Ivan!

Here's our boy! Ivan has been venturing out from behind the couch (he gave up on the drawers under the sink because we could remove the drawers and get to him) more and more readily. When I come home at night and peek under the couch (he's usually there) he actually slinks out from behind the couch and comes around the end table (the long way) about halfway to me, waiting for me to call and coax him over. Then he sniffs my hand, lets me pet him, and soon starts rubbing against my hand for more petting, rolling over so I can rub his belly and play with him, and so on. He's a delight!

Ivan likes my sneakers, especially to scratch, so I moved them into the bedroom closet (amazing!) and put the scratching post in their place.

He has a bit of an attitude sometimes, as you can see from his expression here! We're looking forward to learning more about him as he settles in...
5/25 added note: Ivan just discovered my crafts table and shelves. Knocked off two stamp pads and a box of rubber stamps. I knew it was inevitable. Not a problem, nothing's breakable and the photos and papers are safely stowed so he can't wrinkle or play with them.... I'm pretty sure...

a few more things about weekend in heaven (FP festival)

I've lost my notes temporarily (they're somewhere in the apartment but that doesn't mean much, could take months to find them), so here are a few highlights:

I played Apples to Apples (an excellent card game!--click on the link for the basic explanation) twice with a group of the young boys there, mostly aged 8-11. Boy are their minds weird, even by pre-adult male standards. Just one example of preadolescent male weirdness: Greg was the judge for "spiritual." I think I put down "Tibet." He eventually chose the "My hair" card, saying "My hair is very spiritual." Dude-boy had nice wavy dark-brown hair, but spiritual?

I like weird, so I missed Billy Jonas' first concert to play with the guys the second time. I did get to hear him Sunday--he was *excellent* and I blew some of my disposable income on one of his CDs.

Sunday morning we had Quaker meeting out on the porch of the program lodge, facing the lake. Just three of us, with plenty of silence and some wonderful messages, and then Susanna arrived at about a quarter of nine. Susanna and her mom are two of my influences in becoming Quaker; Stasa, who started the tradition of Quaker meeting at Festival, is another. (Thank you, Stasa!)

For once, I didn't worry about getting to programs on time. If I ran into someone and started talking, I took that time. This worked wonderfully. And at the very end of the weekend, when Ken was out watching the potato gun shooting (a new FP Festival tradition in its third season or so) I was walking toward the door when someone I didn't know had just started playing her guitar and singing "Song for the Mira." Now, this is one of my favorite folk songs, and embodies the perfect homeplace (and to some extent the Folk Project festival and people):
"Out on the Mira, the people are kind
They treat you to homebrew and help you unwind
And if you come broken, they'll see that you mend
And I wish I was with them again" (third verse)

Jess (we introduced ourselves after the song) had just started and I made a "can I sing too?" gesture. We sang together, and she asked if I could hold the melody on the last chorus while she sang harmony. I nodded, very nervous as I'm usually not good at holding a melody or harmony line on my own. But it must have been good--Ken R., who does excellent harmonies with his wife, said we harmonized well together!

All in all, another memorable weekend. I'm going to be with them again...

Ivan has arrived!

I'm skipping forward past the next two days of the festival (be assured, I will cover Saturday and Sunday!) to bring you the Tale of Adopting Ivan, our 14-month-old Russian Blue cat. You may recall hearing about him from a previous post.

After the festival, we stayed at my parents' in NY state overnight, then drove 4 1/2 hours (not the 3 1/4 Yahoo Maps predicted, and I am not counting lunch/bathroom breaks) to fetch Ivan in eastern Massachusetts. Beth, the breeder, brought him down--a lean and handsome boy with a very triangular face and huge ears. He went to Ken first, but I was the first to pet him. We talked with Beth. She told us he is a 'leaper' (which we learned much more about later that evening!) and liked to tap on the computer keys. "Great! a geek cat!" I said to Ken later). Beth showed us the vet reports, adoption papers, etc., while we got to know Ivan and vice versa. He was putting his paws on my legs (never quite got up the nerve to get in my lap), batting around the feathers on a Feline Flyer (a small fishing-pole-type toy with feathers on the end), sharpening his claws on Ken's (sweatshirt-clad) back, and climbing around on him. Ken got him into the cat carrier without incident.

For most of the long ride to NJ, where we were staying for the night, Ivan looked pretty darn panicked--wide eyes with huge pupils so you could hardly see his eyes are green. I (as the passenger) would periodically recline my chair and talk soothingly to him. We were listening to and singing Beatles songs on the way to NJ (as we had most of the way from my parents' to Massachusetts.) He seemed to like the songs, especially when I sang to him (his eyelids lowered a bit). Then I sang him some lullabyes ("go to sleep, go to sleep little kitty...") which helped too.

We got settled at Ken's aunt and uncle's house and left him in the guest bedroom with the cat carrier door opened. When we checked back in, he was, naturally, under the bed.

