hi i’m over at segullah today begging to differ on a few things. join me?

the following post is hereby dedicated to suedonym and kalli ko. you know why.

preface: in case you need a refresher course on how i feel about cats and how dog people like us found ourselves feeding someone else’s cats, go here.

so remember this guy (the one on the left)?

last week i found myself in a place more foreign to me than um, say, bangladesh. or perhaps even the moon.

it was the cold stark office of a local veterinarian.

and just by walking through the door i had committed to fork over at least fifty bucks of my hard-earned money.

mowgli, occasionally a.k.a. midnight

and all for a darned cat.

the initial news wasn’t good. in addition to a nasty abscessed laceration on his hind end (not his first serious battle wound), mowgli was suspected of having all sorts of diseases not uncommon in feral cats.

the vet, who clearly had decided i was not a responsible pet owner because my cat, although technically not my cat, is a bit…um, promiscuous, wanted us to cough up the equivalent of my weekly grocery budget to test mowgli for all sorts of unmentionable fatal diseases. untreatable fatal diseases. reasons being, to make sure we didn’t spread said unmentionable fatal diseases to other cats and to, if we chose, put down the cat (this is not the same as putting down the cookie).

my voice cracked as i frantically wiped tears from my eyes (i’m allergic, remember?!) and, after speaking with my husband, i agreed to finance the blood test in addition to the required treatment for mowgli’s laceration.

the veterinarian took a gaunt and silent mowgli–once reknowned for both his solid girth and his magnificent purring–in the back room so a technician could treat his wound and run the lab work.

my allergies kept bothering me for quite some time, while my husband–still at school–did the math on the fees we were being charged and pondered trading in his master’s degree in education for a license to practice veterinarian phlebotomy.

when the technician brought mowgli back in, i decided immediately i liked her because she affectionately petted mowgli during the whole time she explained the procedure (she had shaved his back end and the top third of his tail, drained the abscess, inserted a temporary drain in it and then given him a shot of antibiotics).

ka-ching!

as soon as the technician left, mowgli, standing there alone on the icy metal table, looked back at his bare behind and balding tail, jumped down off the table and hid under the chair.

he was clearly embarrassed.

now i ask you, cat-haters of the world: is that not the cutest thing ever?

the vet returned to the tiny room, suddenly much friendlier and happy to report that mowgli did not, at least, have those terrible unmentionable fatal diseases, and ask us how soon we could take out a second mortgage on our home and sign up for a series of vaccinations for said unmentionable fatal diseases and a host of other fun things that i’m sure included both the bird and swine flues, and probably anthrax and ted nugent, too.

we promptly took mowgli home and installed him in zack’s room–indoors (we are all allergic, remember?). i washed the cat bed that has been out on the back porch–where cats belong–and the designated cat-in-the-hat blanket that lines it and installed them in what is now known as the recovery room.

and mowgli promptly curled up on zack’s bed, where he has been ever since.

i caught myself hand feeding him the other day.

last night as we were rubbing noses he got out of the bed and crawled into my lap (i’m all allergic, remember?).

and i let him.

i need to schedule a follow-up with the vet tomorrow. i think he’d better take my temperature this time, because i’m pretty sure there is something wrong with me.

this is my dear friend julie.

julie’s brother kerry has been seriously injured in a horrible accident. lots of good people are reaching out to lend a hand.

yard sale/bake sale
saturday, may 1
(e-mail julie or even me for the details)

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want to help?

in addition to being the resident slacker at segullah, i am also the resident slacker in my book group. i remember when my kids were little and i first discovered book group and i was puzzled by people who didn’t come because they said they didn’t have time to read. these days i am not only too busy to read, i am too busy to write. there are numerous half-composed posts swirling around in my head, but, at least for the time being, in my head is where they are destined to stay. and here’s why…

just this week i not only kept busy with gym, home, work and taxes (thankfully, no death)–not to mention four days of softball–but i stayed extra busy trying to keep up with these people:

zack (tall one at the left in the back, just to the right of the conductor’s baton), performing in the dejong concert hall. back in the day, shane and i used to attend church here. i’m sure neither of us ever suspected we’d watch our son perform here one day

percussion is fun–you get to move all over place and play many different instruments, all during the same song, and what do you think of his missionary haircut?

i love this picture. generally i’m complaining that my little girl is growing up too fast, but i can still see the little girl here in her face

some weeks are so busy i have to let one of my favorite biking and swimming partners turn hiking partner to my friend jan

in other news…

remember when my suze started a fad making jewelry out of duct tape at jr. high? well, this year she grew tired of the plain old color-string-in-the-hair thing and thought, why not add a charm? what do you think?

don’t say a word…but kalli, this one’s for you!

quote of the week:

you would need to have 4 eyes to see that play, and ump you do not have 4 eyes!

