Reemerging from the Chrysalis

If said chrysalis were a comforter on the couch, then yeah. Finally I'm feeling better after a bout with clogged sinuses and a pesky cough.

This past weekend Henry and I went to visit family. Ben stayed home because he was sick. We went to Mom and Dad's first to spend the night.

For a while Mom and Dad have been sans pets, which made their house seem weird and a little lonely to me. Then this winter a sickly half-grown kitten showed up at their door, so Mom took pity on it and took it to the vet. At the vet's the receptionist asked the cat's name.

Dad replied, "Dumb ugly cat." Dad's not one for harboring any feline affection.

Dumb Ugly Cat (Mom calls her Kitty) is one of those tortoiseshell cats, the kind that look like what would happen if you inadvertently washed a load of clothes with three or four different colored tabby cats. She's cute in a hideous way, but her ugliness is more than eclipsed by an affectionate nature. Anyway, when they first got her she had to stay inside because she was sick. When we came on Saturday I was surprised that she still had free run of the house. I thought maybe Dad was getting soft in his old age, but it turns out that Dad's new dog, Red, thinks Dumb Ugly Cat would make a nice snack and has to be chained if the cat is outside.

Saturday the weather was so nice that Henry and I decided to talk a walk on the trail through the woods. Accompanying us was Red. This was our first time meeting Red. If I didn't think Dad would miss him terribly and Ben would kill me, I'd have seriously considered taking him home with me. I'm a sucker for big floppy eared hunting dogs, and Red is a cheerful, laid back guy that didn't jump on me, lick my face, or bark like mad when we arrived (like a certain mutt in residence at Meemaw and Peepaw's house). After we got nice and muddy on our walk (the ground was saturated from the rain) I took Henry for a ride in one of the kayaks. Red really wanted to come, too, but he settled for running around the pond. It really surprised me that he didn't go after the ducks. I guess cats look more appetizing, or at least easier to catch.

That night since my nieces were staying the night, Henry and I shared a bed. Henry's a bed hog and a snuggler, so I got maybe four hours of uninterupted sleep. And woke up with a cold. Dad made us breakfast and Maggie called and asked if I was still coming to church with her in in Greensboro. It was eight and her church starts at nine, I was still unbathed and half through with breakfast, but I said okay. I didn't exactly rush to get ready, but I knew Maggie was going to be late, too. I neglected to bring church shoes, so instead of wearing my sneakers, I borrowed a pair of shoes from Mom. I tried on a pair of brown Mary Janes and Dad commented that they looked like something I'd wear (I suspect he hates those shoes) and so I traded them for something I'd never wear, a pair of black high heeled zip up boots. "For the shock value," I told him.

We only arrived forty five minutes late for church, just in time to hear the last speaker, because I took a wrong highway and had to back track, had to take a detour because of a closed exit ramp, went the wrong way on a street, and missed a turn and had to circle back. The whole time Henry kept encouraging me to go the wrong way because he didn't want to go to church. When we took our place next to Maggie (me strutting like a drunk hooker in those boots), she told me she'd only gotten there fifteen minutes before. I like Maggie's church because there's this old guy there who, when Maggie and I were probably fifteen or so, went on a hike with a bunch of us on an overnight hike to Uwharrie National Forest. At the campsite we'd gone to the neighboring creek and caught a few crayfish. He still remembers that day like it was yesterday and always remembers me and asks if I've caught any crawdads lately. I love that guy.

After church I helped Maggie make Wesley's birthday cake. He turned two that day and Maggie wanted his cake to be cool. She's a lot more ambitious than me. Luckily she'd already baked the cake and cut it such that it reasonably resembled the shape of a fish. The icing didn't turn out quite the right shade of orange, and because it was really moist, composed of pudding and whipped cream, the black icing we used bled a little. Well, honestly it looked like Nemo got bleached at the water treatment plant and bled from the eyes. Maggie said he was crying because he missed his dad. The cake tasted fine though. Mom and Dad, Beth and her kids, Avdo's family and a bunch of other people came over and we all ate and had a good time. Because I'd never had any before, I decided to try a piece of Bosnian smoked cheese. And because I'm a jerk, I made Mom try a piece, too. Well, I didn't make her, I just pestered her until she gave in. Since my nose was clogged, I'm not sure I got the full effect, but there was no mistaking the dominant flavor.

"Tastes like a campfire," I said. It really did. The cheese itself was firm and dry, a little crumbly, but all I could taste was the smoke. And I tasted the smoke for a long while after. Mom did, too. I don't think she's going to take any of my suggestions from now on. That reminds me, I got her a copy of Hunger Games for Christmas. I bet she never reads it now.