He stayed that way till we had drifted off to sleep, around 11:30 or midnight, when we heard a loud noise. He had jumped up on the valance above the window (probably using the dresser as a jumping-off place) and was skittering down the blinds. He did this two more times. He also used my suitcase as a scratching post, jumped around on our feet (Ken wiggled his toes for him to pounce on) and actually once crawled into bed with us for a few minutes, between me and Ken. We kept waking up till he settled down sometime in the middle of the night but it was worth it. He was such fun!

The next morning he was quiet again (well, heck, all that expended energy!) He seemed less panicked during the ride back home to Maryland, though I don't think "Jesus Christ Superstar" suited him as well as the Beatles. We got him home and put him into the bathroom (which Ken set up with litterbox, water and food). We peeked in while we were settling in and he had gotten into the tub, so Ken put a towel in there to keep him comfy and warm. Then we went out to dinner.

When we got back, Ken walked in the bathroom and said to me, "Careful, both the drawers are open. He's behind them." No way, I thought, did that cat get the sink-vanity drawers open and get behind them. Sure enough, he had. "Why did we have to get a cat from a highly intelligent breed?" I demanded, though I'm really pleased we have a young genius living here. Fits right in with my husband. We've petted him and played with him a bit, but have given him some "alone time" to recover from the trauma of being hauled away from his breeder, playmates and old home, journeying much farther than the vet's and getting to a new place with two comparative strangers.

So far, so good. I'm sure there will be a lot more for me to blog about in the future (not to mention pictures, once Ivan is calm enough to deal with a camera flash!)


p.s. from Wednesday a.m.: I went in to brush my teeth at about 11pm, and there was Ivan, curled up in the *sink*! It is oval and he does fit in it perfectly, I have to admit. He got behind the sink-vanity drawers again during the night too.

a weekend of heaven on earth, part I (Friday)

Friday Ken and I headed out to the Folk Project Spring Festival, at a camp in northwestern New Jersey. The place is beautiful--a lake, woods, the Appalachian Trail nearby, just incredible. The festival is even better.
Ken and I got to know each other largely at these festivals, held in the spring and fall, so this was a pilgrimage as well as a reconnection with our folkie roots and our folkie friends. We waved hello to Scooter and one or two other Projectiles as we went in. The first person I really spoke with (and the first one I hugged--she's as big on hugs as I am) was Pam, who as usual was registration volunteer. I was so glad to see her again, to chat about each other's holiday letters (she was surprised and thrilled to hear about our marriage!) and catch up.

We settled into our cabin, managing to both snag bottom bunks that met at the corner so our heads could be close together. I had a window with a forest view.

While Ken and I waited for the Friday-night concert to begin, a young woman in the row behind us leaned forward and said, "Is that Pintsize on your sweatshirt?" "Yes!" I replied happily. "So, you read Questionable Content?" Turns out she did, and she and her brother are also into manga and anime. She started off with watching Evangelion when she was twelve, which warped her brain permanently.

The evening concert was excellent. Heather sang a wonderful song about community gardens in NY city, among other pieces, and then Tanglefoot, my absolute favorite band in the universe, came on. The emcee's description, "kick-ass Canadian Folk" doesn't even begin to describe this group. They have a new fiddler, Sandy, the first woman in the group--an excellent fiddler/violinist with the energy to match those guys. they recounted a story in which their British booking agent warned them that in a Yorkshire audience, the most effusive praise they were likely to get was "I've heard worse." That became the standard heckling phrase for the rest of the weekend. Claudia Schmidt was last and wow! you don't merely listen to this woman, you experience her. She is incredibly dynamic, can sing in a variety of styles from blues to ballad, and creates a wider variety of vocal tones and styles than I've ever heard.

Then it was Round Robin time, at least for me. There were only four of us for while so we chatted. Finally I volunteered to be the first to do a song, but just then guitarists came in so they started off. (I think the idea is to make sure they're in tune). I sang four verses of one of my favorite folk hymns, The Lone Wild Bird (2 original verses, 2 by Marty Haugen.) My favorite verse (words by Marty:)
O search me, God, my heart reveal
Renew my life, my spirit heal
For I am thine, I look to thee
Great Spirit, come and rest in me
Then came many, many songs and tunes as more people came in. Around 1:30 my turn came around again and I brought out, for the first time with anyone else, my edited-so-it-fits-the music English version of the closing song from the movie Spirited Away. I lost my breath a few times mid-line but was happy overall, especially considering the hour!

Add this to your list of psychological disorders...

Ken just read a cnn.com article with this sentence:

Glenn Koocher, executive director of the Massachusetts Association of School Committees, said there is no pro-gay campaign in the schools, just isolated cases exaggerated by anti-gay marriage activists who suffer from "narcissistic activist personality disorder."

"Narcissistic activist personality disorder." I like that one! In so many cases activists are more about feeding their own ego and/or worldview than effecting positive change in the world. It certainly happens with activists all across the spectrum, left to right, racial/social/political/combination issues. Besides, it amuses me (I'm easily amused and love psychological stuff.)

This article just happens to pick on anti-gay activists. Doesn't break my heart. For heaven's sake, learning about homosexuality is not going to make one gay, any more than learning about heterosexual relationships would turn anyone straight. It's part of human society.

