Autumn Surprise

Yesterday I returned from my noontime swim to find all waiting on the kitchen for me to feed them Momma, Bootsy, Felix, Keeko Jr.--and a fuzzy widdle gray striped kitten! The kitten was trying to nurse off Momma, but Momma wasn't having any of it. The catlets, who Momma presented to us this spring, didn't quite know what to make of Junior and were keeping their distance. I managed to snap a few quick pictures before Junior hid between the storage chest and the exterior wall of the house.

Excited and intrigued by the appearance of this new kitten, I dialed up the husband and shared the news. Later during the late afternoon, the husband spied Junior out once again with Momma and the catlets, and he took some more photos to document that Momma was now more hospitable to the new arrival, thus making the relationship between the two more clear. Yup, Momma managed to get herself knocked up again after her spring brood was born. Good going, Momma. We'll start calling you Britney Spears.

The appearance of just one kitten is a bit of a puzzler, but I didn't want to linger on what might have happened to any other kittens. Of course, I need not have wondered to long, for before the husband and I went to bed, we looked out on the kitchen patio--and Momma's new brood had doubled in size. This second new arrival is a dark little thing--a blend of Felix's classic black cat and Calli, who was born in the spring of 2009--and was thus difficult to photograph at 8:45 p.m. at night.

(Yes, Gentle Reader, we're typically in bed by 9. Hey, I get up at 4 a.m. Do you seriously expect me to stay up all night?)

This morning, the newbies were out once again, following Momma happily and starting to get a feel for our yard and their siblings. The catlets are still trying to figure out what to do with the kittens, since they still have a lot of their pouncy kittenish playfulness. At one point this morning, the newbies were stalking each other around the tree, and Keeko Jr. was watching nearby. After a brief discussion of the new kittens' physical attributes, the husband and I have temporarily named the gray tabby Tank since it reminds me so much of Tank the Armadillo of Beanie Baby fame. The Felix-Calli cross we're thinking of dubbing either Smudge or Splotch since its calico markings are sort of smudged on its black coat or look like splotches on its black coat.

While having new kittens to watch grow up is mildly entertaining, I do honestly not look forward to having to tear the boy away from kitten gazing so that he can do his homework or help set the table or get to bed on time. Of course, two new kittens means two more mouths to feed for several months, and our band of moochers is really getting out of hand. I wonder if there's a way to slip all of them some sort of tranquilizer in the food so we can take them en masse to the vet to be relieved of their reproductive organs. Think we could qualify for some sort of group discount?

Happy Run-iversary to Me!

If I remember things correctly (which is highly doubtful), three years ago today I started running. I started running because I was home to help my dad recover from his knee replacement surgery, was out for a walk while waiting for him and Mum to arrive home from the hospital in OKC and found I needed to go faster when "Given to Fly" was playing on my trusty iPod.

Do I blame Pearl Jam? Do I blame my dad's bum knee? Do I blame my impatience?How about all three of 'em?

I had no idea then that I'd become addicted. I've had setbacks and injuries, and I've had my share of moments when the last thing I wanted to do was get on the damn treadmill and run. I've even allowed myself a few times of cutting my run short because I just didn't feel right or I just had too much going on in my head to "let loose" while running. Unlike a lot of events in my life, I don't let myself linger on those moments. I focus instead on doing what I need to do now so that I can keep running and celebrate more run-iversaries.

That said, I do wish my body and my mental disposition were in such shape that would allow me to celebrate my run-iversaries with some kind of running challenge. But once you've done a half-marathon, a full marathon really seems to be the next big challenge, and not too many marathons happen in Austin in November (the one in San Antonio is just too expensive). And since the 'ol body isn't quite what it used to be in terms of allowing me to run a long distance, I've had to switch to challenging myself with longer and longer bike rides, and that's fine with me.

So this weekend, the bike and I celebrated our respective milestones (the bike's 1-year anniversary and my 3-year run-iversary) by taking part in The Wurst Ride in Texas. We traveled together 64-point-some-odd miles from south Austin to New Braunfels, totaling a metric century. I started off a few minutes after 8 a.m. and proudly crossed the finish line at 12:05 p.u. Not too shabby considering I stopped at two of the five rest stops for roughly 5 minutes each stop.

The ride was a great one, all things considered. Sure, the start temperature of 41 degrees wasn't pleasant, but I had enough thermal gear on to largely protect me. Sure, the constantly running nose got to be a drag, but that's why a person wears sleeves, right? Yes, I ran into (almost literally) my fair share of cyclists whose concept of "Share the road" means riding on the left side of the lane and cyclists whose concept of "Ride single file" means to ride two or three abreast while gossiping. I could have done without the bicycle-built-for-two folks, the mountain bikers and the folks who obviously spent a few thousand dollars on their bikes and accessories but obviously didn't ride those bikes terribly often. And even though the wind had shifted from the north-northwest breeze that had been blowing for the previous 2 or 3 days to a Gulf breeze out of the south-southeast, it was not really a factor at all. All in all, November 6, 2010, was a frickin' perfect day to ride a bike.

After a shower, an attempt at a nap that lasted about 2 hours and a failed attempt to put my contacts back in my eyeballs, which were all bloodshot and irritated from the cold air, I suppose, the boys and I headed to Gyros+ to celebrate with a lamb gyro (stuffed to the gills with yummy lamb), a grilled chicken gyro (tasty), falafel (falafel rocks) and a plate of hummus and warm, lightly toasted pitas. These gyros were my first, as was the falafel, and I have to admit that I'm now addicted to falafel. Are chickpeas just the best thing in the world to eat or what, Gentle Reader?

Happy run-iversary to me!

Need to Kill Your Thanksgiving Guests?

I think this masterpiece ought to do it.


I think the sprinkles atop the buttercream frosting are the perfecting touch to this monstrosity. Can you say, "Blorf!" Gentle Reader?