Homer'sWorld

The basil-watermelon pickles came out nice- a bit tart with a mild basil taste. I wonder how people will react to them?



















Basil-watermelon pickles.

I am going to buy a big canning pot with a liftable insert, my double boiler leaks water everywhere on the stove.

Afterward, I took Paul down to Cobban and Ray's house to play in the pool.




















Ray, Paul, and Cobban.

The monsoon is in full force and it is raining a lot in southeastern Arizona. Everything was so lush and green and the wild sunflowers are blooming.

For supper I had made pimento cheese wraps and Ray made a nice pasta salad. I ate too much and got a little acid reflux.
























Rainbow!

It was a nice way to spend the day, domesticity and friends.

Double Rainbow in Tucson.



















It was so intense.

So fucking hot out at the dig site and of course it is near one of the sewage plants so I got to try out some new, disgusting smells.

I was off working by myself so there was plenty of time to think things over. I thought a lot about Sam, remembering the good things about him. His charm, the sly smile, his enthusiasm for certain things (once, obsessing over McNuggets). My heart aches for his partner Greg.

And then I thought about that nasty Maggie Gallagher, trying to understand why she hates us homos so fucking much. I hypothesized about various scenarios, as a scientist is apt to do. My guess, the man who knocked her up and wouldn't marry her was gay. Maybe she was his fag-hag? I wish a reporter would ask her these exact questions (maybe throwing in, "So when your bastard child was born, did your parents hate you?" Note, my father was a bastard child, so I know that can fuck you up pretty bad).

At lunch time someone said something they shouldn't have said and I blew up. I never, ever lose my cool. But today I did and in front of various assorted permanent and temp workers I got downright nasty over something that has been going on at work for a year. Said things like, "I'm tired of this bullshit and I am not going to take it anymore." Very loudly. Stunned faces ensued. And I'm not going to take it. Certain people need to act their fucking age and stop with the cliques and deciding not to hire perfectly competent people because they are friends with so-and-so. The boss is on my side, so they better mind their fucking manners.
























Post rant.

At pool volleyball I forgot about things I wanted to forget, bit the inside of my lip, and got saltwater stains on my glasses lenses, which I haven't figured out how to get off.



















The guys.

I was mostly on the winning team and played alright. My long monkey arms come in handy at batting the ball across the net.




















The coconut cake was delicious, and it was nice to spend time with my friends.

Begin Year 8. It is a cloudy day with occasional sprinkles. That matches my emotions at the moment.

Coconut cake is a baking in the oven, Patrick requested it. Pasta salad with homemade herbal-Italian dressing in the fridge. Hope it doesn't rain on volleyball. I may make another batch of watermelon rind pickles tomorrow. I'm taking my last jar north to Mark and Rodger in a couple of weeks.

Patrick and I are going to Sam's memorial service in Portland to say goodbye. I'm listening to one of DJ mixes right now. Last night Wade and I talked about him and how much we missed him.

You know, my friends are really important to me. I was so lonely as a kid, the misfit, the fag. The most positive thing about having had a blog for the last seven years is the people I have met through it, the friendships that have developed. I expect many of them will be my friends until the day I'm gone.

So what will Year 8 bring? Hoping that is better than Year 7.

I've been pretty down and on top of everything I hadn't seen Bunny in a couple of weeks. I figured the dogs had gotten her or perhaps one of the neighbors. And then last night she appeared again, happily munching away at the grass in the backyard.



















Bunny.

It was nice to see my little rabbit friend again, my spirits were lifted a bit.

Probably sometime in the summer of 1891, the hired girl finished a dress for my great grandfather Colonel. Back then, my great-great grandparents could afford a hired girl for the house and a hired man to help with the chores. Back then, little boys wore dresses. I suppose it was partly Victorian elaboration, partly the fact that changes in boy's clothing marked their changing status towards adulthood.
























Colonel and Ada, circa 1891-1892.

My great grandfather is around five-years-old in the picture, Ada is perhaps a year to a year-and-a-half.

