Photography Friday! Week 3 – Mostly Kitties

Lots of drama this week, but I don’t feel like talking about it here, honestly. Instead, I’m going to share photos of my cats – yay! OK, and some other stuff.

On Saturday morning, The Man and I cleaned the house, and I washed all of my clothes. Izzy helped:

Izzy Loves Laundry

Later that day, I picked up my new FitBit Flex, then oversaw opening night of my gallery’s new exhibit, Necessary Tangent, featuring the work of Danny Baskin, Martin L. Benson, and Peter Barnitz. This was the third event that I’ve curated at the gallery, and I really enjoyed working with three fantastic artists. If you’re in New Orleans, please stop by to see the show before it ends in a couple of weeks. The works are very affordable, which is becoming a rarity in today’s art scene…


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On Sunday, I spent the day hanging out with The Man. The day started out with this guy, then a shopping trip, followed by a couple of long naps and some TV-watching. Pretty awesome!

Cat in Laundry

Monday was all about work. On the way to the office, I saw that the World War II museum’s newest gallery, the Boeing Center, is finally open!


On the way home from work, the WWII Museum’s Victory Garden looked too enticing to pass up.

WWII Museum Victory Garden

On Tuesday, I started the day off with a rare morning run. This is how I felt afterwards:


That afternoon on the way home, the sun was setting on St. Joseph Street in a spectacular manner:

St. Joseph & Magazine, New Orleans

Wednesday morning I awoke to this gorgeous little face. It wasn’t really love, though – just a plea to wake up and give him food. Izzy didn’t seem to care that the bowl was close to empty, so I found her enjoying her favorite new pillowcase once I finally got out of bed. Recently I started using satin pillowcases to help my skin and hair retain moisture, and she’s really into pushing me off of the pillow in the middle of the night. So I gave her a second pillow in an attempt to save my neck. She must have been a diva in her last life, because she sure is now!



Later that day, I ate a sandwich that made me sick for the rest of the afternoon. I left work early, took a nap, then laid around with The Man for the rest of the day. He left for NYC yesterday morning, and since I was still feeling icky, I stayed home and took it somewhat easy. I didn’t end up taking a photo on Thursday, so here’s one from earlier in the week – my work space at Cathedral!

My desk at work

It’s a little messy, but it’s also full of items that mean a lot to me. There’s a photo of my two best friends and me last summer in Croatia, a funky little painting I purchased not too long ago, a ruby glass cup (holding pens, which is probably not the best idea) from the 1893 Columbian Exposition, a ton of origami pieces that I made way too long ago, the Ultimate Yogi DVD set that I practice daily, and if you look closely, you’ll see my planner in the bottom left corner, proudly bearing a sticker from the Intergalactic Krewe of Chewbacchus!

Cat Conversations

Mornings in my house look like this:

Miss Isabel enjoys her morning.

Both of my cats love to be loved, but usually Munky is the bigger cuddler. I’d like to say that Isabel is much more refined in her tastes, but that would only be half of the story. The truth is that Izzy is a complete weirdo. She only cuddles in the morning. She’s seldom happy or cute or in any way sweet. She shies away from people she doesn’t know, and even if she does know you, unless you’re me you only have about a 20% shot that she’ll let you pick her up or touch her for any extended period.

Then the rest of the time there’s the bitching.

I don’t know how else to describe the bitching, really. It is what it is. Isabel loves to complain before, while and after you’re petting her. She has a uniquely rusty sounding voice, and she loves to use it – loudly. Most people see her talking as a one-sided affair, but she and I frequently have little conversations (or shouting matches, as the case may be).

It goes something like this. Imagine me on the couch in the living room, and Isabel quietly hanging out in the bedroom. She wakes up, and realizes she’s bored.

Izzy: “MROW!” “MROWMROWMROW!!!!” “MROW!” (from a distance – it’s obvious that she’s still on or under the bed)



Me: “Come ‘ere!”

Izzy: “MROW?” “MROOOOW!” (getting closer) “mrow?” (definitely in the room, but I can’t see her)

Me: (silence – I’m not going to cater to her madness)

Izzy: “MROOOOWWWW!” (from at my feet, with a little bit of malice since I made her actually walk to find me and we all know that baby girl doesn’t DO work. I jump. I always jump.)

At this point I realize that she’s just lonely, the poor wittle bitty, so I bend down to pick her up. Her eyes light up and she scuttles away slightly, then stops to face me expectantly. Thinking that maybe she’ll want to play, I find her mousey and toss it across the room. She walks away. I find a string on a stick and dangle it for her. She openly scoffs as her brother comes running over just begging to be taunted with dangly things. Then she glowers at me while I amuse Munky, until I finally pass the dangly string on a stick to The Man and go to pick up the lady cat for cuddles.

At which point the little monster walks away. Ooooh, that bitch.

I follow her into the bedroom to try to pick her up. She runs around the bed and peers around the corner: “mrow?” Ah, I see that it’s time for a kitty massage session. “Well, get up on the bed.” She responds to tongue clicking sounds, like a horse, so I pat the bed and click twice. She’s up and ready to be petted.

Isabel stands on all fours while being petted, even if she’s on a soft surface. She makes a complain-y sound every time you touch her. She walks away from your caress, but if you stop she’ll turn and glare at you accusingly, typically issuing a stern “MAOW” to get you moving again. That’s for the normal person. When it’s me, she makes complain-y sounds, then soft little rusty murmurs. I respond in kind, answering her “mregh” and “grumph” sounds with my closest copies. The Man says it sounds like we’re having a conversation, and most of the time it feels that way.

She lets me know when she’s tired of me by jumping off of the bed and going to get a little bite to eat at her food dish. After that, a long nap on the couch, maybe followed by some rough housing with her brother. Nighttimes are spent sleeping on or near me, and if I’m lucky, my morning will start off with a sleepy, sweet Izzy all over again. If I’m lucky. Otherwise, it’s bitchy, complain-y Izzy – but really I adore her just as much.