Hi, I'm back. And it's just in time for my birthday.

The birthday celebrating has already begun in Napa, where I went for a very nice dinner with the California contingent of my family. They sent me home with a giant balloon which the cats like for the string but hate for the giant balloony scariness, some very nice gift certificates, and half an apple pie. Today I took the pie to work where I had a surprisingly hard time getting rid of it. Doesn't nobody eat apple pie? I, for one, would be more than happy to have some apple pie.

That of course begs the question, "Why did you get rid of the pie, then, dummy?"

I came home tonight, had a cheese and prosciutto sandwich, and finished off the ice cream. I don't need half an apple pie's help to make me look less like Flash Gordon.

Some people at work have decided that I need to be Flash Gordon for the company costume contest. One of them presented me with a head shot of Flash and the explanation that he thought I could make my hair look like his.

I couldn't actually remember if I'd seen the 80s movie version of Flash Gordon that the picture was from so I went home and researched it on YouTube.

As I discovered, Flash Gordon has two outfits. One is a skin tight t-shirt that says flash on it over some extremely tight, white pants. The other is a spandex red and black tank top, a giant, black, WWE-style belt, and some jazz pants. There's no way I'm going to trundle around work in either of those outfits. I have 40 pounds of tub where there should be 50 pounds of muscle.

Also, I think jeans that tight might give me the squirts.

Maybe I could be Compact Flash Gordon. Or Flash Gorton's Fish sticks. Gorton's Flash Sticks?

Whaaadya think youuuu're lookin at .... burp.

Anytime somebody takes my picture I either make a ridiculous face or I look like I'm heavily medicated. It makes me happy to know that I am not the only one affected by this.

Ohio is Full of Many Wonders

Among them is Touch Down Jesus:

Barf Bag Haiku

I was bored on the flight back from Ohio.



Special thanks to Flannery for scanning in the bag and putting it on such a serene background.

Differences Part II

So now I'm back in beautiful Oakland California. As we arrived last night I noticed a few more differences between Ohio and the bay area.

We have:

• Human feces in our BART stations.
  
• And old homeless man with a cane peeing on a wall in the park by my house.
  
• Homeless people sleeping way up in the decorative insets in old buildings.
  
• Lots more sirens.
  

I also personally have a much nicer bed than I found in Ohio as well as a cat who was somewhat traumatized by our long absence. He spent much of last night singing the blues and walking around on my head.

It's good to be home.

The Moist and the Dirty

I'm in Ohio, land of moist, hot air, hardly any environmental awareness, no personal safety laws, and my friend's wedding.

Some things here which differ from the Bay Area:

• People here don't wear helmets. You are free to smear yourself all over the freeways of Ohio if you fall off your motorcycle.
  
• You are allowed to shoot smoke from your tailpipe onto the helmetless riders behind you. In Ohio there are no environmental roadblocks between you and your car's registration.
  
• There are no rubber skirts on gas pumps to keep gas fumes from floating into the air.
  
• It is very difficult to recycle unless you are at a private home, and even then there are no special bins.
  
• People here are very large. I went to Walmart for some last minute wedding shopping and saw a wide array of rotund shoppers. I tried to fit in by getting a McFlurry at the in-store McDonald's.
  
• The airport wireless internet is free! Score one for Ohio.
  
• Gas is $0.70 cheaper or so. But I'm sure there's some evil reason for it.
  

But apart from being in Ohio, my trip out here has been really fun. The wedding was amazing, I got to play a lot of Wii Mario Kart, I saw a bunch of my friends that I don't see often, visited Magic Mountain with Flannery's sister's kids, and repeatedly lifted some toddlers over the back of a couch. They thought it was awesome, but the range of motion in my left shoulder seems to be somewhat reduced now.

And now it's time to board the plane and puzzle over the amazing mullets, shiny, new, bellybutton-high, tight, black wranglers, and the wisdom of naming your in store brand Faded Glory.

Damn, Dirty, Animals.

There is a picture on a bus stop near work of the Nesquik Bunny popping out of a hole in the ground carrying a big cup of chocolate milk. But because he's obviously been burrowing, the picture gives me the impression that he's just dug a hole through the earth and he's offering me a tall, cool glass of dirt milk.

No thanks, Nesquik Bunny. I'm lactose mud intolerant.

A Disgusting Pet-Based Pet Blog

Clayton is a curious cat. It has yet to kill him, but it certainly makes him gag.

