When cats compromise for the good of the group

 I was working in the living room this afternoon so Abby could be out of her kennel--we had an unexpected weather day off due to the ice.  She was alternately chewing on toys, coming over for a quick pet, and snoozing, when I looked out the window and began to laugh.  Feral cats, or at least the ones who hang out around here, seem to weather the winter fine.  I always put out some type of shelter for them, and some of them use it, but several obviously have little lairs out in the kudzu somewhere as they only come up at feeding time.  A few weeks ago, I put out a cardboard box (a little trick I learned from a friend back in Texas) with 2 small openings (feral cats like an alternative escape route if necessary), and moved the kitty bed to the front porch now that it would likely rain and/or snow and ice.  I had seen two of them curled up in the kitty bed several times now, which is not all that unusual.

 So, how many cats can get in a kitty bed?  Apparently, when it is 32 degrees or less, at least 5.  Yes, 5.  One more cat jumped into the pile of 4 cats.

   While cats may tend to be independent sorts, when it is cold, they depend on each other as they need each other.  You can be a warm cat in a pile, or a dead cat all by yourself, due to freezing.

Now, if only our elected representatives could figure that out, we might get some things accomplished.

Imagine if you had been in Rayville, Louisiana and came to check your post office box

I have a new project, documenting as many of the New Deal post office murals as I can.  I started it by accident due to a post on Preservation in Mississippi about the restoration of the Picayune post office mural .  It is kind of like getting a cat...first there is just one...and then another, and pretty soon...well, you know about cats.  I had to make an unexpected trip to Texas the past week.  I had previously plotted out all the New Deal murals in post offices in the vicinity between here and there, planning for a leisurely few road trips in the future.  One was on the way to Graham (a real post about that one later) and one on the return trip--two different routes down and back.  I left TX at 6:30 a.m. today as I have to be at work in the morning.  However, Rayville, Louisiana is right on the Interstate on my route home, and I thought it worth a short detour of 10-15 minutes.

Image used with permission from the United States Postal Service

 It is Sunday, but most of the post office murals I have been able to photograph so far have been accessible even on Sunday.  The post offices that were built under the New Deal had both the post windows, the post boxes, and the postmasters offices all in the same room, and when the work day was done, they just pulled down the metal screen to close off the post office inner workings from the outer, so folks could still access their mail boxes 24/7.  It may have been done in later post offices, or they may have just "remodeled", but imagine my surprise, and disappointment, when I finally located the post office near down town Rayville, and walked in to see the above!  Yes, it is Sunday, and even if you can buy liquor, wine, and beer in Louisiana 24/7/365, you cannot get into the area where "the people's art" is located, at least in Rayville.

Image used with permission from the United States Postal Service

Now, truthfully, it is not that big of a deal, as I am up and down this road fairly often, and can go back--and will go back.  But, I was there now, and by golly, I wanted that photograph.  The blinds on the doors did not go all the way to the floor, so I stooped down to see if I could get a view...nope...I got on my knees...nope...I got on all fours...nope.  There was a fleeting moment as I was lowering myself to lie prone on the floor and try to angle the camera where I could see up to the mural from that little sliver of glass that allowed a view into the room (NOTE: Thank you to the US Postal Service for blinds that only close 3/4 of the way.) when I wondered what anyone coming in to pick up mail might think.   On both the Arkansas post office (coming later) and the Louisiana post office, I did note that someone placed lights in a way that did not enable one to adequately appreciate the art, although in this case, it was compounded by the reflection on the glass of the window as I lay on the floor looking through it.  

I will do a follow up visit for photographs when I will be able to have access, and do a real post with the data about the post office and mural.  Somehow, after all the things that have happened during the past few days, as I was lying on the floor of the post office in front of the door where no telling how many people had walked with no telling what on their shoes, yet determined to take the picture, I just had the thought of Larry the Cable Guy saying, "I don't care who you are, that there was funny."  Of course, I had been on the road for 8 hours in the pouring rain by then, and could have been a little light headed.

I drove on across the Mississippi River, and stopped to refuel in Madison for the last quarter of the trip home.  After fueling, I went in for my personal pit stop and to get some water and ice.  There was a young woman at the counter trying to explain something about how much gas she got and how much she intended to get.  By the time I got back out and was paying for my drinks, I got the rest of the story:  There had been a mishap at the pump, and somehow quite a bit of fuel had spilled onto the ground and she was concerned about it.  As I was getting ready to back out, the police and fire truck (hazard guys) were pulling in.  I was on the phone with R, updating him on my ETA when I suddenly said, "I have to go now so I don't get stuck here." I had no idea where that firetruck was going to stop, but I still had an hour and a half more to go, it was still raining, and the last thing I wanted was for that truck to pull up behind me and stop.

I had bought some bottled tea back in Texas--a new tea company, and as R and J and I love tea, I had picked up a box of several varieties, prompting my young checker to ask, "Are you thirsty tonight?"  I planned to pour the Dove Creek Unsweet Texas Tea over my ice, since though once cold, it was no longer so 10 hours later.  Couldn't open it.  Bopped it on the bottom of the jar.  Couldn't open it.  When I moved to Mississippi 10 years ago, one of my friends and colleagues gave me a Swiss Army Knife with a corkscrew.  He said, one never knew in Mississippi when you might need a corkscrew.  I need to get in touch with him and ask him to add a bottle/jar opener.  Obviously one never knows when one might need one of those either.  It crossed my mind to run back into the store and ask someone to please open that bottle for me, as my poor (Yes, I was playing the sympathy card, and it was totally true, folks) arthritic hands just could not manage.  But, then the sirens came and the firetruck came, and I weighed getting stuck there and unable to get out of the parking lot versus getting that bottle of tea open.

