A post about a cat: n misen jeman sungurun

Jema - This is a story about her name, with a bit thrown in about how we met.

In the late 80's, I moved to Seattle. As part of a political action community, at that time, it wasn't very difficult to find a rental among like minded folks. The house I moved in to was big, in a "bad" part of town & was occupied by a public defender, a massage therapist & an aspiring botanist/merchant. There were two dogs, Carmine & Comet. Carmine was a big ol' lab sweetie, though she could be fiesty at times. Comet was very pretty (can't recall his breed) and was renown for his recent kill of a hapless lamb. Shortly after I moved in, Comet & his person moved out, leaving a vacancy we were eager to fill.

A friend of a friend knew of someone coming back from Mali, from the Peace Corps. By that time, I had become close to the botanist/merchant & to this day, our lasting gripe about this character who became our next roomie was that he insisted that we pronounce his name the French way, being I guess new to the States from Canada & having suffered from an insistant & dull American pronounciation during a brief period of American living in his youth. We heard he doesn't so much insist on that now, which is the reason why we gripe. Consistency, people! Anyway, he worked as an environmental scientist, testing water tables & pollutant levels in areas around Western Washington.

One day, coming home from school, I heard a scratching and small sounds coming from somewhere in the house. After checking the dog and wandering a bit, it became obvious that the sound was coming from Phillipe's room. I cracked the door when the scratching increased as I approached. A white kitten peered around the door.

I am a sucker for cats. I was a sucker for this one. I picked her up & she made herself comfortable. She purred. I was a total goner. You may have seen her, she is pretty.

I spoke with Phillipe, who had found her in a swamp on a day where the full moon was visible. We guessed she was about two months old. I asked if I could have her & we agreed that it was ok. Next, we set her in the same room with Carmine, to see if I could actually have her. Carmine lay on the ground with her person as I brought Jema into room. Jema was fearless & went right up to Carmine. Carmine, evidently, was a sucker for this cat. She was fine with Jema & for the two or three years that they lived together, they found a bunch of ways to entertain themselves, regardless of the scale issues of big lab dog & small cat.

Now that it was clear that Jema could stay, I needed a name for her. As Phillipe had just returned from Mali, I asked for his help in picking a name for her in the language used most commonly in Mali. I did not know that French was the most common language, or that Bambara came in second. I did know what I wanted to call her; my little white girlfriend. She was so dainty and friendly, it seemed like a fun name for me to know I was saying. After a while of thinking, Phillipe said "n'Jema" was the part he could figure out. "n" being "My" & "Jema" being the rest. I was content with that & figured that I would explore more on my own. Since this was years before the internet & my contact with Malians has not included lots of time to ask questions about my cats name, it's taken a bit to catch up.

For years, I have been calling her Jema - n'jema is really the spelling. The internet has caught up with Bambara & I have her full name now from the online Lexicon. Jema is close to the Bambara for white & I suppose I've been calling her "My white" for all this time.

I like to think he bailed on the Bambara & went with the Swahili for "good", which is n'jema (as in "n'jema Safari!" a phrase travelers would be familiar with). It would be nice to think I've been calling her good all this time. So, what I discovered is that "my little white girlfriend" in Bambara is n misen jeman sungurun. That's a literal translation, I don't know the order of adjectives or other grammatical nuances, especially for sentence fragments.

Once I figure out how to pronounce and construct the name, I'll give it a shot... until then...

I'm getting the hang of comments these days. Feel free to leave a story of your pet(s) name & how you got it, if you like.

A post about a dog

Teddy, my sweet bouvier des flandres mix who lives with my ex, visited this week. He returned home Wednesday. We lived together 8 years ago, and in that time he's made it to 16 years old. It took a bit of adjusting to his new "old dog" ways to feel as though we could give him a comfortable time.

J & I took him on walks around the neighborhood, which was cozy and fun. I noticed that our new neighborhood is visually like a mountain town, with houses distributed in among pine trees and madronas. On the second day Teddy was here, I took him on a walk around Greenlake. It was a bit much for him, but he was a trooper & finished the 2.8 miles without appearing to suffer any injury.

Before he left, he managed to pull himself up our steep staircase & into our room. After a few panicky moments, I walked him down the stairs on his leash. There were a few tense bits, but he made it down ok.

