Part of the planning that went into moving into a travel trailer involved a choice of vehicles. Being a borderline gear-head, that excited me. Not a lot mind, because that’d mean dealing with car salesmen but still… Our current set of wheels is not much longer for this world, thanks to San Francisco traffic and drivers who can’t park without hitting other cars, and hard. I’d been going back and forth between a car or a truck, maybe even an SUV.
At one point I had a kind of epiphany and figured a small station wagon would do us fine, and it would be a good vehicle for Rudha-an to practice driving again. I looked at second generation Saturn wagons because of price, availability, reliability, size and cargo capacity as well as fuel economy. I figured I needed something that could get up to 35 miles per gallon on the highway to keep expenses down. Quickly enough, I found one on Craigslist, on a dealer’s lot in Fremont and so, hi-ho on the way we went.
Rudha an: The post below was written by Lastech and I’m adding my bit up here. Yesterday was nothing short of amazing to me. Love certainly ruled the day. I spent the day watching my Facebook and Twitter feed and sniffling with happiness. Finally! It’s now just marriage. It’s not “same sex marriage” or “gay marriage”. It’s just marriage for all. Hooray! This is Pride weekend here and it has taken on a whole new meaning.
In addition, thanks to the confusion of our move, we neglected a very important celebration. On May 14th of last year, our friend Catgirl married the love of her life, Carolyn. We want to wish them all the happiness they can handle. Catgirl writes great reviews of horror films from around the world for her delightful blog,Nekoneko’s Movie Litterbox.
Lastech: As it turns out, living in a trailer with cats is like traveling through space with Klingons. They play, they fight while singing the songs of heir people and romp all over us , not so much at high speed for lack of room, but take flying leaps. By the way, this is how they demand to be fed. No tact.
The fabric covering the furniture seems pretty sturdy considering how often and how violently they claw at it. The window blinds are not so resilient. No matter, eventually they’ll have destroyed all of that and we’ll have to replace it.
They do enjoy watching the world outside the windows or the screen door, especially when there’s a ray of sunshine to lay upon. They are excited by the wind stirring through the leaves outside and lust for bloody murder as robins fly by on their way to the bird feeder. Speaking of birds, these flying piglets go through birdseed like there’s no tomorrow.
And if the catonauts had their way, there would be no tomorrow, just half digested feathers in the litter box… The best Tito could do yesterday was to pull a Renfield and gobble up a fly before we had time to get up and yell “gross!”
He did groom himself after that….
Now for a little music showing how we feel this week. 🙂
We completed docking procedures the other morning by connecting the Endurance’s black water tank to the sewage inlet pipe, using what is affectionately called a stinky slinky… Last week, power and water were enabled by our good friend D.
As to the pointy eared crew, Jenny’s set up shop under the sofa, though she’s emerging more often now. The first few nights, she’d barely venture out to eat and drink before dashing back into hiding. We’re having to remove the blinds as she would effectively destroy them, trying to reach the little birds chirping happily right outside the Endurance’s bays. On our second night, she made several passes at the head of the bed, rubbing against our heads and farting.
Tito does better overall but digs furiously at the blankets, trying to hide under our knees when something makes him nervous. He seems to take rather well to our new surroundings, though, occasionally laying down on the floor, looking up at us for pettings.
All three catonauts are eating and drinking normally, something we have been keeping a very close eye on.
Titanescu’s sense of comfort is pretty basic. He just needs a human arm to curl up against, with the occasional foray under the blankets. He enjoys looking outside, laying in front of the screen door and his body language is already more relaxed that it has been since the mission began.
The cross airflow moving through the Endurance’s bays and roof vents are very welcome relief from our previous accommodations, as is the immediately available hot water. Environmental controls perform flawlessly. The three days spent at a hotel before the move were not so much fun for any of us, but Miss Jenny in particular completely freaked when we corralled her into her carrier for transport. We’ve got the scars to prove it. I think Titanescu may have feared either a trip to the vet or worse, being returned to the shelter.
The really awesome thing about all three cats is that despite their quirks, they managed to comfort each other during each phase of the whole operation. Even Titan reached out to Jenny, stretching to touch her and grooming her when she was in hiding.
Edit: The catonauts have their own bunk. All of their blankets, toys and even the little orange “hut” came with us. Thank you for the toys and hut Auntie Grace. The pointy eared people still love it.
One of the creepiest places I ever set foot in, other than Alcatraz, was an abandoned animal research facility on the Peninsula. Besides the stainless steel surfaces and sinks, the scarred tiles and dissection room drains, it was the smell which made some guys’ hair stand on their neck. Nowadays, the place is loaned to Bay Area police departments to practice room clearing with blank ammunition. As to Alcatraz itself, much of its creepiness has to do with the location I think, sitting as it does between San Francisco’s touristic waterfront and Angel Island State Park. The notion of keeping people in tiny concrete cages in the midst of paradise.
On a lighter note, one of the first things we discovered upon arrival was jellybeans.
