Fortune Cookie Truths

Every time I have Chinese food  after I've read my fortune from my cookie I put the slip of paper into a pocket in my wallet.  I've been doing this for about four years now.  

Today I decided to pull the fortunes out and take a look at what I had.  After leafing through them I've come up with a couple of inevitable truths.

1.  Like snowflakes there are no two fortunes the same.

2.  Some such as, "Gold is in your future" are empty promises either that or my definition of what constitutes gold is too limited.    

3.  Fortune cookies can give some really great advice, "Trust others, but still keep your eyes open."

Cleo Update

So, after about a month of dealing with Cleo I can finally report that she seems to be out of the woods.  Two weeks ago they removed the tube and Monday the removed the stitches and bolsters holding her ear together.

On Thursday I noticed her ear was swelling up and suspected that she had more fluid/blood filling it.  I took her in Friday and my suspicions were confirmed.  However, the vet said I should wait about a week to two weeks and see if maybe the fluid is absorbed by her ear and goes down.  If it gets worse, starts to bug her too much or doesn't go away then in two weeks they'll re-operate on her.

I won't be charged for the second operation.  It's a more invasive operations.  They'll basically cut her ear wide open, clear out all the fluid and scar tissue, resew the ear and wait for it to heal.  For obvious reasons I'm hoping her ear gets better on its own.

In the mean time she is doing well and has developed an interesting new behavior.  In the past she never really protested anything.  If you pulled her from her food dish, picked her up and carried her off some place she just went along with it.  However, now she's become much more vocal and protests when she's not pleased.  She doesn't meow or fight.  She groans and moans like a petulant child.  I know I shouldn't laugh but it's damn funny to hear her let out a groan akin to a child about to throw a tantrum.  Thankfully, she doesn't fling herself on the ground kick and screaming as I've seen evil children in Wal-mart do.  

I'm cautiously optimistic about Cleo's recovery and I've once again been shown what I'm made of.  I'm stronger than I would have judged myself.  There were a few times it was suggested that Cleo be "put out of her misery" but I knew and still know that she is just sick not fatally ill.  All she needed was her cat mommy to help her through and not give up on her.  I'm not the best cat mommy but I'm pretty fucking good at it.  

Two Poems from Bird Eating Bird

Language Poetry / Grandma's English
by Kristin Naca

Dos / doze / those / toes shuffle through my head
when Grandma speaks, consonants blurred
from her mouth a flat tire.  Unable to make out
each word I try reading lips, What / that / cat woman,
but end up lost.  Her lips relaxed, bursts of sound
fretting through them.  You muddy her, Grandma barks
at my father.  You muddy her, she drives you grazy.

A child, I love their arguments, never fully
 understanding what Grandma means when
she tells Dad, She get you rosin / rousing / rosing.
You watch.  She geep driving you grazy.  Though
I do get when Grandma says, / gahng /, for can,
and when she says, /gahng /, for can't.
When she curses, wants sympathy -- like,
/Gahng / it raw meet.  It gives you gancer.
Look it's / rrrud /, she blusters. Her r
like she's starting a lawn mower. / Rrraw / meat,
Charlie, she argues, shows it to my father.

Marinade, he answers.  And Grandma gives up.
A martyr she says, Go on, it it.  Her tongue
forcing sparks from our household English.
Beauty when she grabs her chest and sighs,
I gahng go up dos stairs, Charlie.  My art, my art!


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