Forty-fives

I was playing some music on my iTunes the other day and the song, 'Reach Out I'll Be There' came on by the Four Tops.  In its amazing digital quality, I can't help but remember the only way I used to hear the song - on 45 from my parent's Seeburg Juke Box in out basement.  It sounds so foreign, yet so familiar.  I know the song, but it doesn't sound the same without the few seconds of needle noise and scratches before hearing the flute music.  It's funny, this is the only song I have this association with.  Maybe because the song is so soft at the beginning.  It's funny how I miss the scratchy version.

When I listen to the satellite radio on 50's on 5 or 60's on 6, sometimes I feel like I'm the only 34 year old in the world who can name the title and artist of most of what's on there. We only listened to oldies in the car growing up, so I think I have a pretty good mental library of songs from that era. It makes me feel so old and yet so young at the same time.

Tons of fun

I'm able to post about this now.  It took me a while to come to terms with it, but it was a tough decision for everyone involved.

This is Tessie.  

I got her and her littermates as kittens from a vineyard worker in 2002.  He was going to just turn them loose in the barn to control mice.  I took them from him before he could to get them neutered.  Well, they never left my house.  My folks have the boy of the litter, and I took the girls. 

She had been having behavior problems and peeing on things, so we made the decision to put her down due to kidney problems.  

Papa B buried her for me because I couldn't do it.  To be fair, I buried his cat for him.  

One of the items she peed on was a birthday present for one of Girl C's friends.  Rather than wash it and give it to her anyways, I went to the fabric store to buy more fabric and start the project all over again.  As I was making the first one, I realized that one yard of fabric was not enough, so I doubled it for the second attempt.  The lady cutting my fabric asked me what I was making, and I said a princess cape, but this was the second go at it.  She asked what happened to the first one and I told her the cat had peed on it.  She asked, "Is the cat still alive?"  And, completely deadpan, I said, "No, actually, she's not."  Her face was absolutely horrified, and she sputtered something, trying to get her foot out of her mouth. I smiled, and said that we had to put her down due to kidney problems and that was why she was peeing on things.  

So, on the upside, we're now a cat-fee house and I don't anticipate us having a cat again for a long, long time.  If ever.