Notes on a Sunday Afternoon

[itsallovernow]

When 15 pounds of Siamese wants attention, it's best to give them that attention. My pretty boy Logan is in needy mode right now. It's the anticipation of fall. He's neediest when the weather changes. Problem is that he's indiscriminantly needy. M. or me, it doesn't matter. Right now, he's sprawled across my arms with his head in my elbow trying to soak up love and sunshine in equal measures. Georgie is not thrilled with this. He gives his best glares, his biggest yowls, but the bear is all about the need. They're such drama queens, the both of them. For those of you who have never owned Siamese, it's sort of liking own a precocious four year old with out thumbs. They get in constant trouble, imprint like baby geese, and can, at will, convince the neighbors that you're murdering them in their beds. Then they wrap around you like a blanket and hug you and try to make you forget that they just tortured the neighbor's dog, eaten your plants, stolen socks and underwear out of the hamper, hidden the remote, torn bloody streaks out of your legs, and bit his brother on the head when he was sleeping.

And yes, I am laughing at myself writing about my cats. But they provide a lot of succor in the face of a pretty crappy week. My stepsisters' father died, and I'm at such a loss as to what to do or what to say to them. It was unexpected, shocking and they don't know what caused it. My older sister was just starting to renew her relationship with him. My younger sister had a much stronger sense of who he was, and had forgiven him for a lot of things. Good thoughts for them would be much appreciated. I feel very ineffectual right now. Useless and sad for them and out of words that would offer any measure of comfort.

I'm writing today. Or at least that's the plan. I have the motivation, I think, the mindset, now I just need the motion, the action, butt in chair, focus front and center. Gah, why is that part so bloody hard.

Happy Belated Birthday to sdwolfpup and a less belated Happy Birthday to denyeverything1. May the coming year bring you everything you desire.

Comments

[jenlev.livejournal.com]

i'm sorry about your stepsister's father. and sending you good thoughts. *hugs*

i love your description of the cats. since scarlet died, i've missed that sense of the way they are such complete beings. and hee! no thumbs indeed. and that is probably a good thing. in the midst of everything that's happened this week, it's nice to have a spot of joy.

[jonquil.livejournal.com]

Gah, why is that part so bloody hard.

When you figure out, DO let me know.

Signed, organized her sewing cabinet, installed a magazine shelf, and began tatting a yoke.

[midnightsjane.livejournal.com]

I'm so sorry to hear about your stepsisters' father. My condolences to you all.
My best friend has a Siamese called Tinkerbell. She is about 2 pounds of mad energy: she paces and paces and talks, and just about drives you crazy until she gets her way. Usually it's that she wants to go outside, and since she has been known to take off into the surrounding bush, where coyotes live, she has to be supervised. Sue adores her, but she makes me a little nuts. I love cats, have three of my own. Siamese are a breed apart though!
Good vibes your way for successful writing!

[sdwolfpup.livejournal.com]

I am terribly sorry to hear about your stepsister's father. My condolences to the family.

And thank you for the birthday wishes.

[thassalia.livejournal.com]

You're more than welcome and thanks for the well wishes for my family.

[raithen.livejournal.com]

{{hugs}}

when I was on exchange in France two of my host families (of 4) had siamese cats. Philosel was the matriarch chez Goust, and she was a lovely sweet thing who liked to lounge on the back of the chesterfield and enjoyed petting but was not too demanding.

Cashou, her son was the holy terror chez La Jonie (if you are familiar with French candy, you will get the joke of his first name ;). I displaced Cashou from his "room" because I am allergic to kitties and can't have them in my bedroom. However, the spare room where I slept had been *HIS* and he did not take kindly to the eviction. So whenever I forgot to shut the door, he would ensconce himself in my bed.

To remove him was to risk grave bodily harm as he had CLAWS and knew how to use them. By the end of 3 months living there I had mastered the art of using a large bath towel to wrap the dangerous body parts up, pick him up and deposit him hors la chambre.

Cashou also "liked" panty hose. *eyeroll* He'd hide behind the couch in the very LOOOONG living room and as I walked past, he'd jump out and grab my legs with his front claws and his teeth. I noticed that he was FAR more likely to do so if I was wearing pantyhose.

Silly kitty!