I finally got around to applying to be a volunteer at the SF SPCA a few months ago. I attended an introduction to the agency, filled out an application to volunteer, took the first two classes to be a cat volunteer, and promptly came down with a tenacious cold that lasted nearly four weeks.
Then I got well and started working a weekly shift of three hours socializing cats at Maddie's Adoption Center. I bought a short footstool after struggling to get down to the floor and back up after visiting with a cat whose condo did not have suitable human seating. By making every possible mistake, I am gradually getting the hang of relating to cats with different dispositions.
Also, I've started taking additional classes to add to my skills. My first class was beginning feline bahavior, which qualified me for the "Green Team," volunteers who are allowed to visit cats with behavior problems. After another week or two, I took the course in Shelter Medicine. That makes me part of the "Purr Posse," volunteers who have learned the protocols of wearing gloves, gowns, and booties to visit kittens and cats who are in quarantine, ill, or waiting for space in the adoption center. So now I'm qualified to visit any cat in Maddie's and most cats in the hospital wing (another class is needed if I want to visit the poor souls with ringworm).
So now I can visit cats at Maddie's or in the hospital wing, or both (but only in that order). But I also noted on my volunteer application that I might be available for office and other types of work as well. So I get periodic emails about particularly pressing needs.
I got one email last week outlining some special tasks in the office, including one that required an "extremely detail oriented person." That sounded a lot like me, so I replied and volunteered. Wound up going at my usual shift time yesterday, but went to the administrative offices instead of Maddie's. There, instead of donning an apron, locking up my purse, and sitting with cats, I went to an actual office. My task was to page through about 60 years' worth of the SFSPCA's monthly magazine for pictures of the hospital building as it existed during a certain period of time. I'd imagined using Post It notes to mark the pages with pictures, and they did indeed provide me with a new pack of multi-colored Post Its.
At the time, I really enjoyed the task because I got to look through so many issues of the magazine and to glimpse what they thought worth recording at that time. The SFSPCA cared for horses that drew streetcars and fire engines, for dogs that were used for racing, and for countless cats who climbed up trees or telephone poles. The magazine also serialized the novel "Black Beauty," reviewed films for their treatment of animals, and awarded an annual prize to the best animal actor in a film. I liked the praise I got for finding a half dozen good exterior shots, pictures of various parts of the building, and a few articles about the various waves of renovation.
The contents of the magazine were fascinating, but, in retrospect, I also enjoyed being back in an office of my own, with a swivel chair, good lighting, and an enjoyable task to perform.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Saturday, April 27, 2013
La Boheme writings
I finally managed to track down the organizers and join in last Friday's session. We each wrote down two prompts, each of us drew one from a hat, and we had three writing sessions (since there were three of us). Here are the prompts and what I wrote.
Rainy Day in S.F.
I live in a home that's more than a century old, and it's had plenty of leakks since Ive owned it, so the first thing tht comes to my mind when I realize that it's raining is to hope that there's no leak this time.
Then I may think about the plants slaking their thirst, and water accumulating in reservoirs for human uses. Then I might anticipate the luscious aromas of wet foliage when I next go outside.
If there are gaps in the clouds, I wonder about the possibilty of a rainbow and consider where in the sky it would appear.
Then I sit back and appreciate bein inside out of the rain, dry and warm. And grateful that I don't have to go outside in it. In fact, the last day it rained, I used it and a recent cold as my excuse to avoid going on a walk that probably would have lasted several hours and done me in. Let's hear it for rain, source of many good things.
______________
"They're not very good," he said, chewing the french fries with mild disdain. "Too salty, too greasy, and not crisp."
She appropriated one fry from his plate, bit off a tiny piece, chewed it doubtfully, and agreed. "Not good at all," she said. "Not that my salad's any better."
They had come into the greasy spoon diner to get out of the rain,
and had felt obliged to order something to pay for their shelter.
But they had been grumpy and out-of-sorts before the heavens had opened upon them. They had been driving south to visit her family when the car suddenly overheated and plumes of smoke shot into the cabin and oozed through the edges of the hood, and he had taken the first exit and driven to the first garage, hoping every instant that the car would neither grind to a halt nor burst into flame. They had been lucky enough to find an open service station, but the car was 20 years old, and diagnosing its ailment and getting replacement parts would take some time.
So they were stuck in this one-horse town and already feeling sorry for themselves when, just to complete their joy, the clouds dumped a downpour on them and they had dashed, soaked to the skin, into the first open business they saw.
