Super Kitty

Niobee, at 3 weeks, before we knew her.



Niobee at 9 weeks, after we knew her.



Now at age 11 weeks, she has been spayed, microchipped, and gotten her first set of vaccines, and is having a great time tearing around the house after bows, balls, invisible mice, and shadows. She goes from 0 to 60 in two seconds and decelerates just as fast, coming to rest in whatever warm lap or arms she can find. She has seal point coloration on her face, legs, and tail, and at least on her face, the seal is turning dark chocolate. Her white fur, which Gogan says is "dirty" is just turning a cafe au lait color because she's losing her kitten coloring. Okay, maybe she did a bit of dusting under the armoire for me too.

I met a goal!

Last year I rode 3600 miles on my bicycle. This year, I set a goal of 4000 miles. Today I met that goal--on a 25-mile ride with The Howard. He was gliding along at 18 miles per hour while I puffed worse than my elderly dog with asthma. Somehow I managed to stay pretty much in his draft, though at one point he took off along the powerline trail on the Poudre River between Taft and Overland Trail and became just a fluorescent dot in the distance.
I took a mere 10 days off from cycling and just look at me--the blob from blubbertown. It doesn't help that when I'm about to complain (and feeling justified in doing so), I think of Pansy in California who has cancer who has ridden a hell of a lot more miles than I have this year--and with chemo every Thursday to boot. So I think of her and feel like a wimp and nip the complaining in the bud. Should invoke a new rule--no playing the cancer card. Or the grandma card. Or the Princess card.

HOPE!!! AT LAST!!

His opponent used the word "fight" over and over. I thought, who the hell are you talking about fighting? We've had enough fighting. Let's take care of each other.

Barack Obama used the word "hope" and said we were all Americans. I thought, I need someone to tell me we can get through this--someone who's intelligent, educated, articulate, kind, compassionate, and good-humored, and humble, so I know I can believe him. And I knew I could believe Barack Obama.

You hope against hope. You cry in 2000 and 2004 and feel depressed for months.

Then this moment in history occurs. HOPE!

Lost cat in Fort Collins

He's lost, this serious cat. I've been looking for him since September 17. In the process of checking craigslist.org daily and the Larimer County Humane Society site daily, I've realized there's a huge, huge, huge problem with the overpopulation of cats. There's a lot of stray and unwanted dogs, too, but the cat population of strays and unwanted animals has got to be at least triple that of dogs. It's a terribly sad situation that you don't really feel the seriousness of until you have to walk through a room filled with cage after cage after cage of sad cats, hoping for homes.

I've been a cat owner since 1980, off and on, and most recently, I've had one cat or other in my home continuously since 1987. I think I'll be a cat owner again, but I will certainly be a more mindful cat owner, highly aware of all those lovely creatures who didn't find a home and through no fault of their own, lost their lives because of it.

Balloon Fiesta 2008 in Albuquerque

I loved the Balloon Fiesta.

I loved the colors, the sounds, the sheer spectacle of the mass ascension--all were worth the crummy, overpriced motel and the hassle of getting lost. (Anyone would get lost, staying where we did. Especially if you stay near or at the Super 8.)


And I highly recommend bringing your bike (surprise, surprise) as Albuquerque has an amazing system of bike paths that run along the Rio Grande and along a diversion channel.

We biked with a native, Rusty Roadie, whose family moved to New Mexico in the 1920s. Talk about knowing a place deep in the marrow of your bones. He was a super tour guide.

After a ride downtown to see the restored 1930's Kimo Theater, which one of its directors told me is like "white people on peyote imagining what Native American decoration would look like," we biked around the older neighborhoods near the university and went on a hunt for Bart Prince houses (and wannabees).

Bart Prince is like Frank Gehry on steroids, with a bit of Gaudi thrown in. But you have to give it to him--he actually lives in a house he designed. The contrast with the neighbors across the street is incredible--we're talking bristling-with-steel versus lifted-from-the-old-country stone and adobe houses.


I never thought on the same day I saw a mass ascension of over 600 balloons that I'd also see a polar bear sticking his head over the wall of his Albuquerque Zoo enclosure,two camels in someone's back yard, a theater restored from the 1920s with bull skulls for light fixtures, and a house that looked like a metal grasshopper. Not to mention eating at a fantastic bakery in Old Town and later, a wonderful old restaurant in the oldest house in Albuquerque. (Did you know that there are 300-year-old buildings in Albuquerque?)

Do you Hoodoo like I do?

My hero.
He faced the hardest thing he's ever done in his life and he did it.
He's now an ultramarathon cyclist, and first place winner in the 2008 2-man team division of the Hoodoo 500.

Hey Granny!

Yep. That will be me in March 2009: Granny, Granmaw, Grandmama, Nana. A new little being is going to enter our lives and change them forever. I can't wait!