hmmm. maybe if i had four eyes and four arms and four hands and four feet, i could do/be/have it and write it all. but i don’t, so that’s all folks!

disclaimer: i’m not selling anything here. you know me. i rant and rave as i please, no strings attached.

this is the house that jack (and his lovely wife and kids) built – photo courtesy of marvellous catering

these are our friends the marvells.

they are the people behind marvellous catering.

they are good people. and they know how to make good food.

not just some of the best food in provo, but some of the best food served all over the state. (just between you and me, if you go to one of their events and you happen to sample their sour cream lemon pie, it might just remind you of someone. and it should, cuz that’s my recipe.)

time was you had to know the right people (the governor, a senator, somebody special who was getting married, or one of those amazing clark kids) to sit down at jack’s table.

but now they’re opening their doors and inviting you to lunch.

at molly’s (as seen on c jane’s guide to provo).

i ate there just last week.

and i liked it.

you will too.

so what day we goin’?

today i went to sit with my amazing 90-something grandmother for a few hours, as she lives alone and, at the moment, is in need of round-the-clock company. we watched the conclusion of the masters tournament. apparently, in addition to her tireless service on charitable committees and for other worthwhile organizations she enjoys a round of golf now and then. she also enjoys watching it on tv, along with the evening news and bonanza.

it (the masters) was good golf.

but what struck me the most (besides mickelson’s amazing save out of the trees on the 13th) was the juxtaposition between the disgust and disappointment i felt as i watched a still angry, foul-mouthed and seemingly not that sorry woods (the nike ad? i hate it. do. not. get. me. started.)…

photo courtesy of Chris O'Meara / ASSOCIATED PRESS

…and the twang of my heartstrings as i witnessed the tender moments shared by mickelson and his wife and family.

i don’t need to analyze it for you. it speaks for itself.

well played mickelson.

obviously, i’m not just talking about the golf.

lately i have developed what is the equivalent of a black thumb (as opposed to a green one) for event planning. i’ll spare you the sad details, but please trust me when i tell you that having my hand in the planning is essentially a DEATH KNELL for any event.

but this i think i can handle:

go here today.

go here tomorrow.

and go here on april 13.

and say HaPpY BiRtHdAy! already!!!

mkay thanks!

i don’t know what it is about birthdays that end w/ a zero. i still remember when i was just a couple of years past the big 4-0 and my good friend and neighbor was going on about how awful it was to turn 3-0 (why hadn’t i thought of that?). most all of the people i know leave town for the big 5-0. me? i don’t know. but at this moment, i say embrace it! i think i’ll have to take a lesson from this guy:

you know there must be something special about a guy when the girl who lives down the street regularly knocks on your door the second a car pulls in the driveway at your house and asks, “can mr. rowley come out to play?”

sweet little girl who lives down the lane

yes, everybody does love mr. rowley, but most especially the kids. and it’s easy to see why:

the beloved mr. rowley

because in many ways–most especially in his big generous heart–mr. rowley is still just a big kid himself, i think he’ll embrace the big 5-0 fearlessly.

as well he should.

the man can still out-shoot almost any 20-something at the baseline on either side of a basketball court.

he can still remember just about anyone he’s ever met (just last year he glanced at the avatar of my friend sharlee and told me he thought that she had attended his elementary school for a time. i didn’t believe him. sharlee was just as amazed as i was that he’d remember and confirmed that it was true.) and almost anything that has ever happened to him. the things we remember differently can easily be researched and confirmed because, among his many talents, he is also a wonderful journal keeper.

one day several years ago i got a call from a woman who was working as an aide in his class. she went on about what a marvelous storyteller he was and how she regretted not having brought a tape recorder to class over the year so she could record them so he could write a book. (i share her regret.) i probably should just start carrying one around in my pocket, because you never know what event or image will trigger a story from the life and times of mr. rowley.

just last sunday it was the sight of a pheasant in a field down by the lake that sparked a story about his past. we were on our way home from my brother’s house in spanish fork. by way of the provo river, of course (not really, you know, on-the-way-home) as we needed to see the new bridge over the river provo.

mr. rowley is one of those people who like to take the long way home. he will regularly drive hours out of his way to see an old friend, his sister, or a distant cousin. his visits, timely phone calls and seemingly accidental incidents of thinking about someone he hasn’t seen in awhile and then bumping into them a few days later help keep friends and family connected in significant ways.

i know those simple but thoughtful gestures truly mean something to people. i could sense it almost tangibly and see it in their eyes when a parent of some of mr. rowley’s former students brought together a handful of his friends during our sometimes-bleak last winter. i know with a surety that their prayers and those of all of mr. rowley’s beloved friends (as well as yours, dear readers–thank you!) had a hand in the miracle that was wrought.

mr. rowley and (just a few) friends

april first is an auspicious day. (i’m telling you cjane…).

HaPpY BiRtHdAy Mr. rOwLeY!

we love you!!!