Ransacking a Castle in France is Not My Idea of Fun

The rainbow at our house was spectacular last evening. It reminded me of the Blessed Damoselle leaning o'er the vaulted bar of Heaven, and it also reminded me of a mixed berry swirl from Ellie's favorite yogurt shop in League City.

You probably didn't see that rainbow unless you live south of the City, east of Woodlake, and north of Parkwood. We have a unique natural environment in Chatsford you see, possibly due to the FedEx air traffic from RDU. That plus the Air Force seeding the clouds with crystals, which I'm told by reliable sources happens regularly.

When I saw that rainbow, I expected a most clement morning to follow and I'll be a wet smack and a miss if a most clement morning was just what we didn't get anything but. Sunshine, blue skies, birds singing on key, and hot and cold running water was the order of the day. But beauty, and mark my words very carefully, beauty isn't everything.

No beauty isn't the end all. I woke this morning to the sensation of something like an aardvark licking the top of my coconut. When I say aardvark, I mean something with a tongue like sandpaper. A quick glimpse told me it was a brindled cat of uncertain parentage--part tabby, part tortoiseshell-calico. It was Uma, Queen of Cats. 

This Uma, you may already know is addicted to the Genome, following me from room to room and insinuating herself between me and anything that has my attention. She thinks she can stop anytime she wants but the truth is that the Genome bouquet is far too strong for her willpower.

Immediately upon waking and feeling that tongue, I sat up in bed. The feeling that greeted me on sitting up was the one you sometimes have after a late evening on the tiles. The one where you feel you may die in about two minutes. The sharp pain between the eyes was surely the same as that felt by Sisera, when Jael, the wife of Heber, used a handy spike and hammer to deliver the Hebrews from their oppressors. 

"Poopsie," I called out when I heard the sound of running water coming from the bath. I had rightly concluded that the daughter of the Russian steppes was performing her morning ablutions. Don't tell her I called her the daughter of etc. She doesn't like it. I'll tell you why in another post.

"Good morning," she said and I toyed for a moment with the idea of mentioning to her that mindfulness requires non-judgment, but after careful consideration let it pass.

"Do you have one of those concoctions of yours in the ice box?" I said.

"Mango and pineapple," she said.

"With the secret ingredient," I asked.

"Blenheim ginger ale," she said and my heart leapt with joy.

I made my way carefully out of the bedroom and down the staircase taking great care to avoid the feline traffic. At the fridge, I retrieved the elixir, bunged it down the hatch, and then waited for the magic to begin. 

Something there was that drew my attention upward where I saw Abbie Hoffman, surely you remember A. Hoffman, the tuxedo kitty, had taken up his favorite position atop the kitchen cabinets. 

For a moment we were eye to eye and although I couldn't know exactly what he was thinking, the expression he wore on his whiskered map said, "There but for the grace of God go I."

Then the curative properties of the elixir kicked in with the force of Judgment Day and the top of my head flew off and my eyeballs ricocheted off the walls. When I picked myself up from the kitchen floor, Ms. Wonder shimmered in. And now Abbie H was nowhere in sight. The proceedings were probably too much for his delicate constitution.

"Take a look at this," said The Wonder whle shoving a brochure toward me.

After reassembling the remains, I took the sheet and gave it a cursory glance. It was a travel brochure for something called a Viking River Cruise.

"Let's go next year," she said.

There was a brief silence. We have not shared the same thoughts on travel since that Saturday morning drive to the state farmer's market, which I'm sure you remember well. And I didn't want to go into the subject when I knew in my heart that I must vote no.

"Poopsie," I said, "I appreciate your attempt to appeal to the Viking blood of the Genome ancestors. The Jarls having sailed to Britain with Canute and whatnot, and I'm fully aware that it is the Viking strain in me that appeals to the Slavic strain in you, but ransacking a few castles in France and then returning to Denmark to party is not my idea of a fun weekend."

"It will be educational," she said.

Well, I don't know about you but I was full of education years ago. No more room. Before I can take in anything new I have to throw something out. Why bother? is the way I sum it up. 

I realized that if things were different from what they were, not that they ever are, I could simply shake the bean and hand the brochure back. But things being what they were, I made a decision, which in the future will surely be seen as a major turning point. I chose my words very carefully.

"OK," I said.

Beginning the Day

The sun was high in the heavens, or fairly high, when I awoke this morning. I had taken bed at a late hour and needed an extra bit of tired Nature's sweet restorer. I shooed the cats out of my footer bags and with the outer crust upholstered, set out for the caffeine den. I had no more than shoved the nose past the front gate before I was hailed by Vinnie, aka the Enforcer and Auditor Larry.

The people who frequent the Renaissance Cafe and Bean Bar are the types who appreciate beginning the day in the lap of luxury, which is easy to accomplish when your definition of luxury is a steaming cup of bohea made just the way you want, without having to ask. It's amazing to experience even though I'm sure it's accomplished with false bottoms and mirrors.

"On your left," said the Duck Man, who had sneaked in behind me, and I moved aside to give him free access to the smartphone scanner.

