Update on Catalini

I've just about abandoned this blog, so much going on these days, but I got a delightful email from Catalinni that I wanted to share with you. That woman is such an inspiration to me! (I've altered some names to protect privacy)

I've had so many emails asking for an update I thought I had better get on with it and bring every body up to date on what's been going on in my life since the last one.

As you know I am undergoing my third round of 6 chemo treatments and my 2nd treatment was February 7th. I have had 10 chemo treatments all totaled thus far.

The nurse pre-treats me by running different drugs through the IV to prevent allergic reactions and nausea and other side effects all of which have done their job so far. Then she gives me 3 hours of taxol ( the first chemo drug) followed by 45 minutes of carboplatin. This web site explains it all for the curious who want to know all the gory details.

But on this 11th treatment my body decided to develop an allergy to the carboplatin. It's not the cancer that kills you -- it's the kill or cure treatments. First my hands started to itch and then they went hot pink and so did my face. I had trouble breathing. They ran for a doctor who tried a couple of different antidotes before they found the right one. They continued the treatment without incident.

They say if your palms itch it means you are going to get money but I am still waiting for my ship to come in.

March 7th I had my 3rd chemo treatment. This time they pre-treated me with benadryl before each drug, but that didn't work either. This time the rash spread over my whole body and it took 3 doctors and 3 drugs before they were able to clear it up. By this time it was 7pm and the nurses were supposed to go home at 5pm so they did not continue with the carboplatin.

Dr. Hoskins ( I call him Dr. Faulty because he is a dead ringer for John Cleese on that British TV show - Faulty Towers) phoned me yesterday and said they will not be continuing with the carboplatin in future.

He said it is not safe to administer it anymore because it could be fatal. He said he has done a good job of keeping me alive this far and doesn't want to see me drop off from the drug. He said the taxol will do its job without it, it's just a little better when they use them both together. I asked does that mean my life will be shorter now?. He said “about 15 minutes shorter.”

Anyway I trust his judgment because - as he says -he is doing a good job of keeping me alive so far. I told him my short term goal is to be here to welcome the new grandboy in July, and my long term goal is the 2010 Olympics. My nephew Dr. Don has promised that if I am still here, he is taking me to the Opening Ceremonies. Dr. Faulty says he can promise me the July deadline. As for 2010, he said “I'm not so sure but I will do my best.”

Other than a few side effects, and a chronic bladder infection, I am enjoying my life immensely. The highlight of my life was the night my son John took me to a real live Canucks Hockey game at GM Place in Vancouver.

I watch all the games on TV and I go to a lot of John's hockey games. He plays in an adult league in his community. But this was the most exciting evening I have ever had. Just being part of the crowd and the yelling and screaming and seeing the players in person was just a fantastic experience. They have giant TV screens way up over the rink and they keep the crowd riled up with signs “NOISE” “LOUDER” and they play loud raucous music and hands clapping to get the crowd clapping their hands. It's just so crazy to see all these adults letting their inhibitions go and just making absolute fools of themselves. Some of them dress up and paint the Canucks logo on their faces. And every time the Canucks scored a goal the whole audience of fans stood up and cheered and whistled and waved flags and towels and banners and whatever else they had in their hands. Just wild and crazy. I loved it so much.

Last Saturday, Sid and By came over and took me out for sushi lunch and then came back and cleaned my apartment – vacuumed and tidied and did a whole bunch of little jobs that I can't do. Put up the shower curtain, changed light bulbs sorted out junk, organized shelves and carried the junk to the dumpster. My house feels so clean and tidy. About a month ago John had sent in a carpet cleaner who steamed cleaned the whole apartment. That was my Christmas present from John and Sarah.

George comes over often and does little jobs and keeps my computer running smoothly.

Spring Break is this week and next, so my grandkidz are having turns visiting me. Tuesday I had such a busy day. I took my grandgirlz to the mall and spoiled them rotten. I let them empty my piggy bank of the dimes nickels and quarters and share the money.

Rosie had her red pyjama bottoms on. All the teens go out in their pj's these days. So I said , “does that mean i have to wear my red satin pyjamas to the mall too?” She said yup. Then she went thru my hoodies and picked a red one for me to wear. And I had to wear my red wig, because Roxx is a redhead. I said people will think I'm your sister. So here I am walking around the mall dressed like a teenager in my red satin pj's. And nobody even noticed. Lotsa people looked at my red wig with a curious look but nobody noticed my pj's.

