My Budding Aviarian

Have I mentioned lately how proud I am of my amazing husband? No? Well, after a phone interview with the National Aviary on Thursday, he was offered a husbandry internship in their veterinary department. This will give him even more experience that will be handy when looking for a zookeeper job in the spring. And this is particularly cool given Rob's fascination with winged creatures. While driving, we sometimes have to stop the car to give closer attention to a bird he's spied; he keeps a "life list" of all the birds he's seen in the wild since the list was started some years ago; some of the first times we spent together were with him as my student learning how to draw better birds. Suffice it to say that I think he'll be a great fit for this position.

I'm very impressed with all that he's accomplished this year. At noon today, Buggy and I are going to watch him give a presentation at the zoo detailing his internship. His stint at there will end soon, much to my dismay; I've so loved our days of visiting him and the gorillas, and Roseann, the head gorilla keeper, has been a wonderful mentor to him (and a pretty cool lady, to boot), but hopefully a door will open for him there again once he's completed this next internship at the Aviary. Not only this, but we'll get to continue calling Pittsburgh our home, which makes me really happy.

Yuck Cats

This morning, as is sometimes the case on Wednesdays, Rob got up with Olive and let me sleep in a bit longer. Yesterday she and I rose in the 5 o'clock hour to do a morning at the Khoreys'. When we got home around 10 am, I planned to take a nap myself once she'd gone to sleep; she was out like a trout after fifteen minutes of feeding and I laid down but before I could fall asleep there was a knock at the door. It was our house's handyman with a box of plastic to put over our windows for insulation. I explained to him that we had long since put plastic over our windows and the room was still an ice box. That said, we didn't get the apartment that we saw last week; that's what I get for not acting immediately. I should have known that that place wouldn't be available for long. So anyway, my much hoped-for nap was thwarted and I made up for it by retiring before 9 last night. Olive was up pretty often, and when she woke up at 7 I wasn't at all ready to begin my day. During my sporadic sleep I could glean that unusual happenings were afoot, as Rob was coming in and out of the bedroom for changes of clothes for Olive, a wash cloth, diaper-changing materials, and the like. Here's the story, and this is why our cats may or may not be going up for adoption later in the day:

Rob picked up on an unpleasant familiar litter box odor. He noticed that the bathroom door (where litter box is housed) was closed and the cats were seating on the windowsill. He noticed that Olive's face was dotted with brown, and her hands were, too. He checked her diaper (even though she was wearing footed pyjamas, making a diaper dig virtually impossible, then spotted the small pile near the bathroom door that Olive had beat him to discover. An Eric Carle book that my aunt Holly had given Olive this summer had to be thrown away, it's pages soiled with feline fecal matter. He put her in the tub (for the third time in under a week!) and scrubbed her down - even the inside of her mouth (undoubtedly some of the foul stuff found its way into her curious craw). I just hope she doesn't come down with a bacterial infection because of this. Cats and their waste are totally disgusting. I've always had cats, and always liked them until I had Olive. I've tolerated their presence, at best, these last 9 months, but when things like this happen I have to seriously consider the benefit of having them around. Yes, Olive is amused by them (I'm waiting for the day that Che's patience runs out and she hauls off and swipes Olive's grabby hands). And yes, we occasionally allow ourselves the warped amusement of tying a plastic bag to Wendell and watching him go tearing about like an animal possessed. But then I experience twinges of jealousy every time I enter the Khoreys' or my sister's pet-free homes; their cleanliness and lack of odor and littery crunch underfoot taunts me: See? This is what a house without cats is like... But they're my pets. I've had them both since they were babes (Che for seven years and Wendell for two and a half). Wendell is my miracle cat because he was at death's door for a while two years ago and somehow he rallied and is still here, and still a funny Gray...but they're gross. If we didn't live in the city I'd let them out like I did in Maine. I just can't handle another one of this morning's episodes. It was a good thing Rob was taking care of things because that might have been the first and last time for me.

Any takers?