There was something soothing about having him here. I was surrounded with old pets, sleeping everywhere in the house. Since I'm still way low energy, I take a nap on occasion. No matter when that was, Teddy or Jema would be there, sweet company & very welcome.

Jema was not pleased by having Teddy around, but was tolerant if she had an escort when traveling by him. We brought her food upstairs, which kept her from needing to go downstairs too many times a day. But a cat likes to wander the garden & so I was reminded daily of her particular frustration with having to deal with a dog, for goodness sake!

There are big doings this weekend, we are almost overbooked. We've been getting the house ready for company & Jason's been running errands to make sure there is enough food. I don't think things will settle down for a week.

Here is a lovely version of Bob Marley's Three Little Birds, by Gilberto Gil:

for the video & the more polished version, click here

Booking time

Terrific fun this week, that I can truly use. J left this morning for NYC & called just an hour ago, having finally arrived at the hotel around 2am local time. Effendi was sitting out front he said & I thought about the time difference between NY & Hawaii - it's not even 10pm now (around midnight in Seattle).

This morning's trip to get J & others to the airport was sweet. There's nothing like dropping off three guys who are focused on spiritual goals. Combine the excitement that they will be appearing at Lincoln Center & the sky is really the limit. I'm very happy to help them & proud.

Then, after a nap this afternoon, I joined Brian & Yann for a dance extravaganza featuring the music from the 80's. J has caught me up on what I missed of the music of that decade, while I was a bike courier, letting me know the significance of Guns'n'Roses, among others. I was told that while the dance themes would be broad, this time they would be shallow & the performance did fit that description. Considering that the last dance performance I attended was conducted in pitch black darkness, with the audience viewing via night vision goggles & monocles, it was useful to have my expectations reset.

The show was fun & surprising - the sensibility was very much "14 yr old dancing alone in front of a mirror", but done professionally. When the show ended, I dropped Yann & Brian off, heading home to see if J had called.

Now I'm sitting at the computer, while Jema the cat tugs at her scratching post. I keep saying that her "sap is rising" because for a cat she's being really demanding these days. Spring is completely sprung and that's got to affect a cat, even in her late 80's.

I'm hoping to make it to the zoo tomorrow, to get shots of the animals - but it's very cold & rainy, so I'm not pinning my hopes on that. Later, I'll meet with friends to talk about volunteering - although it may be a wake up call for me as my friends are all parents who do heaps of things for their various aged children, not exactly heaps of free time there, but still I get tremendous amounts of good things from being with them.

Then Sunday, I think early, J comes back. I forgot to ask him if he'd like me to meet him at the airport, but it's likely that if I get the final flight info, I'll just head down there unasked.

I've had such a wonderful time this week. Jessica and I took a long bike ride along the Burke Gilman trail & Richie let me take time to walk through the Elizabeth Miller Garden. He also came by to help us figure out what to do with our yard & so I've been a bit plant-drunk as a result. Fortunately, he reminded me that the garden he works at is especially beautiful because it has a $4k/annual budget, 2 full-time gardeners & a team of volunteers -- which is distinctly unlike, um, my yard. The week, though, was fantastic.

Anyway, I feel like I'm seeing the shift toward work & am filling time with lovely & productive projects until I can finish the construction of a useful week, month, year...

Friday wrap-up

Trying a few new things here:

First, John Lee Hooker's Hobo Blues, live courtesy J & Youtube.com



Now, the news of the week:

J & I took some time to put together a packet for J's bro's wedding - pictures & sound for family folk. We're popping them in the mail this weekend.

That led to me tending a big 'ole backlog of images that I owe folks from last year. I've gone through 6 cds so far & haven't calculated the total I will go through. Some have ended up on Flickr.

The Blind Shoemaker's Union is coming together. That's the band J is in. They are having an open house sort of thing next week. They want feedback cause they can't hear themselves anymore. J's been making cd's of their weekly practices & we listene dto one last night going for a food run for a late supper. All the elements are there, but there's still more shaking out to do with the vocals.

