I love the movie– you know, massive tidal wave flips over a cruise ship and survivors, including Shelley Winters, Red Buttons, and Pamela Sue Martin, have to climb their way to the top, er, now bottom of the ship.

Great Fun!

In any case, I’m hoping 2011 will bring a full-time teaching job for me; a substantial draft of my book; much creative inspiration; new friends and stronger ties to current friends; travel; bigger things for the writing community in San Diego; even greater love, closeness and appreciation for my wonderful husband, Ted; a vintage letterpress (anyone know where I can get one?); more visits with family; more reading for pleasure (so many books, so little time); more time spent in NYC; patience and understanding; health and prosperity; peace.

Below are some of my favorite photos and memories from the year (especially the bloody Justin Bieber that I made with a faux-wood stamp! and Hermia, my cat, 1991-2010).

I’m also going to get out more postcards– yes, I know, I still owe some of you your postcard, i’m sorry it’s so late!

I’m taking a writing workshop this Saturday for 4 weeks to get me back into my book– I need some butt-kicking that’s for sure.

Missing my Hermia, but I know she’s still around, in spirit, watching me, nuzzling next to me (or wait, was that Ted?).

Hermia had been with me through three states (Calif, Arizona, and New York, and back to Calif), numerous boyfriends and one husband. She’s lived on Manhattan’s Upper West Side and in a closet in Brooklyn. She’s flown in airplanes and the ridden in the front cab of a U-Haul. She’s survived a futon falling on her and did I mention we lived in Arizona? She’s met actors and authors, songwriters and singers, and porn stars. She has a Facebook page. She’s had her portrait done–in oils. She’s sat on Santa’s lap. She had two dads (Hermia Has Two Dads– could be a childrens’ book, no?).

She’s crapped on carpeting in LaJolla, hardwood floors in Brooklyn, and WeeWee Pads in Azalea Park.

She was my best friend.

Though let me tell you, I was never a cat person. I never wanted a cat. But that all changed in 1991 when I got her– she was just a few months old.

I also never thought I’d be writing a blog post about my cat. But pets change you. She was the strangest, funniest, weirdest, sweetest, most awesome cat ever. She rarely left my side at night in bed.

Her health had started going south in the last year– she became diabetic, she started losing use of her back legs off and on, she lost a ton of weight–was down to 3.9 pounds this last week. And this is a girl who in her heyday was weighing 18 pounds.

The day she died I took a nap with her. Almost two hours of just me and her. Hermia’s warm, tiny, fragile body next to mine. If I had to say goodbye to her that day, I’m glad we had those two hours.

I want to thank everyone, mostly on Facebook, who sent condolences and well wishes. For understanding that yes, she was just a cat, but she was also so much more.

In early August, I was at the drop-in writing group at San Diego Writers, Ink (called Brown Bag) and the prompt given was: You’re Watching Someone Sleep. And a couple of weeks later another prompt: write about Animal Dreams.

I tried to fight it, but I couldn’t. I wrote about Hermia both times. Though I’ve been using my journal to write scenes from my novel. Somehow these prompts, and the timeliness of them, made me write about my cat. I’ve only done this once before– In college I tried to write a salacious story about Hermia seeing and hearing things she shouldn’t (regarding my dating woes…). It was a terrible story. But anyway, here’s what I wrote last month about Hermia. Allow me to indulge:

Aug. 10  I am the lightest sleeper. A hair can blow across the room–in another room, in fact, and I’ll wake up. And then there’s the cat. Who watches me while I sleep. I don’t know if it’s that I can sense she’s watching me, or that somehow we are connected psychically, so that I can hear her as she sends telepathic messages to me to wake up, to feed her, to pet her.

And then when she’s staring at me and she moves her whiskers, a move so tiny, so quiet, like that hair in the other room, yet it shakes me out of my sleep like an earthquake.

Aug. 24  Sometimes I wonder what my cat, Hermia, dreams of. Let me give you some context first. Hermia is 19 years and 4 months old. She was given to me in 1991 by a coworker/friend of mine, Sydny. Who asked if I could take his cat, Hermia, for  just a little while (a few months? I don’t remember anymore. And I don’t remember why. Maybe I imagined the whole scenario? Maybe he gave me Hermia?). Anyway, did I mention that this was over 19 years ago?

