Not Much of a Cat Person...

I had some time to kill on Halloween evening. 

I love that phrase, "time to kill." 

As if unstructured time were the enemy, instead of one's best friend.

I love having time to kill. It doesn't happen very often for me. I'd taken Liam to his high school for two performances of a play he's in, and I was planning to attend the late show.

So I went to Apex Tru-Value Hardware to buy some peanuts and sunflower for the birds. And there I fell into conversation with someone I recognized. We figured out that he'd been facilities manager at a venue where The Rain Crows had held concerts. We yakked and yakked. And over his shoulder, I could see this little bitty cat. She was walking back and forth on the feed loading dock in a kind of agitated way. 

"Excuse me," I said to my new friend Eric. "This little cat wants to be in on the conversation. Let's walk over and include her."

 

She purred and rubbed her head around. 

She held up one paw to her breast, like a squirrel. Ohhh my gawrsh.

I stroked her head and pulled on her little ears. "This is Simba," Eric said.

"She drools when you pet her." 

And yep, she was drooling, copiously. The paw kneading, coupled with drooling, intrigued me. I wondered if she associated people and lavish petting with comfort, such as she'd have gotten when she was a kitten, nursing. And maybe kneading her paws, as she did when she was a nursing kitten, made her drool. I dunno. Whatever the neural pathways that made her drool when I loved on her, it was durn cute.

 I was enchanted by this little torti-tabby. I had known it was a female from the get-go, because tortoise-shell coloration is sex-linked. Unusual, and very beautiful, to see it overlain on tabby striping. I really like tabbies. They tend to be super sweet and affable. 

Anyone who reads this blog knows I am a dog person. But if she did not make my eyes itch and my nose run; if there weren't the litterbox thing to deal with, I would have gladly bundled this sweet little number in my arms and taken her home. Chet...well, we'd have worked it out with Chet.  I mean, look at those seaglass eyes! That sweet face! That paw....that drool... But I knew that would make Rita sad. Every day Rita calls the loading dock cats into her office and feeds them the best cat food. Cats with a job. Mousers. The only birds they're going to catch here are house sparrows. That's OK by me. 

Reluctantly, I wound up the conversation with Eric and Simba and drove a short way to the wonderful Marietta Bicycle and Walking Trail. I hadn't gone 50 feet when this little number came hurrying out from under a shrub. I smiled at the superstition about a black cat crossing one's path. It was Halloween, after all! 

It just felt like marvelous luck to me.

OK, Kitteh. What's going on here? Is this Make Zick a Cat Person Day?

 I got the memo from Simba just in time to meet you. Please note my just-washed mittens and tuxedo. Got any room in your car? Wait! Must you be going? 

Yes. I must. You are adorable, but I, Birdwoman, cannot walk in the door with a kitteh. They'd call the nutwagon. Which would come careening around the corner on two wheels and bundle me away.

I proceeded toward the Ohio River, looking for my people.

Ah. That's more like it. 

We heard you were consorting with cats??

Wak wak wak wak wak!!

Seriously, Zick. You feelin' OK? C'mere. Lemme feel your forehead.

I'm OK. Really. It was a momentary, never to be repeated perturbation.

Righto. Dusk's coming, you know, no offense, but we must be moving on toward the roost. Sure you're OK?

Zick. Get a grip. Those were cats. 

I know. I know. I'll be OK. Gotta walk it off. 

Halloween in Marietta, Part 2

I stood slack-jawed at the adorability: A baby skunk, doling out candy for the revelers, and almost bringing me to tears for the echoes of toddler Phoebe she conjured up.
Her mother confessed, "I keep weeping, she's so sweet, and she takes it all so seriously, making sure everyone gets a piece of candy."


I had to use flash on her, just to try to capture those apple cheeks. But oh, I love shooting without flash, and seeing what happens.
The images got progressively spookier as it got darker.
something about the blur makes Liam look like a toddler...going back in time, as Phoebe morphs into the real Hobbes, or Krazy Kat...
They meet up with their wonderful Granny and GeePop, who always put on the dog for trick-or-treaters, with the scarily realistic and locally famous Witch of Warren Street taking over for Elsa as GeePop plays spooky arpeggios on the organ just inside the parlor.
A zomb0-lantern
My favorite jack-o-lantern of the night. His wife says he always carves the same one, every year, and she's tired of it. I'm not! I made sure he knew that I thought it was brilliant. It's so...hopeless.

Our jack-o-lanterns at home. Liam's design, Bill's pig, and Phoebe and my zombie hamster.
Counting out the loot with cousin Gus.

Now that's scary!