Jema just came upstairs. She's so old. 16 years this year, tho I fudge the numbers regularly because she's just 3 or so to me. A former room-mate's cat died this week. Same age as Jema. There's something so vulnerable about the relationship between a cat & their person. Not to get all cat lady on you, but there is. My cat is ridiculously important to me. She's super independent, but we're really close. So my friend's loss hit me.

This weekend, J & I have few social commitments & hopefully it won't rain, so I'd like to spend some time in the garden. I did some cutting back of plants earlier this week & so much is happening in the yard, it could use another look. We've got daffodils, crocuses (croci?), hyacinths, tulips & more peeping up throughout the yard. There's no telling what else is planted there - should be a very fun Spring/Summer plant-wise.

Too much information

I've been surfing around, looking at the Katrina info on the web & am overwhelmed by it. I've checked maps, donated money and asked J whether or not we can host a family from the region. I'm going to ween myself from the media blitz, since I'm spinning my wheels in the muck of the aftermath & can actually do more without the blitz. Donate, if you haven't yet & if you're thinking genius thoughts about how to help, feel free to share.

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J shaved his head on Friday, after he heard that his barber would be away until the 20th. He asked if I cared, because the results would be random, and I was able to say I don't.

I am very easy-going about what other folks do in their lives. When I think of why that is - it comes up that I am in a place right now where I'm observing my behavior, shaping it slowly - if at all. Overall, I think there's more value to observing oneself, given the idea that one's actions are largely shaped by untold external stimuli (think parents, significant others, coworkers, friends, etc). I remember thinking last December that I actually couldn't figure out what was driving me anymore, internally, because I had made efforts to adopt behaviors that other folks had recommended. I saw success from those efforts, but hadn't internalized them & so was relying on others too much to keep up with my habits.

I'm rounding out the end of three months off, three months to reflect on what I actually want and what actually drives me. It's been interesting to revisit unstructured time - I've been more ambitious & less productive than the last five years I spent working. I'm rested now, as a result, which is awesome. I'm looking for sustainable accomplishments - something I can do for, say, the rest of my life. I can look back and see what I'm capable of -- and I can see what it cost me. The rest of the year looks amazing - I'll have my hands full even if I only focus on baby steps.

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How to wash a cat

My oldest sister is an animal person. She practically raised me, so I'm an animal person too. I favor cats, which is tough cause I'm a friend to many who are allergic. That's not what this story is about, but it's worth mentioning.

My favorite cat is Jema. She's 16 years old and is having tougher times keeping herself clean. We've stepped up our brushing and general care - but she's getting dreds and so she needs a bath. A bath is a tough thing for cats, but can be tougher for the people giving the bath.

My sister had a tomcat when I was growing up - buddy. Buddy would show up sometimes, after thunderstorms, I recall. He'd be post-fight and covered with a mix of blood and mud. I remember my teenage sister closing the door to the bathroom, emerging after a while with scratches on her arms and a screaming tomcat, now clean but clearly unhappy. J had similar memories of their feral cat and baths that his dad gave - same screaming cat, same scratches as a result.

Jema and I have had a good time together & I don't like to freak her out. When she was a kitten, I made sure to touch her between her toes, to acclimate her to me giving care when it felt awkward. I haven't been a terrific care giver, I'm always going to hang my head about the terror of her litter box (although I'm always working to improve). But I have done well by her baths.

J was understandably concerned when first we bathed her together. The best thing for cats, really, is to let them clean themselves. But now we have our system down. We grab a bunch of towels, shampoo, J's added music to the mix (Try a little tenderness), and a bucket to keep the waterstream going. Jema is accustomed to this by now - after we load up the bathroom, we bring her in and set her in the tub without water at first. She kinda stands there for a while & looks at us with a "now what" look. I start the water, warmer now that she's arthritic and pour bucketfulls over her - smushing the water into her resistant fur. When she's soppy, she gets soaped, her face last. I let water fill to her kitty ankles, it's easier to get soap off with water in the tub. We usually have about 20 minutes before she meows to get out.