My great grandfather had big ears. I remember them from when I was a child. We went to his house in the summer and picked strawberries from his sandy garden. He lifted a board and showed up an enormous toad underneath. The last time I saw him he was suffering from senility, claiming that a neighbor had stolen his lawn mower when my uncle had taken it away for safety reasons. He died in January 1974.

My mother has the dress and the lace collar, still in good condition almost 120 years later.
























Colonel's dress.

Little boys graduated to short pants and then, a bit later, to long pants. By age 10 they were wearing adult-style clothing.
















From left: Harrison, Perry (back), Charles (front) Ada, and Colonel, circa 1898.

Grandma said the Ransoms always spent a lot of money on clothes.

So the last few days I have been pretty down. It is hard for me to think about Sam being gone. When I hugged him goodbye in May I said to him, "Come visit Tucson," and he said, 'I'm going to."

Little things bring him to mind, a television show about airline employees. I miss trading emails with him. And yet I know that those who knew him better and loved him are suffering a million times more.

And then I see that nasty Maggie Gallagher yapping about how gay people can't have real families because she gets to decide what's what. It makes me seethe. What does that money-grubbing whore know about our families? My guess, she's just miserable because no one has ever really loved her.

Yuck, that entry was too much. Plus, I suspect it was just a con.

Sam, you were an awesome man. I wish you knew how much I admired your wit and charm, the brilliant writing on your blog.

















Sam, San Rafael Valley, 2003

He was the first blogger I was to meet in person. I think it was May or June of 2003 and I was stopped at a stoplight downtown and this incredibly cute guy walked in front of my car and LOOKED at me. He had that kind of magic. On a picnic out at the San Rafael Valley he told me about this guy he had met, Jeff, and that was his first love. Two months ago I had the privilege of meeting Greg, his second love. Sam certainly knew how to pick fine men.

A month ago he mentioned that he wished he knew where the Storicks family had come from so I researched his family tree and send him information tracing them back to a guy named Henry, born in Bavaria in 1819. He was really excited by that. I'm glad I was able to do that for him.

So long buddy, I will miss you.

Snowball, also known as Baby, squirms when I try to take his picture.
























Snowball.

Going outside to have your picture taken is exciting and scary. He is now running around the house like a maniac.

I bought a packet of zinnia seeds when Mummy was here and planted them. One came up.



















Zinnia.

For me the biggest downside of living in Arizona is that I can't grow the things I would like to grow. If I ever leave Tucson I will go to a place where I can have a real vegetable and flower garden.

The monsoon rains have started, finally. The plants are turning green and the cacti are sucking up water, growing fatter.

My house continues to be steamy. The cats jockey to see who can sit the closest to the window AC unit. I just reprimanded Puff for sitting on top of Snowball.

My mind has been preoccupied by the sudden illness of a friend. I am hoping that everything turns out alright, he is a rascal and at times brilliant and I want him to continue to be that way.

New vintage shirt. 100 percent J. C. Penny's polyester.
























Eight dollars at Buffalo Exchange.

Tropical wear is so appropriate when it is 100+ degrees and the humidity is above 50 percent. My house is a steam bath.

Mango chutney upside-down cake. One can sliced pineapple arranged in a buttered pan. Liberally spoon Trader Joe's Mango Ginger Chutney inside and between the slices.



















The red flecks are red pepper pieces.

My name is Homer and I approve of this product.
























Chutney.

Then one stick of butter melted in a frypan with a cup of brown sugar and half of the pineapple liquid from the can. Cook until it is boiling and pour over the pineapple slices. Make a yellow cake from scratch, substituting half of the milk with the remaining pineapple liquid. Place over the pineapple slices. Put in your vintage gas oven and heat your house up some more. Sit in front of the AC unit with the cats.



















Ready to go in the oven.

When finished baking a knife stuck in comes out clean. Cool in the pan. Take to a friend's house and borrow a big platter and then wonder whether it will come out when you invert it. Be very pleased that it does so with no major mishaps.



















Eat a big piece and then eat another piece because it is really good.

Puff wants to go outside sometimes, but once he gets there he can't figure out what to do.



















Puff.

There have been many times in my life where I have been in the same exact situation.

Great-great grandfather, great-great grandson.


















AmericanHouseLocationUnknown.

