New shag rug from Costco?
Nope. Coupons from the weekly unsolicited, unwanted Durham News:
I won’t blog the ridiculous collection of photos of Mr. Featherbottom that I’ve amassed since September. I don’t even feel compelled to go through them. His ridiculous poses beg to be photographed. He really deserves his own Tumblr. I don’t even know how to create a Tumblr.
I’ll just skip ahead to a couple of days ago…
Yes, he’s getting fat. I’d cut his food, but he and Z share the food, and I can’t separate them as Z barely eats anything when I leave her alone…
I have had a whole bunch of photos from the mid-to-late-90’s scanned. The photos had been boxed up for years. I previously have only had a couple of pictures of the cats from their first couple of years. Now I’ve got several dozen, including a few from mid-May 1996 when I first got Aremid. I had not recalled him being a kitten, but photographically evidence bears out that he was a bit kitten-like.
Not of the highest quality, obviously. However, Aremid didn’t look much different between, say 1997 and 2007, so discovering these means a lot to me.
And now back to pets. Shot back in August. Nothing spectacularly entertaining. Just one of those simple pet moments I was inspired to capture.
Yes, I still miss my cat. And back in February 2011, I was recovering from my first nephrectomy, and I had just gotten my new camera, and I was taking a ton of pictures, many of which I uploaded to Flickr. But there were many I hadn’t. And, yes, I basically I had a photo session with Aremid, who, himself, was not doing so well, having begun his decline which would basically last for a year-and-a-half.
Yes, he had food on his nose, and I didn’t realize it for weeks until my vet told me.
I have some better photos from the good camera, but those could take years for me to look at.
From the last couple of days…
But I share photos I want to share via Facebook and my blog, and it’s instant enough. I feel constrained by the square format. I’m not part of an Instagram social network. I don’t need to make a statement by killing my account, but I did just use Instarchive to grab my Instagram photos so I can get them up to Flickr. I have probably posted many of these on the blog already. But, as I have time to kill, and I hate when I spend time to create a meaningful image and then never share it, I shall post a top of my 2012 Instagram photos. I will stick this post in the photography category even though I recognize how many would sneer at that association.
Let me do that experiment, where I take out of fancy leather-bound volume and just start writing for writing’s sake. If one is to ever write to make a living or a tenth of a living, one should be writing constantly about everything whenever one feels the whim of an idea coming on. Or, at least, there were these five guidelines to writing that AR had posted on her FB profile espousing what writers should do. So…here goes…
Disclaimer…I’m on Ambien and probably will be for the foreseeable future if I undertake this exercise regularly. I need it to sleep. But I’ll spell poorly, and I won’t remember what I’ve written in the morning.
But I need that, in addition to my CPAP machine, which I just wrote about, but that text has gone missing. Do I have to write about the damn CPAP machine again? I try. Since early July, I’ve tried. Between induction, bad basks, nasal congestion, a lengthy period of shingles, and more nasal congestion, I’ve had a lot of impediments to getting CPAP to work for me. The goal is to get at least 4.0 hours of CPAP sleep, during which you get negligible apnea events. But I have so many failures that my average is about 3.2 If I include nights when I do feel I can fall asleep comfortably-enough with the mask, I may average. Inevitably, I tear off the mask in the middle of the night. So my “compliance” rating is far below the 70% they’re looking I’m around 30% compliant. I’m told insurance could stop paying if I’m not doing well enough on the machine.
But I’ve got bigger words than death from sleep apnea.
Depression and stress and immunosupression drugs all put me at significant risks for heart attack, stroke, diabetes, cancer, etc.
Getting enough sleep isn’t happening.
Exercising isn’t happening. I think the Y is double-billing me for services I’m not using.
Diet isn’t happening. My cutting down on traditional fast food chains is symbolic only for now. All I can eat Whole Foods hot bar isn’t really much healthier..
Zellouisa is top cat, and I hope she’s not losing too much weight due to the presence of Mr. Featherbottom. Mr. F. has put his stamp on the household as the aloof, food-centric kitty that is the mark of 99% of all house cats. I just haven’t had one of his ilk before. I will feed him and clear his waste, and he won’t do a whole lot for me. That seems to be the deal. Oh, well.
I am so desperate to be doing something else with my life. This sentiment is celebrating its 23th anniversary. Where I should I have the party?