You are currently browsing the monthly archive for September 2011.

Pictures from the Denver Half Marathon:

And from a summer night…late July…


Abby The Real Thing is feeling great.

UB40 makes me happy.

And cucumbers in vinegar with pepper and salt.

A cold glass of milk after a long run.

Emmy and Ganny purring.

Dancing, music, laughing, drinking beer. Who doesn’t like those things?

On the radio today, a sport station, the guys were talking about 80s music and how it was fun and meaningless and wonderful, “like college football” they said. I thought to myself, I love both of those things. Then I thought, well what’s wrong with that, they’re both loveable and having a good time in life, having fun is really tremendously important, and I think a lot of times people forget about that.

I read some great quotes today by, of all people, James Taylor, Bela Lugosi, and Garrison Keillor. I was searching for quotes for my board at work, and I think it’s interesting to find what people have had to say. Oddly enough James Taylor and Bela Lugosi were both addicted to narcotics for decades at a time. I tend to doubt the same is true about Garrison Keillor, but who can say?

Yesterday was Ganny’s first birthday. Happy birthday, Ganny. He loves to destroy mini blinds, chase after Emma Sue, snuggle, and eat his food ravenously. Quite an independent personality, that one. He is like a big strong, white male unicorn in the body of a little white house cat. He has a bit of magick in him, that anyone can tell.

101.5 is a good radio station, that and 93.3, I think.

Food guide in Westword this week is cool, it interviews a bunch of local chefs from the good restaurants around town and asks them where they like to eat, where do they take friends who come to Denver from out of town. So many spots I haven’t been to. I love Denver for it’s expanse of wonderful places and opportunities to explore, but it remains manageable. It’s not like Chicago or New York, where I’d feel like I had to live there for a decade to really know it. I feel like Denver is my home, and it doesn’t scare me, doesn’t intimidate. It says, “Hey, come out and play, look at all my fun stuff!”

I went to high school with a girl named Stacey Garza, a Mexican-American girl who lived off of Waugoo St. on the bus ride home, the East Loop Tripper. I only took the bus my freshman year, and Stacey and I happened to be in the same gym class. One day she mentioned that her cat had several kittens, and if anyone wanted to take one, they were free. So, on the bus ride home that night I got off with Stacey at her stop and walked to her house. The kittens were small, maybe too small to be away from their mother just yet, but they were going nonetheless. I remember the kittens being of many different colors, but all dim like black, burnt orange, tans. I think they must have been mainly tortoise shells of the dark variety. There was one who was different, a light-colored tabby with a pretty face. She walked out from the rest of the group and confidently hopped up onto my knee and sat there looking at me.

She was undoubtedly the prettiest of the litter. “I want this one,” I said to Stacey.

“That’s Sunshine. Poua was going to take her, but I can call her and see if it’s okay if you have her.” I was a little worried because Poua and I had never been particularly good friends. We didn’t have any problems between us, but there was never a closeness, though our families had known each other for a long time, and we went way back to elementary school. To my surprise Poua agreed to relenquish little Sunshine, and the pretty little tabby who fit perfectly in the palm of my hand came home with me to 719 Oak Street.

The first thing my brother, Ross, said when he saw her was, “She’s way too small.” He was disapproving and warned of our mother’s reaction, though I was confident I could find a way to keep her.

My mom was really mad. I took the kitten to see her at her work, and told her I found her wandering around in the garage. Little by little I wore her down, and for years to come she would smoulder about it, angry that I had tricked her into letting me have another kitten. My mom was funny about animals.

And Emmy came into my life, and I’ve known her now for 12 years. She’s been through it all with me. Every boyfriend, every bad day, throngs of nicknames, three different states, too many apartments to count, fleas multiple times, put up with all sort of other animals. Emma Sue with her big green eyes and her creamy, fluffy belly, her knee socks and vest buttons. Emmy who loves to be near me probably more than anyone else. Her body type is strange, and people always call her fat, but it really isn’t that she’s fat. Her body is petite, her bone structure small, but she appears rotund in the mid-section, almost like a seal or a pheasant. She is moody, and many people don’t understand her, but I know she is a very loving little creature.

Emmy is very fond of brownies, ice cream, sardines, cat food, cookies, and tuna. She loved Jess Ader, Robbie Lane, Justin Dega, Jeff Linden, and Ben Kuklinksi more than I’ve ever seen her warm to anyone. She’s a major flirt when she wants to be.

She hated Gareth Becker in a way so fierce it appeared she was going through an exorcism when we would try to hold her. Living with those two wasn’t easy, especially not in an efficiency.

Emmy is a cross-country traveler. She hates going to the vet. She is happiest when she’s the queen bee, the only animal in the house. Cats are heirarchical animals, and for whatever reason, Emmy falls to the bottom of the totem pole in living situations with other cats.

She has a curious and heartwarming habit of defending the people she loves. When I am being pushed around or another animal in her home is being pushed around, Emmy has been known to come out of nowhere, push her fear aside, and defend us. She is a noble creature.

She loves to find nooks and crannies, small spaces, boxes, laundry baskets, suitcases, or milk crates and make a cozy bed. She is quite the mouser, and loves to go aside to roll around in the sun or lay underneath the house where it’s cool, and she can think.

I remember being an angsty teenager, crying on the steps of my childhood house, and Emma would come and find me and nuzzle my face, and I felt sure she was there to be a comfort, to be a friend.

Emmy is a curious little creature, and I think sometimes people don’t understand her or write her off as a cantakerous, boring old cat, but I know she’s full of surprises, and her history is rich and one she can be proud of.

Emma Sue ❤


September 2011
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