Those outside the Inner Circle consider the leader of our group to be the Enforcer, due possibly to his size and vocality and whatnot. But a true democracy exists in our gathering with everyone providing opinions and suggestions and no one paying attention. 

The Enforcer is one of three that can usually be found in the tightest clump of the outer fringe of this spiral of people dust. He is most often found in the company of Sideways Carl, who walks in a sort of oblique fashion as though trying to insinuate his way through the world. Carl has the gift of seeming to disappear when he stops talking causing him to flash in and out of sight during conversation.

The third personality is Auditor Larry, who is actually a collection of personalities, with a mind for many things and a voice for each one. In his recurring restful state, there is only a flicker across his features to indicate the presence of Tiny Artie, Fremont Jones, and Irv the Islander.

The Duck Man, already mentioned, could possibly pass without attention due to the unfortunate hallucination that he is actually sane, but the duck that sits on his baseball cap gives him away. This is not a plush toy but an actual merganser that acts as a sort of GPS guide to get him past innocent bystanders without attracting the police.

I can't discuss my coffee klatch without mentioning the other important regulars: Lady Hermione, Princess Amy, Sri Rama Hotchacha, and Nobody Johnson, who generally sits on the bench outside the front door and favors a drink called the Arnold Palmer. Look it up.

It's a diverse group who are united in single accord, at least between the hours of 7:00 and 8:30 AM. The tie that binds them has three knots: A shared social outlook that includes equal and compassionate treatment for all, without judgment, and with special dispensation to those in need; a disdain for anything that can be defined as work; and a firm conviction that dogs really can talk and that they often have something very important to teach us.

Well, you must begin somewhere, of course. So each morning, as soon as I get the cats fed and distribute assurances that when I walk out the door I am not leaving forever but will return in time for the next feeding, I navigate to a spot where someone who knows what I like will write, "Have a great day, Gene!" on the lid of my coffee cup.

Why would anyone do less?

Find Bill

While I could not go so far as to describe the heart as leaden, it was definitely short of chirpiness. This can be expected when friends gather at a favorite oasis to browse and sluice, enjoying rain on the roof and warmth in the hearts, and then the time comes to say a biento. You just don't want the good times to end.

                                        Copyright Bill Rasor 2012

This describes perfectly the morning when Ms Wonder and I met Jenny at William's Gourmet Kitchen in the South End. We came together to exchange notes on the status of the upcoming wedding that will irrevocably link Jenny with the affianced Bill. 

You will understand the importance placed on these wedding plans when I tell you that this is not one of those light-weight, flit and sip, summer flirtations but the real forever-after thing. They love!

You may be saying to yourself if you are one of the more observant readers, that I am overlooking the elephant in the kitchen--the absence of any Bill in the proceedings. Where is Wild Bill Hillsborough you might be asking yourself but, if you are one of the Inner Circle, you know that the missing person is spending the weekend in Emerald Isle on the Crystal Coast, just down the Atlantic Ocean a bit from Beaufort, where Ms Wonder and I dealt with the aunts last weekend.

The aunts will not figure largely in Bill's stay because it's not aunts themselves that matter so much as the courage one brings to them and this Wild B.H. takes a line through Napoleon.

It turns out that my lack of chirpiness was not due to the habit Bill has of materializing everywhere in the state of North Carolina where I am not. No, the disturbance that led to the v-shaped depressions, if disturbances do lead anywhere, was the appearance in the footlights of Princess Amy, that holdover from the Paleolithic who has the habit of making an ass of herself when she stops going to meetings and gets off her meds.

Not to worry, however, this Amy is not the menace she once was. Fierce QiGong has given me the necessary cosh for whacking her like a game of whack-a-mole every time she pops up for another go. And so I say, "Not today, Amy." Today I will be free from the limitations of yesterday.

That brunch was a good example of the principle that there is more good than bad in each moment. There was, in fact, more Wonder and Jenny present than there was absence of Bills. But he was still missed sorely! Hurry home, Bill.

Joy Reigns Supreme

Another morning that dawned bright and clear, at least I suppose it did, I wasn't actually among those present at the time. But when I did come to life all nature was smiling. 

Uma, Queen of Cats, who had been working on her twelve hours of shut-eye on the night table next to me, did a sitting high jump onto my lap so as to miss nothing that I might do. Her arrival caused me to sit upright in the bed, mindful of a profound serenity.

"Poopsie," I said, "I'm mindful of a profound serenity." The words were wasted because she was already in the salle de bains.

I remember thinking how odd it was that everything seemed so oojah-cum-spiff. Just this past weekend, we visited my favorite spot on the NC coast, where the wind-bent maritime forest comes right down to the sea, and the wild ponies run free, with absolutely nothing between you, as you stand in the breakers, and the Gold Coast of Africa. 

As I was saying, despite being in that perfect locale, I was deep in the soup and it was about to close over my head. It was that damned tiger/goat thing, and if you didn't happen to read that one, don't worry about it, these postings are not cumulative.

The short of it is that I visited my favorite place at the coast in order to build my confidence for the showdown with the aunts. Useless of course. It's pointless to argue with someone who was at your side all through your childhood because they know what a priceless ass you were then and will have no intention of listening to anything you may say.