When we're done, there's a quick switch to the towels. Cats like to feel secure (and will scratch if you leave their claws in reach) so we wrap her tightly in towels at the end. I grab her first because I've known her longer. J follows up with another towel and another, until she's wrapped like a baby in a papoose. I take her into the living room and just hold her, while the towels soak up heaps of water. This time J read to us while we all sat in the living room. I would occassionally scratch Jema's ear, loosening the soppy fur on her head idly while listening to J reading. We usually get another 20 minutes while she sits - a bit stunned - in her papoose. Then she'll complain and I'll put her down. We've learned not to let her outside after a bath. I'm not sure what the impulse is, but when we've let her out before, she scrubs dirt into her wet fur, demolishing any apparant cleanliness. Instead she goes somewhere in the house where we can't find her. After a few hours, she comes upstairs again. Usually in a few more, she wants to be brushed and will hang out with us again. The best is that the next day - she's a few years younger - totally clean and very happy.

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We're heading down to Bumbershoot in a half hour. J is now pulling pics off his digital camera. We'll see Meredith Monk and a friend, in one of the bands he plays in -- Dauddah Guys.

It'll be great to get out & it'll be nice to kick the week off with an event like this. There's heaps going on through the week & we're hoping to camp in the Cascades this weekend. That's not all - I've got a list a mile long of things I'm working on - photo work, painting work, non-profit work. I've got my new biz card for astrology readings - I'm bringing some with me to bumbershoot. School's back in session & I don't know anyone who isn't taking advantage of the move towards getting things done.

Don't forget to donate, ok?

Surface tension

Latest favorite lyrics - reminds me of the importance of being present...

"i bet you're hoping that your heart will send up the white flag this time --
or some sign that the coast is clear"
Here for now

It's been a very eventful week, we got back earlier tonight from the peninsula perseids trip. I clocked six or so meteors - not bad but nowhere near the folks who were able to get back up at 3am to watch them pour down.

We awoke to llamas, which we were told are very curious, sniffing at John's tent and then ours -- but we zipped our tent up when Ursa, the great pyranees local, came to greet us around 6:30am.



Earlier in the week, John got to sit through band practice - visit potential employers for job shadowing - bake bread - camp with llamas and sample artichokes for the first time. I am baffled as to how all of these events coincided with his trip (apart from the one that was custom designed for him) but whaddya gonna do? He's had great experiences & will go home with plenty to think about. I can only say that I wish I had folks direct me to such things when I was 14.

I, myself, am a bit saturated in the stimulation dept. We've been going at a fair clip on a daily basis. My brain just piles thoughts upon thoughts without processing on those occasions. I've had to take time outs during the day just to keep up with the three inhabitants of our home, not to mention catching up with old friends - painting - thinking about a show with other friends and getting ready for another trip - this one to Ashland for a few days retreat next week. I may act like I'm on retreat starting this week, just to give my brain time to process.

Pics from August are here, I'm off to check in on the guys.

In terms of communication:

So, a good weekend has grabbed me by the metaphorical tail & is at it's end. Tomorrow I face the last of three days of pre-ordained work. It's undecided on my account, but I can assure you, with my schedule as is, there is work to be done.

My cat is outside, as am I. Soaking in the windy rain that is the true lot of any Seattle-lite. I am one of those, being 15 years into this game. My cat, who arrived in Seattle shortly after I did, is old now... given how cat years run... but I am still a pup.

Cooperation & familiarity ruled the roost this weekend & that seems correct, given my new focus of home over work & friends over co-workers. But there is much to be done to complete the transmission. Assured, as I am, over the limitlessness of Plaxo (the web address book that houses my contact information), I am still concerned that the Marlena's, Craig's & Matt's of the world will not have sufficient access to me in the switch from high tech to high road.

There isn't a sure way to confirm the footing upon which I travel. The road is more than even friends can help foreshadow & caution seems to be the key.

If I told you that in this transition that all I have been concerned about is that the folks who deserve it would get the love that I have to share, what could that mean to you, unless you are one of the deserving? As selective as I am, how could I not leave out a Molly or two? How could I not look to a Shannon or a Jessica to help me pick up the pieces? And what does it mean that wine is the impetus for this posting?

The web has been all but silent on this issue. It offers me no more than a hyperbolic Jacko entry or a repetitive warning on the mistakes of the House of Bush.

I'm going it alone, fundamentally & must trust that the falling away of crutches like caffiene & nicotine will suffice as I find my way to my true calling and to what will truly help me give what it is that I apparantly have to give...