Let's just say the tea is in the refrigerator, chillin' out for me to take to work tomorrow, and Swiss Army Knife with bottle/jar opener and corkscrew is on my wish list for next shopping trip.

Old Bank of Leland

 The old [old--as in first building] Bank of Leland was organized in 1899 with capital of $5,000, which increased to $34,000 within 5 years (Dot Turk, "The History and Architecture of Leland", Washington County Historical Society, 1981).  The building above was built in 1909 on Third and Broad.  The first floor was the bank, and the second floor served as offices for McGee & Dean & Company cotton office (Turk).

 The side of the building featured a stairway to access the cotton offices.

Even though the bank built a new building in 1926, across the street, the entrance tile still proclaims the Bank of Leland.

 The building featured a corner entrance, which could be accessed from either side, and a stepped parapet roof.  The door opening into the building has been replaced at some point with a modern door.

The building serves as the offices for the McGee, Dean, & Company plantation office according to the current signage, and obviously needs some repair and paint.  The second floor does not appear to be in use, as windows are boarded and the stairway in inaccessible.

Mississippi Innocence Project

While awake at 4 this morning, I picked up my iPad.  Noting the Mississippi headline in the NY Times, I read the article "Questions for Mississippi Doctor After Thousands of Autopsies." Folks in the area may recall Dr. Steven T. Hayne and his "service" to the State of Mississippi.  What will really chill you is to read the document prepared by the Mississippi Innocence Project providing background and appeals cases involving Dr. Haynes.  I'd put that on my must read list for anyone in Mississippi.

Not a road trip day redux: Texas is going down faster than the sun in Alaska

I was due to depart for Texas yesterday...after the third postponement for the season.  I'm starting to think the universe is talking to me.  Right now, I am in bed, with my leg elevated and alternately iced and wrapped for the second day in a row.  It is a mixed blessing.  It is kind of nice on one hand to simply lie in bed, and do nothing other than read, use the laptop for both research and pleasure, or do a crossword puzzle.  I even took a nap yesterday afternoon.

In 2009, I made my usual December run to Texas, and one day was out in the pasture in a tank top, taking pictures.  The following day, Christmas, it looked like this:

I had helped Dad shovel snow off the decks and steps, and make a path to the barn to feed horse, mule, and dogs and cats.  The snow was coming down almost faster than we could clear the deck, but it had piled up in front of the door to the point one could not open the door, and thus had to be done.

I had to drive back to Abilene yet, in order to meet up with Randy and his father for Christmas dinner before we returned to Mississippi the next morning.  I stopped to take a photo of this frozen fountain in Albany, slipped on the ice, and bruised my hand (from trying to catch myself) and my posterior, from landing on it.

Lately, I've been feeling like things are creeping up on me, and it is always another rude wake-up call when you realized yet once again, "What?  I'm not going to be forever young?  This is going to keep on happening?"  Still, I can't complain; it's usually only temporary, and I am learning to deal with it more effectively the more I learn about how to prevent it and manage it.

Meanwhile, really working on the acceptance of it is what it is and that being forced to slow down, or even stop, and be present in the moment is how I have had some of my most profound learning and joyous experiences.

But for now, it's time for the ice pack.

Woodrow Wilson House

Architect Waddy B. Wood designed number 2340 S Street, NW in 1915.  The Georgian Revival style 3-story, red-brick house was built for Henry Parker Fairbanks (Blanche Higgins Schroer, Carol Kolb, and Steven H. Lewis, 1964, National Register nomination).

 Schroer, et al. describe:

...the most notable features are three Palladian-style windows...Ionic columns and fluted semi-ciruclar arches executed in light stone...oval medallions above the Palladian windows.

 President Wilson purchased the house sight unseen in 1921, during the last months of his second term. His wife found the house while searching for a Washington residence.  He surprised her with the deed in December and they moved into the house following the March inauguration of President Harding.  Wilson gave his last public speech from the balcony over the front door.

 Wilson and his wife, Edith, remodeled the house, adding an elevator, billiard room, stacks for his 8,000 library books, a garage and a terrace.  Wilson lived in the house only 3 years prior to his death, and was semi-invalid for most of that time.

Mrs. Wilson remained in the house until her death in 1961 and bequeathed the house and contents to the National Trust for Historic Preservation, who remain owners and conservators of the museum. Interior photographs can be seen at the Historic American Buildings Survey link.

Pandamania

We all need something to smile about today, the first day of 2013.  Since that likely isn't happening in Washington today, what with all the political posturing and endless cliff speculations, I thought I would bring you a little something more pleasant from DC today.  Pandamania was an art exhibition in the summer of 2004 throughout the DC area.  

 Sponsored by the DC Commission on the Arts and Humanities, 150 pandas were exhibited throughout the city.  Prince Panda, by Joseph Barbaccia, welcomed us on one of our strolls through the neighborhood.

Prince Panda is

truly in style with the Chinese princes of the past. Located in front of Hecht's department store on G Street (http://www.dcpages.com/gallery/PandaMania_Around_the_Mall/ )

You can see the other hundreds of panda statues here, including such delightful creations as Pandela Anderson, Apple Pandawdy, Panda of the Opera, William Shakesbeare, and PandAquarium.  Take a look--it will make you smile, and we all know we need something to smile about today!