Another Kentucky Creation

In driving to Philadelphia from Atlanta (with a carload of stuff to ensure that our house had the essentials before the movers arrived), I stopped at Berea, Kentucky. They have a collection of Kentucky crafts which include ceramics, pottery, hand-blown glass, and metal figures. Our cute mouse was bought there on an earlier trip. This trip I acquired a kitty:



Isn't it cute, despite its temporary spot atop moving boxes? :-)

Boxes, boxes, more boxes

The movers deposited all the Atlanta possessions at the new Philly house on Saturday. They spent all day unloading. The moving van (a fifty-three foot long trailer) would not fit into city streets, so they had to rent a U-Haul, then shuttle loads using the U-Haul.

The new place is a "twin," which is what they call a row house with only one neighbor (I would call it a duplex). It has a basement and three levels, so the movers were constantly having to lug boxes and furniture up and down stairs.

To my amazement, they managed to get everything into the correct room except for the queen-size box spring of the third floor guest room. (They had to "fold" the mattress to get it there). They even managed to move the refrigerator - which was almost as wide as the door - into the kitchen.

Our decor is boxes, hundreds of boxes. David has been working on unpacking the kitchen, while I unpack the bathrooms, master bedroom, and closets. We have been unpacking since Sunday and still have boxes and more boxes to unpack. We haven't found anything broken yet.

Going Crazy

The movers come on Monday to pack the house, then load the furniture and boxes on Tuesday. I'm going crazy preparing for the move. I'm trying to go through all the closets culling the unwanted items. I have visited Goodwill every day for the past ten days with a trunk (sometimes the whole car) full of donations.

Both the recycling and the trash bins have been filled to overflowing; where does all this stuff come from?

Animal Shelters

My better half has really felt the loss of our pet. He's already been researching animal shelters.

The last time I visited a shelter was in my hometown when I tried to get my dad to adopt a pet to keep him company. I always feel so sorry for the caged animals and want to adopt all them all, both cats and dogs. Of course, that's not possible.

In looking for Philadelphia area animal shelters, my partner found one with pictures and descriptions of the animals available for adoption. One was an eleven-year old cat. Can you imagine what that cat must have felt when it was uprooted from her people and her home and placed in a cage, especially at an age that for cats is old?

The other thing that struck me were the names of the animals. Bo-Bo, CoCo, Dee-Dee, Fifi. Who names them? Must the names be a baby sound that is duplicated to two syllables? Abby was the only non-gibberish name I found.

Adopted 2-15-1997, Deceased 1-7-2008

Our cat was quite the character. Every night, she would put us to bed, usually trying to coax us in the bedroom at around 9 PM. In the morning, she would awake us, should we try to sleep beyond 5 AM. She would check on us periodically during the day, and would know when we should be returning, often waiting by the door.

She had a variety of sounds, from one that could only be described as a question mark, to another that asked where you were. I've never had a cat that could make so many different sounds, each with a special, unique meaning.

She also never hesitated to tell you what she felt, including hisses when she was unhappy. Honest and expressive and loving. That was our cat. We will miss her.

"Do you have a couple dollars?"

Occasionally, I'm approached by panhandlers. I used to always give them a couple dollars, but was unsure whether the money helped them. At times I'm sure my donation went to purchasing alcohol or drugs which only prolonged their problems.

Then, I tried buying food for them, usually purchasing a meal at a grocery store. I stopped that approach when one of the recipients refused the meal, saying he preferred to chose his food. I kept the meal and ate it for lunch, but that remark (and its implication that I was being condescending by providing the food) stopped me from donating food to panhandlers.

Next, I tried suggesting that they go to churches, thinking they would have the resources to help them, including counseling. One person reacted by telling me what one minister said when trying that approach, "Bless you. We'll be praying for you. God will help you get through this. Through God all things are possible. Bless you" before suggesting that the person go to a government agency located miles away. The person's description was funny, although obviously the church did not provide any assistance. Perhaps the churches also do not know what to do, or lack the resources to provide help. Anyway, I decided that suggesting churches wasn't being helpful.

So, what does one do?

Cold Temperatures, Cold Hearts

Atlanta is in the grips of an arctic cold front, like most of the country. It was in the high teens on Wednesday morning, with wind gusts of 35 mph. The bird bath never thawed (and hasn't for two days). In attempting to describe how cold it was, I hit upon a great description: colder than the hospitality at a Southern Baptist church. Anyone gay instantly understands how frigid their welcome is.