last week by the management about how I was not allowed to feed and water the ferals in the parking garage area, I had simply cleaned up everything in that area and invited the little baggages into the house. They were quite pleased at this turn of events and took the liberty of snooping into everything and thumbing their noses at all the big indoor cats. They scarfed up everything and departed. "Gee, thanks again, Mum. See you later. Next time get more of the chicken stuff—that was good." I had begun this little ritual on Friday morning, so by Sunday it was fun to open the door and see all those smiling, expectant, kitty faces. The largest male—Rufous—is very friendly and likes to play with me and have his ears rubbed. He was a pushover. I just grabbed him and carefully shoved him in a carrier and snubbed the catches. The second one, Pico, I had tried to get the last time and failed. I waited until he was deep in catfood and nabbed him and stuffed him in another carrier. The last, and most wily, Spots, appears to either be blind or have trouble with his/her eyes. Spots is most skittish, and after several tries, he/she managed to get out the door leaving me with a tiny handful of loose fur. Then I fed everyone else and made myself a cup of coffee. When the other two (the ones I already had deprived of their equipment) saw that Bubba 1 and Bubba 2 were incarcerated, they came in to gloat. These two are Quinn and Hols (Harle- and -tein). They continued to nose around the place, looking under the couch for dust bunnies and other interesting things. Lo, and behold! The big cats toy basket!! Quicker than "a minner can swin a dipper," the basket was overturned and toys were all over. We suddenly had a two-ring circus! Big cats looked on with distain while catnip mousies, balls with feathers, jingle balls and one forlorn looking yellow thingie with pink spots were thrown up in the air! batted back and forth! knocked under the couch and retrieved! Legs in the air, tails waving furiously, straight-up-in-the-air 2-foot leaps! Suddenly, with one mousie in tow, they dashed out of the door and down the stairs! I found the mousie when I left to go to the SPCA with the unhappy Bubbas in tow. The SPCA isn't far and no one said anything on the way over. Everyone was the picture of efficiency and "F-1" and "F-2" were toted off. I left to get ready for church with large amounts of flowers to be arranged and distributed in the sanctuary and narnex. Third Sunday is always a day wherein we are fed for the modest sum of $5.00 in Fellowship Hall after the service. We had brunch today and a meeting of the Investment Club. One of my friends, Esther, is looking for a companion for her gorgeous cat, Bobby. After we finished, she asked me over to meet Bobby so I could think about which one of my little darlings would complement him. Bobbs is a very dark chocolate Siamese. He loves everyone and gives kisses fairly indiscriminately. About that time, the SPCA called to say that my babies were finished and could be picked up. Simultaneously, it began to sprinkle. In the process of picking them up, one of the vets told me not to let the furries go until the next morning; she said they probably would not feel like eating as they were still very groggy and probably would sleep the rest of the day and into the night. That was fine with me and so I carted them home and put them in my room with strict orders to the big cats to leave them alone. Night came on and I did laundry, washed dishes, cleaned the kitchen, read some and knitted while listening to my Celtic CDs. Took a shower and went to bed—everything all clean and wonderful-smelling and -feeling! About 2:30, I was awakened by a flash of light and a thunderous KB-BOOM!! It thundered and lightning'd for hours. I was so happy I hadn't let my precious little ones go! No one was happy about the disturbance and some of the big cats were under the bed and some were nestled as close to me as they could get! I could barely turn over!! At about 4:30, the littles began to voice some disapproval as to their condition—"Hey, Ma!! Let us out!!" I tried to ignore them, but this was not to be. Got up, brushed teeth, made coffee, fed everyone else and made up food for the screamers and their siblings. It was still thundering and stuff so I went out to see if I could coax the sibs up the stairs. Rufous is the leader and they will follow him, but there were no whiskers or tails to be seen out the door. I went down in the rain, which was beginning to slack off, and made interesting little noises nearly guaranteed to get them to come. They were holed up somewhere and having none of me. Put dishes on the floor and opened the carriers. Rufous wanted food first and grabbed a few mouthfuls. Pico only wanted out, but couldn't for the life of him figure out how to get there. Rufous was already out the door and down the stairs. He turned and couldn't see Pico and began howling. Pico was panicky and tried to climb into the ivy and orchids to get out the window - no luck there. Slithered down the wall and finally managed to bang his way past the vertical blinds to the door. As soon as he was out the door, Rufous stopped howling. You know, I'm a little tired. And it's still raining. 6:28:53 PM    comment [] SHINE ON HARVEST MOON OCT. 18. The other morning—very early—I chanced to see the Blood Moon (also known as a Harvest Moon). The whole sky was covered in rain clouds as there had been thunder and lightning nearly the whole night and pouring rain. The moon was running from cloud to cloud, peeping through and creating otherworldly images. Just beautiful!! I love to see the moon in this aspect as it takes me back to other times and places in the world. I can imagine little wild men of the woods worshiping their Goddess in the circles beneath the damp oaks. I can see herds of camels resting in the deserts, waiting for dawn to allow their people to wend their weary nomadic way on their annual pilgrimages. I can feel the rabbits and wild things resting quietly in the leaves, feeling the night and smelling the rain and the moon. When it is quiet and damp and the heavens are ablaze with light, I believe we can open ourselves to the world of the Goddess—of nature—listening for the small sounds of the forests, smelling the trees, feeling the damp pine needles under our feet. The breeze caresses our bodies and the night caresses our being. Our souls yearn for times like these, for glimpses of elk and deer walking free upon the earth. For times of thankfulness that all things are one. 6:16:43 PM    comment []

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