Olive Oiling

The past few weeks I've been lucky enough to have the company of Rob and Olive during my lunch break at the Public Market. Saturdays tend to be long days for me there (8-5:30, plus an hour round-trip bicycle commute), so it's great to see them when they arrive. Olive, true to her namesake, is really into the oils, savoring the little bread chunks dipped in the Karoneiki (a yummy Greek variety that is my favorite), lemon, and lime-infused oils, and showing her pleasure with a greasy-lipped grin. We haven't ventured into balsamic territory with her yet; I fear that the vinegars may be too acidic for her little stomach. I do, however, look forward to the day when I can watch the expression on her face change when she tastes the peach or blueberry flavors. Her millions of taste buds are in for a real treat with these! Here are a few shots that my dear boss, Larry took this past Saturday - the first Cramer family shot since they day we left Homer in August. I think this needs to happen more often.

The Goon Hat (thanks, Kellie!) has been exceedingly popular with the general public. Our cashier at Trader Joe's this morning commented that it suited her personality. How right he was!

New Desk!

Nothing says, "Happy Halloween!" like a new - and FREE - desk. Last night I saw on our neighborhood listserve that a decidedly un-IKEAlike IKEA desk was up for grabs. We went and fetched it and it goes really well in our sparsely-furnished living room. Buggy readily took to it, using the lower shelf as a climbing aid. With the exception of our mattress, drafting table and swivel chair, all of the furniture in our apartment was free. That being the case, much of it will also not travel with us when we move, but this desk is a keeper.

Speaking of moving, we weren't planning on vacating until the end of the year at the earliest, but we're finding as the temperature drops, it's becoming increasingly difficult to keep our apartment warm enough. Our bedroom was an addition to the building, and a poorly-constructed one, at that. The insulation around the windows seems to have not been a major consideration and, though Rob put up plastic reinforced with duct tape then hung blankets over them, the draft still wins! Our bedroom is freezing. When I had to finally break down and adjust the thermostat this past week the bedroom stayed as chilly as an ice box, all the warm air making a beeline for the cracks round the windows. Realizing that we'd be funneling all of my hard-earned money straight to the Equitable Gas Company if we stay here, we checked out two apartments yesterday. The first, an efficiency, offered the same rent but all utilities were included. We scratched the idea of a single room, though - just not enough space for the lot of us. The woman from the management company showed us a second unit that she had: a bright, spacious, high-ceilinged, window-filled one bedroom that fit the bill - $25 more for rent but included gas, which sold us. I could see ourselves occupying that apartment indefinitely (at least while we're in Pittsburgh), so we're in the process of applying for it. The move would be a piece of cake, too; it's only a block or two from where we live now. Here's hoping!

This is what happens if I take my hands off her ankles for a second when she's having her diaper changed; she tries to do the bare-bummed skedaddle every time.
She's always loved her baths.

Just look at those teef! She took after her mama and uncle Tay with that big gap-toothed grin. I love it.

Ryans' Visit and Belated Birthday Presents

Yesterday, while waiting to hear back from Tomi, our landlady about the status of our hot water heater (we'd been without hot water for 30-some hours because our pilot light had blown out somehow), I heard a knock at the door. Not Tomi or the furnace guys, but Kellie! I'd nearly forgotten that she and the kids were going to swing by after they Boogled (Kellie's clever term for trick-or-treating at the Google offices). We all squeezed into our already cluttered living room, Iris commenced wailing, and Gail clung to me, seeking safety from Che (of whom she's terribly frightened; no doubt Kellie's tales of how Che was an unwelcoming hostess to baby Jack when she first brought him by my Baltimore apartment to meet me have influenced and magnified her fears of domestic cats), and Jack watched and listened to Rob singing and playing kids's songs on the guitar. Kellie was a real dear and brought by a box of birthday treats for me: a little pomegranate-hued ceramic colander for tiny eats like cherries and berries, a tin of Smith's Rosebud Salve (made in Frederick County, MD's very own Woodsboro!), and - the icing on the cake - a multi-print ruffled apron! I'd wanted one since getting my job at Cosimano e Ferrari, so it was the perfect gift. I've already gotten loads of compliments on it from other vendors at the market. It's dear. Thanks, Boot! Good job, as usual! We sent them off with a carving pumpkin I'd picked up from Mose, my Amish buddy who runs the farm stand across from Cosimano at the market; we don't have knives sharp enough to do the job, and I knew Kellie and the kids were going to be jack-o-lanterning it up.

