Diary of an adult runaway

52 Reads in 2012: Books 4 & 5

In 2004 when I was studying at the Institut Catholique in Paris's Latin Quarter, I caught a bus that took me across the Pont Alexandre every morning. Among the oh-so-many sites I passed was the gauge that records the high-water marks whenever there's a flood. I'd seen it from the river, back when I was a tourist taking a boat ride, and remembered a mention of the water being up to the neck of one of the bridge's huge statues, but I knew little about the various crises wrought by the Seine.

So when I saw Jeffrey H. Jackson's Paris Under Water (How the City of Light Survived the Great Flood of 1910), I thought it was time to rectify my lack of knowledge, and make this Book #4. Here's the blurb from the author's website:

At the turn of the twentieth century, Parisians believed they lived in the greatest city in the world.

But Paris came to a halt in January 1910 when the river that provided much of the city’s life quickly became an instrument of destruction. Following weeks of torrential rainfall, the Seine overflowed its banks flooding thousands of homes and sending hundreds of thousands of people fleeing for safety and higher ground.

This most modern of cities seemed to have lost its battle with the elements.

But in the midst of the disaster, despite decades of political division, scandal, and deep tensions between social classes, Parisians rallied to help one another and rebuild. Leaders and people answered the call to action in the city’s hour of need. This newfound ability to work together proved crucial just four years later when France was plunged into the depths of World War I. What emerged from the waters, and from the war, was the Paris we know today.

The Paris we know today? I guess the people of Paris, yes, to a certain extent, but the city, the way it functions? Not quite, and while that wasn't a stated promise of the book, it was one I'd hoped for and probably the reason I didn't fully connect with the book. I wanted to know more about what had been done to ensure Paris wouldn't face this type of catastrophe again, and while there was a little of that, I didn't feel the book was completely wrapped up. The information it imparted (even if some of it felt padded) was plenty (who knew the water would be bubbling up from the sewers?), but I didn't feel an emotional connection. Except for the information on Issy-Les-Moulineaux. Maybe because for almost 2 years I worked in a building on the Ile St-Germain, right on the Seine, and spent far too much time contemplating the many peniches (barges) that passed by every day. It's more a working-class community, and I could see how it would have suffered terribly during the flood. Overall though, for a book about the Seine, I prefer Mort Rosenbaum's The Secret Life of the Seine. 3 out of 5.

Next up was the latest Stephen King:

I came across 11.22.63 when I was searching for a recent book on JFK. I admire Stephen King a lot and think his book On Writing is a must-read for any writer, but I don't keep track of his releases for one reason: he scares the shit out of me. In fact, I pretty much had to give up reading horror books when I was 10 and Salem's Lot gave me nightmares. I tried again years later and while I thought It was outstanding, I was once again terrified and resolved to leave my Stephen King consumption to movies and mini-series based on his works (especially if they feature Rob Lowe) because I found it easier to turn them off if I was getting too freaked and tune them out. Which gives you an idea about how powerful I find his written storytelling.

But when I saw the premise for 11.22.63 (ordinary guy gets the chance to go back in time and stop the Kennedy assassination), I instantly bought the book and, when it arrived a week later, instantly started to read. That was 2 days ago and I have to say right upfront: 5 stars. Simple as that. This book is a master class in writing commercial fiction. I often had to put my hand over the text so I didn't read ahead, I was that anxious about what was going to happen. And how often do you wake up at 2AM thinking "Ok, so this has happened, and how's he going to handle that happening, and what was that clue about?" Not very often for me, at least not for a long time. I was totally enthralled: because it was set partly on Sebago Lake, because we saw some of the characters from It, because the people in Jodie reminded me a little of Friday Night Lights, because of the sweetness of the love story. And then there's the Kennedy aspect. Yes, I am aware this is fiction, but it's fiction based on fact, and we all know the world was more trusting and security much more lax back then, which just might have made it possible that some nasty little fucker could have killed the most powerful man on earth and forever changed the world. 11.22.63 made me question my long-held belief that surely there had to have been a conspiracy. I love books that entertain, inform and make you question, so yeah, 5 out of 5.