Watching an old TV show on DVD. We slept in today, this week having been a tumult that exacted some energy that we coulda used this weekend. After rousing ourselves, the house was cleared of furniture we were storing for friends. After that, beef stir-fry, good stuff -- and then this series.

It's late again & tomorrow is May Day. Each year, the gang joins up for an actual may pole dance. They've been doing it since '90 or so. You can imagine the build up of ribbon after 15 years. I'll tell you something, there's a lot of ribbon after 15 years, that's all I can say.

We're thinking about making lamb stew tomorrow. The idea is to use the last of the fresh rosemary from earlier this week. The beef stir-fry had rosemary in it, but the ginger flavor took over through the cooking.

I've been dreaming, in the excessive sleep that has resulted from the exhaustion of this week. The dreams feel as unfamiliar as the weeks' distressing tension. Wish I could remember them, but I get only glimpses of sensation. There were people I don't remember, ideas I can't comprehend.

Jema is at my feet, I've pulled her bed over to where we're watching the TV show. She's all curled up & completely asleep. I put a heater under her bed, which sent her packing at first, but she seems happier, now that it's later & chilly.

It's rainy/sunny these days. Seattle is known for rain & this year has been uncharacteristically sunny. We look for rain, for snow on the mountains - to ensure our water (which we share with all states southward)will sustain for the summer. Backpacking is a goal for this year. Who knows whether or not I'll be able to enjoy it.

Preparing the soil. It's all about accepting the enrichment without bloom, without harvest. That's what this time feels like. As a side note, I just read the Smithsonian article on coal fires burning under the earth across the world, that the idea of purifying soil is better than figuring out how to fight fires of anthracite across the globe.

I guess I can wrap up there. Life is like butter, y'all. Viscous, but kinda tasty in moderation.

Heart Speaking

Many years ago, I followed an itinerant British folk singer from San Francisco to Massachusetts. She was funny, irreverent and I thought, a genius. I found who she truly was in a creek outside of North Hampton, where she took her regular swim. This concept of regular anything was alien to me & so made quite the impression. She let me sing backup on a tape recording of her music & so I was quite taken with her, her productivity, her sharing.

Now it's almost 20 years later. My husband took me out to see the Flaming Lips film at the local independent arts theater. A story about hillbilly punkrockers who finally divine their sound, their text. Very inspiring!

We came home to chores. I'm very wine-anated & a Virgo mars, and so that is the ultimate in appealing to me. Odd, that. So, I'm done with dishes & the house is clean on Friday at 1:28AM. We have a busy, friendly weekend ahead of us & an arduous, but full of love week behind us, so I can't think of anything better. What I mean by that is, I'm still of the mind that doing service in my home is the best way to open my heart for my friends, the best way to clarify my intention.

Wine glasses later, J's in bed. I'm typing along. My head is spinning, I can't deny it. This week was the most tough at work, the most loved of the folks I worked with were the most difficult to decipher, to me the most inaccessible this week. I'm used to a pretty clean slate at work, especially, so this broke my heart quite a bit.

There are fights that occur between people because things aren't what they seem & boundaries need to be redrawn, but that's honestly no fun for anyone. My hope is that the work that I've done & that the folks I've worked with have done, will end up being in harmony. But in the end, I cannot claim attachment to what happens in my life, I can steer it, but can't predict it. I have proof of that, given that my life has already topped anything I've been able to perceive on my own, but still feel sad that my emotions remain so raw & reactive.

The Flaming Lips film was all about the consistency of work ethic. I did not start out in life with work ethic in the forefront of my efforts, but it's been readily apparent that work ethic is the bulk of what will eventually carry me through this phantasm of physical experience. I do more than surrender to it, I contribute all of the subtlety that I can muster. I honor it, I salute work ethic.

Here's why: Wayne Coyne has pulled a beloved friend out of addiction and back into maximum creativity, along with offering his nephew & family the magic of creative pursuits without 'putting on airs' and is, according to the documentary, about the work he can provide. Granted this is from a documentary that could be slanted, but I've seen too much of this attitude's success to question it indefinitely. I'm game, I'm ready to do this work.

Beyond that, my fluffy - short-haired white cat just click-clacked by me on her way to her food. I love this 16 yr old, blue-eyed marvel. I do. But love, you see, is easy for me.

the...end...