The fucking heat is making me cranky. I am sitting at my desk and the sweat is running down my legs. I read about yet another Republican politician telling me I should be treated with dignity, moments after she states that we are not equal to straight people.

For some reason I became especially outraged when women are homophobes. What the fuck is wrong with these women?

Maggie Gallagher is just plain fucked up. She got knocked up and the semen donor wouldn't marry her (I understand why), so she is forever pissed off about it. So she thinks that children should only have straight parents. Yes, her logic is flawful. Plus, there is the piles of money she gets dragging herself around the country making her mental problems our problems.

Linda Lingle, the governor of Hawaii, is twice divorced and has a total Lebanese hairdon't. She has future political aspirations, I am sure, and has decided that equating faggots to cousin-fuckers is the way to score some votes. Except you can marry your first cousin in Hawaii (and in the old Hawaiian royal family, brother-sister marriage took place). Total lesbian vibes on that woman.

And Stepford wife Melinda Fredricks says basically that homos are subhuman, but should be treated with some sort of mythical dignity that doesn't allow us any equal civil rights, because children must never, ever think we are equal to straight folks. Help's that her husband is the newspaper publisher so she gets some low-hitting puff piece written about her. Bitch. That pink ensemble she is wearing looks like shit.

Really, the heat is making me sooooo cranky. Don't get me started on Jan Brewer.

Let's make watermelon rind pickles.

First, buy the ingredients, including canning jars. Be amazed at how expensive everything is. Next, slice up a watermelon, remove the red stuff for Lisa to give to her 27-year-old horse, and peel and cut up the rind, soaking overnight in salty water.



















Watermelon rind, after soaking.

Next, cook until soft and fairly translucent.



















Cooked.

In a piece of cheesecloth, put cinnamon sticks, whole cloves, mustard seed, and allspice. I was supposed to use whole allspice, but had to use the ground variety instead.



















Tie up the spices inside the cheesecloth.

Then put seven cups sugar, 2 cups vinegar, the spice bag, and one lemon thinly sliced in a pot, heat until boiling, then simmer 10 minutes.



















Spicy mixture.

Next, forget to take pictures of the next couple of steps. These included adding the cooked rind to the spice-sugar-vinegar mixture and cooking it some more, then boiling the jars and lids and burning your fingers as you pull them out. Ladle the pickle mixture in, making sure to burn your fingers some more, affix lids [burned fingers again], and boil some more.



















Watermelon rind pickles.

This was the first time I have ever canned anything on my own. At the moment, I have no clue as to whether the lids are properly affixed. In addition, I tasted the pickles and they are very salty, apparently I either didn't rinse the rind enough or the salt really penetrated the rind. They still are pretty good.

Next batch, less brining. Also, need better canning equipment include one of those things to lift the jars out of the boiling water.

I really wonder how much farther this anti-Mexican shit is going to go in Arizona. The Republican Party has decided to go for broke and just make up crap now. The governor flaps her dentures at us and announces that people are being beheaded in the state (they are not) and then whines when all those tourists up and cancel their trips because they are too scared to come.

The Republicans now plan on introducing legislation that would ban citizenship to any child whose parent is here "illegally." I guess they are too stupid, too lazy, or too full of themselves to carefully examine Section 1 of the 14th Amendment to the United States Constitution:

All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside. No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.

Arizona is broke. There will be millions in legal fees spent defending the law Russell Pearce wants to introduce.

Meanwhile, life goes on as normal. Crime is down for the fourth year in a row. So called "illegals" work, pay taxes, attend schools, go to church, live their lives. I feel that every person should have a good life. It amazes me how many so-called Christians feel that they should have a good life and other people should be condemned to a life of poverty.

I carpooled with Patrick to the pool volleyball party. We discussed the recent soap opera-like events of our lives.
























Patrick.

Once at the party I wished Jimbo had been there because there was an ENORMOUS bird perched up in a nearby eucalyptus tree and there was some discussion as to whether it was a hawk or an eagle. I decided that yes, it was a juvenile golden eagle, which later proved to be correct when I compared photos.



















Juvenile golden eagle.

We played many games of volleyball and my skills have certainly declined, although twice I made a nice series of points while serving.
