My next question is much simpler: which book will be #6?

London is the Best City in America by Laura Dave, Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan, or Caprice Crane's latest, With A Little Luck? I chose these out of the stack of books that arrived yesterday for 1 reason only: they're relatively short, and I don't have the brain capacity to handle another 734-page book just yet. I was going to read Race of a Lifetime, because Keris and Ms Mac said it was awesome and they're awesome, but I'm going to need a buffer between political books. And I'm kinda in the mood for a little NYC, so I'm thinking it'll be N&N up first. But then, I love Crane's writing (and it doesn't hurt that this one got a cover quote from Diablo Cody, whose Young Adult I saw last week--making that View #3 of the year--and who I think is a phenomenal writer) and the other books about a roadtrip and I love roadtrips and.... <g>

Leaving you with a shot of Libellule Kitten. I call this one "Oh Hai There!" or "You didn't really want to use the computer, did you?"

Behind Door Number 1...

This apartment has something I've always wanted: a red front door. However, this particular red door was looking a little sad, with scratches that showed its original (oh shit no!) mission brown paint and so I decided it was time to repaint it.

That was several months ago. Yes, I find it's best not to rush into these things ;) Actually, like many things with this apartment, it's taken me a while to work out what to do with it. You see, the door has glass panels, which means that the regular light and the emergency light, right outside my door, give  my hallway and bedroom ugly artificial glow at night. The first night I moved in, I tacked up a sarong I bought in Provence, and it's been there ever since. Which means that I get to sleep at night but the hallway's too dark during the day. And that's partly because of the red--great from the front, not so much from the back.

And then I found a pic of a green door on Pinterest. Perfect! I'd have red for the front, green for the back. Off to the hardware store I went, and found a tester pot of Muppet Green, but the only glossy red I could get was in a liter tin, or something equally as ridiculous when you're talking one side of one door. So I got a pot of something matte instead. Yep, you know it: bad idea. I finally got time last week to go back and this time found a small pot of glossy red.

Huzzah! Away I went! Well, you know, a week later. I'd like to say I was waiting for the hot weather and that's kinda try but mainly a lie. As Ellen says, "Anyways"--here's the front door after I started to touch it up. Just picture it with chips and scrapes, with mission brown showing through. Oh yeah, I think they say you should sand, etc, first, but to hell with that. I just washed it down then started slapping the paint on.

While I toiled away, Kitten wandered in and out:

She stopped to inspect the work:

Then went out to the garden to check out the damage the possum had wrought on the geranium plants:

See all the spiky ends? That's where Possum has chewed off the flowers. But you might also be able to see chunks of garlic--I tossed a heap on the plants the other night and that seems to have warded off Possum for now.

Meanwhile, Redford did what Redford does:

Until the upstairs (guy) neighbor came down and stopped for a chat. Then Redford did this:

I gave the front another coat and here's how it turned out:

I think it still needs a little bit of touching up, but I'm going to wait until it's properly dry--can't tell if the shiny/matte spots are just the way the light's falling or gaps. Oh, and I need to wipe off the bottom :)

And then! When that's done! I'm going to tackle the back. Here's how it looks now:

And here's what I want:

A green door, with shutters where the sarong currently is. And check out that hardware! While I was waiting for the paint to dry, I went online looking for info on changing locks (coz I don't like that my door has a brass number and silver handle) and found a link to a site with THE MOST GORGEOUS stuff! I don't know why, but I've always wanted a front door with a latch, it all feels so colonial New England to me, and this black matte one caught my eye. I don't give a damn if I'm going to have to get it shipped in from the US, I'm going to do that with the shutters, anyway.

Although I do kinda balk at this:

Stunning entry set, and it can be yours for a meager $730--down from $981. Let's just file that under "You must be fucking kidding me!", shall we? :D

I think I need...

one of these:

And one of these:

One each of the pendant and telephone, please:

And one of these fabulous plants for my living room (anyone know what it is?):

Thanks to Keris (*shakesfist*), I also must have one each of these:

Come on! Pink buggy! Who doesn't need one of those?

