Sunday, December 01, 2002
 

Now Jake is mad at me:

I was in the kitchen, trying to make a cup of coffee. He wanted to be fed (though he'd had lunch only a few hours previous) and was very much underfoot. I said, "Jake, you'd better move, or I'm going to step on you" (that was a friendly warning, not a threat). 30 seconds later, I stepped sideways to get a spoon, and I stepped on his tail. He sqawked; I screeched (we're a jumpy bunch around here). I hope the doctors next door weren't home. I gave him a tiny bit of food because I felt bad, and he seemed to forget (he's not the brightest minilight on the Christmas tree).

Speaking of Christmas trees, I put mine up the day before Thanksgiving. I've never done anything toward holiday decorating before (well, unless you count the musical "Jingle My Bells / Deck My Halls" doorknob thingy, but that's different), so this is a first. I have a 3-foot plastic tree, with white lights and different-colored glass balls, all from your friendly neighborhood Wal-Mart. It's actually reasonably tasteful; the ornaments are pretty (though Wal-Mart did have some truly tasteless ones, including, for instance, one that looked like a pack of ammunition) and look nice in the lights. Anything to avoid work, huh.

Speaking of avoiding work, the big Christmas party is next Saturday (Pearl Harbor Day), at the house where I went for Thanksgiving dinner. That was fun; it was just a small group, me, my fellow student and her husband, and some random friend of theirs. We had a vegetarian dinner, featuring tofurkey (which is good) and meatless gravy (also good), among many other things. I also got to play with their two dogs, an intelligent and alert Great Dane type named Goober and a dim but hyper beagle, Fritz. They have a neat little house with actual stairs; aside from the house where the cocktail party was back in September, it was the first time I'd been in a private residence with stairs since leaving home. I want stairs!

Jake is looking cute at the moment, curled up in the armchair with his chin(s) propped up on a paw. I deposited him there after he sharpened his claws on my jeans leg, scratching my bare ankle in the process, and then hopped into my lap. I didn't object to the lap-sitting but had to wash and disinfect the scratch before my ankle swelled to the same size as my calf, which would be A Bad Thing.

Speaking of size, I got a measuring tape around this bad boy, and he's got a 24" "waist" (yes, I'm avoiding work). With his front paws stuck out in front of him and his back legs kicked out behind him (which he has to do in order to be able to lie flat), he's 35" long. Big feller, to say the least.

Ok. Back to reading; I think I'll give the paper I've been working on a rest. Virginia Woolf, Richard Wright, and Wilkie Collins (who seems to be having a literary resurgence) await me.

Elvisette philosophized at 5:20 PM