I was never much of a cat person. Growing up we had a few with names like Cinders, and Ralph, and of course, Felix. But I was never attached to any of them. They came and went as they pleased. Were aloof and not affectionate, and one scratched the hell out of me when I tried to pick it up one day. Eventually these cats just disappeared, ran away, died. A childhood friend told me we went through cats like most people go through paper towels.

So when this friend, Sydny, from work, asked if I could take his cat, at first I resisted. I was single, living in an apartment on my own. My first apartment after high school–I was working full time– I think at either Home Depot or Pier 1 Imports (no comments from the peanut gallery, please), and I was starting to date. The last thing I wanted was to meet some terrific guy and find out he was allergic to cats.

And then there was her name. Hermia. From Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream. Hermia is one of the young lovers in the woods. My friend had been a drama major in college. I found it all so pretentious. Would I have to name my next cat Lysander? But eventually I gave in. Did I mention I had a terrible crush on this co-worker/friend? What can I say, I was 21.

So Hermia came to live with me in my 1 bedroom apartment on Essex Street in Hillcrest– behind Ichibans. We could smell the grease. We meaning Hermia and I.

Needless to say, Sydny never asked for Hermia back. Though he later moved just a few miles away from us in Brooklyn. Hermia said she didn’t remember him at all.

Hermia has been with me for almost two decades. I grew up with her. Through shredded couches and pee-stained rugs, through various sizes and shapes of litterboxes (and boyfriends…), through homes in Arizona, New York City, Brooklyn, San Diego. Through boyfriends and husbands (ok. One husband). From weight gains to weight loss (for both of us) through illness, heartache, triumph, loss–

Can I just pause for a minute and say I can’t believe, and never thought I’d be writing about my cat…

Anyway…

And now after 19 years and 4 months we’re back in San Diego where I imagine she’ll probably end her days.

So yes, I wonder what she dreams of now. As she sleeps, in the same place on my bed that she’s always slept– by my side– her once 18 pound body now shriveled down to 4 and a half pounds. She was once known as the Shelley Winters of cats, now we call her Jessica Tandy. The skin that hangs off of her like drapes. Her patchy fur, and the the purring that’s now down to the faintest of vibrations. She walks in circles, and sometimes stares at the wall for minutes at a time. She’s incontinent; we’ve lined half our bedroom in Wee Wee pads, but at night, when she sleeps, and I see her legs jerking and her whiskers twitching, what is she dreaming? About grassy front yards where she used to roam, and trees she used to climb and the arms of couches that she once clawed with vigor?

Hermia

1991-2010

Ted and Rob miss you! xoxo

Anyway, it was my cat Hermia’s 19th birthday yesterday, April 15. Yes, 19. Can you believe it?

I can’t. I was never a cat person. We had them growing up, off and on. Names like Cinders, and Felix, and Truffle (actually I made that last name up). But these cats came and went like roommates in a Brooklyn apartment. I never was that attached to any of them. I got Hermia from a friend who basically said (asked?): “I’m moving into a new place and my new housemate is allergic to cats but it’s only temporary…”

Well, temporary has now turned into 19 years.

Now I can’t imagine my life the last 19 years without her. Basically she and I grew up together. She’s seen me through 3 states, several boyfriends, and all kinds of drama, heartache, success. She’s an odd cat; for most of her life she was pretty darn fat. Obese some might say. She had this belly that hung down and brushed the floor when she walked. And she was a talker– talked all the time as if she were holding a conversation with you.

Me: Hi Hermia, how are you today?

Hermia: Mew. Mew. Mewwww. Reowrrr.

You get the picture.

We used to call her the Shelly Winters of cats. But now she’s more like the Jessica Tandy of cats.

Ok. I’m beginning to realize that I’m now devoting this blog post to my cat, which isn’t what I was planning to do; however, I do find it pretty amazing that she’s now 19 fricken years old, you know? Yes, she’s arthritic, cranky, poopy, skinny as a grasshopper, peeing everywhere, staring into space most of the time, but she’s actually pretty loving still, too. Sleeps right next to me, (well, um, in between me and Ted) and every once in a while let’s out a bit of a Meowrrr like the kitty I once knew.

Next post: my beanie cat collection!

Just kidding. Next post I’ll talk about writing/writers again. I promise.

a. Hermia, early 1990s

b. early 2000′s

c. mid-2000′s w/Betsy

d. today (check out that waist! most women would kill for that!!)

Been back from my residency in Vermont for two weeks now. Ooof, talk about withdrawal. Luckily, Ted made me dinners for the first two nights I was home (he was trying to ease me back into the real world; the world where three meals a day aren’t cooked for me and a world without continual access to a fully stocked salad bar).