George drove us to the mall on his lunch hour. We lunched at the Food Court, after which we went to the dollar store and shopped up a storm. Luv those Dollar Stores. Becca, age 9, bought make-uppy things and Rosie (age 13) bought incense and an incense holder for her bedroom.

Then we took Becca to Go Bananas – the indoor playground. The rule is that your child cannot be left unsupervised, so Roxx stayed with her while i went shopping at Walmart. and then when i came back she went shopping.

George came back for us after work and they all had dinner with me. Then they had to rush off to Rosie's guitar lesson. All in all it was a very tiring but wonderful day.

I had one day to rest up because Thursday the grandboyz came for lunch.

Their amazing Super Nanny, Maddy, brought all 3 of them on the skytrain, seabus, and bus all the way from Surrey. And she was still smiling when she got here. Come to think of it I did that for a lot of years with my 3 sons and lived to tell the tale.

I always do theme meals for the kidz so we had a St. Pat's Day lunch party. With hats, and decorations, green tablecloth and napkins, green slurpies and the Irish Rovers music.

Then Maddy trooped Harry and Jimmy back the way they came, leaving Tommy for his sleepover. Hurricane T. that is. Can't wait til he's 7.

We watched old Our Gang movies and Harry Potter. On Friday I took him to see the Shaggy Dog and we took our own popcorn and drinks. Sarah picked us up from the theatre. When Tommy was leaving he said “bye Grandy, I love you, even if parts of you are missing. I still love what's left of you.” Out of the mouths of babes.

I looked out the window this morning and said “Thanks for this beautiful day and thanks for letting me live to see it.” It's just like Easter Sunday out there. I went to the Noorouz Bazaar with my Iranian friends and her two daughters. Walking up the bus people were stopping and smiling and saying “isn't this a beautiful day ?”

So all in my life is still running smoothly except for the few side effects. I just keep plodding on. I'm gonna live, live, live til I die.

Forty Days of Lent

I heard a little when I was growing up about Lent, those forty days preceding Easter, from friends who always "gave up" something. Or at least, they would talk about giving something up. I never saw the point, thought they were being silly.

Now I see the point.

Lent is a penitential season preceding not only Easter but Holy Week, the Passion drama. We take on certain mortifications, voluntarily, to try to do a couple of things. First, we want to bring our bodies, wills and egos into a greater conformity with the Gospel. Careless self-indulgence can make us spiritually insensitive; the Lenten absinence is a good antidote. We also want to identify ourselves with the sufferings of Christ, Who suffered all so that we could be reconciled to the Father.

It isn't as bad as it sounds. Some people give up red meat -- I am going to do that this year. Others give up habits, like smoking, that are detrimental but have a strong hold on them, a strong attachment. We are also encouraged to add to our lives -- through extra devotional reading, or works of mercy that we would normally avoid.

The point is to move further away from our comfort zone so that we can become more pliable in the Master's hands. I want to encourage my non-Catholic friends to adopt some act of self-sacrifice during this time, and offer it up to God, as an experiment. See how He transforms you through the offering.

Perfect... in the Potter's Hands

When a potter sets out to make an object, he first takes a lump of clay and plops in onto his wheel. At least, that's the way it's done these days, when clay is obtained commercially and not from the clayhole out in back of the shed. In the old days, as I've been told, the potter would get a quantity of clay, dump it onto a table, and begin sifting through it with his fingers in order to locate pebbles and other debris that had to be removed before the clay could be worked. Then he'd have to either let the clay dry out a bit in order for it to be pliable, or add water to it for the same end.

But whenever he places that clay on the wheel, only he knows what the final product is intended to be. All you or I could see would be a quantity of clay. But that's okay -- it's supposed to be only clay at this stage of the process, and it's perfectly a lump of clay.

Then he starts to turn his wheel (old-time potters around here use foot-treadle wheels). With calm certainty the palms of his hands and his fingers press against the clay, which rises up and takes shape as he directs.

Not until the process is well underway can you or I tell what the potter is making -- a bowl, a vase, a mug... but the potter knows. And even in those early, unidentifiable stages of the process, the clay is perfectly being shaped in his hands. At each stage of the process, the work-in-progress is perfect, exactly what the potter wants it to be at that moment.