Understandably, the parts of Alcatraz we were most interested in were closed off to the public, such as the old military parade grounds, taken over by migratory birds. From where we stood, however, we could only see and hear the ubiquitous Seagulls, permanent squatters in more and more places around the bay. Starting at the dock where visitors get dropped off, the ascent towards the main prison building is relatively steep, but worth walking, rather than riding up in the wagons shuttling people to and from.
Provided you come on the earliest tour, before 9 am, walking enables you to take in sights more fully and take the occasional picture without getting photo bombed as the island gets pretty crowded with tourists before noon. Most buildings on Alcatraz share much of their visual appeal with other local examples of 19th century institutional architecture found at the Presidio, on Angel Island and Fort Point, to name a few.
The prison’s buildings also appear more dilapidated, enhancing the haunted feeling many visitors feel. The warden’s house only retains four walls and the fireplace, for instance, but is positively cheerful, compared to the cell blocks, and especially the few cells dedicated to solitary confinement. The only time these cells were lit was when they were unoccupied.
There is currently an art exhibit offered for free on Alcatraz, by Chinese artist Ai Weiwei. Part of the exhibit is on display in the prison’s hospital which is usually closed to the public.
This means we got to see more on this trip than most visitors usually get to take in.
An audio tour is available once you enter the main prison building: a recorder is handed to you free of charge, with headphones. Sadly, this means people walk about following the recording’s directions, sometimes stopping abruptly in groups, by this cell, or that, blocking doors and hallways.
At some point in the near future, we will return to the Island, this time for a night tour of Alcatraz, in hopes to experience and capture something different.
Meanwhile we hope you enjoy these images…
The Prison. We didn’t take as many pics inside the prison as it was so awfully crowded.
@Large, is the name of the Weiwei exhibition. The link will take you the website with great descriptions and meanings of the various exhibits.
@Large turns Alcatraz into a space for dialogue about how we define liberty and justice, individual rights and personal responsibility. In artworks that balance political impact with aesthetic grace, the exhibition directly and imaginatively addresses the situation of people around the world who have been deprived of their freedom for speaking out about their beliefs — people like Ai himself.
These are the photos taken everywhere else on the island. The gardens have been lovingly restored by scores of volunteers. The bulk of the garden photos are from the prisoner’s garden adjacent to the exercise yard.
Rudha-an here with a bit of a description of the weather and sea conditions. One large storm had ended the day before and another very large storm was due the next day. The sky was mostly clear but we were dealing with 15 foot swells the entire time we were out. This made photography difficult and downright impossible at times. While we did not manage any whale pics due to distance, we got plenty of other pics.
Like a Soviet tank in the streets of Prague, Titanescu has trouble maneuvering in litter boxes shared with the other two cats, especially after “contributions” have already been made.
Or maybe he’s OCD.
We heard familiar sounds yesterday, sounds which play an ominous soundtrack when arranged together, like the Devil’s Galop. Pellets exploding from the litter box and clattering on the hardwood floor like filthy rain.
A body, landing hard on its feet, clawing at the floor, followed by the hollow thump of another landing, this time in the bathtub. The frantic scratching of the enamel.
What on Ceiling Cat’s green Earth?
Rhuda-an made it to the bathroom just in time to watch Titanescu fixing his death stare upon her as he finished dropping the kids off at the pool.
The second he was done, he leapt out of the tub and skittered out furiously towards the kitchen.
Apparently he’d made a first deposit in the litter box, found it crowded and hurled elsewhere, anywhere, to complete his “movement”.
Titanescu’s version of Angry Birds is that if there aren’t enough unsoiled pellets in the box, he will throw himself at the tub to bake his cake.
The tub. Where humans clean themselves. That’s a message…
Note from Rudha-an: The pellets referred to is Feline Pine. I get the pellets as I don’t like the scoopable version.
A taciturn cypher like Lee Marvin or Jean Gabin, ‘Scu romps through the apartment like an early 70’s Pontiac with a big inch motor and skinny tires, with lots of noise and little traction. Skid-skid-skid-BAM!
And no brakes to speak of. Even the other two are just spectators, turning to us just to make sure we saw it too. Entertaining? You bet.
Yeah, but he’s dangerous all right. Tito’s found out more than once that trying to wrap a paw around Titanescu’s shoulders and trying to lick him forcefully results in a quick smack down, jiu-jitsu-like, with the old cat towering over him. There’s no viciousness though, just a quick throw down and they move on.
But even when he tries to snuggle up to the humans, the magnificent bastard is full of peril.
Partly because he likes to stretch and his claws come out as a result, Wolverine-like.
So I was getting texts at work last Sunday from Rhuda-an, lurid descriptions about severe pain on one side of her face. Talking about a possible trip to the Emergency Room, even. Something about a fat lip following a puncture.
One thing about Titanescu enjoying naps on his humans is that he sometimes will accidentally stick a claw in tender flesh. Another thing is that… Well, he’s a bit nasty. I guess that’s why Tito tries to bathe him occasionally, and he deserves mucho praise for his hygienic efforts.
