We hosted a poker game last night. The guys Kent (& now I) have been playing with for several years. The major change we made over the course of that time? Revaluing the chips from 5c to 25c. (Actually, I think we had 5c and 10c chips; but we'd forget which was which late in the evening ...) A 75c bet scares everyone out of the game. Low stakes poker, all right.
When I first started going to these games I had a lot of anxiety over losing. Since I was a kid I've had a lot of anxiety over losing -- whether it was chess or baseball.
I've mellowed. If I'm having a losing night I won't keep buying in & buying in. But I won't sulk, either. Even losing is cheaper than any other night out doing things with friends. And a big night ends with me five dollars up. Woo hoo.
The five of us had dinner at Dara beforehand. We've taken lots of guests to Dara, often to delighted exclamations. Dara is a short block from our house. Thai/Lao food, with Dara, the woman who owns the place & runs the kitchen, shifting the emphasis to Lao as that's where she's from and there are plenty of Thai restaurants in town.
Kent did poorly in the game but, he says, he spent more buying snacks. I did OK. The first hand of the game I got dealt a full house. And I think I won a dollar. I think I won more later with an Ace high. Yes, one person piled up the chips. When he was gloating at the end of the night I reminded him he'd been the big loser last time. "But I won more tonight than I lost then!" he said.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Monday, August 21, 2006
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Monday, August 14, 2006
what's left
When I came to the computer this morning I glanced to my left and saw the feathers. Hum. One less bird, I guess. I'd be curious to see Sundy's hunting. Only I'd probably muck it up and warn the bird. No doubt we give him lots of practice pouncing when we drag the twig. Little cat makes sure of that.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
School of Quietude
"Duuuude! Whuh SSSUP!"
"He ain't talkin'."
"He got a problem?"
"That boy's got 'tude."
"Been like this all day?"
"All day, man. Like, all day."
"He ain't said nothin' yet. HAVE YOU? ... Damn! Dude could teach a class."
"He ain't talkin'."
"He got a problem?"
"That boy's got 'tude."
"Been like this all day?"
"All day, man. Like, all day."
"He ain't said nothin' yet. HAVE YOU? ... Damn! Dude could teach a class."
Monday, August 07, 2006
treats for Sutra
When we're eating dinner Sutra will often come in peeping (his typical vocalization is more like a peep than a meow) and act like he wants some, too. He will step around our legs, under the table, behind our chairs, will even stop and rise up on his hind feet, paw at the table's edge. "Give me some of that!" he seems to say. So, as I said yesterday, Kent, wanting to be nice to his kitty cat, will break off a bit of fish or chicken or beef and hold it out to him. Sutra will sniff it thoroughly (often while it's still in Kent's fingers) and maybe lick or nibble at it. He may even take it away, he may even chew and swallow. He may even look up expectantly as though one bite could hardly be enough for a big cat like him.
So Kent, happy to be of service, will break off a second piece. Even if he'd just gotten through swallowing the same stuff this second piece will end up at Sutra's feet. He will at most look at it suspiciously. Often he will flinch; surely, this time it's a trap. He will walk away and the tiny scrap of meat will cool on the floor until it's time to clean up the dinner things.
Sundy remains indifferent to dinner.
So Kent, happy to be of service, will break off a second piece. Even if he'd just gotten through swallowing the same stuff this second piece will end up at Sutra's feet. He will at most look at it suspiciously. Often he will flinch; surely, this time it's a trap. He will walk away and the tiny scrap of meat will cool on the floor until it's time to clean up the dinner things.
Sundy remains indifferent to dinner.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
crunchy
Neither Sundy nor Suntra are interested in treats. With one exception. They both really go for dried shrimp. Kent has offered bits of beef and chicken and cheese from the table at dinnertime -- our first cat, Maori, loved dinner and would hop up on the table and eat treats from our fingers. Occasionally Sutra condescends to eat something Kent has presented. Encouraged Kent will break off another piece of chicken breast ... and it will sit on the floor ...
On the other hand when Sundy sees me get out a dried shrimp he stands right up on his hind feet; he'll even do a little spin while standing. He hasn't made it the whole way round yet so I just turn him in a half circle. For a cat Sundy is very social and reacts readily to our faces and hands. Seems like he'd be pretty easy to train to do tricks if we cared to.
