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meirwen_1988Still unpacking my brain and tubs from Pennsic, and trying to get all the "fun" in I can in the next 3 days. (Pennsic was good, under the circumstances, but under no definition I can think of would I classify it as "fun.")
Considering I was up until 3 AM, waiting for Sam to come home, and got up at 6:30, it's no wonder I crashed when I got home from helping with the funeral luncheon for Marge Chase's mom (96 years old, and happily on her own until 4 years ago). I NEVER nap, but I fell asleep for about 30 minutes--sometimes the body wins.
Ah, the tale of the Sam-cat.
Last night Duchezz got home from the Shire-Post-Pennsic-Pizza-Party about 10. By 10:45 she was ready for bed. She put the dogs in their kennels, and then set about feeding the cats. And Sam didn't appear. When after searching the house, calling, checking the basement, checking the Great Hall, rattling the food bowls she still hadn't appeared, we concluded she had gotten out. Duchezz, tired and sore, guessed the resident escape-artist had snuck out when she got home. So we went outside, in the dark, and hunted for Sam (who usually stays within about 20 yards of the house, but does tend to go all around the house, and it's a big house). After about half an hour of looking, shining the flashlight hoping for the flash that is a cat's eyes in the dark, and having no success in locating the calico feline goddess of purr, we gave up and went inside. Rowan was devastated. Samantha was his cat. The idea that she had let her get out, and the possibility of the worst consequences of that...well, she didn't go to bed with much peace.
I stayed up, and went outside and searched and called two more times between 11 and 3. Checked the two porches every half-hour or so to see if she had come back. Called in the Great Hall again. Went down and scoured the basement again.
Finally, at three, I was getting punchy and went to bed.
This morning Rowan got up and took the pugs out. Called Sam. Nothing.
Came inside to feed the dogs and the two remaining cats. She opened the Great Hall door to get the food.
Out sauntered Samantha.
"I wuz bizee. Why did u keep calling? U dizterbed my werk. And laik u care. U lef us for 10 daiz!!! Pffffft. Nao feed me."
She is totally cat.
Considering I was up until 3 AM, waiting for Sam to come home, and got up at 6:30, it's no wonder I crashed when I got home from helping with the funeral luncheon for Marge Chase's mom (96 years old, and happily on her own until 4 years ago). I NEVER nap, but I fell asleep for about 30 minutes--sometimes the body wins.
Ah, the tale of the Sam-cat.
Last night Duchezz got home from the Shire-Post-Pennsic-Pizza-Party about 10. By 10:45 she was ready for bed. She put the dogs in their kennels, and then set about feeding the cats. And Sam didn't appear. When after searching the house, calling, checking the basement, checking the Great Hall, rattling the food bowls she still hadn't appeared, we concluded she had gotten out. Duchezz, tired and sore, guessed the resident escape-artist had snuck out when she got home. So we went outside, in the dark, and hunted for Sam (who usually stays within about 20 yards of the house, but does tend to go all around the house, and it's a big house). After about half an hour of looking, shining the flashlight hoping for the flash that is a cat's eyes in the dark, and having no success in locating the calico feline goddess of purr, we gave up and went inside. Rowan was devastated. Samantha was his cat. The idea that she had let her get out, and the possibility of the worst consequences of that...well, she didn't go to bed with much peace.
I stayed up, and went outside and searched and called two more times between 11 and 3. Checked the two porches every half-hour or so to see if she had come back. Called in the Great Hall again. Went down and scoured the basement again.
Finally, at three, I was getting punchy and went to bed.
This morning Rowan got up and took the pugs out. Called Sam. Nothing.
Came inside to feed the dogs and the two remaining cats. She opened the Great Hall door to get the food.
Out sauntered Samantha.
"I wuz bizee. Why did u keep calling? U dizterbed my werk. And laik u care. U lef us for 10 daiz!!! Pffffft. Nao feed me."
She is totally cat.
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no subject
Date: 2009-08-13 12:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-13 12:35 am (UTC)I marvel at your ability to find such truly wonderful gems. If you are interested in this (http://www.amazon.com/Rose-Crown-Anne-Easter-Smith/dp/0743276876) let me know. I read it at Pennsic. Heavy on culture and atmosphere (that was mostly right, except when it totally wasn't).
no subject
Date: 2009-08-13 12:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-14 12:11 am (UTC)Silent in the Grave is the first and the one I just lent to M. Reallyreallyreally good. The new covers are icky and only in QPB, but AmazonUK has different cover-art that is pretty cool. I'm still trying to convince myself that buying a new set and having it delivered from the UK is just silly, but I'm not sure I'm going to win this fight:)
no subject
Date: 2009-08-14 12:15 am (UTC)The Forgotten Garden-Kate Morton
Rude Awakenings of a Jane Austen Addict-Laurie Viera Rigler
The Alchemist's Daughter-Katherine McMahon
Kept-D.J. Taylor
and
The Glimmer Palace-Beatrice Colin
I'll let you know when I get to the bottom...
no subject
Date: 2009-08-13 05:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-13 06:44 pm (UTC)hours later, we realized that we hadn't seen Jack and panic ensued. We thought he'd gotten out and we hadn't noticed...and it's not a friendly environment out there. We looked inside. We looked outside. I was in tears. Bill went in late to work because he spent too long looking. I kept calling and looking. Finally I gave up for a bit.
Much later that night (almost next day) I hear a weird scraping noise in Douglas' room. And there's Jack, dragging himself out through a small opening in the back of an antique radio. He was baffled by my tears and joy...and only barely tolerated being mauled (hugged and kissed) by his wacko human.