It’s been a strange transition back. I had to jump into teaching again– though (sadly? happily?) only two classes. I guess sadly since It means less money. But I’ll be teaching a one night a week class for 5 weeks in March.

So I get back to teaching– two great classes, thank heavens. Get back to Ted. Get back to the kitties. Yes, Hermia is STILL alive–18 years 10 months, despite a few scares while I was gone and then one REALLY big scare last week involving too much insulin. Luckily she pulled through but not before I had said my teary goodbyes. A good dress rehearsal I suppose.

And now the writing. Getting back to it  has been tough. Mostly, I hope, because I’ve been so busy getting caught up with school. But there’s also just this whole transition back, out of that world where I had no responsibilities and could read for two hours and then write for two hours then read for two hours then write again.

Still, I came back with such incredible feedback and ideas about the book and more chapters. I’m ready to move forward with it. I also have decided i’m going to take a break every once in a while and write something short– a short story, an essay, a poem– in order to feel that sense of accomplishment more often. I miss that. I mean, I feel some sense of accomplishment when I finish a chapter or a really great scene or description or even line, but I miss the feeling of being done with something.

This week I revised a short story from several years ago; actually, I turned it into a short-short, in the hopes of sending it out to places. And i’ve got an idea for a short essay that I want to work on too– it involves this book, Shelley, Also Known As Shirley, a memoir by Shelley Winters (incidentally, it’s a book I first read when I was eleven. Do with that what you will…).

Is this procrastination? Is this going to keep me from my novel? Only time will tell, but I’m hoping not. I hope it will get me back into a regular routine of writing– like I had in Vermont. No make that a regular routine of CREATING.

I miss my Vermont friends. The snow. The fresh baked bread and chickpeas at the salad bar. But i’m glad to be home, too.

Ok, wait. Ted only got to setting it up yesterday.

I’m so bad with computers.

Anyway. We haven’t yet figured out how to get my scanner working (ok… I haven’t yet figured out… you know what I mean!), so I can’t put up new pics of my rapidly growing Patio tomato. But as soon as it gets set up i’ll do that.

This weekend is going to be a grading, writing, postcard-making weekend. I’m actually excited about getting some projects done (let’s see if I do it, huh?).

I got some awesome discarded books from the library at one of the colleges where I teach and so i’m going to make postcards out of the book covers. Is that bad? Destroying a book? They actually were going to be thrown away, and have stamps on the inside and the spine and the pages that say: Discard. I’m actually going to recycle them, right? I’m going to use the covers, and most likely the pages, too.

I’m not a bad person am I?

  Hermia says NO.

I totally forgot it was Hermia’s Birthday today.

Two days of celebrations!She was born on April 15, 1991– which makes her 17 years old. But, according

to this website , she’s really 78 years old (in the human equivalent).

Here’s their chart:

Here’s a look at Hermia through the years:

1. (first picture) she’s just about a year old here.

2.  here, she’s about two.

3. this is hermia in the sink, from about 1997 or 98, when we lived in Arizona. She loves taking a bath.

4. in NYC, (hence the hard-wood floor) around 2000, so when she was about eight or nine. The lack of exercise took its toll on her once youthful, svelte figure.

5. this is around 2002 or 2003, b.c. (before the other cats), and shows a little of her cotton crotch

6. this is pretty much how she looked when we told her she was getting a little sister and brother.

7. this is the said –evil– step sister and step brother (jack and betsy).

8. she even asked us to send her back to Crate & Barrel, but they wouldn’t exchange her for a dish set no matter how hard we tried.

9. but now she’s learning to get along, sorta, with the other kids.

10. well, except jack. She’ll probably never accept jack (at least she’d never admit to it).

11. Did you know that last year Hermia had her portrait done? In oils. (by wonnnerful artist, Rachel Rifat).

12. for now, Hermia’s happy and content, if a little flabby and cranky, though she’s often quite lovable and never leaves my side at night.

13. except when she climbs down the ramp to eat or use the ladies room.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HERMIA!!

A few weeks ago Ted and had to deal with something very serious.

Our cat, Hermia, is getting old.

Really. She was born April 14, 1991 . She’s going to be 17 years old in two months. (these pictures are from around 1992).
I got Hermia from my friend, Sydny, who had gotten her as a kitten. Just a couple of months later he got a new roommate, who he said was only temporary, and he asked me if I would take Hermia for a few months, maybe 6 at most.

