Saturday, February 26, 2011

Pretty Things in Spain II

My initials in wrought iron

Pretty Things in Spain I

"Swallow Bird" matchbox art 

Ten Things I Miss About the USA (Right Now)

1. Free, unlimited water (from the tap! God forbid!) with meals in restaurants
2. Bagels
3. Wearing sweatpants, flip flops, or athletic shorts in public
4. My pets. And my friends. Oh, and my parents. And family
5. My personal space bubble
6. Rural life -- trees, grass, animals, flowers, barefootedness
7. Heat in my house
8. The clothes I've had to leave behind (my cowgirl boots, vintage dresses, and hoodies) (go ahead -- call me superficial)
9. Knowing every word I need to use (like steroid, astringent, or oxford shoe) off the top of my head
10. My piano

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Miguelín Miguelón

I have a roof kitty. 

His name is Miguelín. (Mee-ghell-EEN).

This is him: 


You may not be able to tell, but in the picture above he is sitting on an open skylight. Since I live in the attic, I have two lovely skylights that, when closed, are parallel to the slanted roof; when open, they're more or less perpendicular to it, providing a perfect kitty perch. And providing us a lovely (ahem) view of his kitty butt.

He visits me. Often. From the roof. We are thick as thieves. The kitty food and cuddles may have something to do with it...but I like to think he visits just to chat. And boy, does he like to chat. Here he is chowing down out of a salsa lid: 

The first time he visited was back in October. We'd just arrived, and it was still warm out, so the skylights were open to the evening breeze. We were cooking dinner, or cleaning up, and I was saying how much I wish we had a kitty around to play with. A few minutes later I heard a plaintive yowl. "Stop it! That's not fair!" I told L (the boyfriend. He wants to be encrypted here -- privacy or spy fantasy? You decide). I thought he was teasing me. He said, "It's not me! Look!" And there against the indigo sky we saw this:


We see him pretty frequently, and his yowls have gotten more insistent as we've all gotten to know each other. He's not wild, because he lets us pet him and tries to play with us, and he's relatively clean and well-fed. We walked all around the block to try to figure out how he gets up to the top of a 5 story building. (L loved the wild goose chase trespassing on the building next door's patio). Here's the kicker -- there's no visible way for him to get from the street to the roof. The current theory is that he gets let out of another attic apartment for romps on the roof when it's nice out -- because that's the other thing, he never appears asking to come in when it's wet outside. Normally it's on days like this:

I'm working on trying to get him inside...the bribes are forming in my head...mmm...tunafish...heeeere kitty kitty kitty! And once I do, I am going to tie a note (loosely!) around his neck saying "I visit the nice people at 52 Cisneros St all the way up in the attic. Who do I belong to? Where do I come from? Please write back!" Imagine him going off like this on his delivery mission: 

But tonight it's rainy, so he is probably inside his cozy apartment, safe and warm, eating the food he should be eating and not begging from the neighbors. My carrier kitty adventure will have to wait. Until then, I'll leave you with a view of Miguelín at his most regal and commanding, overlooking his rooftop domain.

Friday, February 18, 2011

Friday Friday

Today is Friday, our restful-cleaning-farmers market-lunch-with-friends Friday. It's warmish and partly cloudy outside, the washing machine is rumbling away and shaking my little attic floor when it hits the spin cycle. I'm uploading CDs of traditional music I found in a back corner in my cleaning frenzy - from when old family friends (Hi Pete, Kelly, Walt and Clare!) visited this area last Fall. The fridge is full of delicious fresh veggies we bought from our favorite sellers at the market - note to self, post about the market, with PICTURES - there is a bouquet of fresh daffodils on the counter. The "Rushmore" soundtrack is on in the background, some cute Frenchy-French man crooooooning to me. I washed the dishes and made the bed! The windows are open! I swept the floor! There is so much to be said for motivation (a cup of Spanish espresso helps a whole lot), sunny days, new cardigans, and lunch with friends. Roast chicken is on the menu. Who knows what the afternoon holds? I have my eye on some shoes downtown... Ah, Spain!