I'm about a week away from getting my hands on Keris's new book, with its beautiful bling cover:

But until then, and thanks to Amazon UK's excellent deal (spend £25 on selected items and UPS express shipping is free to AU/NZ), I now have this:

Oh my, Redford in the 70s, I don't believe it will ever get any better than that! I'm going to need to curl up in this NYC atrium to do this book justice:

But what I'm supremely happy with:

Meet the new kids on the block

The common wisdom seems to be that you should wait some time after the death of a pet before introducing a new animal. Get some distance, that kind of sensible stuff. Which is fine, except that within a day of Pumpkin's death, I was feeling anxiety beneath the grief. I needed another longhaired ginger kitty--not to replace him, that can never be possible, but to help me and Kody cope. And so, while my mother bred the loveliest Siamese cats when I was a kid, I turned to the places I always get my kitties from: shelters. Well, the virtual version thereof: www.petrescue.com.au

That's where I found this photo of a little boy named Amal:

  
I decided right there and then he would be mine because a. he was a longhaired ginger kitty and 2. he looked like trouble, and I like that in a cat. I equivocated all day (was I silly to rush in?) then sent off a mail to the foster carer that evening. She sent me back an application form, I filled it in and we agreed to a meet-and-greet the next weekend. Oh, and BTW, the kitten (between 3-4 months, no one knew for sure because the litter had been dumped) had just been neutered that morning and turned out to be Amalie, not Amal--would that be a problem? Although all my cats as an adult had been boys, I figured a little girl might go down better with Kody Cat.

Long story short, I couldn't see the kitten until 2 weeks after, during which time I tried to keep it together while obsessively checking Amalie's page and muttering (ok, yelling) "Give me the kitteh!!" Finally we made the 80KM trip to the rescue place and oh, the kitties! I wanted to take so many, including Amalie, her sister and a lovely longhaired blue cream girl about a year old. I would completely be crazy cat lady if I had the finances to look after them all, but I don't and so Amalie it was.

We put the tiny little thing in a big cat carrier and she curled up in a corner and didn't make a peep until we got her home. More common wisdom is that there's a proper way to introduce cats (keep them separate, let them smell each other under the door, gradually introduce, etc, etc) and I agree with that for adult cats. But I knew Kody Cat wasn't aggressive with other cats, especially not kittens, and so set Amalie on the sofa--where she promptly went stiff with fear at the big white cat watching her from the windowsill, then scooted under the sofa.

 
WTF?! Kitten sees Kody for the first time.

 
Figuring I'd give her some time to get used to her surroundings, I lay down on the sofa to watch some TV. 5 minutes later she jumped up on me and went crazy smooching all up and down my arms and face. Obviously, she'd decided I was her person.

She also decided Kody was her cat. He took a little longer to win over but they were soon cuddling.

 
She was good for him, making him perk up. He followed her around, eager to see what she was up to next. Toward the end, though, she (now named Libellule, French for "dragonfly" because 1. I love the way it sounds, 2. she has markings on her back that remind me of dragonfly wings, and 3. her coat shone in the sunlight like dragonfly wings) was too rambunctuous for him. Three days before he died, she disconnected from him--his breath smelled bad and she knew something was wrong. Instead of cuddling, she just watched him. If she missed him after he died, I didn't see any signs of it.

Why I got a plastic tree and ornaments last year.

Still, I knew she wouldn't be happy on her own, so I was back on www.petrescue.com.au the next day, this time looking for a deaf white cat. Yep, definitely a case of "Hey! Let's get the old gang back together!" but also because some people are reluctant to take on deaf cats. I figured, since I'd raised 2 of them to 17 and 18 years of age, I had some experience and would take on a cat that might be overlooked. I didn't find any deaf white cats. Instead I found this:

Pumpkin anyone? I know I'll spend the rest of my life trying to find that cat again.

