The job search is going fairly well. I had another offer last week - turned out to be not in a direction I want to go, but still nice to get. I've got a temp contract for the next while which helps out and a few other applications out there which will hopefully go someplace good. One in particular I really really want. I want a place where I can contribute and grow, actually work with a team of collaborative and creative people toward a greater goal. A career, I suppose. Wish me luck. :-)

Ripley's score for yesterday: 3 out of 4. An improvement.

Three weddings this weekend: Steamwhistle, Officers Mess (which Fabulous Husband was gracious enough to drive me to), Spadina Museum. Fabulous weddings all. Two young couples, one secular and one Christian, one mature couple with celtic and Joseph Campbell overtones. Array of excellent wedding dresses, especially liked the mature bride - light and flouncy with gold beaded accents, knew length and seafoam. She was one of five people on the planet who looks good in seafoam, so nice to see. First wedding had flower girls in matching Crocs, and bridesmaids all in matching high end sun dresses that they can actually wear again. Ceremonies went over well too. Couples were happy with the content, guests were pleased that they were so light and personal, and everyone heard me. Including the deaf guest at one wedding who'd got a hearing implant in May - she'd been to a few weddings and this one was the first time she heard the officiant. She was over the moon, I was thrilled, rather nice moment all around. I like being able to deliver a ceremony unplugged, I think it's better for the photo's not to have a mike stand in them. It's nice to know that even on the patio of Steamwhistle, surrouned by air and ground traffic, people at the back of a crowd of 150 can hear me.

Re: Ripley reacting to stress of house sale (which is going nowhere, by the way)- I'm always stressy, I'm a stress puppy, so my normal stress levels are pretty high. Maybe I should get myself into yoga though to try to sort myself out, maybe try to become the more relaxed owner/friend she needs? It's a good thought. So far as keeping the house nice...we're liking that. And so far as Ripley being daft...its not because of the weight. She can't clean herself properly because of the weight, is the only problem and for the sake of her future health (and present sanitation) she is on a diet. Cats and dogs have a range of intellect like any other creature, some smarter and some less so, not based on their appearance but on their behavior. Her behavior - getting lost between rooms, hiding by burying her head, hitting herself in the face with her foot repeatedly while cleaning - is not something I've seen in clever cats. Other than her snore-stop technique and the ability to hypnotize people the only sign of cleverness is that she seems to have learned a few simple words ('no', 'now', 'i am', 'kibble'). Gripping stuff, and not consistently situational.

And yeah...I'm daft too. Hence the cry for help. Thanks to all for the advice. I'll try out some stress reduction for my general self and see how that goes (thanks Cynthia!), some plant life around the loos (thanks Karol! although I think she's to healthy to have been a stray, it's worth a try), some observation and thought (thanks Gregel!) and some drugs if nothing else works (thanks Veronica!). We've miles to go, and I'm open to any other suggestions. The next phase may be the construction of more personally ergonomic litter boxes out of the preferred ceramic tile. Fabulous husband claims this is madness, but it might just be mad enough to work. Anybody game for a constuction weekend if I can get the plans/materials together?

Thanks guys, I appreciate the comments on Ripley. I understand that as a rescue and then a reno cat she may take years to settle down, so am trying to be patient with the stray feces. She behaves like a happy affectionate cat, big on the yawns and rolling about exposing the tummy - but also kind of nervous, with the big pupils taking in info on possible threats. The professionals (boarders, vet) who've seen her say that she seems a bit daft but well adjusted for what she's been through. I don't know if a) she needs a more stable environment than we can provide, because this is really as good as it gets or b) she's got some wierd kind of kitty retardation. (sigh) I'll talk to Dr. Black about some kitty drugs and see if a magic carpet ride or four will help.

Months late but I just found it while tidying my YouTube favorites - a fitting memorial to Jerry Falwell (did I spell that right? Oh wait. I don't care):

We've reached wits end with Lt. Ripley, and we actually had a chat tonight that involved terms of surrender and what shelter to take her too. There's one I'd looked at a few cats through, they have a clinic and a number of satellite foster families, and my trust. I've met them, and if she's going she'll go there. Neither of us actually want to surrender the cat, but living the next 20 years with random bits of feces and urine about the house is not attractive either. We have tried:

1) removing the obvious stress (renovations)
2) providing more than one litter box. (3)
3) providing the types of litter (newspaper, ground corn) she seems to respond to (when she does respond)
4) moving the litter boxes nearer to the points she chooses to defecate.
5) negative re-enforcement, in the form of a loud "BAD", a glancing but sincere blow to the hind quarters, while showing her the object (or puddle) of our displeasure.
6) positive re-enforcement, in the form of treats and praise when we find something in any one of three litter boxes that neither fabulous husband nor I can own up to.
7) enzyme spray to remove any trace of marking
8) enzyme scrub to remove the traces of marking the other stuff didn't actually remove.
9) pheromone spray to induce relaxation and trust (note: did not work on cat. Does wonders for me)
10) confining her to a room with litter box when she disgraces herself until she uses the box, then letting her out to the previously mentioned treats and praise.
11) boarding her for 10 days.

Our previous girl did have her moments, sometimes severe, but there was always a reason. Either she was sick, or very sick, or didn't like a room-mate, or didn't like a toy, or someone smelled like dog. In the case of our Lt. there doesn't seem to be a rhyme or reason. We have now moved on to the above plus 5 minutes in a box per offence, and are investigating the possibility of off site paid reprogramming, if such a thing exists. I've also considered the option of designing and building a lower sided, wider pan for her use since #2 seems to be the biggest issue, possibly due to her obesity (yes, she's on a diet) and a rib deformity.

