Guess What's In My Bathroom?

THE CUTE KITTY FROM LAST WEEK!

 Oh my God...soooooooo  cute. If I was able to go into high-pitched squeaky baby-talk on this blog I would, because that's all that's been coming out of my mouth for the past 12 hours. Here's what happened:

I hadn't seen the kitty since my post last week. But late yesterday afternoon I glanced out my kitchen window and caught a glimpse of the kitten trying to climb into the underside of my neighbor's car--I'm guessing for warmth. I hauled ass outside with food, water, and a covered litterbox that I filled with blankets as a make-do shelter.  The kitten would come quite close to me, but not close enough to pet, so I left it alone to eat. Once it was done, I went back outside and tried to coax the kitty toward the shelter. The temperature had dropped, the wind was blowing, and it was only going to get worse.

Blair and I talked later that afternoon and I bemoaned the fact that the kitten was so close, but I couldn't get her to come to me but I thought maybe I had interested her in the shelter. "She'll be fine," he said. "That shelter will protect her more than you know."

"I guess," I said.

I went to yoga that night and told people about the cute kitty in my yard. Someone mentioned that the temperature was supposed to drop to 20 degrees last night. "I have to go rescue the kitty!" I cried, only half-jokingly. I know cats retain warmth but 20 degrees is damn cold. I hoped to catch the kitty and keep her in our guest bathroom--warm and safe--for the night.

I went home, went out back, and there was no sign of him/her. "Here kittykittykitty," I called and a bolt of white shot across my neighbors driveway and toward me. I sat outside on my back stoop for about 15 minutes, coaxing the kitty toward me. She/he would get within half an arm's length, but no closer. I pulled the food and shelter back there and thought, "That will just have to do." I went inside.

And was back outside 5 minutes later. "20 degrees" kept going through my head. "I can stand to be cold for 30 minutes at 7:30 at night and stay outside and catch this cat versus her freezing at 2 AM," I told myself. I opened the back screen door and lo and behold, kitty was halfway up the steps! 

For the next 20 minutes I sat in the open doorway, holding the screen door open. Kitty came to the other side of the screen door. I dragged a leaf under the door and she pounced on it. Then I put my fingers under the door and she pounced on those, sniffing and licking them as well. Finally...finally...he/she momentarily came around the door and I grabbed him/her.  I picked kitty up and it started purring and hasn't stopped since.

This cat is a lover.  I hold it like you would a baby, one arm cradled under the back and his/her belly face up. Then I pet this all white belly and kitty stretches and sighs and purrs and sometimes reaches out with both front paws to grab my hand. She/he rubs noses with me and sometimes licks my nose. 

Blair walked in the front door and sang out, "Hi!"

"Shhh!" I said and smiled. "You'll wake the kitty."  

"Oh my God," he said. "I told Michelle at work after you called that I was going to end up with another damn cat."
(That's an act. He's a big softie and this morning vacuumed out a climbing toy of Lucy's she never uses because he thought the kitty might be feeling insecure and might like to hide inside it.)

We talked...and I think we're going to keep the cat. I need to get him/her into the vet this morning to make sure it's healthy and doesn't have any disease that would put my girls in danger. But I told Blair I would have a hard time putting this cat back outside.

"I know," he said, and hugged me.

I'll try and get a picture later today. I can already tell my day is going to be filled with cats. Lucy and Olivia--but especially Lucy--are sniffing around the bathroom door and don't seem pleased with what they smell. No surprise there. We brought Olivia home 5 years ago and Lucy's still miffed. I am worried about what bringing another cat into the home will do to them, so I'm trying to spend lots of time with each cat. 

I'll try to get a photo of kitty later today to post for tomorrow's blog. Meanwhile, I'm in kitty-cat heaven.

Chicken Soup for the American Idol Lover's Soul

Chicken Soup for the American Idol Lover's Soul.  It's coming and fingers crossed, I will be a part of it.

Ever since my stories went into Chicken Soup for the Cat Lover's Soul, I receive e-mail  notifications from the Chicken Soup people for each and every new book they're thinking about putting out: Chicken Soup for the Empty Nester's Soul, Chicken Soup for the Diabetic Soul, Chicken Soup for the Coffee Lover's Soul, Chicken Soup for the Healthy Living--Sleeplessness Soul.  Be warned: there is no end in sight.

Usually I just delete the e-mails, but the one about the American Idol Soul caught my eye. Yes, I watch American Idol, although it gets more painful each season. I don't like a network encouraging people who can't sing to come on TV strictly so the nation can have a collective laugh at them. But that's a tangent for a different day.  What happened when I got the e-mail was that it reminded me of an episode from when AI first came out.