They like their kibble. Which is kept in the upstairs bathroom (that started as a dog preventative).
This evening as I was preparing dinner I was surprised to see Sundy eating on the floor. What? Eating? There was some gray-blue object under his chin. I bent down, then did my hand over the mouth oh god. A bird. Sundy had already eaten its head off and was contentedly crunching away on the body, feathers, bones, everything. I got a plastic bag which I used as a glove, scooped up the prey and took it out to the back porch. Kent says Sutra joined his brother. Later all that remained were three or four tiny feathers and a single bird foot.
I don't approve. I guess the most Pollyanna about it I can get is: at least they eat the thing.
And the mystery of the bits of feather under the table or at the foot of the stairs is explained. That's really all that's left.
On the other hand when Sundy sees me get out a dried shrimp he stands right up on his hind feet; he'll even do a little spin while standing. He hasn't made it the whole way round yet so I just turn him in a half circle. For a cat Sundy is very social and reacts readily to our faces and hands. Seems like he'd be pretty easy to train to do tricks if we cared to.
They like their kibble. Which is kept in the upstairs bathroom (that started as a dog preventative).
This evening as I was preparing dinner I was surprised to see Sundy eating on the floor. What? Eating? There was some gray-blue object under his chin. I bent down, then did my hand over the mouth oh god. A bird. Sundy had already eaten its head off and was contentedly crunching away on the body, feathers, bones, everything. I got a plastic bag which I used as a glove, scooped up the prey and took it out to the back porch. Kent says Sutra joined his brother. Later all that remained were three or four tiny feathers and a single bird foot.
I don't approve. I guess the most Pollyanna about it I can get is: at least they eat the thing.
And the mystery of the bits of feather under the table or at the foot of the stairs is explained. That's really all that's left.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
new post
Days may go by. How long is a post new on a blog? Minutes? Can we say days? So let's say days go by. Days go by and this post remains atop LoveSettlement.
Do you grow to dislike it? Perhaps you already dislike it. If you dislike it now and you visit LoveSettlement tomorrow will you dislike this post more tomorrow? If you dislike it tomorrow and you decide to avoid LoveSettlement for awhile since, it has become obvious, its author is failing to update in a manner that makes frequent visits a delightful prospect (for the novelty?) and you find yourself here again in a week and to your dismay the "new post" has lingered all that time, will you become annoyed with LoveSettlement and choose never to return? Instead shall you choose merely to absent yourself from LoveSettlement until after the Connecticut primary (lose, Lieberman, lose!) or until after Snakes on a Plane opens or until after you post to your own blog, which you've been considering deleting entirely because its aging posts make you feel guilty?
Perhaps, having written this post I will recommit to a daily LuvSet and those you-should-write-about-that-on-the-blog unborn posts will quicken and a great urge will push them, wet and deformed, onto a page where they will seem suddenly kissable and lively. You have no idea how much you will love us until we are real, the unwritten blog posts whisper from heaven, where, I suspect, they will ever be more comfortable than here.
I am writing this new post. And now I am posting it.
Do you grow to dislike it? Perhaps you already dislike it. If you dislike it now and you visit LoveSettlement tomorrow will you dislike this post more tomorrow? If you dislike it tomorrow and you decide to avoid LoveSettlement for awhile since, it has become obvious, its author is failing to update in a manner that makes frequent visits a delightful prospect (for the novelty?) and you find yourself here again in a week and to your dismay the "new post" has lingered all that time, will you become annoyed with LoveSettlement and choose never to return? Instead shall you choose merely to absent yourself from LoveSettlement until after the Connecticut primary (lose, Lieberman, lose!) or until after Snakes on a Plane opens or until after you post to your own blog, which you've been considering deleting entirely because its aging posts make you feel guilty?
Perhaps, having written this post I will recommit to a daily LuvSet and those you-should-write-about-that-on-the-blog unborn posts will quicken and a great urge will push them, wet and deformed, onto a page where they will seem suddenly kissable and lively. You have no idea how much you will love us until we are real, the unwritten blog posts whisper from heaven, where, I suspect, they will ever be more comfortable than here.
I am writing this new post. And now I am posting it.
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