I'm open to any suggestions - please, seriously, leave a comment - that don't involve things we've already tried or are doing. Or anything tragically flakey. Anything new, solid, tried and true? Because as much as I don't want to give her up, as big a failure as I would feel and as depressing as it would be, the whole living with biological land mines? Must end. And I'd prefer a solution that doesn't involve me feeling like the worst pet owner in the world. Help me out guys? Spray bottle doesn't work - she's like a ninja, never caught in the act. (sigh)

Job search is going a little better, with one possibly fruitful appointment this week, one booked for next week ant a three week temp gig to help hold the fort starting on July 19th.

We had another showing of the house. Mellow jazz in the background, clean and neat, coffee freshly brewed.

Lt. Ripley has figured out the litter box for urine. Small, nervous and rabbit like droppings are left beside the litter box. The battle continues.

Fabulous husband has lost approx 14lbs. Last weekend he also took part in Ariellas birthday bash (send me your blog again?) where people beat on each other and the birthday girl for about two hours. One of the bouts was two handed sword, most impressive and will be posted on YouTube later on, then posted here. Too sweat not to share.

Vandals have cut down the For Sale sign in front of the house, which I've tied back up with string. Vandals, or one of the many neighbours who has asked us not to move, now that the place looks like people who eat with their front paws live here. I suspect Tita, and will confront her later on this weekend.

All for now.

Been selling a lot of whats left on EBay, been unemployed since March and sort of need the cash. I've also reached this wonderful Buddha like feeling of impermanence with regards to stuff, something I've never felt before. It's quite liberating, and with few exceptions I truly feel that I can let go of nearly everything.

Nearly.

Last week I sold, for a ridiculously low price, the childhood desk of fabulous husband. Only fair that I sell something treasured of my own, something furniture like and equally unused, I reasoned. Years ago I laboured under the delusion that I would learn to sew, and a friend gave me an old treadle machine. Each person who has tried to show me how to thread the damn thing has been mystified and stumped, from entry level crafters to full on seamstresses who've used manually powered rotary's before. So I posted this item, which appears to be in working order and has an excellent case, albeit paint splattered and chipped in places (came that way, not me), on a few of the sales sites I'd used. No nibbles. Then I decided to post it on EBay. Not wanting to get hosed on what the actual value of it is (I'd thought about $200, fabulous husband thought around a grand) I started for the first time to research it online. Quite unfortunately for the sake of selling a thing, I've fallen more than a little in love. Somehow I'm going to keep it.

What we have is a fully functional 1917 White Family Rotary make treadle sewing machine, all known attachments in play, leather belt drive in need of replacing due to warping but still whole, most parts in need of oil. The White Rotary makes were build opposite to a singer - hence the stumping of all manner of Singer raised seamstresses. The company managed it's own forests to control wood costs and although it's kind of hard to tell anymore I think it might be Tiger oak. The inlay on the board is a measuring stick set in place along the front of the machine measuring about a foot; it's raised and not in great repair but not too bad either. There is a whole community of online fans for this type of sewing machine, and although most prefer the more pleasing Mission style case (mine is iron and wood, heavy as fuck, tiny wheels that will tear up almost any modern floor) there are also resources for use, repair and preservation. What's more, one of the main reasons people like them is that they are entirely environmentally friendly - totally people powered machines, therefore lowered carbon foot print. There appears to be a revival going on where interest in rotary people powered machines is concerned that may only grow over time - currently, such machines are selling from anywhere between $50 and $700. I want to keep it, order a manual from any one of the online dealers I've found, learn to use it, possibly do a documentary about it. Maybe scan said antique manual and sell it as an online PDF, who knows. But if I'm going to sew at all it looks like the only machine for me.

Just read an article about a Sicko screening in Texas. Bloody great stuff, you should read it too. Then go see the movie.

12 years ago today we moved in to our house. A borrowed truckload of friends and belongings, my sister bleaching the kitchen only to find that it was the filth keeping the floors in place and having them all lift, Bills sister cooking food for everyone. Me? Fair to swooning. I'd been here the night before at midnight when we took possession of our first home and opend the door; the smell his us and Ross said "I'm going for a drive" - he came back a few hours later. The previous occupants had taken much of use, left much to be desired, some dog vomit and their tea. The previous week. Words fail to express the grossness that was mopped up in the wee hours. They did leave a tall blue glass vase that to this day I really like.

And now a full gut kitchen reno, bathroom restoration, powder room installation, re-roofing, siding job, one new window, one new door, new flooring on floors one - three, chimmney repair, painting, drywall repair, lath and plaster repair, new electrical work throughout, massive plumbing overhall in kitchen/basement bathroom/whereever they left a sink, relandscaping front and back, new appliances and reglazed windows later...there's a for sale sign on the lawn. Of course, there's also been the initial tenents that helped keep us going for the first few years - Ami with the fabulous oranges she gave us, Richard with his insect fear, William with his poetry readings, Jerry with the raccoon he brought inside, John with his oil painting on drywall. No John, I'm still not happy about that. The few months that my sister/brother/high school best friend took refuge here. Our wedding. Time spent with friends. Legendary parties. Cat. Lt. Ripley (she remains and is hoping for breakfast). The very good feeling that comes from making a good house shine again.

Happy anniversary, House. Happy Canada Day, and thank you.