Wednesday, January 14, 2009

My Life as Norman Whiskers: Discoveries

The idea that a cat might utter words in English seems to captivate my Lady, and she sets off doing all sorts of things to provoke me into speaking again. I truly regret my blunder, and search my heart for a way to make my Lady forget the incident, as the old cat upstairs advised. However, while I watch Milk Man shave in front of the bathroom mirror this morning, he mutters some useful information about her.
"That woman has a memory like an elephant."

I'm not sure if he is addressing me directly, or perhaps, he mistakenly thinks his reflection is another human. (I do that sometimes myself!) At any rate, as soon as he is done grooming himself, and gone for the day, I run upstairs to ask Princess Leah what this statement could possibly mean.
The old cat is sitting in the sink bowl, staring up into the faucet spout.

"Princess Leah, I must speak to you." I say hastily. She turns her old head slowly and gazes at me with frozen green eyes.
"Oh, Hello Norman. What is it?"
I try to gesture to her the idea that my Lady may be part elephant, flipping my tail over the front of my head to simulate a trunk.
"Are you having a seizure, Norman?... Quick! My Lady!.... Summon the vet!" Princess Leah jumps out of the sink with the energy of a much younger cat, genuinely concerned for my well-being.

"No, no! I'm fine." I laugh. "I'm trying to tell you that I think my Lady may be part elephant. Milk Man said it this morning to his reflection while he groomed himself in the mirror. This is odd, Princess, because she isn't even wide, or grey in color. She looks all human, in fact."

"Norman, my naive young boy!" Princess laughs, showing a row of browning teeth. "Milk Man means that she never forgets anything. It's just an expression. She has a memory like an elephant."

After this explanation, Princess Leah returns to the window and peers out. I leave her there as she suddenly forgets I'm in the room.
"A memory like an elephant!" I think. "What a grand ability!"
However, my heart sinks as it becomes apparent to me that my Lady will not forget my blunder. I descend the staircase, hearing the sweet sound of rustling paper below. I find my Lady in the dining room engrossed in the most fascinating project involving multiple strips of paper. She twists, tapes and staples until her efforts form a magnificent snowflake, which she hangs from a curtain rod in the den.

Noticing my interest, my Lady bends down to speak to me directly. "It's origami, Norman. I learned how to make these when I was in college. I'm decorating the windows to surprise the kids." Then my Lady squints her eyes and watches me, waiting for a spoken response, but I keep my pink lips closed tightly. "She's using her elephant memory... Stay strong, Norman." I tell myself.

"Imagine, going to college and acquiring such amazing skills like this origami!" I think. How I wish I could have this opportunity! I think living here will be quite an enriching learning experience.


-Norman Whiskers


Putz said...

so nonrman wishker's is english???????the problem with origami and the english is their stoic passion for the perfection of the job at hand even if it means that useless things are engaged in and about and through and arond the subject at hand...once again this piece rivals any you have done so far, is there anything you can't write about????i wrote about a razor at the bottom of a drawer and everyone though i was talking about a razor in the atual walls...i need to take a writing course from your, english teacher....any news from any publisher , i have ignoble enigma that needs to be published, oh wait first it has to be corerected, spellinf, grammmer, sentance structure, proofed, suspected, accused, violated and understood before a publisher sees it.....359 pages of putz from 1942 to 200009

Elizabeth Kathryn Gerold-Miller said...

Putz, you can have a professional polish up your book for you and help you find an agent. They are listed for hire in the back of writers' magazines. Loren, your snowflake is so beautiful. At first I thought I was looking at a sculpture, then I realized it must be your snowflake in the window. That is amazing!

Loren Christie said...

Putz, I love your interesting writing. Elizabeth, I'll show you how to make one next week. It's easier than it looks.

Ann Victor said...

Lovely origami Loren! And Theodora and Josephine are quite jealous of your beautiful Lady. (they send purrs across the sea!)

Carolyne said...

Love the orgami snowflake - where did you get the pattern? It's gorgeous.

Loren Christie said...

Hi Carolyne!
The snowflake pattern really comes from an art teacher whose daughter attends the youth group that I run. Here's how to make it:

1. Creat a perfect square and fold it into a triangle.
2. Next cut, but not all the way through the paper, three more triangles centered in the large one, small, medium and large.
3. Now open the square and turn it like a diamond.
4. Tape the smallest, inner diamond together, then turn the whole thing over and tape one the other way.
5. Flip it again and tape the last one. That creates one arm of the snowflake.

Make five more of those arms and them tape together at the sides, and staple the center.

If you can follow all this without pictures, then you might be a genious. I had to see it and do it while I watched to understand.

Dear Internet Traveler,

Welcome to my writer's blog, started about six years ago for fun. Over time, the writing I have posted has ranged from personal reflection, to Long Island history research, to tall tales for my own amusement, to feature articles for local newspapers. As you can see from topics listed here, I travel in many mental directions in regard to interests. Click on the tabs and labels to explore my strange mind which senses that you may be having a criss-cross day. If so, perhaps this blog will distract you. However, please note that if you tell me my blog is beautiful just to get me to advertise rhinoplasty surgery and cheap drugs from Canada in your comment, I will ask the gods to give you a tail that cannot be concealed.


Loren Christie

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