He thoroughly enjoys smelling things. Especially pointy things. If I'm talking on my telemarketer-style hands free set he always wanders up to me, sniffs the microphone, and finding its smell to be delightful, starts to nibble on the end. Pens, chopsticks, forks, or an accusatory finger all warrant the same response: Sniff. Ok? Nibble. Beware a curious cat on your chest. Noses are pointy enough to garner the attention of his nose and teeth.

But sometimes he doesn't like what he smells. Super glue, for instance, is not one of his olfactory favorites. Last time I was using some he sniffed it, got a little on his nose, and spent the next five minutes alternately gaging and licking his face.

I just made an Easter basket for Flannery including a lovely felt Jesus and was in the middle of wrapping the whole thing in cellophane when Clayton came to supervise. He sniffed the tape, sniffed the basket, and finally sniffed the role of cellophane which immediately made him gag. Without a sufficiently appetizing smell he ambled off to sit in my recliner and I cleaned up my mess.

On the table I noticed a small spot of water and went to wipe it up with my hand. Alas, as my palm touched it the "water" moved as a semi-solid mass and slowly pulled itself over the edge of the counter. Apparently the cellophane had inspired Clayton to gag up a cat loogie.

On a mostly unrelated note, has anyone ever used a Furminator? I've been using one on Clayton and have removed a fairly solid jar full of hair which will some day become a sheet of cat felt.

Perhaps with the loss of my every day death bed and medical exposure this will become a disgusting pet-based craft blog.

Done and Done

I've missed the big Christmas shopping season, but it's out just in time to give that special someone a mediocre book for Easter. Sure, it doesn't have anything to do with rabbits, the second coming of Jesus, or even eggs. But even so, it's my Novel, and I'm' done with it.

It sure did take forever. I wrote it in a month, printed it out, then took it home for Christmas. Several people read those copies and circled a bunch of stuff. I fixed those things then gave it to Flannery to read. She circled a bunch more stuff. When she was done I had to read through it yet again, and to tell you the truth I'm kind of sick of it at this point. None the less, I feel I should have something to show for my lack of blogging, so I finished editing last night.

Behold: You can get a really nice looking paper back version of my novel here: http://stores.lulu.com/kadel

You can also download it for free there, but what's the fun in that?

The Recliner ...

Begets bad posture. At first it was hard to tell since I had it pre-super-comfortable-seating, but now it's obvious that it's spreading.

Hi,

Long time no read.

Yeah, I know, I don't have a good excuse to have not written in so long. The time just gets away from me. Here's my update:

Job: Still going well. Computers don't work very well, so my job is safe.

Relationship: Going well as well. Well, all I can say is thing going well is welcome.

Novel: Almost done. It's been read over, things were circled, then it was read by somebody else and they circled things. At that point I was ready to put it on Lulu but then Flannery read it and circled whole pages at a time. Now she's done and I've been reading it, and I've been circling things too. But after I'm done, that's it. It's going to Lulu. I promise. I'm seriously sick of it at this point. When it's there I'll let you know and you can get yourself a copy and circle things too.

Recliner: What? You weren't expecting a chair-related update? I've been on the hunt for a recliner for quite a while, combing the craigslist free section for the recliner of my dreams to replace the giant brown chair I dragged off the street 6 months ago. On Sunday I found it. It was perched under a tree on 26th street between Noe and Sanchez. It's a tad scuzzy, with a few stains on the seat, but it's comfortable and it reclines. So today I was giving it a good vacuum and while I was doing the back I looked in the flap of fabric that covers the bottom foot of chair. Inside the flap was a ton of dust, a pen, and a pack of gum, all of which I scooped out with my hand. When I reached in for the last piece of gum (still in the wrapper, thank goodness) I brought up a small, hard something. Gum and pens are things that might fall out of one's pocket, so I was sure that this small hard thing would be in the same crap genre. Alas, I was wrong: It's a tooth. I don't know what kind of tooth, but as you can see, from tip to root it fits neatly inside this quarter.



And finally - I thought this was a very bloggy story - today I rode my scooter to Costco. There really isn't any hilarity here as I was just picking up an alarm clock and some photos. But I thoroughly enjoyed climbing on to my scooter and weaving among the flatbed carts full of stuff on my way out to the street.

Clayton: My Mews

Did I get a cat because I wanted some companionship? Because I thought Flannery would enjoy one? Do I just like scooping cat poo and have an unnatural interest in cross species scabies infestation? Or could it be that I needed something to blog about?

As Clayton and I become more acquainted I've come to understand his likes, dislikes, and his outright dreads.