Consequently, it was with heart bowed down with weight of woe that I drove back to Durham from Beaufort, that's bow-furt in North Carolina. Bew-furt lies in our southern sister state. 

I remember Ms Wonder saying to me once something about the heavy and the weary weight of this unintelligible world. It was some drivel written by a bird named Wordsworth, if that's his real name. Anyway, the quote seemed to me a good description of the depression I felt coming on.

When all else fails, I fall back on my luck star, or guardian angel if you prefer, or even totem spirit. I've lost count of the number of times I've been walking toward the tumbrel, like all those aristocrats in the French désagrément, when a governor's reprieve arrived, releasing me without a stain.

"Wonder!" I said, when she shimmered back into the room, "I'm mindful of a profound serenity."

"Joy reigns supreme?" she said.

"Very well put," I said, "but I don't understand how it could be. A few days ago, hell's foundations were doing the adagio and this morning--all bluebirds and rainbows."

"Fate's happenstance may oft win more than toil," she said.

"Oh, that's good," I said, "Shakespeare?"

"No," she said with a smile not unlike the one nature wore, "Bertie Wooster."

"Nunnh-uhh," I said, but it was uttered too late for she reentered the bath and left me alone with my tea and Uma the Queen of Cats. Given the circumstances, I decided my best course of action was to accept her word for it and get on with my day.

It Was Raining Cats

You may remember that I woke a few days ago with a sharp attack of euphoria. In fact, I don't remember a sharper. This morning, however, the sharp attack that woke me involved scimitars and sabers. Actually, scimitar-curved claws and saber-sharp fangs. 

It was the foster kitten, Eddy, who has been working on his stalking skills and killer instinct. Unfortunately, he's hanging at the corner with Abbie Hoffman, a bad influence if ever. No, not that A. Hoffman! I refer to the formally dressed cat known on the street as Abracadabra.

Eddy (L) and Lucy (R)

It was Eddy who got me in the fleshy part of the toe, causing me to shoot six inches off the mattress. Not an easy feat when starting from the prone position. My convulsions shook him loose but left him giving me the eye whle digging his front paws into the duvet with an expression on his map like that of a Baptist deacon rebuking sin.

"Poopsie," I said. No response.

"Ms Wonder," I said louder.

"Whumpf?" came the muffled response from nearby.

"Will you please capture your cat?" I said.

"What?" she said. It occurred to me that she wasn't demonstrating her commitment to our vows to stand by and summon the U. S. Marines for aid and comfort in times of trial.

"Eddy is what I mean. Will you get him off me!"

"I'm asleep," she said.

I thought about pointing out that technically she was not asleep but decided to give it a miss. At that moment I realized that Eddy's behavior had attracted the attention of his sister, Lucy, who is an accomplished little foot-ninja in her own right.

"Do you have a towel handy?"

Wonder stirred from the depths of the bedding, raised her head, and asked, "Why would I have a towel?"

"It's just that I'm remembering the time you captured another foster kitten in that you-can't-do-that-here manner by using a towel in the way some Roman gladiators used a fishing net. Remember?"

"I don't have a towel," she said. "And it wasn't a fishing net."

And so there I was, Heir of the Ages, one of the  highest expressions of life on earth, and I was being chivvied by one of the lessor. If you are a member of the Inner Circle, you will no doubt recognize this as another example of a tiger living like a goat. I mean where is the benefit of being human when you're constantly being harassed by kittens?

It occurred to me that prompt steps through the proper channels were called for. But it's never that easy, is it? I remember something from my senior year in high school--a Shakespeare play I'm sure, that went something like this:

Between the first thought of doing something dreadful and the actual doing of it (I remember something about the genius and the mortal instruments) there is often a revolt in the kingdom, or words to that effect.

Well, that's where I found myself. My genius, if I can call it that, knew what had to be done, but my arms were not happy about it. I wonder if the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak applies here? But I'm jumping the rails again.

What I'm trying to say is that it wasn't easy to act, but after those moments of hesitation,  I threw the coverlets back, which I might mention caused it to rain cats. It was a sight to see, let me tell you. 

I gathered Eddy as he turned to flee and I decanted him into the Saigon room for safekeeping.

"That cat should be bedded in the stables," I said to Ms Wonder. "You and I can take care of ourselves but consider what might happen if one of the cleaning crew, exhausted from working her two jobs each day, stretched out on the bed to shut the eyes for a spell. I don't like to dwell on the aftermath, do you?"

But Ms Wonder wasn't in sight. I heard the bathroom door close and soon after the sound of running water, similar to a waterfall filled the silence. Just like that, calm was restored and Reason returned to the throne.

Uma Maya the brindled little Empress of Chatsford was surely in the sale de bains with Wonder. Eddy was safely confined to the Saigon room. Lucy was probably hiding underneath the bed. 

Beignet, the ginger and white ragamuffin, and Sagi, the caramel-colored tabby, were at my feet looking up at me to ask, what next? And at that moment I was acutely aware of the tie that binds. 

Looking down at the two sitting at my feet I said, "Stand by to counsel and advise."