You and I, the Bible tells us, in the Psalms and in Jeremiah, are clay in the Potter's hands. We are not now what we are going to become, but at this point in the process, we are perfectly what we ought to be in His hands. Not yet perfected, but becoming so.

and a new Conversion begins..

Talking with my friend Lina, who's talking with her son's girlfriend... Joy has felt the Presence of Christ in the "gold box," the Tabernacle, and said her "Yes!" to Him. "It makes sense now," she says.

That "Yes" is the single most important word Joy, or you or I, will ever utter. I said my "Yes" to Christ back in the summer of 1975, after I saw Him hanging on the Cross, beaten to a bloody pulp with his flesh in gaping lacerations, for the sake of restoring me to union with the Father. Not "the world," mind you, but me, Laura, individually.

But we keep saying "Yes" as we discern His personal will for us. Yes, He wants us to live in union with Him, close to His Sacred Heart. But what vocation? Marriage or consecrated celibacy? What lifework are we called to? What individual mission at any given moment of the day?

And which sins are we hanging on to? What grudges? What vanities of mind and heart do we treasure? When He asks us to hand them over to Him, to protect us from the harm they can do us, do we willingly offer Him our "Yes"?

The Apostle Paul urged the Roman Church to be transformed by the renewing of their minds -- them, and us, too. This is conversion, and it is an ongoing, lifelong process, not once for all. We cast ourselves into His arms, as it were, but then there is this ongoing occupation of becoming so like Him that we others can see His likeness in our lives, as they can see my dad's in my face.

Conversion Story getting wider readership

I was blessed immensely to be able to attend the Fourth Annual Ignited by Truth Conference in Raleigh over the week-end, where I got to hear former Baptist evangelist Steve Ray, author of Crossing the Tiber and several other wonderful books and video series (see the website), not only give his testimony but also provide some exciting biblical background -- and geographical as well as Scriptural context -- to many of the Gospel foundations of our Faith.

I got to meet Steve after his initial talk on Friday evening, and yesterday I sent him my conversion story, "Prelude and Fugue in Faith," which as many of you know was one of the first things I awkwardly posted on this blog (back in the April and May archives). Well, Steve has posted "Prelude and Fugue in Faith" on his website, along with many, many other exciting stories. If you go to the site I linked above, then look along the top directional bar to "Stories," you should not have any trouble finding it.

I also urge you to take some time to become acquainted with his Catholic Convert website. It's packed with some wonderful articles and papers that Steve and others have prepared as they've come to share their own decisions to become Catholic -- a fantastic resource for those of us who are called on to defend our Faith! and who isn't?

Actually -- Steve made a point I want to share with you. When he and his wife attended their very first Mass, Janet came out afterward shaking with rage. She was angry with their Protestant tradition for lying to them... but she was even angrier with Catholics for not telling them the Truth. Friends, we aren't just to defend our Faith, we need to be out there assertively sharing it. Are we? I haven't been, but that's going to be changing as of NOW.

and more updates --

Got an email from my friend Donna last night -- her daughter-in-law Jenn is doing well, and the baby is a boy! They are all very excited about this. There will be no more grandchildren after this one (so they are all determined at this point) and this will be the one boy in a cluster of girls. So far, Jenn is doing well and has not had the problems with her heart that troubled her earlier in this pregnancy and throughout her first one. They all say Thanks for the prayers.

I also saw Eric at school this week. His wife is "hangin' in there," and they say, "Please keep praying. It's the only thing that's getting them through all this mess."

And in today's news...

Our local paper has published the news that one of our doctors has turned in his license to practice medicine in response to accusations that he has behaved inappropriately with female patients. Of course, the reporter didn't stop with just the basic information; he had to go into great deatail about just what sort of inappropriate contact the doctor had been alleged to have had with the women filing the complaints against him.

This happens to be... my doctor. He's also a fellow Catholic, a member of my original parish, a husband and a father. When my ex-husband had a medical crisis early in our marriage, this doctor was his admitting physician and saw both of us through a difficult and, for me, frightening episode. I've seen him since for sinusitis and other general ailments (fortunately for me, the only sorts of ailments I suffer).

When I started attending Mass in anticipation of converting, he and his wife were among the first people I became (re-)acquainted with. They were warm and welcoming. At one point they looked at property that was for sale adjacent to mine, and I had hoped we would become neighbors. I've observed this man with his family in Mass and at local restaurants -- I've seen his patience and kindness with a highly energetic son and with crying babies.