[From Clayton's point of view]

Likes:
- The arm of the couch. It's high enough to sleep comfortably above the fray, but not so high that it's scary to jump off of like that stupid shelf I fell off today.
- Scarves. They have tassels which are both exciting and delicious. And I happen to be slippery enough that when i grab hold of the scarf I'm easily dragged across both carpet and linoleum.
- Microwaved burritos. At least I think I like them. They smell divine. (I got to stick my nose in a wrapper once.)

Dislikes:
- The vacuum. I know, all animals dislike vacuums. I'm not that creative, I'm a cat.
- Skylights. I just don't trust them. They're all bright and shiny and they remind me of when I was taken from a field and probed under my tail. I don't think I can have kids anymore.

Dreads:
- The toilet. It makes me uncomfortable when people sit on them, and despite jumping in numerous times to figure out what they put in there, all I got was wet feet that nobody seemed very interested in touching. I do my best to warn them away, but usually I just get shewed into the kitchen.
- The shower. This one scares the bejesus out of me. It forces people inside and makes them wet. WET! I wail and slash at the shower curtain and sometimes kick the crap out of the shower's minions, the bathmats. Eventually the shower sets them free and I can rest well knowing I've done my bit.

News for Computer Land

I had decided when I started my new job that I wouldn't write about people from work. It's not nice to write about people if they might read it at some point. But in the tradition of other IT stories ("my cup holder isn't working") this one had to be told.

So I get a call today with the following problem: A user has an issue where he often accidentally hits the ctrl button when he's typing. Occasionally he'll combine that with an A key thereby selecting his entire document. Upon his next key stroke his document is gone. Could I, by any chance, disable the left ctrl key?

Everybody else in my department balked and told me to tell the guy there was nothing I could do, and that I didn't want to encourage him.

Alas, I tried to tell him no, but I'm a push over. So I brought him a keyboard with some keys already missing and popped the right hand ctrl key off. Such a kindly IT guy I am.

In cat news Clayton's ear has started to itch again and his self imposed ear scabs are making a comeback. His scabies medicine isn't due for another week, so I'm taking him to the vet on Saturday so they can figure out if he needs a cream or a cone or something. Sooner or later I'm going to get all his deficiencies worked out.

Well, not all of them. He just accidentally rolled off the couch and tried to catch himself using a single claw and my thigh. I don't think there's a cure for being both clumsy and sharp.

He's Not Going to Die

Things are looking up for Clayton. His ears have grown a cottony soft layer of fuzz and only a few scabs remain. His diarrhea was but a passing soft spot in what has become a solid groundwork of pooping. And his gas, while not completely gone, can be managed by not squeezing him too hard. All in all he is feeling much better.

Aside from that fact that he doesn't leak from sores and orifices, he lets me know that he's feeling better by making himself at home. For instance, he now feels comfortable enough to sleep on my bed. And while he was at the shelter he showed very little interest in playing, he now eagerly plays his favorite game: be a nut case for 5 minutes.

He's the first cat I've ever seen who enjoys chasing his tail. Dogs chase their tales in two dimensions. Cats can chase their tails off into the third detention which leaves all four legs free to grasp at it while somersaulting over the couch. It does, however, make for some uncomfortable landings from time to time. Especially if one doesn't understand how chasing one's tail through the air more than 2 feet in one direction brings one off the edge of the couch.

He's also recently taken notice of the interesting shapes that live inside my computer screen. He's not so interested in the cursor like Norbert was, he's most intrigued by the edge of the screen, where the pictures stop being so bright. He's just positive he can get in there. Alas, he can not.

Oh dear, now he's figured out that text can be fun to watch. He's learning to read!

I'm going to have to finish this post now before he jal;ksdjf;dlksajfksd.

Clayton Comes Home

But not just Clayton. The SPCA decided it was ok if he brought his cat scabies too. And we're just tickled pink to have them. (The sarcasm is directed at the scabies. Clayton is ok.)

The test for cat scabies involves doing a skin scraping, where the vet shows off how aptly they name tests by scarping off a layer of skin. In Clayton's case the skin came off his right ear. It doesn't look very nice. I think he's embarrassed, but he doesn't let on.

And the poor guy itches. The combination of the raw ear skin and the scabies that live underneath got him scratching enough last night to make his ear bleed. His walleyed SFSPCA mug shot doesn't really do his coloring justice. (Or maybe it does. It depends on your screen.) Between his face and his tail he's nearly white, so a bloody ear really looks tacky. And being so blessed in the cheek department, he loves to rub his face on things, which yesterday left Flannery's pants covered in cat-ooze. Happily, cat-ooze doesn't seem to stain.