Blair and I were fans of the show. It premiered during one of my random "It's time I learn how to cook" phases in life and I spent the weeks that the show was on setting dish after burned dish of tasteless morsels in front of Blair. FINALLY, one night I managed to pull a meal together. Nothing was smoking, everything appeared to be the proper color, and the cats weren't under the beds, hiding from the bad smells. I was hopeful.

I set the dish in front of Blair. He took a bite. And then my husband--God love him--possibly the whitest man in America, pulled a Randy Jackson on me and said,  "Yo, yo, yo! You did your thing, dawg, you did your thing. You worked this meal out. I'm proud of you dawg, proud of you."

He took another bite.

"Uh, excuse me," I said from across the table. "But did you just call me a dog?" 

"D-a-w-g," said Blair. "You're a dawg." 

"Right," I said. "I'll just be a moment looking for those annulment papers..." 

The story goes on from there but that's the gift of what I sent in. I received an e-mail the next day from the editor saying she liked my story and wanted to submit it to the next round of readers after some revisions.

Bragging rights to Chicken Soup for the American Idol Lover's Soul... that will be a hard career high to top.

Peace out.

Anyone familiar with Moldova?

Being one of those people who is challenged to find China on a map, I had to look this one up. Small Eastern European country that came to my attention due to two dynamic women in my life. Melanie Goulter of Molee Fine Art and Julie Glandt of Carolina Adoptive Services are sisters that live in my hometown. Melanie  and I take yoga together, which is how I know them.  I had both Melanie and Julie on yesterday as guests on my radio show.  Their story is incredible.

Julie first traveled to Moldova in 2000 to work with the orphanages and was overwhelmed by the poverty she saw there. Extremely saddened and depressed, her sponsor there suggested she take her last day to visit some art museums to see the beauty offered there. She did, and was impressed. Artists over there undergo YEARS of strenuous training taking, for example, two years to practice drawing the human body before moving on to anything else.   She saw the art, thought about the poverty, and decided something had to be done.

She came back to North Carolina and talked to Melanie and their brother, convinced them to empty their savings, everyone went back to Moldova and Melanie (who was already in the home decor industry) started investing in artists.  She now has a thriving business as an art dealer at Molee Fine Art and travels to Moldova to discover paintings and new talent, as well as bringing artists over to stay with her family here in the States so they can tour and promote their work.

Julie was awarded a medal of honor by the President of Moldova for her work with children and villages.

These are simply two amazing women and what I find more amazing is they live only several blocks from me! There are extraordinary people in the world if we only take the time to listen to them. And the most extraordinary people, more often than not, are the "regular" people living right next door to you and me.

Here's to being extraordinary...

www.denaharris.com

TA-DA! Today marks the formal unveiling of my revised website. Please visit www.denaharris.com and send me your comments or suggestions--either here or by e-mail. And send your praise to my web site designer, Melody Watson. Melody is the uber web site maven. As a testament to her patience with me, at one point she was e-mailing me messages that read, "Go to www.denaharris.com/test#77."  And she did it with a smile and no hint that I was most likely driving her to drink.

I had to lose my maniac kitty-cat logo on the site, but he'll still be hanging around on this blog.  The only thing not up and running on the site is the Press Kit area and that's because I've procrastinated on it beyond all reasonable time limits. That's part of this week's work--to bring that together.

If you find typos, PLEASE let me know. I've looked at the site so much I actually launched it with the word "Corporate" in the heading spelled as "Corpoate." Oops. 

I feel like I have a fresh start. Not only do I have a new website, I spent 5 (count 'em, 5) hours yesterday purging my file drawers. I hauled 3 1/2 hefty bags of trash to the curb, gathered over 1000 sheets of paper to be recycled (i.e., I'll use them to print on the blank side) and salvaged about 50 file folders. My office must be a good 20 pounds lighter and it feels awesome. (Although last night when Blair asked me how my day was and I triumphantly told him of my purging success, his response was "So you didn't do anything today that would actually earn money?" Party-pooper.)

No excuse not to work now. On the agenda: a press release, arranging time for an interview with the president of the largest tilapia-producing fish-farm in the nation (envy me), doing prep work for a 35-minute keynote speech I'm delivering to an ABWA dinner meeting next week, AND working on my press kit.

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A quick shout out to my friend Trisha who stayed up until 1 AM, completing a 1,000-piece puzzle she and her son started after Christmas. With eyes drooping and head pounding, she stayed at her post until the last piece was put together.  Trisha, darling...seek help.