I don't understand how a man, serious about his religion and blessed with a lovely and affectionate wife and beautiful family, could fall in such a flagrant way, but I know it does happen. I don't know how a woman, knowing her husband, the man to whom she is linked, body and spirit, has violated the promises of their marriage covenant, can survive such a blow... but women do it every day.

But this wife has the additional burden of particular details of her betrayal and humiliation being placed in print for the general public to read and talk about. The extent of the detail was certainly not necessary; it seems to me that prurient interests were being catered to, not genuine reporting.

Whatever happens in their family, this newspaper article has made their situation even more difficult. There must be some means of holding reporters and publishers to moral responsibility, sensitivity to those innocent people whose lives are disrupted by scandalous disclosures, common decency.

and in other news...

In addition to Abby, I've been sent an update on the two individuals who were listed as undergoing spiritual discernment. My friend says one of them has simply lost interest, and the other seems never to have had any intention of really learning about the Church but was more intent on converting her from Catholicism.

It's a very strong reminder for me, though, of the need to daily pray for the conversion of souls.

Prayer Update: baby Abby

I've received a nice, newsy email from Abby's grandmother, and she has good news about baby Abby, who has been the subject of many of your prayers following her diagnosis, shortly after her birth, with thyroid problems: I am very well and Abby is doing brilliantly as well. Her medication is working well, she just needs regular check ups and as she grows her dosage will be adjusted. She is a very happy little girl, she sleeps all night (nearly every night and is developing a very giggly personality.

I actually removed Abby from the prayer list a while back, but I'm glad to be able to provide such a good update. Deo Gratias!

I think I'm back...

Hi, Friends --
I've been away, more than not, for more than a month now. First it was computer problems (thanks, Pete, for saving my laptop for a few more hours of hard grind!). Then it was illness -- I've had upper respiratory problems including repeated sinus infections and laryngitis since the day before our Messiah performance (that would be December 9/10). I'm starting to get back on my feet, and I hope to resume regular posting...

... not that I have much to say that will change the face of the nation. I've got several drafts going of some new stuff... including a stab at some reflections on the recent uprisings of Islamic extremists (?) over the Danish cartoon images of Mohammed... we'll see what winds up for the world to see. Thanks for your ongoing prayers.

I LOVE my German Shepherd!

I'm in the middle of reading Pope Benedict XVI's first encyclical, Deus Caritas Est (God Is Love) and will likely comment on it during the coming week. For now, though, a word about the commentators who seem to be bemused at the former "Grand Inquisitor" of the Church turning out a such a tender document as his first encyclical. They seem to be of the opinion that Benedict has somehow become a different man from the former head of the Congregation of Divine Faith, which is the office of the Church concerned with orthodoxy, etc. What they have utterly failed to recognize is that the very same love, wisdom and cognizance of Divine Love as the ground and being of all Christian service -- from the marital relationship to social activism -- was also the ground and center of then-Cardinal Ratzinger's impetus as Prefect of the Congregation of Divine Faith.

This encyclical is great reading. My Protestant friends will be astonished at how poetically idealistic the Church is in matters of Love... but there it is. Yet it's an idealism linked inextricably to Truth, not some pie-in-the-sky unattainable mush.

Hello again

It's been a while since I've posted because of computer problems (again!); in fact, I'm posting from a friend's computer tonight.

Chorale rehearsals resumed after what seemed like an interminable month-long hiatus following the Messiah performance. Several of us made a point of getting together a couple of times over the holiday, but it was wonderful returning to the rehearsal venue on January 10 to pick up a new concert preparation. I'm singing soprano this semester; I've been working with Barb, the Chorale manager and my Raleigh roommate, and even with my lack of discipline and our irregular and infrequent schedule I've added almost half an octave to my upper range.

The schedule this semester is two concerts in May -- the first with the NC Symphony, performing Mahler's Symphony No. 2, followed a week later by our own subscription concert featuring the Bruckner Mass in E minor and several varied songs. I've never encountered German before and find the Mahler challenging, but the Bruckner is gorgeous and a joy to work on.

