Sometimes Simple is Best

Favorite cat-toys:

1. empty toilet-paper roll


2. fishing pole with feather lure


3. little fabric stuffed ring with ribbons


4. empty paper bag


5. laser pointer

Seriously, don't bother with anything else. Big waste of money.

Also, for reasons entirely UNCLEAR to me, Ariel seems entirely indifferent to catnip. Which strikes me as unfortunate, as there will undoubtedly be occasions when getting her slap-happy with silly-grass would be useful.

Ariel in Motion

Sorry, can't help myself... TOO CUTE.

Homecoming Queen

Despite having returned at 7:30 am on the red-eye from Las Vegas, I went and got the lovely Ariel and brought her home with me yesterday afternoon.

She promptly retreated under a livingroom chair and refused to emerge.

Eventually, I was able to coax her out. She did a little tentative exploration, but was obviously spooked by the completely different sounds and smells of this new place. Finally, she decided she wanted to play and snuggle.

She was uninterested in either food or litterbox, which I found worrisome.

Finally, at midnight, I went to bed convinced that she would run amuck in the middle of the night, or commence crying for food and companionship at 3 am.

Nope. She did find and use the litterbox overnight (good girl!).

When I tottered into the livingroom this morning, she came prancing out from under the chair, demanding attention and affection. After having received both in ample measure, she deigned to eat some food. Any doubts I may have had about the primacy of interaction over physical needs have been fully set to rights. For several hours she followed me around, making sure that I was going to respond to her every whim.

More pictures are here.

The Party's Over

Apparently I am not as good a poker player as I thought I was. This is useful information. Wish it had been acquired slightly less expensively.

I'm returning on the red-eye this evening. I plan to spend much of this afternoon and evening strolling the strip, taking photos and generally chillin'. Looking foward to being home.

More Vegas

There's this thing that people do here, which I'm going to call the Vegas Drift.

No one walks in a straight line here. There's so much eye-candy, so many bing-bonging bells or exclamations of victory, so many people to ogle, that no one actually looks where they're going. It's impossible to make a bee-line from one point to the next. If you try, you will find people caroming off you, wandering into your path in an unavoidable way, or clumping up to rubberneck at some critical juncture.

Give it up! Realize that you, too, have inevitably perpetrated Vegas Drift in your own way and time.

On a different note: the most pathetic sight I've witnessed on my stay so far was a family having a meal at about 10:30 at night at a mid-scale burger joint. Mom and Dad were chowing down. Tow-headed youngster, maybe ten years of age, had literally done a face-plant on the table from exhaustion. He was passed out leaning forward in his seat, with his arms dangling from his shoulders, and his parents were bovinely masticating their forage while the poor kid drooled into his linen napkin. Call me judgmental, but... WTF are they thinking?!?

Scenes from Las Vegas

It's 8 am, and the self-professed night-owl (who woke, wide-awake ~ to her horror~ at 6 am) is wending her way through the Mandalay Place walkway-cum-shopping-mall in search of coffee. In the middle of the carpet, boogieing unselfconsciously to the dance beat piped in for our listening pleasure are two dorky white boys. They have clearly been up all night and are still inebriated. They are having a wonderful time. I could not help laughing in delight.

There are wheelchairs everywhere. Say what you will, but the Americans with Disabilities Act has clearly made life a whole lot better for a whole bunch of people who used to be shut away, immobile and invisible. Now they are out and about, and they are gambling and gawking and eating to excess just like the rest of us.

I am perpetually chilled here. I didn't bring any long-sleeved shirts, and so I have to wear my jacket all the time. It's a light-weight jacket, and it's not doing a whole lot for me. Being indoors all the time, in artificial light, is adding to my confusion. My body doesn't know what time it is. I went outside once, and the sheer blast of heat and sun served only to disorient me furhter. As always after an airplane flight, I have sniffles. Basically, I suspect I'm going to be a complete basket-case by the time I get home.

Still 'n' all, Vegas is fun!

Clean

OK, I admit, all the paper is piled in a closet, to be dealt with upon my return.

But other than that: clean! My apartment has been dusted, scrubbed, vacuumed, mopped, and generally rendered fit for human habitation.

And what, pray tell, motivated this excess of violent activity, as we know (see above) that I am profoundly LAZY? Well, duh. I'm getting a cat. And the place has at least to be clean for the cat, doesn't it?

It's a side benefit that my apartment hasn't looked this good in a year. And that I could now actually invite a human being over without being mortified.

Two Weeks B.A.

"B.A." of course being that seemingly interminable, arid, soulless period of my life Before Ariel. It seems inevitable that, as of June 17, all dates will thereafter be noted as "A.A." ~ After Ariel.

June 17th will hereby be designated as Ariel Homecoming Day, to be marked with festivities only slightly less elaborate than those for March 12, which is, of course, Her Highness's birthday.

If the excessive cuteness of this post has not sent you into a diabetic coma, you are made of stern stuff indeed!

World's Most Expensive Cat Toy

No, I will not be getting one of these for Ariel.