Field Guide To the P-H Homestead

I don't generally go around advertising the fact that I am a crazy cat lady in the making. I don't make too much of an effort to hide it (as you can tell from previous links to websites of cat pictures), but I try not to make it too obvious.

Somehow, people always figure out. Perhaps it is because, as Patrick always said, I have a particularly cat-like personality: I like naps, and fish, and chasing feathers tied to... nevermind. That said, I thought I'd just up and confess, as well as provide a visual aide for those of you who have to listen to my stories.

This is the tortie, Gwynn, seen surveying her domains on Christmas morning:


Gwynn is the older, smaller, and fiercer of the two cats. She's not much one for being petted, but she will stand for being rubbed around the ears--sometimes. She's also the more gregarious when strangers come to call. This is strange, as those of us who live with her are more accustomed to seeing her like this:


She also burrows in drawers and under bed covers, where she will scratch you if you move. Mom claims that this represents a desire to return to the place of her birth, a hypothetical sock drawer. Right.

As a kitten, Gwynn was quite a climber (shelves, hangings, pant legs), and she still shows off by getting herself to the top of doors and waiting to be rescued (if there were an anti-defamation league for cats, they would bemoan the ways in which they fulfill their stereotype).

Genevieve is the tabby calico, shown "helping" Mom with her knitting (speaking of stereotyes):


She's younger, taller and fluffier than Gwynn, with a loud and insistent miaow and a puppy-like personality that demands attention, playtime, cuddling, and just being picked up and carried around the house like a baby--unless you're company, in which case she carefully disappears to the basement while Gwynn sidles up to whomever is most allergic to cats.

She likes to play in water (I didn't have a picture of her in the bathroom) and gave me quite a scare the other morning when I opened the shower curtain to find her carefully awaiting my exit, at which point she jumped into the bathtub and played with/drank the water. While we have no evidence, we have reason to believe that she is responsible for the recent mysterious disappearance of one of our goldfish. She loves to go outside,


and is, unfortunately, an accomplished huntress (the above picture demonstrates the current disarray that prevails in my garden. Perhaps now you understand the reason for the frustration which lead to the cactus incident.)

ETC: Now that one of the books for my BA has arrived, I can start feeling guilty about not reading it. However, can we talk about overpackaging?



Yes, those are five priority mail envelopes, used to package one book. Sheesh.

FROM THE ANNALS OF FASHION (of a sort): Today I bought the most spectacular summer skirt, inspired by Veronica's insistence that I try brighter colors. Here is a preview of the fabric, because I really wish I were in Chicago and could show it off (yes, vanity, I know...):



FROM THE ANNALS OF LOX AND CREAM CHEESE: Reading Calvin Trillin on small New York restaurants really makes me wish that I were there now.