"Looks like we may need to stay here for a night or two," she said. "Maybe we can borrow a phone book or get some recommendations from the waitress."
"I'm not ready to think about that yet," he said. "Let me just enjoy my misery in peace."
_________________
So should I tell her? She has to know how I feel about her. She knows that I'm a dyke. She knows how much I rejoiced when she received her call and could finally bbe ordained. She knows how hard I worked to perfect the Mozart solo cantata that I sang for her ordination. She knows how eagerly I aggreed to meet her in Anaheim when she came to California for a convention. She knows how little I could afford to fly to Virginia to visit her. She knows that I was unable to eat a bite whenever we shared a meal in Virginia. And most especially she knows that first night of the visit, when we sat together on her sofa, that I could neither fall asleep along with her, nor make the first move. She already knows how I feel about her, and that nothing will ever come of it.
Rainy Day in S.F.
I live in a home that's more than a century old, and it's had plenty of leakks since Ive owned it, so the first thing tht comes to my mind when I realize that it's raining is to hope that there's no leak this time.
Then I may think about the plants slaking their thirst, and water accumulating in reservoirs for human uses. Then I might anticipate the luscious aromas of wet foliage when I next go outside.
If there are gaps in the clouds, I wonder about the possibilty of a rainbow and consider where in the sky it would appear.
Then I sit back and appreciate bein inside out of the rain, dry and warm. And grateful that I don't have to go outside in it. In fact, the last day it rained, I used it and a recent cold as my excuse to avoid going on a walk that probably would have lasted several hours and done me in. Let's hear it for rain, source of many good things.
______________
"They're not very good," he said, chewing the french fries with mild disdain. "Too salty, too greasy, and not crisp."
She appropriated one fry from his plate, bit off a tiny piece, chewed it doubtfully, and agreed. "Not good at all," she said. "Not that my salad's any better."
They had come into the greasy spoon diner to get out of the rain,
and had felt obliged to order something to pay for their shelter.
But they had been grumpy and out-of-sorts before the heavens had opened upon them. They had been driving south to visit her family when the car suddenly overheated and plumes of smoke shot into the cabin and oozed through the edges of the hood, and he had taken the first exit and driven to the first garage, hoping every instant that the car would neither grind to a halt nor burst into flame. They had been lucky enough to find an open service station, but the car was 20 years old, and diagnosing its ailment and getting replacement parts would take some time.
So they were stuck in this one-horse town and already feeling sorry for themselves when, just to complete their joy, the clouds dumped a downpour on them and they had dashed, soaked to the skin, into the first open business they saw.
"Looks like we may need to stay here for a night or two," she said. "Maybe we can borrow a phone book or get some recommendations from the waitress."
"I'm not ready to think about that yet," he said. "Let me just enjoy my misery in peace."
_________________
So should I tell her? She has to know how I feel about her. She knows that I'm a dyke. She knows how much I rejoiced when she received her call and could finally bbe ordained. She knows how hard I worked to perfect the Mozart solo cantata that I sang for her ordination. She knows how eagerly I aggreed to meet her in Anaheim when she came to California for a convention. She knows how little I could afford to fly to Virginia to visit her. She knows that I was unable to eat a bite whenever we shared a meal in Virginia. And most especially she knows that first night of the visit, when we sat together on her sofa, that I could neither fall asleep along with her, nor make the first move. She already knows how I feel about her, and that nothing will ever come of it.
Friday, April 12, 2013
Favorite Color?!
I finally connected with someone at the Cafe La Boheme Friday writing practice group. I've wanted to go for several years, but only tried it once and didn't find anyone else who was there to write. After it became a Meetup group, though, with RSVPs and pictures of attendees, I thought it would be more regular. Not so. I went there today and, even though the organizer and 5 other folks RSVPed, only one other person was there. Fortunately, there was a fairly good picture of her on her profile and we recognized each other. After it became clear that we were the only ones, I took over and got us writing to the prompt that I had come up with last night. I wrote as follows:
I was listening to a podcast last night about "drunk tank pink." Apparently research has shown that drunk, angry, aggressive people become calmer and behave better in a room with walls that are painted the color of PeptoBismol. Moreover, sometimes professional athletes are not able to perform their best when confronted by a piece of cardboard that is pink. They do, however, regain their abilities when shown a blue or green color to cleanse their visual palate.
These ideas came to me last night while I was trying to think about my favorite color. I used to say that my favorite color was blue, the boys' color, the color of sky and sea and strength. But the fact is that I have made very little effort to increase the amount of blue in my life, except for the blue jeans that I usually wear and the blue jackets that I wear outside. Most of my blouses and tops are purple or raspberry.