Another treat I'll make mention of is that Barb and I went, the week-end of the 15th, to the sleepy little town of Mount Olive (home of the pickle company of the same name) to visit my friend, Fr. James Garneau. We had a wonderful and heartening visit on Saturday evening, and Sunday morning Barb sang "How Beautiful" from Messiah and I played for the parish's sole English-speaking Mass and cantored the Psalm. Fr Jim is doing a wonderful work in that bastion of Baptist culture, and is greatly respected and loved by people of all faiths there; he is even teaching some history classes at the local Baptist college! Please remember him and his work there in your prayers.

I hope to be more regular in posting for a while, now. Thanks for your ongoing prayers. Much love to all.

My deepest sympathy and my prayers go out for the repose of the souls and the consolation of the loved ones of the victims of the mining disaster in West Virginia.

I was once engaged to a man from Ohio whose youngest brother had worked as a miner; even such an indirect link makes this tragedy all the more vivid and personal. I can't help but be angry, too, although I'm not sure just where to direct my indignation. Is it comprommised workplace safety? The greed of mine owners? The callousness of consumers driving a demand for services and product that kills men? I just don't know.

Merry Christmas, Y'All

Two days before Christmas Eve, and I'm still fighting the upper respiratory infection that nearly silenced me for our Messiah performance. Oh, I'm better... I'm just not well yet.

I'll be singing for two servcies at St. Timothy's on Saturday, Christmas Eve. The music Patricia chooses is always so lovely. Then I hope to be at home at St. Tony's for a Mass on Christmas Day.

I notice a lot of the same friends come in several times a day to check this little bit of my life, and for that loyalty and constancy, I thank you. I keep thinking I ought to be posting more to justify your visits... perhaps when I get well I'll be able to do more. In the meantime, please know that during this coming week-end you will be in my thoughts and prayers. I'll be making a Holy Hour during the week-end and remembering the intentions of my dear friends. That is you.

God bless and keep you as we celebrate the Birth of our Savior this week-end.

A good Review

Here's a very good review we received for our performance on Sunday. I'm so grateful and proud to have been part of it. (Oh -- and Al is the best!)

Messiah!

You're sitting in your seat in a lovely, modern auditorium. The house lights dim, the stage lights go up... the conductor steps onto the podium and lifts his baton... a small orchestra plays a lovely and rousing overture, then after a pause, the strings pick up a gentle introduction,the tenor steps forward and tenderly sings

"Comfort ye -- comfort ye, my people."

It's almost startling, even after I've heard it a dozen or so times. We expect a story about the Messiah to begin with the Incarnation, the Nativity -- but instead we're shown why we need a Redeemer: we are out of step with God, our lives are marked by sin and confusion; we need help, we need... comfort.

But this prophetic beginning also warns us of a coming Judgment. "The Glory of the Lord shall be revealed..." "for He is like a refiner's fire" "and He shall purify..."

And how shall this work be accomplished? "Behold, a virgin shall conceive..."

Then, after more vocal prophecy about the Coming One, how He will bring light to the Gentiles and Light to the ends of the earth...

there is an interlude, a "pastoral symphony," which seems musically to mark the passing of generations from the utterance of the promises to their fulfillment.

The voices return with the wonderful narrative of Luke's Gospel: "There were shepherds abiding in the field...."

How can you not be caught up in the story? The Savior is born! "Rejoice greatly, O Daughter of Zion, for behold! thy King cometh unto thee!" And during his lifetime, "He shall feed his flock like a shepherd," so we must "Come unto him, take His yoke upon you and learn of Him --" "For His yoke is easy and His burden is light!"

And by now, after all those weeks of intense labor, the melismas dance over the tongue and the burden of them is light... and somehow all the music is pouring out of my heart even more than from my lips, and this oratorio is an offering of praise and thanksgiving to Christ.

Even after the intermission, when we abruptly turn from joy to sorrow -- "Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sins of the world" -- and instead of light and joyous singing we are following Him to the Cross and His passion -- we lift our voices to dramatize that Passion -- we paint pictures with our voices of the One Who, without blame or iniquity of His own, took on our own and bore it for us. We become the angry mob condemning Him with scorn and derision. We mock, we sneer, we flout... we stand back in awe, for "He did not leave His soul in hell, nor suffer Thy Holy One to see corruption."

We watch as the powers of darkness rail and try to deny the Power of God... in vain of course, for "Hallelujah! The Lord God Omnipotent reigneth! And He shall reign forever and ever!"

