By the light of the silvery moon...

Last night we had a comedy of errors with the cat. We don't have much trouble getting Twinkletoes to come in at night in the dead of winter, but as winter progresses toward spring and the nights aren’t so bitterly cold, she is a little less reluctant to come in. Oh, she’ll come in readily enough when she is called–she always comes when she’s called–but then she immediately wants outside again. As we’ve come to say about her “the cat always wants to be where she isn't,” and then she rushes around to all the doors wanting out. Leaving her outside all night is not really a very good idea. She is a very small and she is too stupid to stay out of trouble. Our first cat, Big Kitty, never wasted her time messing about with something she knew she couldn't kill. This one stalks grown rabbits that are bigger than she is, and deer; I’ve seen her chasing after possum and even a fox. Too many dangerous critters are out at night that could have her for a midnight snack: coyotes, big owls, and bobcats (supposedly). The raccoon might not eat her but could certainly seriously hurt her. And, of course, there’s the selection of tomcats who all think this place is their territory and pick fights with her. So, last night she came in around 9:45. N was already asleep (or supposed to be); R was about sleep, and I was up doing a few things. I heard a cat meow outside. I knew it wasn't Twink because she was in the house (running from door to door looking for a way out). Unfortunately, N didn't know she was in the house. The cat outside woke him up and he thought it was Twink, so he opened the door and called to her. I hollered at him that she was already in the house and he shut the door. Unfortunately, it was too late. A few minutes later, I did a room check and she was obviously not in the house. She probably shot for the door when she heard it open and she managed to sneak out when he wasn't looking. How is that possible? Oh, very possible. We have accidently locked her in the basement more times than I can count, her having snuck in when we weren’t looking. I tossed and turned for almost 2 hours fretting about her and then I finally got up and went outside and took a stroll down the driveway to see if she was anywhere around. The moon, which wasn't even a full moon, was up overhead by then and it was so bright it almost hurt to look at it. It also lit up everything with a pale light that was bright enough to cast a shadow. It was just lovely out. And sure enough, here came Twinkletoes trotting around the side of the house. She came over to me, and I grabbed her up and managed to get her back inside the house without getting clawed. No wonder other cultures worshipped the moon. I used to think that in earlier times when it got dark, people just went to bed. But I bet they didn’t, not when the moon was full. I bet they did all sorts of things by the light of the moon, especially out on the plains where there weren’t many trees to obscure the sky.

Walkin’ the talk

Since my last post, I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting on a certain situation and debating how best to write about it. So here goes: I’m getting feedback about a former boss at a business in town. This man was a very vocal member of a certain religious group. He never “preached” at the employees because that would violate work rules, but he talked constantly about his church and his activities at church and his children's involvement at church and the general values followers of this church are noted for. He projected this image everywhere he went – almost. He was not a good boss, and morale improved dramatically when he left. Anecdotes of him that are now trickling out are quite revealing. It’s like the rootbeer my dad made when we were kids (one used to be able to buy the Hires rootbeer extract which was mixed in a recipe containing sugar, yeast, and water). If it wasn't cold enough, the rootbeer would explode out of the bottle if the cap was loosened. One time, almost an entire bottle ended up on the ceiling of the kitchen, but that's another story. Stuff people kept bottled up about him while he was there has come spewing out. The way he behaved in front of his employees and in private totally discredited everything he thought he was projecting about his religious life. Walkin’ the talk is more than just a cliche. It is vital for anyone who is trying to convince someone that their beliefs are true, important, and life-changing. I guess it is important for all of us who have a belief system we are interested in sharing to make sure the life we live lines up with what we say we believe. In another somewhat more humorous incident, R’s long-time friend related a story of a diet-food-cult guru (they couldn’t eat anything yellow) who was caught in his hotel room at a big conference (that the friend was attending ) eating Twinkies and Doritos. That was the end of the guru.