Tuesday, September 23, 2003

Hurricane Marty has come up from the Sea of Cortez and is dropping a slow, steady drizzle of water on Tucson. I spent a few minutes outside, the air damp with the smell of my dirt frontyard, momentarily overpowering the pungent smell of the chives blooming in my herb garden. The stucco on the outside of the house traps water in its cracks. The ground in my neighborhood occasionally moves, a result of groundwater pumping, and the fired adobe walls of my house twist and shift, cracks opening up and closing. My dining room wall has a major crack that recently snaked up, splitting the red and gold paint. It seems to be shrinking now, and I fret about it less and less.

Joey peers out the dining room window, trying to figure out what I am doing and why I am not inside admiring her beautiful orange coat. When I come inside all of the cats circle me, Mama Cat insisting on sitting on my lap. I scratch her for a while and then she wanders off, replaced by pretty little Princess. Sometimes I feel that having five cats is like having five bratty kids. And other times I feel so lucky to have these special friends.

Standing in the rain.

Homer's house on South Palomas Avenue.

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