And we look ahead to the coming Judgment, and the Marriage Feast of the Lamb, where we all shall sing -- can it possibly be more glorious music in Heaven than this? Can my heart bear it that it is? -- "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain... to receive power and wisdom and riches and strength, and honor and glory and blessing... forever and ever -- Amen!"

And somehow through this music we are given a glimpse into that Final Day when we all shall be prostrate at His pierced feet, honoring Him for Who He is -- seeing Him clearly and without mortal hindrance for the first time for all eternity....


Wouldn't you know it, two days before our performance of Handel's Messiah, I started developing an upper respiratory infection? By Sunday, I was whispering and lip-syncing, not singing. Still, I think I would have fought my way out of far worse to stand on that stage at Meymandi Hall with these people who have become my dear friends -- many of whom are fellow brothers and sisters in Faith -- to worship Our Lord in this glorious music.

"Blessing and honor, glory and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, forever and ever. Amen."

Messiah Mediations, continued

You'll enjoy reading these commentary notes on Messiah.

As for myself, I can hardly believe there's only a dress rehearsal and then the performance this week-end. We've been so busy preparing for the Holiday Pops concert with the NC Symphony, and that was a fun performance opportunity throughout Thanksgiving week-end, and only two full rehearsals since then devoted to this cantata, which is our main concert offering for this semester.

Messiah is a wonderful piece of music. We tend to think of it as a Christmas offering, but it was originally performed in 1742 as an Easter cantata. The cantata is divided into three parts: Part One celebrates the Incarnation of the Promised One of Israel, Part Two is devoted to the Passion, and Part Three is a reflection on the nature of our salvation and a looking ahead to the Last Judgment. It could very fittingly be performed at any time of the year, and in fact some of its arias are featured as solos in churches throughout the year: "He Shall Feed His Flock," "I Know that my Redeemer Liveth."

It has been a worshipful experience for me to work on this cantata, even at the breakneck speed at which we've approached it this semester. Al's sensitivity to the spiritual content of the work, merged with his musical expertise, have brought out elements of worship and awe unlike any prior performance or recording I've ever heard. I've mentioned the light-heartedness of the melismas in a number of pieces (you've no idea how much HARD WORK it takes to make some music sound and feel light and airy) -- lightness of joy and confidence in the Gift of God. And Awe -- that's the overriding theme I've encountered these past few months: Awe of the Incarnation, Awe of the immediate presence of God, Awe of His mercy, Awe of Who He Is. Combined, every time we rehearse this cantata, it is an experience almost of being placed in front of a peep-hole into Heaven.

A most interesting contrast!

I just got this from my buddy Bill -- don't know whether it's authentic, but I've never heard kicking and screaming from the folks up north... so I'll assume it's true in spirit if nothing else (and I hope the mugwumps down in Louisiana are paying attention):


(For those of you who are not aware, North Dakota and southwestern Montana got hit with their first blizzard of the season a couple of weeks ago)

This text is from county emergency manager out in the western part of North Dakota state after the storm.

Amusing...

WEATHER BULLETIN

Up here in the Northern Plains we just recovered from a Historic event --- may I even say a "Weather Event" of "Biblical Proportions" --- with a historic blizzard of up to 24" inches of snow and winds to 50 MPH that broke trees in half, stranded hundreds of motorists in lethal snow banks, closed all roads, isolated scores of communities and cut power to 10's of thousands.

George Bush did not come....
FEMA staged nothing....
No one howled for the government...
No one even uttered an expletive on TV...
Nobody demanded $2,000 debit cards.....
No one asked for a FEMA Trailer House....
No news anchors moved in.

We just melted snow for water, sent out caravans to pluck people out of snow engulfed cars, fired up wood stoves, broke out coal oil lanterns or Aladdin lamps and put on an extra layer of clothes.

Even though a Category "5" blizzard of this scale has never fallen this early...we know it can happen and how to deal with it ourselves.

Everybody is fine.

It's so nice to be loved --

even when the love is from a poor little stray cat. The Ghost is still here; I don't have the heart to take him to the county animal shelter. He's under my feet all day long, and on my lap when I sit down. Last night friends stopped by, and he was even friendly toward them! I'm putting the word out around town, maybe someone will want to adopt him and he won't have to go to any of our shelters, even the no-kill ones.

Here's a very thrilling article about the "reversion" of novelist Anne Rice.