Paper Tiger Knits

The Vortex

My Mom used to say that our house contained a vortex that would suck up certain loose items--socks, barrettes, papers, and the like--and pull them into a downward spiral for a while. And when the vortex had worked on the items long enough, it would spit them back out (often where you could remember looking just the day before, with no luck).

I have been losing a disturbing number of things recently. The latest batch was a change purse (Kate Spade sample sale), my college ring (which I wear every day but remove to put on coats of lotion), and a pepper grinder (don't ask). I asked Saint Anthony for help on the change purse and the ring--I figured the pepper grinder would turn up on its own. And this afternoon I found the ring (at the bottom of my purse) and the pepper grinder (somewhere in the kitchen). Still no sign of the change purse. I should make some calls.

Which means that since the beginning of the year I have lost a pair of glasses, a cell phone, and a change purse. A friend suggested that I should ask, "What is it that I'm not seeing?" Perhaps I should be looking more closely, keeping in better touch, and minding my pennies. Or just living more mindfully in general? Who knows.

Binding's almost sewn on the quilt. Dreading the coming of Monday.

There's no such thing as a free cat.

The family aphorism series was to have continued with the extremely odd and oft-repeated saying, "You really fell in a dead cat." (Oh, there's a story). But in light of recent events, that just seems to be tempting fate and/or a really, really unfortunate joke.

Wilbur has to have surgery to remove the sizeable bladder stones that the local vet found on his X-ray. Depending where we go, he can have the surgery either tomorrow or next Wednesday or Thursday, and it can cost anywhere from a lot, to an arm and a leg, to a mid-range egg donation.

The family expression from the title of this post is actually "There's no such thing as a free horse." When my parents moved to the countryside, it was so my Dad could have an old house and my Mom could have a horse. She grew up wanting a horse more than anything, so much that when her father said, "I have to see a man about a horse," she was disappointed when he didn't come back from the bathroom with a horse.

The horse she had ridden in college needed a home, so my Dad built a barn while the horse lived in the garage. A couple years later, some of their friends were getting a divorce and needed a home for their horse, so my parents took her in too. Gradually it became established that at any time, there were three horses in the barn, at varying ages and levels of fitness. Some had belonged to serious amateur riders who couldn't keep a horse with a chronic injury. Some had been mistreated. Some were just terribly old and needed a place to "retire."

When I tell people I grew up with horses, they imagine a fancy stable with lots of leather tack, but I tell them that these horses were free and a lot more like big shaggy dogs who keep the grass down and give my Dad an excuse for a post-hole digger and a manure spreader.

But even though the horses themselves were free, the blacksmith, food & hay, and vet care aren't. And when you adopt a horse who needs a home because of mistreatment, injury, or advanced age, you get to know the vet really well. They now have a twentysomething horse with a deteriorating spine who had a protozoan infection this summer; the medicine alone cost over $700. Hence the expression, "There is no such thing as a free horse."

Which is why I found it especially ironic, not to mention painful, that when I asked my Dad this morning what he thought about Wilbur, he first said I didn't want to know and then admitted he thought I should have him put to sleep because he thinks I can't afford his operation.

(There is no question whatsoever of doing that. I am not going to lose my home or starve to death because of this, and there is no way in hell I am putting down an otherwise healthy two-year-old cat because he needs a fairly routine operation. I will be saving a lot of money on Christmas gifts for my Dad.)

I know lots of people need your prayers & good wishes now, but I would be so grateful if you'd send some happy thoughts Wilbur's way.

A is for Aphorism

I have a weird family. The expanding garage, the teeth... well, that's just the half of it. You can really tell what's odd about my family by the sayings we drop into ordinary conversations, assuming other people will understand the arcane reference. I sent an e-mail to a friend of mine about a problem that had arisen and been resolved, to my relief, and my e-mail contained the phrase, "Apparently I just needed to get the goats out of the house." In  the course of the follow-up message to explain what the heck I was talking about, it occurred to me that this is great blog fodder. Not everyone has weird barnyard sayings that come up in everyday conversation. So, here begins an occasional series on Weird Family Sayings and Their Sources.

I've heard this story from different sources, but it seems to be an Eastern European folk tale. (It's easiest to tell as a Jewish folk tale... Rabbis are just useful narrative devices.)

A man goes to see the rabbi. He says, "Oh, Rabbi, I am so unhappy. My children are lazy and disrespectful, my wife is a lousy cook and a bad housekeeper, and I'm miserable." The rabbi thinks for a moment. Then he says, "I know just what will help you. Go and buy a goat and bring it into your house. Live with the goat for a week, then come back and see me."

A week passes. The man returns to the rabbi and says, "Oh, Rabbi, everything is worse! My children laugh at me for keeping a goat in the house; the house is messier than ever; I have had no sleep and the goat has eaten the curtains. What can I do?" The rabbi strokes his beard and says, "You need another goat. Go and get a second goat and keep both of them in your house this week. Come back and see me next week."

A second week passes. The man returns to the rabbi in distress. "Rabbi, I don't know what you were thinking. The goats crap all over the house; my children answer back and tell their friends their father is insane; my wife has given up trying to clean around the goats; the goats have eaten my sheets now. Please, help me!" The rabbi says, "I know this is difficult, but you must trust me. You really need a third goat. This time, get a billy goat and bring it into your house. Then come see me next week.

At the end of the third week, the man returns in tears. He says, "Rabbi, my wife is so angry that she makes me sleep on the floor. My house is a disaster. The billy goat chases me around the house and butts me with his horns. Rabbi, my wife is threatening to leave me! I can't live with all this mishegas!" The rabbi says, "I will tell you what to do. Don't worry. What I want you to do now is go home and take the goats from the house. Give them back to the farmer. Come and see me in a week."

After the fourth week, the man comes back and says, "Rabbi, it is wonderful! The house is so quiet and so clean! My wife lets me sleep in the bed and cooks me dinner again! My children say I have at least come to my senses!"

(Hence one of the many, many family aphorisms... "Oh, you just need to get a goat." Or, "You need to get the goats out of the house.")

*Please note: I make no claims to being the original source of this story. I've heard it from at least two places, in at least two versions. This particular version I just made up.