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Happy July 4th!

Writing from the kitchen window seat, because it's actually my window seat, not either of the cats', in spite of what they might think. They are welcome to the window, or the pillow at my feet. Window cats and foot cats are always welcome. It is a lovely day outside. It's July 4th, so there is an unfortunate lot of people noises, and the occasional firing of test fireworks in the afternoon, but I think I'm getting my money's worth. There are not that many days I get to sit and enjoy my kitchen. The last bunch of days involved a lot of forced resting. About once a year, my spouse and I get some form of local plague, almost always around the same time, which builds up for weeks until midsummer. We have the plague, I'm bundled up like we were still in mid-winter, and I'm waiting for the corpse collector with his cart to wander past going, "Bring out your dead!" Played a lot of Disgaea 4 over the weekend, mostly helping the spouse level up random characters we unlocked, seeing if we'll ever be able to move an item up to Level 100. Also, napping, which the cats have been very good about helping us do. They've had to put up with us sleeping in over their howling for breakfast. Sif can be an unusually loud cat if the situation demands. She is not against using brute stomping and anxious pawing if she think she is never going to be fed again. The cat's typically short memory means she forgets she is fed 12 hours later, so we trade off our loving, cuddly cat with this demanding, maddened beastie at the crack of dawn, because we remember we have a loving, cuddly cat. At least, I do. I suspect Seth also forgets this every 12 hours.

Dinnertime wails are a little different, in case you're wondering. Dinnertime wails sound like we have an orphaned kitten whose life involves Victorian sweatshops and who might break into song about glorious food at any given moment. They are heartbreaking, designed to lure us out of our dungeon sperlunking and last minute, client-must-have-this-today-in-Hong Kong jobs. We couldn't starve a kitten, surely? We couldn't starve a kitten of dinner at 6:30 sharp every evening, when the good Muslims are praying, the nightly Cantonese drama is going full blast somewhere in the world, and traffic jams are winding their way back home.

Dorian has grown up to be a fine young hunter. He keeps the local fly population down, which is handy in the summer. Had we dared to let him out at night, he'd probably help with the moths and slugs too, but I don't trust his safety when I can't see it. It's a little surprising to see how large he's grown. The skinny adolescent critter I adopted is quite grown up, pretends not to like hugs occassionally, and works hard to guard our household from the little black cat next door. The vet had us put both cats on a half-a-can-of-food-a-day diet, so Dorian makes up for the balance by snacking on bugs. Sif, whose only successful kill to date was a moth she scolded to death some 3 years ago, banks primarily on my generosity with treats. It is in my nature to offer my pets giant piles of treats. If Seth did not kindly remind from time to time that this is counterintuitive and Sif is still largely a butterball. I think she's developing a nice lady cat profile, but Seth thinks this is mostly one of my fantastic imaginings.

Traditionally, our July 4th dinners involve dubious American beer and some kind of sausage. I finally convinced the spouse that local breweries are making good beer, and it will not be less patriotic to also drink such good beer on American independence day. Alas, we are in no position to enjoy it, and I cooked up the last of our good sausage for brunch. All I can think of for dinner is a nice soup, or yoghurt, something that won't burn my throat into a blazing desert wasteland at three in the morning. We shall be listening to the loud popping noises in the sky tonight, and hopefully not be too cold.


Jul. 5th, 2012 12:39 am (UTC)
Perhaps a dairy soup like clam chowder? New England chowder is American and relatively easy on the stomach if you aren't lactose-intolerant. Sam Adams always feels right for the Fourth, but I never remember to buy any if there isn't a party, so I think I'll have a nice local Anchor Steam, probably with an all-American TV dinner as I am not feeling my best either.

They really should make diet kitty treats.
Jul. 5th, 2012 04:13 am (UTC)
I do adore clam chowder, canned or otherwise. But I did kind of have a pretty large can of that for myself when I first got sick over the weekend, so I'm pretty filled on that. :)

Seth found a box of frozen fried chicken, so we're having that. It's not sick people food, and I might well regret it, but hey -- what's July 4th without some junk food? It's also been a pleasant enough day that we feel kind of better, and hopefully that keeps up. Wishing you get better soon too!
Jul. 5th, 2012 04:36 am (UTC)
You have my sympathy - I meant to at least thaw-cook a box of bacon-wrapped treats for us, but I have such a headache that the idea of broiling anything was awful, so I had some boring pasta and am watching cat videos on the Internet. I may steal Kai's chocolate ice cream later, too, since he feels just fine and is going out clubbing. Speedy recovery to you both!