I just need Rob to snap some photos of me modeling my new apron, so check back in the next few days. I've been keeping pretty busy, so thecramerlemon has taken a back seat, and with the holiday season quickly approaching I can't imagine that I'll be finding myself with more time on my hands, but I'll do the best I can.

Ohm, Olive Oil Margarine, and Our Olive

I just wrapped up the oil painting that I felt had taken over my life for the past week and a half. It's an Ohm - the Hindu symbol for the absolute, or something to that extent. It's going on the wall in a yoga studio here in Pittsburgh. It's nice to have a deadline. It'll also be nice to air out our little apartment and rid the place of the invasive odor of turpentine, damar varnish, and Liquin Impasto (the awesome - but overly aromatic - medium I tried out for the first time). I can't stand the idea of Buggy breathing in these fumes, especially since my work space coincides with her play area. One day I may have a real studio...

Rob experimented with concocting his own margarine last night; we'd been on a quest to find one without palm oil and our store search produced one option: a tiny tub of Canola oil margarine made by Spectrum priced way higher than it was probably worth. Learning that olive oil emulsifies when blended with a liquid (and stabilizes with added lecithin), he poured soy milk, olive oil, soy lecithin, and a little bit of salt in our new, free-from-craigslist blender and got this:

Looking forward to trying it out, though I'm doubting that I'll care for it made with the yuck 8th Continent soymilk we have.

Here are some photos of our goon snake being sweet, as usual. Her sleep patterns have been less than desirable lately (two nights ago, for instance, she was up five times for feedings between 8:30 pm and 5:30 am); we tried a few nights last week letting her cry it out, but that means over an hour of her wailing, over an hour that I'm not getting any sleep (not to mention our neighbors), and I can't see how it's really helping her in the long run, so now I'm back to feeding and comforting her whenever she wakes in the night. As much as I love my sleep, getting to spend some wee hours time with her is pretty great, too. I feel like much of her recent restlessness is due to teething; she can focus more on the discomfort going on in her gums at night when she's not otherwise engaged. As for her foray into the realm of solid foods, she's still remarkably apathetic. We give her solids every day, and each time she accepts it with disinterest that soon turns to rejection. Ah well. I'm not sweating it; she'll get on board with it sooner or later. Honestly, I'm more than okay with nursing her for a while longer. I love watching her expression and the way her hands and fingers move while she feeds, her plump little digits splaying and fanning in a strange, contented sort of sign language. When I put her in her crib for the night, I tuck her in with her donkey quilt from her aunt, Cat, then sign to her 'I love you', which pleases her greatly. As soon as I make the sign with my hand her face lights up in a glorious grin and she reaches for my outstretched forefinger and pinky to study as I speak the words aloud to her. She loves this nightly bedtime ritual and so do I.

Busy Beaver

I haven't posted in a week and it's because I've been up to my ears in painting projects, one of which is due at the end of the week. It's a large-scale oil painting of an 'om' symbol that's going to be hung in a yoga studio. I'm stressed out. Oils are a mess and the fumes from the damar varnish and odorless turpentine are starting to seep into my brain. Buggy celebrated eight sweet months on Friday. She's pulling up on things but, as we have no furniture in our living room other than my chair and drafting table, I think her progress is impeded. She continues to not sleep that well. It's really my one complaint about our goon; in her eight months she has slept through the night twice. That's it. She's been waking more and more with ear-splitting crying in the wee hours, so I'm moving through life in a fog lately, while trying to work and complete paintings. All is great, though, sleeplessness and toxic materials aside.

More soon...