That, as you all know, was 17 years ago.

Now I can’t imagine life without her. She talks all the time. She takes up half the bed and REFUSES to move an inch at night. On laundry day we have to move the sheets around her just to wash them. She hisses at the other cats, Jack and Betsy, when they come near her, but secretly she searches them out when they don’t come by for a few hours.

But you know what? She’s always been here. I could always depend on Hermia– for entertainment, for a warm little body in the bed, for a $600 vet bill…

So the last few months Ted and I noticed that it would take her a little longer to hop up on the bed (which is only a little over a foot off the ground). She would do that ONE-TWO-THREE/READY-SET-GO… ER, WAIT, I’LL TRY AGAIN sort of attempt. She was getting on, but you could tell it was a strain for her. Arthritis.

The A Word.

We thought about getting some steps for her to get her up onto the bed more easily. But the only steps they had at the pet stores were hard, and looked cheap and ugly– as if they should be steps outside of your motor home or trailer.

I did a google search and came across this website: Puppystairs

They had exactly what we were looking for. Soft, but sturdy ramps for pets (yes, though the website is called puppystairs, they are for cats also… maybe they should change the name to be more inclusive?). We also found one that was on clearance.

The ramp came in less than a week and is beautiful. It’s made of a really durable triangle of foam, but you wouldn’t know it’s foam. I could sit on it (though I won’t). It’s covered in a washable, lovely heather gray felt-like slip cover.

It took Hermia a few days to really get used to it, but now she goes up and down it like a pro. She even occasionally jumps off mid way down the ramp just to show us how sprightly she still is. (to see more pics of Hermia and the ramp go here).

Sure, with shipping it cost almost $100, but we feel better, knowing she isn’t hurting herself when she climbs up on the bed. Knowing that what could be the last few years of her life are spent in comfort (though we do suspect she might just be around another 10 years… the Tina Turner of Cats). $100 is a small price to pay for someone who has been a fiercely loyal, oddly verbal, perpetually dandruffy, occasionally matted, bed warming, mostly love-able (except when Jack and Betsy are around), zany, strangely compelling friend.

Hermia contemplates the ramp (should I go down and get some kibble? After all, it has been ten minutes since my last feeding…)

Friday we saw Cloverfield. Ted wasn’t crazy about it but I had a good time. It reminded me of classic 50s sci-fi and the gimmick of seeing everything through the ‘hand-held’ cam only made it creepier for me (esp. the scene in the subway tunnel with those spidery things–ewww!). Anyway it kept me entertained.

Sat. and Sunday we were in LA seeing Ted’s good friend Michael’s show (he wrote the music and lyrics) Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson– a rock musical based on the life and career of Andrew Jackson. It was reminiscent of Broadway’s Spring Awakening, with clever songs and an energetic cast– not to mention amazing set and lighting.

BE WARNED: CELEBRITY SIGHTING TO FOLLOW!

Sitting next to Ted was actor Tony Plana– you may know him as Papi or Ignacio Suarez (Betty’s Father) on Ugly Betty. What a hoot! Considering it’s one of our favorite shows. He seemed like a really nice guy and he’s certainly done a lot of film and television (beyond UB)–including an episode of “Quincy M.D.” in 1979 and “What’s Happening!” (photo from TVGuide.com)

After the show we waited in the lobby for Michael and who should pass by but

WARNING! CELEBRITY SIGHTING #2!!

hunky Benjamin McKenzie of The O.C. !! By this time we are out of our minds because before Ugly Betty, The OC was our guilty pleasure!

We then moved on to probably the only bar we can handle going to in LA: Akbar– which reminds us somewhat of our old haunt–The Phoenix, in the East Village, NYC. Akbar is dark, crowded, with a great jukebox and LA hipsters (you know, the tight jeaned, messy haired, leather jacketed, vintage dress, funky glasses, scarf wearing crowd). No sooner had I made the comment that this seemed to be the only place in LA where we weren’t surrounded by wannabe actors than two actors stood next to us. One, was Tom Lenk, from TVs Buffy the Vampire Slayer (as well as the brand new, direct to DVD Boogeyman2!!). He was a really nice guy, quite appealing (and of course Ted was over the moon because he LOVED that show). And, it appears he’s often performing in his own/one man shows. Might be worth catching sometime.