Anyway, what is a favorite color, really? Maybe the question should be what is your favorite color to wear, to have on the walls of your house, to dominate in your artwork or garden? What color soothes you, or excites you, just by looking at it? What color do you identify with?
Many years ago, I had my colors done. The consultant looked at my skin, eyes, and hair, and composed a set of muted colors that she felt would look very good on me as clothes or cosmetics. I didn't like any of the colors, and have never bought anything using them.
Politically, I'm a lavender sort of gal, being a lesbian, and I really enjoy looking at purple flowers - lilacs, lavender, wistaria, Mexican sage. The last one I especially like for its fuzzy, pettable texture - but don't get me started on textures. Yum.
Anyway, the matter of one's favorite color depends on where the color will be - flowers, walls, clothes, paintings. It is by no means a simple question.
I was listening to a podcast last night about "drunk tank pink." Apparently research has shown that drunk, angry, aggressive people become calmer and behave better in a room with walls that are painted the color of PeptoBismol. Moreover, sometimes professional athletes are not able to perform their best when confronted by a piece of cardboard that is pink. They do, however, regain their abilities when shown a blue or green color to cleanse their visual palate.
These ideas came to me last night while I was trying to think about my favorite color. I used to say that my favorite color was blue, the boys' color, the color of sky and sea and strength. But the fact is that I have made very little effort to increase the amount of blue in my life, except for the blue jeans that I usually wear and the blue jackets that I wear outside. Most of my blouses and tops are purple or raspberry.
Anyway, what is a favorite color, really? Maybe the question should be what is your favorite color to wear, to have on the walls of your house, to dominate in your artwork or garden? What color soothes you, or excites you, just by looking at it? What color do you identify with?
Many years ago, I had my colors done. The consultant looked at my skin, eyes, and hair, and composed a set of muted colors that she felt would look very good on me as clothes or cosmetics. I didn't like any of the colors, and have never bought anything using them.
Politically, I'm a lavender sort of gal, being a lesbian, and I really enjoy looking at purple flowers - lilacs, lavender, wistaria, Mexican sage. The last one I especially like for its fuzzy, pettable texture - but don't get me started on textures. Yum.
Anyway, the matter of one's favorite color depends on where the color will be - flowers, walls, clothes, paintings. It is by no means a simple question.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Lull Before the Storm?
Buckets of rain have been predicted for the next several days. But I slept through this morning's rainfall and am now experiencing sunshine mixed with puffy clouds. I should probably get outside and breathe some fresh air before the heavens open.
Monday, October 15, 2012
Alaska and the Play
Both enterprises have completed successfully, and I'm starting to get back to other matters.
We had amazingly good weather on the trip - absolutely no rain and several days of actual sun, including in Ketchikan, which only gets 30 days without rain each year. Jan and I survived our ziplining expedition near Juneau, saw spectacular views on the White Pass Railway out of Skagway, and had a fabulous dinner aboard ship one night. Other highlights include karaoke singing, scenic cruising in the Tracy Arm, and cute animals folded from towels that showed up in our stateroom every night. I was also pleasantly surprised to have had no problems with seasickness or indigestion.
As to the play, we never did get a final copy of the script, although the versions we did receive became increasingly complete and polished. A character and her scenes were deleted while I was out of town, and some of my lines changed after I had started to memorize them. But there were enough rehearsals after I returned for me to get up to speed. Our six performances were sold out, and the audience was very engaged. We done good.
We had amazingly good weather on the trip - absolutely no rain and several days of actual sun, including in Ketchikan, which only gets 30 days without rain each year. Jan and I survived our ziplining expedition near Juneau, saw spectacular views on the White Pass Railway out of Skagway, and had a fabulous dinner aboard ship one night. Other highlights include karaoke singing, scenic cruising in the Tracy Arm, and cute animals folded from towels that showed up in our stateroom every night. I was also pleasantly surprised to have had no problems with seasickness or indigestion.
As to the play, we never did get a final copy of the script, although the versions we did receive became increasingly complete and polished. A character and her scenes were deleted while I was out of town, and some of my lines changed after I had started to memorize them. But there were enough rehearsals after I returned for me to get up to speed. Our six performances were sold out, and the audience was very engaged. We done good.
Friday, September 7, 2012
Long Time no Write
I'm still wearing the brace on my ankle and not singing with Occupella.