Having a sick cat makes me pause and consider whether or not Clayton and I are a good match. The first night he came home he was on his best behavior. He ate his dinner, didn't scratch himself too much, and pooped in the littler box instead of in my shoes, which was what I was worried he'd do. Last night he continued to use the facilities as he should, but decided to bleed on everything and then spent the night meowing outside my bedroom door.

Normally I would let my cat sleep with me. But as I mentioned previously, he has cat scabies, and I don't really want, nor does the SCPA recommend having cat scabies on your sheets. I don't want to walk around work scratching all the time. People will think I have lice, or fleas, or poison ivy of the lap. I wonder if I can get a polo shirt that say "Don't mind me, I just have mild case of cat scabies."

So he has to yowl in loneliness for another 4 weeks or so until his sustained company doesn't carry the possibility of an itchy couple of days. Or until I decide I value sleep more than I value having an oozing but affectionate cat.


The oozing ear.


Demonstrating how much of a faux pas he is after labor day.


Being ferocious, er, tired.


More cheeks than you can shake a stick at.

Super Girlfriend [X]
Good Job [X]
Bigger Apartment [X]
Pet ...

After many long, Norbertless months I've decided to re-cat my life. I actually decided to do it almost two weeks ago, but it turns out that it's very difficult to get a cat.

I looked through the SFSPCA's website and found a cute little number named Nelly. Despite my association of the name with people on MTV, I thought I should meet the cat and then rename it if I wanted to opt for adoption. I went by during my lunch break and she looked just as cute as can be. When I came back after work she was as adopted as can be.

A few days went by and I found another nice cat on the interweb. (I do seem to start relationships over the internet. Huh. Maybe I should look into that.) This one's name was Sammy and he was orange and fluffy and soft. I had paid my pet deposit and was just waiting for the cat approval letter so I could go fill out the paperwork to bring him home. In my excitement I sent his SFSPCA link to someone to show him off. She wrote back that he had been adopted.

Damn these cute cats! I needed a cat who wasn't quite so adorable on paper. Perhaps one that didn't look like the bluest crystal in the litter box. I needed Clayton.





Clayton is 3 years old, soft, affectionate, and looks like he should be named Clayton. If he lived someplace other than San Francisco I wouldn't be surprised if he would have been photographed with a piece of hay in his mouth.

Cat-approval letter in hand, I drove down to the SFSPCA to adopt Clayton before anyone else figured out that his eyes point in similar directions in person. I visited with him, we bonded, I filled out the paperwork.

"Do you have any questions before we finish up?" the helpful volunteer asked.

"Just one: He seemed to be scratching a little and had some red spots on his ear. Does he have allergies?" I asked, worrying that I would have to feed him Benadryl during the spring.

"We'll have somebody go take a look at him while you finish up here."

When that somebody came back down they made a squished mouthed, big eyed face and then said, "we think Clayton has ringworm. He's heading to the medical unit now."

So I nearly had a cat a week and a half ago. But now he's sitting in a cage while his ring worm culture incubates. Best case scenario is that he doesn't have ringworm and I can take him home on Monday. Worse case scenario is that he does have ringworm and I can take him home 4 weeks from Monday.

I have very little experience with ringworm, but already I find that I'm not fond of it.

My Famous Laundromat

My local laundromat sells laundry bags in one of two varieties:

$0.50 - Yellow plastic. When half full it comes up to the knees of a little girl in a Sears photo studio.

$0.75 - Darker plastic. Nearly the same size as a small boy in the back yard.

I guess the gallon metric for plastic bags has fallen out of fashion.

If you are wondering why my laundromat qualifies as famous, go here and watch episode 6. After Demetri rides his bike down the hill (my hill) he helps an old lady (not my old lady) cross the street (my street), and there, in the background, is my famous laundromat (my famous laundromat).

House in Haiku

My new house is swell
I shall write some featurekus
To explain the swell

Three windows are nice
Were the power to go off
Sunlight helps me see

Bedroom near bathroom
Toilet to 'puter sight-line
Movies while pooping

No ceiling pounding
No snot-rocket sounds next door
Nobody cooks feet

Leave 8:45
Fix computers, take a lunch
Home by 5:15

I know I haven't posted in quite a while, but I have an excuse, or maybe many excuses.

1) New job: IT for my local public radio affiliate.
2) Maker Faire. You can see my pictures here.
3) Girlfriend. (It's more fun to hang out with her than to type to you. Sorry.)
4) I'm moving! Yes, that's right, I'm going to have 3 windows and 2 skylight things. Woot!