Reflections on the First Week of Summer – Celebrating #250

 

Pooped Kittens

Part 1 The Scoop

With sports chatter squawking from a TV and pop music reverberating through speakers, I strained every atom in my body to hear published authors in Tim Hortons. The Meadville Vicinity Pennwriters (MVP) offered feedback on publishing my story “Walk Like a Turkey.”  Babs Mountjoy―writer of romantic suspense, science fiction/fantasy, and legal documents―mumbled, “Janet needs a blog.”

Sixteen days later, September 29, 2014, I published my first Janet of Wells Wood post about arthritis, aging cats, and me.

In Tarot Bean coffee shop four and a half years later, an espresso machine hissed. Catherine McLean―writing instructor, “Women’s Starscape Fiction” author, and Home Show blue ribbon winner extraordinaire―explained blogs at the MVP meeting.

The espresso machine stopped.

I mumbled, “I’ll post my two hundred twenty-ninth blog tomorrow.”

Catherine’s face glowed as if she’d won another ribbon. “Write something to celebrate your three hundredth.”

Brooke comforted her growing baby with abdomen rubs. “Celebrate the two hundred fiftieth.”

Monday, while kittens raced over, under, and around my log chair, I scowled at the laptop. Google Calendar announced blog #250, but Google Search offered nothing like a silver anniversary for 250 blogs. I loosened Rills’ claws from my T-shirt and set him on the floor. “How do I write a two hundred fiftieth blog celebration?”

My son Charlie, standing with a mug of tea and watching Ande paw a ladybug, smirked. “Poop.”

“Don’t pressure yourself.” Spence patted my shoulder. “Write a regular story.”

Gilbert arched his kitten back and jumped sideways.

Charlie guffawed. “Kitten poop!”

Part 2 – The Poop

Groundhog after Its Stroll up the Deck and on the Porch

“Get out!” Spence bellowed from the porch. “Run! Get moving!”

Spence slammed the front door and toed off his garden boots. “The groundhog’s under the deck again.” His face scrunched into a garden-disaster forecast. “Should I ask Kathy for some kitty litter?”

He meant used litter reeking of pee and poop―groundhog deterrent. Pour that into a burrow, and the groundhog moves. When our cats George and Emma died, Spence lost his supply.

Not sure if a fourteen year friendship justified such a request, I said, “Maybe you could try something else.”

Rain and Cleveland trips distracted Spence from his groundhog struggles until a cheeky varmint waddled up the deck the first week of June. It circled the porch, sniffed chair legs, and waddled down the ramp.

Spence raised his arms over his head then slapped them against his thighs. “I’ll get that whistle pig.”

Spence’s confidence came from adopting three male kittens. They produced squishy round poop with a stringy tail. I filled a sixteen pound cat food bag with their tadpole-shaped droppings.

Spence marched to the porch, grabbed the bag, and disappeared under the deck. Weeks later, when we hadn’t seen the groundhog, Spence said, “It moved.”

This week, in preparation for writing the 250^th blog, I followed Spence under the deck to investigate the filled groundhog hole.

“Huh!” Spence pointed at a mound of dirt and a clean burrow entrance. No sign of kitty poop. The groundhog had cleaned―not moved. “I need two more bags of kitty-treated litter.”

Groundhog Hole Under Deck

Part 3 – The Loop

Premise and mini-saga written, I indulged my curiosity on how many blogs I’d sprinkled with poop. Settling in my log chair, I searched. Two worm composts, a race to buy litter before our old cats woke, two kitten poop medicine, and this. Six.

That piqued my curiosity about the frequency of main topics. Jotting lists under categories, I ignored Spence tramping out to the garden, banging pots in the kitchen, and napping on the sofa. I ignored kittens jumping into empty Amazon boxes, whacking each other through the shower curtain, and pouncing on packing paper. I limited categories and totaled entries. Ready to graph.

First I checked Open Office Help directions. Gibberish. But Spence strode past. I asked him.

“Easy with a spreadsheet. But I don’t use your program.” He petted purring Ande. “Watch a YouTube video.” He stuck his foot out to block Ande from running outside and left.

Spreadsheet made, I watched two videos. My graphing buttons didn’t match the ones on the videos―different program versions.

Not wanting to dump the data, I emailed my PhD, scientist daughter.

Ellen emailed two attachments. “Here you go. Click on one of them, go to the design tab and you can change colors and such.”

Her graphs had blue bars. I’d make them green. I clicked on her vertical graph and searched tabs. No Design so I hit Customize. I strained every atom to change colors before remembering one kitten dropping had a greenish tint. Blue might be a better choice.

Ellen's Vertical Bar Graph