 

I called the rescuer and we agreed to a meet-and-greet the next day. Armed once more with the carrier, we hit the road, though this time to a suburb in Melbourne's east where Alex told us Mr. Kitty's tale of misery. He'd belonged to a family a few doors down, a rather loud, dysfunctional family with several cats (some produced by Mr. Kitty himself), who'd moved out about a month earlier. Mr. Kitty had been in hiding that day, so the neighbor had asked Alex and his father to throw some food out for him and they'd come back in a few days. Except they never did, and so for the past weeks, Alex had been slowly convincing this outdoor cat to come in, then whisked him off to the vet to make sure he could no longer reproduce.

 
He was a friendly cat, Alex said, but very wary of strangers. I could hear him from where he was contained in the bathroom, crying to get out, so we sat still while Alex brought him out. I fell in love with his wide eyes and big lion head immediately, but didn't want to rush anything so settled in for a chat and to watch him. He made himself comfortable about ten feet away and I kept an eye on him while not making direct eye contact so as not to threaten him. He was such a big cat--and only recently de-tommed--that I was a little concerned about how he and Kitten would get on. But he was very much a presence and very much in need of a permament home, so into the carrier he went.

Well! What fun we had. I did the common sense thing this time, putting Mr. Kitty (who I quickly named Redford because he looks and moves like a lion and Robert Redford is a Leo, so…) in the bathroom and closed the door. I left him with some food and came back later to find him with his face buried in the corner, where he stayed all day--a very sad "If I don't look at you, maybe you'll forget I'm here" boy. That night when I took him into the bedroom, he dove beneath the bed and stayed there for the next week, courtesy of Libellule Kitten, who stalked him constantly. Except at night. Then he, outdoor cat that he'd been, prowled through the apartment, crying and whining while the kitten craned to watch him from the bed. After a few sleepless nights, I stocked up on the Feliway and shut the place down so it was as dark as possible, and Redford began settling in.

  
He still is. He went from beneath the bed to into a little shelter I made him at the end of the bed to guiltily perching on the bed to hanging out on the windowsill behind the bed to (now that it's cooler) sleeping near my legs. It took him probably a month before he'd come into the living room (but only if the French doors were closed) then another month or so to come in when the doors were open. Then he sat by the door then he stepped out (but ran back inside the instant he heard a noise) and now he loves to be out there--but only if Kitten or I am.

 
 He freaked out every time he saw me with the broom (until I left it beside his food bowl and he started to associate it with nicer things--now I can sweep right under him), freaks out when I use the vaccuum cleaner and dives beneath the bed whenever someone buzzes the front door (while Kitten dives under the sofa). He stays under there until they've gone, too, even if it's a 5-hour visit. The only time he didn't was when Jenny came to stay for a few days and he had to come out for food--then he figured she probably wasn't going to hurt him and curled up on the bed.

 
 It still surprises me that such a massive cat (he's so solid that he almost sounds like a person walking on the wooden floor) is such a big sookie-la-la. He's relaxed with me, except if I move too quickly, but he's dead scared of strangers and noise. It's a real change from 2 very confident, relaxed, people-friendly cats that I didn't have to worry about to 2 scaredy cats who freeze when they hear people in the stairwell. They're very bonded to me, so I'm concerned at how they'll deal when I (finally) go on vacation. I knew with Pumpkin & Kody that they'd be pissed but got used to it and glommed onto whoever was feeding them. Still, it makes for some funny moments, like the time I emptied ice cubes into the tray: Libellule jumped, Redford jumped over her and they ended up leap-frogging their way along the corridor, while I was doubled up with laughter.

 
 Speaking of bonding, I decided to get an older cat after Kody died, in the hopes that if something happened to one, the other wouldn't go downhill so rapidly. And while Libellule made Redford's first 2 weeks in residence hell, judging by the way their tails intertwine as they head for their bowls each morning, that plan has backfired. They don't do a lot of cuddling--yet--but they play-fight-play-fight, and the only time I've ever heard a full-throated cry from Redford was when he realized Libellule had "abandoned" him by escaping the courtyard.

 
 Bring it!

 

And speaking of cuddling, I've never met a bigger cuddle cat than Libellule Kitten. As soon as I sit down at my desk, she's curling up in my arms, inviting me to rub her belly and making her funny little "buk!" sound when I don't pay her enough attention. And if I *really* don't pay her enough attention, she puts her little face right up in mine and either frowns at me or paws at my chest or gives me kitten kisses by rubbing her nose over mine. She is, in a word, adorable.