The second Ak-Tor was Sam Pancake–whom Ted recognized from the short lived but brilliant “Lovespring International.” He was a riot.

Oh, and did I mention we stayed at the lovely BEVERLY GARLAND HOLIDAY INN in North Hollywood? Yes, there is a Beverly Garland Holiday Inn, in fact, I think I wrote about my dream of one day staying there in a previous post.

For those of you who live under a rock, or as writer Marc Acito says (in his book, How I Paid For College) “in case you live in Iowa or something and don’t know anything about it” perhaps I should explain who Beverly Garland is: (much of this I gleaned from the Beverly Garland channel they had playing on a continuous loop in our hotel room) she is an actress with hundreds of television and movie credits. She made a name for herself in crime noir pictures and then B-Horror movies like “The Alligator People” and “It Came From Outer Space” and she was the FIRST lead female cop on television in 1957s “Decoy.” She was nominated for an Emmy for playing a Leukemia patient in an episode of “Medic” in 1954. You might recognize her from her role as the mother in “Where the Red Fern Grows,” or as the step mother in the TV show “My Three Sons” and as Kate Jackson’s mother in “The Scarecrow and Mrs. King.” Wheww she’s done a lot.

Anyway, all weekend me and John, a friend of Ted’s who came to LA with us, kept dropping Beverly Garland’s name everywhere we went. At Akbar we told the doorman “Beverly Garland put us on the list”– to see if we could bypass the line. No Go.

Oh, and BG (as we now call her) got into the hotel business through her late husband who bought her two hotels.

Anyway, here are some lovely pictures of me and Ted at the Beverly Garland Estate Holiday Inn (which, by the way, was quite nice and roomy and clean). Though I was kind of bummed that the hotel gift shop only had a few bits of memorabilia for sale (mostly current pics of her). They needed to have older pictures of her like the ones above (courtesy of Brian’s Drive In Theater.com).

Here I am at the Beverly Garland Theater at the Beverly Garland Holiday Inn. Click the pics to see the whole set at my Flicker account.

And, the trip to L.A. would not have been complete without a visit with my friend, Peter, actor/person extraordinairre. We met him for brunch on Sunday at the Farmer’s Market where he took this cool picture of me.  I think it’s a pretty fun but strange pic.  It reminds me of this picture of Bette Davis taken by photographer George Hurrell, where she told him later: that was the most revealing, vulnerable photo anyone has ever taken of me. Kind of like my photo, dontchathink?

So that was my weekend. This week i’m prepping for teaching (starts Monday), trying to write when I can, still reading Madame Bovary, trying to lose those 5 pounds I gained over the holidays, and trying to enjoy my last days of winter break.

And how was your week?

***

Oh, and bought a new toy for Hermia!

(meet Ratzo–I got him from Ikea).

We’re going to Cincinnati to spend time with Ted’s mom and brother and sister-in-law for New Year’s– and leaving tomorrow day, so tonight it’s all about laundry, packing, and mentally, physically and emotionally preparing… the kitties, that is!

No, his family is wonderful, it’s our babies that I worry about.

<–Not Jack and Betsy

Mostly Hermia, who is 17 and hates (but really secretly loves) the other two cats, Jack and Betsy.

As long as we cover the bed in plastic everything should be fine.

Speaking of bad seeds… LOOK what I just got from Ebay! Just arrived today!

This classic Dell Paperback from the late 1950s.

isn’t it stunning? (click to see it larger). I love the drawing (actually, it does sort of look like Hermia…). The book was 25 cents in its day.

Here’s the back cover. If you haven’t seen the black and white film starring little Patty McCormick you need to get it on Netflix. It’s a campy, melodramatic, and disturbing masterpiece.

And speaking of masterpieces, i’m currently reading Flaubert’s Madame Bovary (yes, finally), which is so intricate and detailed and rich (meaning: it’s going to take me awhile to get through it!). I do love that Flaubert can accomplish so much emotion and nuance in one sentence.
but… i’m going to have to put it aside for the weekend while I read Junot Diaz’ The Brief, Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. Read the NYTimes Review here. And Junot Diaz’ website here. Ted and I joined a reading group and it’s our first book. I’ve heard nothing but praise about it. I’m hoping to get it all read on our trip this weekend (most of the reading i’ll probably do on the plane rides).

I’ll try to post before New Year’s (especially because i’d like to do the meme that I promised to Tonya), but if I don’t get a chance please have a happy, safe, festive New Year’s Eve!