Volleyball!

I made a pizza- Trader Joe's herb pizza dough, pesto, mozzarella, cherry tomatoes, basil leaves, red onion, and pine nuts.
























Pizza.

And I ended up making the chocolate cake with maple cream cheese frosting. It was very good. My attempts to make maple buttercream frosting failed, and so I made maple ice cream out of the remnants, and I sampled a bit this morning- very decadent.

















Chocolate mayonnaise cake with maple cream cheese frosting.

If you like chocolate cake, this is a really excellent recipe. When I butter the cake pans I use sugar instead of flour on them, it leaves a slightly crispy crust on one side of the cake. For the frosting I used one package of cream cheese, about 1/4 cup maple syrup, and 1 1/2 to 3 cups powdered sugar. You may have to add more powdered sugar to make it firmer.

I'll miss you, Mama Cat.
























Mama Cat AKA Calico.

Pool volleyball starts Sunday. What sort of cake should I take? Please vote in the comments:

A). Mango chutney upsidedown cake.
B). Chocolate cake with maple frosting
C). Lemon poppy seed cake
D). Yellow cake with raspberry ice cream

VOTE!

I acted as the ex-boyfriend's mostly unpaid rental agent from about May 2005 through July 2009. During that time I found him four different sets of tenants and organized repairs and improvements to the house. Twice it was very difficult to find tenants, and I would get phone calls accusing me of not doing enough. I put up signs and paid for advertisements, and each time I found him tenants. During this time, he collected over $50,000 dollars in rent for his very pricey home in a nice neighborhood. He gave me a check once for $250 and a plane ticket to visit him way up north. There were two other times when he wanted me to come visit and arranged for plane tickets, but on both of these occasions he abruptly changed the schedule at the last moment- once I was told I was going to get off the airplane in Seattle, attend a gay circuit party cruise, take the train north, and then return the next day, spending one night in a airport hotel. The other time he shortened the trip because he was selling his house up there- I would arrive Friday night and leave early Monday morning. In each case, he spent somewhere between $50 and $90 rebooking the tickets, which were from his frequent flyer account.

Last year he decided to have a big gay wedding and he wanted me to come and gave me another plane ticket. I was supposed to camp out on his deck next to the ocean for that week. I bought a tent and sleeping bag. Two days before I was supposed to get on the airplane he sends me an email telling me that the plans had changed, again, and that he was going to have me stay with some friends of him with several other guests, although he had yet to ask them whether we could stay. A week spent in stranger's house who didn't know I was coming. And by the way, I would need to rent a car and pay for a ferry, etc. I canceled. This happened right around an incident involving the rental house in which I was told I was biased against him and a terrible person because I dared tell him he was inconsiderate to have the floors re-finished right days before the tenants were to move in, delaying their ability to do so despite the fact they were already paying rent.

The ex was not happy I canceled attendance at the big gay wedding. I received a particularly interesting email. I had a friend read it. He said to me, in amazement, "This guy thinks he is your friend?" One aspect of the email was a demand that I give back the plane ticket and when I responded that he had given it to me for taking care of his rental house for four years, he flew into a rage and sent me a second email, which I discarded after reading the first sentence. I used that lovely plane ticket to visit Portland a couple of months ago, and let me tell you, it was a lovely trip and I had a wonderful time with Mark and Rodger.

The relief that suddenly passed over me after deleting the second email and deciding that I was through with him, knowing that I would never have to deal with him again, was immeasurable. For years this man had questioned our friendship. A few months would pass by and no phone calls would pass between us, and then he would call me and tell me I was a terrible friend because I never called. Of course, it was always because I didn't call, it didn't matter that he hadn't called either. After a few years, I really didn't want to call, because what was the point? I was lectured on this and that, told I could be doing better in my job or that I should lose weight, since I was not the skinny guy he knew back in the 1990s.

I sometimes asked other people who knew him what they thought, and they would ask me why I bothered. They had all decided he was a pain in the ass. I guess I remembered the good times back in the 20th century, before he became so obsessed with money. When he was fun to be around, although always a bit emotionally manipulative. As the years past, I saw that he was becoming more like the mother he used to tell me about.