She's also very, very busy--in fact, I've never met a busier cat. Her little bell jingles as she makes her way from one curiosity to the next. And I've long stopped worrying about her being smaller then Redford. Any time he nips her, she gives him a "what the hell?!" biff--same with me when I tease her. She screams like a stuck pig when he jumps on her--then two seconds later is back for more. She's clever and sweet and such a baby. Last week, I accidentally closed the front door on her, leaving her in the building foyer, and a few minutes later I hear tiny, quavering "Hello? Is anyone there?" calls, that turned into "Why, hello!" when I opened the door.

 
Redford is just as lovable but more complicated. He grumbles under his breath a lot--almost as though he's always been told to shut up, and is scared to be any louder. Or maybe he just likes to whine. He's the champion of low-decibel, highly annoying whining; he also makes broughing sounds, like a big cat.

More and more lately, he's indulging in manic playfulness, leaping into the air with his favorite toy. He's a nipper, too--whether it's little love bites for me after a good cuddle session or nipping at Kitten's heels when a. she's pissing him off or b. she's snuggled up with me and he wants his turn. He's still an outdoor cat at heart, which is okay now that it's colder weather and the apartment's closed up, but I suspect will become a problem next summer when I like to open the french doors on warm evenings and he's feeling bolder about his environment. The territorial wars are already under way. The night I moved into the apartment, Kody was out in the courtyard and the cat next door (named The Kitty), obviously not used to cats on my side of the building, leapt the fence. He and Kody crept up to each other, sniffed noses then The Kitty backed down and hasn't been to visit since. When the new crew arrived, The Kitty spent a lot of time outside my glass back door, just watching. Then he peed against the door, which prompted Redford to smack the wooden blinds and scare the hell out of him. I haven't seen him at the door since. Now, during morning romps in the common courtyard area, Redford likes to walk up to The Kitty's back door and smack it, just to let him know it's still on.

 

Freaky thing? I see Pumpkin in Redford's reflection.

 

Now that the introductions have been made and I feel like I'm caught up, it's back to your regularly scheduled programming, with little or no cat posts.

Heh! Sometimes I amuse myself no end ;)

 

 

Have you ever seen anything more precious?

No, sir, you have not!

Wait, what about this:

I'd just love to know the story behind this little meerkat pose.

Peace out,

the Crazy Cat Lady ;)

What a difference a year makes

Pumpkin, April 2010:

Libellule, April 2011:

Attack from above

Perhaps it's 5 years of being confined to a balcony, but Pumpkin has become über-protective of the courtyard. The courtyard is his domain. He patrols its perimeter, leaping into action at the mere jingle of a dog collar. Woe betide any poor puppy that sticks its nose in through the fence holes: whompah! The local kittehs learned pretty quickly there was a new sheriff in town and stayed away. That, you could almost hear Pumpkin say as he cleaned his nails, Shere Khan-style, is how it should be.

I'm pretty sure he wasn't expecting what happened yesterday. I certainly wasn't. First came the strange plopping sound, a moment's silence, then a noise that explains why the word caterwauling was invented. 

Here, as far as I can work out, is what happened: Matilda, the tiny, tiny, tiiiiiiiiiny Tonkinese kitten from upstairs, decided to make a break for it. But instead of landing on the tree near her balcony, she hit my garden umbrella (hence the plopping sound) and landed right near where Pumpkin was sleeping. By the time I got out there, she was on her back, all kitten teeth and claws, screaming and wailing as Pumpkin sniffed her.

Much more screaming and carrying on commenced when I tried to pick her up, so I buzzed her staff, who came and collected her. Meanwhile, Pumpkin & Kody were all "What the hell's the matter with that thing?" Luckily, Matilda was more scared than hurt, though I'm waiting for the next break-out attempt. 

So, I believe, is Pumpkin, which might explain why he took to the bedroom for his afternoon nap:

This one's for Jenny

Funny. This is how Pumpkin looks when Miss Cherry comes for a visit.