Because frankly, there is no way I would ever try and bathe the Ancient One: I need my fingers and I only have one face. He could alter the course of my existence in one swipe. People just have no idea, none, about how strong he is.
But. he also is not the daintiest cat, very far from it. So when that claw went into her lip on what we guess must have been Saturday or possibly Friday, she made the oh-so-sorry mistake of waiting for it to hurt before deploying Peroxide and Neosporin.
What do I tell people at work when they ask how was my weekend? Oh, I watched a movie, pretty sure it was “Apocalypse Now”, but I think it had Edward Scissorhands in it.
Rudha-an here. After seeing a doc and getting a scrip for an antiobiotic, my face and lip are slowly returning to normal.
I have been trying to sort some pics from our last walk in the rain and I finally got it done. Here they are. We played around with different settings on our phone (Samsung S3), which will explain why there are two pics of the bridge, etc.
From the pier, we went over to Fort Point to see the Bridge. The sun was beginning to break through the clouds.
I want to try something mildly different with today’s pictures. Evidently they are black and white, but I also altered Titan and Tito’s in particular given how dark their fur is to begin with.
Nothing real fancy as the modifications were done on my phone, it’s just that the phone offers so much more flexibility and convenience, to me at least.
Hard to believe that only a few years ago we had to wait for the roll to come back from the lab to see what we’d captured.
Because each of the Pointy Eared people has their own unique blend of beauty, charm and humor, even, this means hours of staring and contemplation. But you get it.
I call it time well spent.
The old Marshal reminisces about Romania… I need to find an online counter like those used in factories to post number of days without an accident. Except it’d be to post the number of days without getting bit.
Or hissed at.
Meh. That’s just the way the old Klingon loves us…
Without harping on too much over that stuff, the Feliway works wonders with Jenny and also the others. I wish we had known of this when Mazuzu Whang was still with us.
I didn’t have a chance to record or otherwise take pictures of the fireworks show last night at work, but this is much better anyway. Except for the soundtrack.
I can’t stand that bastard Boccelli, but I hope you enjoy this video taken by a drone flying through the pyrotechnics…
Typical old man Titanescu is… Typical. We knew he loved nothing like a good meal, and now that we got 40 pounds of his preferred litter, we discovered his other passion.
As soon as the litter was replaced, Titanescu camped himself in the box to release brown sewer trouts into it. The satisfied half closed eyes told the story of what the younger two take for granted. The light butt-waggle as he settled down to the business of uncoiling rope was purr gratitude.
As to Miss Nightshade Jenny, she gives me the Feliway Blues while we wait for a new cartridge from Amazon… Given her newfound relaxed state and confidence, she has given up one of her more obnoxious habits: lâcher des caisses, péter comme une vache.
So here I sits, with Neil Diamond hits running through my head.
For the past two to three months or so, the pain in my hands and fingertips made it virtually impossible to sit down and type. But I’m finally getting used to spending the day wrestling with tools, cutting sheet metal, pulling and bending recalcitrant panels off furnaces in order to service them.
With my current job, the first stop of the day’s a warm up, working out the kinks and pushing through the aches and pains. I do enjoy climbing up into attics and crawling under foundations, places with a gothic feel, in spite of rat turds, fiberglass insulation mixed with rodents’ crap and sometimes their decaying carcasses.
Blake was right, long is the way, and hard that leads to Ceiling Cat…
I once had to scrape off Mickey Maus’ dessicated corpse off a furnace blower it was ‘stuck’ to, almost rested my head on a mummified rat which looked like gloopy foam insulation, and breathed the stench from the bloated, whitened corpses of a bunch of rats laid in rat poison.
I could have used a cat or two at times, especially under foundations, if only for the company. Last week, I had to use another technician’s van since he’d called off sick. On my second appointment, I finished after the customers had left the house. I duly locked up everything, got back in the van and realized I’d left my clipboard with paperwork and payment on the kitchen counter. Ooops. I Walked around the house, trying windows (all locked), in a hurry in case neighbors got suspicious, until I found the doggie door in the back. I reached in and unlocked the handle, but the door refused to budge, stuck as it was in its misaligned frame.
The dog even stopped barking, cocking his head sideways “whatcha gonna do?!?”
I managed to wriggle myself through the doggie door, made it to the kitchen, grabbed my stuff and back out through the front door again… At my next and last stop, I inspected the furnace, and went to check what size filter they would need. The intake was on the ceiling, but no problem! I’d grab the ladder from -… Ooops. I’d left the ladder on the porch of the previous home. In another city...
I’ve found a couple of sayings in HVAC to be true. One is “on this job, you’re gonna bleed”. And sure enough there’s dried blood stains on our seats and steering wheels. Another expression is “get ready to s..k the day’s d..k”. As Bart Simpson put it, sometimes “it blows and sucks at the same time, what I thought was a physical impossibility”
Oh but, this is what I look forward to, coming home to this every day, in this case, Miss Jenny on catnip…. Until…