I'll leave you with some of my favorite captures from Halloween night.
You had to go up on this porch and get your candy corn. There was nobody there, just the house's eyes staring out at you. Eeeee!

I loved this cat on this porch, and I caught Liam in the porch light.

And then something really weird happened, and Liam became something Other, something slumping off Goon Island.

It was a magical night. And it smelled so delicious.

Halloween '09

Oh, it was a lovely evening, after all. It was as if the saints all smiled at once, parted the clouds, stopped the rain, and let the children play.


Calvin and Hobbes, ready to go!

Halloween's weather did not bode well for us. It poured all morning, never got out of the 50's, and the forecast was dire: rain, with a low of 38. Yow. Phoebe with a scratchy throat and full sinuses, Liam with a fervent desire not to ruin his costume with a coat...a mom's dilemma. We multilayered long underwear beneath the costumes, packed umbrellas, and went. And the rain stopped and it stayed about 60 degrees, and it was luverly.

First, to suit up and get to the elementary school Halloween party, which was small and thus much more sufferable than usual, thanks probably to porcine flu thinning the ranks of little revelers.

Electrician's tape came in handy this year in our costume-making efforts. There is always tape involved, since I am nobody's seamstress. I was worried that Liam would find his Calvin "costume" too prosaic, but some hair wax and a sign on his chest helped. He never complained. He just wanted it to be true. He IS Calvin, in his mind.
Jessi and MacKenzie were crayolas.

Daddy kept having to re-do Calvin's spikes. Ow ow ow!
Phoebe's sisterly tenderness toward her younger brother, which extends to teaming up with him for Halloween, and attending his elementary school party and competing in the costume contest, never fails to melt our hearts.
They didn't win anything but our hearts. I kind of doubt the judges knew who Calvin and Hobbes are, but c'est la vie. It didn't hurt their feelings, and that's what matters.


We drive the kids into town to trick-or-treat, since there are so few homes out our way. I always forget until the moment we get out of the car that Marietta smells absolutely amazing on Halloween. The sweet gums and sycamores that line the streets have an intoxicating, spicy scent that is more intense when the fallen leaves get wet. I go into an instant state of rapture and stay that way as the evening comes on. Between the scent of wet leaves and the feast of visual images of trick-or-treaters and front porches and jack-o-lanterns lit in the night, I am in heaven.
Two little bugs compare their wings.
Sophi and Oona, our treasured little girlfriends.

Eyob and Abel, surprised by the flash, and trying to figure out what in tarnation is going on all around them.
The warm light of porches, the friendly smiles, the ghoulish masks...
The folks who go all out...
A tiger's stripes, melting into buttermilk.

I will continue tomorrow. I'm overloading on visual and olfactory memories, not to mention Almond Joys.

Who's the Scariest?

Andy and Jess' house was done up, all four floors of it, with Heaven on the top floor, all soft music and gauzy fabric and blue lights...My fellow Swinging Orangutang Vinnie and I take five in Heaven.

The basement of the house was Hell. There was a very nasty torture chamber down there. Oddly enough, I felt equally comfortable in both places, although after awhile Hell got to me and I went back to Heaven.
Andy and Jess had worked for weeks, with the help of Matt and Ali, to transform their warm and pleasant house into something Other for this party. The basement was undeniably creepy. Andy confessed to me that his childhood dream was to make monsters for the movies. He'd be real, real good at it.

Speaking of scary...Bill of the Birds was voted Scariest.
I cannot imagine why, unless it had to do with the fact that he was 6'8 in that wig, and he slammed his costume together the night of the party. He's always been good at improv. We took separate cars to the party, and when he walked in I had a laughing fit that lasted a good 15 minutes.
Here, he's talking with Zane, who did a very convincing turn as roadkill, complete with tire tracks and litter pasted all over his otherwise natty attire. Half his teeth are gone, and his glasses are shattered. Beautiful. Here, he's talking with Hef.
Margaret was a new mom, not a huge stretch for her...you may remember her as Oona's mommy. She's got a big glass of Mother's Little Helper to get her through.
She had a crib mattress strapped to her back, covered with the accoutrements of motherhood, most of them having to do with poo management.
Robert Smith from The Cure made the scene. Every time someone pointed a camera at him he stopped laughing and smiling and fell right into character.
Although he did let down his guard once, for me.
A naughty schoolgirl from Kill Bill.
has a conversation with the Lizard King, who happens to be our next-door neighbor and fellow musician.
A little klatsch of witches in the living room.
And a very happy caveman, enjoying the company of his friends and a cold brewski. Gotta love Hef's artless hand, draped over the couch...
I love my creative friends so much sometimes it hurts.