My weekend in pics

Watched:

Rescue Me: Thank God I wasn't eating and/or drinking during the "Let's take a peek into the captain's urn" scene, because it was the funniest damn thing I've seen in a long time--although I laughed long and hard at Teddy escaping from rehab once he realized he was supposed to be clean and sober for life. Kudos to Leary for his Emmy nomination, but where's Callie Thorne's and Tatum O'Neal's and John Scurti's? Scurti plays Kenny with such insouciance--plus I completely want Kenny on my team for any trivia night.

And then:

Dexter Season 2 pre-airs: OMG!! Has Dexter lost his mojo? Is he ::gasp!:: turning into a human being?? And now that his hiding place has been discovered and people, including his sister, are on the trail of this new killer, how's he going to keep his secret? Best line: I will not kill my sister, I will not kill my sister, I will not kill my sister. Michael C. Hall should TOTALLY be up for an Emmy. He's magnificent in this.

And then, for the third time:

And cried again. Totally deserved its Academy Award. Harvey would have been proud.

Then I ordered:

And:

And put a lot of books (such as Caprice Crane's 2nd outing) on my wishlist. As I roamed over Amazon, it kinda bothered me that a high percentage of YA books have more sophisticated covers and titles than the big girls' love stories. I want a YA cover!

And I received:

Yes, even here, Amazon had to make good on their promise to deliver July 21, but stores such as W.H.Smith were open at midnight and did a good trade. Only started this morning, though, because I was busy writing. Now all I have to do is avoid the spoilers and I'm sure I'll have a blast.

Plus, I had a lot of dreams. Weird ones. Dragging orange and purple microsuede quilts out of trash cans. Not being able to get to work today when I had several things on deadline. Realizing the next day was Christmas and I hadn't done anything.

How was your weekend?

Just for Mickelino:

The Secret

No, it's not a post about that secret. Or, well, maybe it is. Last night as I was leaving work, I was chatting with a colleague and mentioned I was doing yoga that night. She said, "Ahh, so that's your secret. That's why you're always cool and relaxed and nothing is a problem."

Oh, if only the people at the hellhole I used to work before coming to France could have heard that, they wouldn't have known who she was talking about. Because the person they used to work with was not cool and relaxed. That's because she worked in an organization that was anything but organized, where it was common for management to do big hires than, about 2 years later, big fires. In the month--yes, 4 short weeks--that I resigned, 10 other people did so, 1 by email. See ya! I worked with a fabbo group of people and sure, we had a helluva lot of laughs, but we were barely keeping the barbarians away from the gate. Of the 7 in the team, 1 is left. He was there years before I started and hopefully he won't die at his desk. Of the rest of us, Narissa, Stewie and Philippa work in other companies in Melbourne, Matt is in New Zealand, Wazza's in Scotland, Jenni's in Sweden and I'm here. No place was too far to run!

My level of agitation could be judged by the curses I was dropping. It's no secret that I love swearing, I have it down to a truly creative art form and nothing is sacred, but even for me that was too much. And I'm sure some people heard exactly what I thought of them. I don't do that here. That's because I truly believe the work we're doing is contributing to world good, not just to someone's pocket, and the people I work with are considerate and professional. For the most part. Two weeks back, I was running a meeting for someone who was more than a little precious. That, compounded by my new colleague being out sick for a week, and everyone running to me, had me heading back to old habits. As soon as I realized I was muttering "Oh, fuck off" under my breath, I went to my boss and asked for a week's vacation. Thank God she signed the form and I came back 10 days later, good to go. She's the same boss who, when I said I'd probably have to have surgery shortly and might be off work for 2-3 months, immediately said "Well, I can't help you with the hospital because my French is terrible, but I've got plenty of English-language books and DVDs you can have, and I'll hire an auxillary to do your work." Thus reassuring me that, even though my contract currently only runs to the end of June, I'd have a job to come back to.

And therein is The Secret. Just about any job is easy to do when the management is decent. It's really that simple. So I guess it is that secret. The law of attraction, proven once again.

And because I can't resist, here are some more shots from LOLcats. I'm especially loving the "lion".