On the other hand, I auditioned for a new play, called "Mad Love" that's supposed to open in less than a month, even though the script isn't final yet. At three rehearsals per week, though, progress should be rapid. On the third hand, I'll be missing several rehearsals starting a week from now, so I really hope the script is final before I leave for ten days.
Jan and I are booked on an Olivia cruise of Alaska that leaves from Vancouver on the 16th of this month. I just printed out my boarding pass and luggage tags, and am starting to compile a mental packing list.
I went on a Caribbean cruise with my grandparents when I was eight or so, and had a wonderful time, so I have hopes for this cruise, after I get over my usual "leaving my nest" anxiety. And we have booked excursions at each landfall, plus some indulgences aboard ship. I'm a touch worried about seasickness; I was fine on the cruise a half century ago, but have become much more sensitive to motion since then. But I plan to bring three different seasickness remedies, so that should be covered.
In the meantime, I have been participating in phone banking as part of PICO California's push to support Proposition 30 - a revenue-raising measure that's a combination of the governor's proposal and the Millionaire's Tax. Cold-calling people is one of my least favorite things to do, but at least we're not asking them for money. I even managed to rope Jan into joining me for a session last night. She's a natural.
If you live in California, please vote yes on Prop. 30. The money will go to K-12 and higher education, and local police and fire services, and will prevent even deeper cuts than we've already experienced in these services. 90% of the revenue will come from raising state income taxes on people earning more than $250,000 a year, and the rest from nudging up the state sales tax by a quarter of a percent. State coffers are bare, so we only get what we pay for.
And of course, if you live anywhere in America, please be sure to re-elect President Obama. Romney would undo the policies that are healing our economy. The GOP seeks to restore the 'winnner take all,' 'I've got mine; you're on your own,' 'women and children last' policies that nearly crashed the economy and would return women to the status of child-bearing machines. Heaven forfend!
On the other hand, I auditioned for a new play, called "Mad Love" that's supposed to open in less than a month, even though the script isn't final yet. At three rehearsals per week, though, progress should be rapid. On the third hand, I'll be missing several rehearsals starting a week from now, so I really hope the script is final before I leave for ten days.
Jan and I are booked on an Olivia cruise of Alaska that leaves from Vancouver on the 16th of this month. I just printed out my boarding pass and luggage tags, and am starting to compile a mental packing list.
I went on a Caribbean cruise with my grandparents when I was eight or so, and had a wonderful time, so I have hopes for this cruise, after I get over my usual "leaving my nest" anxiety. And we have booked excursions at each landfall, plus some indulgences aboard ship. I'm a touch worried about seasickness; I was fine on the cruise a half century ago, but have become much more sensitive to motion since then. But I plan to bring three different seasickness remedies, so that should be covered.
In the meantime, I have been participating in phone banking as part of PICO California's push to support Proposition 30 - a revenue-raising measure that's a combination of the governor's proposal and the Millionaire's Tax. Cold-calling people is one of my least favorite things to do, but at least we're not asking them for money. I even managed to rope Jan into joining me for a session last night. She's a natural.
If you live in California, please vote yes on Prop. 30. The money will go to K-12 and higher education, and local police and fire services, and will prevent even deeper cuts than we've already experienced in these services. 90% of the revenue will come from raising state income taxes on people earning more than $250,000 a year, and the rest from nudging up the state sales tax by a quarter of a percent. State coffers are bare, so we only get what we pay for.
And of course, if you live anywhere in America, please be sure to re-elect President Obama. Romney would undo the policies that are healing our economy. The GOP seeks to restore the 'winnner take all,' 'I've got mine; you're on your own,' 'women and children last' policies that nearly crashed the economy and would return women to the status of child-bearing machines. Heaven forfend!
Friday, May 4, 2012
May Thoughts
It's a sunny and windy day in the village, and my cherry tree in the back yard is waving in the wind and raining pink petals.
Now that my torn tendon is on the mend, I'm planning to do more singing with Occupella; it's been too long.
I tried last month to get into the Wells Fargo shareholder meeting, having bought a single share for that purpose. The day before the meeting, I attended three hours of activism training along with 150 other single shareholder/activists. However, the suits were on to us from the start. The building was ringed with police and suits from the crack of dawn, and the gatekeepers kept lying to us about when and where they would let us into the meeting. Only about 20 lucky souls got in and said their piece. Standing around and sitting around in a large crowd of protesters for several hours made me tired and sore, and upset. So I forgot all about the support group meeting that I could have attended, and went directly home.
Jan and I have tickets for two concerts by members of the SF Symphony playing all six of Bach's Brandenburg Concerti this coming Saturday. Should be quite lovely.
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