I'm going to jump off my soapbox before I exhibit signs of narcissistic activist personality disorder. (Just what I need, another psychiatric diagnosis)

Anyone want to talk about this further, get book recommendations-- just post to this site, email, call, whatever. You know where I can be found on and/or off cyberspace.

finally the story is told: Kawaii-Con!

Two weeks ago today, we held our anime and manga mini-convention, to great success! This was in spite of three little glitches:
1. Our wonderful drawing-workshop presenters had a family emergency and had to cancel out two days before. My esteemed colleague Don and I conferred, and decided to expand the costuming/masquerade workshop and to show two episodes of our chosen anime (Fruits Basket).
2. The blasted laptop computer/projector needed to have the screen resolution changed to work and none of us could figure it out. I called my beloved husband at home (I'd warned him I might do this when I couldn't figure out the problem on my previous workday and he agreed). He not only fixed the problem, but discovered we had no audio connection, and therefore no sound. This wonderful man went home and fetched our good-quality computer speakers, which worked just fine! I made him a special "techno-geek recognition certificate"
3. Two of the three costuming/masquerade workshop presenters were late. Don, in a stroke of genius, filled in time by declaring a Naruto/Fullmetal Alchemist "death match." No violence--fans on each side simply took turns stating what was cool(er) about their favorite and tried to convince the undecided. The winner? Fullmetal Alchemist, 14-12.

So, needless to say, the con went well. We all thoroughly enjoyed the Fruits Basket episode (lots of laughter and comments).

The costuming/cosplay/masquerade workshop was great, also. The costumers talked about how one could go into incredible detail with sequins, etc, or could just have a simple costume with a few touches--here Ron pointed out a young man in a plain shirt and slacks with a handmade imitation-bone medallion, and how well it worked.

They also talked about cosplay (pretending to be the character you're dressed as). "If you're Naruto, be Naruto" Another: two people dressed as characters who were enemies were headed past each other, one up an escalator, one down. They maneuvered somehow toward each other and started fighting! One of the young women at our mini-con told the story of going in the costume she was currently wearing. A young man dressed as another character in the story knelt at her feet and, as in the story, said "Will you do me the honor of bearing me a son?" As in the story, also, she slapped him across the face.

Next came our actual costume contest, and the cosplayers took that advice to heart. They were great! The winner was a young woman in a headband and Naruto t-shirt who was "rabid Naruto fan" and played it to the hilt. Everyone in the costume contest got a certificate awarding them for some specific good thing about their costume/cosplaying.

Then we had our art contest. The attendees had been voting all along, in our "break times" when they could vote, get snacks, use the restrooms, and chat. Don and I added up the votes, broke a couple of ties based on who had won other awards, and then announced the winners. I'd made medal-and-ribbon style awards for each category (funniest, cutest, most attitude, best use of color, etc.) with a Japanese word in for each in the center of the "medal" (thanks to our youngest page, who takes Japanese at the community college and is herself a manga/anime fan). That was great fun!

We had a lot of wonderful door prizes, more than we had attenders, thanks to our comic-book-store connection (the pair who had planned to do our drawing workshop). Some items were more prized than others, but everyone got at least one thing--in the end we had a "feeding frenzy" and everything went.

All in all, another great success for anime/manga fandom in my little corner of the world! Now I'm inspired to cosplay at Otakon. I have an outfit that exactly matches Shinonome-sensei's from Loveless (she's the younger protagonist's teacher). I just need a long black wig and a pair of kitty ears (I think I can dispense with the tail--it would just get tangled and in the way in the crush at Otakon, which is going to have about 25000 people!)

Pictures to come, I hope...

Inchworm Invasion

I know I promised more than a week ago to post about Kawaii-Con at our library, but the inchworms are a current, overriding concern in the forefront of my mind. A Clear and Present Danger.

Two springs ago, there were several green or green-and-black-striped inchworms crawling around the big flowerpot near my front door and around the deck. I was charmed, and sang the "Inchworm Song" (from the movie musical "Hans Christian Andersen") to them.

Last year they were rather more numerous, but I could deal with them.

This year there are at least a couple hundred of the damn things congregating on and around our front door, on our deck, and generally on the outside walls of the garage apartment where we live. They're also fond of me. Whenever I come in from outside, sooner or later I feel one crawling on the back of my neck or spot one on the front of my shirt. I love nature but these guys have worn out my fondness for them big-time. (I should add that they like Ken too. He comes into the apartment scratching and fluffing out his hair a lot.)

The clincher was yesterday, when I went out back to get my snow shovel to put in storage, and the darn things were all over the shovel. About a hundred (I am not exaggerating) were making themselves at home all over our recycling bins too. That was it. This morning (no jury duty today, and I'm working evening shift) I went out with a bunch of rags and a bucket of water and cleaned them off the recycling bins (tomorrow is recycling day and we have a lot of stuff). I probably drowned a bunch of them but at this point, I don't care. I've had it with them.

I sat down to do this post, and--you guessed it--an inchworm was crawling up my sweatpants.

No, you aren't getting any pictures. These things are just too disgusting to me at this point.