So anyways, the last tenants I arranged to live in his house are good friends of mine and he apparently hates that, so he is forcing them to move out on trumped up reasons. Really, I am so glad I never have to see him again, because he has become a monster.

It's that time of the year when the giant beetle shows up at my porch light.
























Beetle!

The monsoon rains are heading to Tucson, it gets cloudy in the afternoon. The pollen is making my eyes burn. The window-mounted AC unit makes me sleepy happy.

Mama Cat is doing poorly. She is just skin and bones, but last night she purred as she sat on my lap and I combed her and washed her face for her. I mostly let her be, she sleeps in her favorite spot and I put her in the litter box so she can remember to pee. She doesn't seem to be in any pain, so I'm hoping that maybe she will just fall asleep and not wake up.

Pink eye. Made a return visit, always the lower right eyelid.
























Conjunctivitis.

The eye drops make the cornea blindingly white and take away some of the lingering discomfort.

A bunch of lizards hang out at work. They do little push-ups when they are looking for sex.



















Collared lizard.

Last night, after having supper with Mark who is fresh back from Australia, I came home and made a Sour Cream and Raisin Pie from the Cowgirl's Cookbook



















Sour Cream and Raisin Pie.

I had a big piece last night and you will never guess what I had for breakfast.

Facial hair of the Ransom Brothers.

Back row: James (chin goatee) and Benjamin (goatee).
Front row: Elijah (moustache) and Alvorado (goatee).
























Circa 1880, click on picture twice to enlarge.

I note that I have the same thing that Alvorado has going on- one side of my beard is turning whiter faster than the other side.

Elijah is my great-great grandfather, 1848-1921.

Whatever I did to my right thigh decides to hurt with a preposterous amount of pain, mainly when I sit on the couch. So don't sit on the couch! Apparently I tore a muscle somehow.

I went to Bisbee for Gay Pride on Saturday and my pictures did not turn out particularly well. So you will have to imagine me watching Cobban and Ray sing karoake, a delicious meal, seeing Chris and Joseph for too little of time, and the guy with the best moustache in Arizona for not long enough.

On the way back I stopped at the Fairbank ghost town and wandered over to the dried-up San Pedro River. I've never seen it completely dried up. I hope it comes back, but the growing population in the area is probably sucking away the water.
























Under the trees.

I wandered back to the school house and chatted with the woman volunteering there. Her dog Butch was almost as excited to see me. I bought two books to give the volunteer something to do.

I came home and watched a wretched zombie movie and the leg only hurt a couple of times. I had a quiet evening and read a while. Tonight I worked on a newsletter article, finally figured out that the guy was illegitimate, and altogether it was also a quiet evening. I need to study up on German Chocolate cake for Christopher's 30th birthday on Saturday. And the month of June is whizzing by like lightning speed.

I traded emails on facebook with Judith M., an avid supporter of the National Organization for Marriage. Here are some of the statements she made to me:

- "I didn't say homosexuals, as individuals have done nothing for the world. I said their RELATIONSHIPS provide nothing positive to the world. In fact, all signs are that they are a burden based on their higher morbidity rates and shorter life expectancies."

- "Marriage is a special right and it has been defined as a union between one man and one woman for millenia."

- "In fact, I would counsel them to stay away from the homosexual lifestyle. It is possible to live celibately and have same sex attraction. I've personally known two guys who first lived a decadent homosexual lifestyle and then became celibate. Both of them told me their health and mental state improved dramatically after they became celibate."

- "I don't give a rip what you do in your bedroom. But marriage is not a private matter, it's a public one."

- "But tell me, if you can, what good has come from homosexual unions to date? Did it make homosexuals...monogamous? Did they "settle down" and stop showing participating in public displays of lewdness, a la Folsom Street? Please name one thing that accrues to SOCIETY, that comes from homosexuals getting "married"."

- "It's actually a burden on society to make companies give same sex couples health benefits as if they were married, because homosexuals tend to be an unhealthy bunch of people and the cost of companies covering them causes their rates to go up."

My final response: "You really are a nasty person. I really feel sorry for you."

My dinner with Jose. We tried to go to the Ethiopian restaurant but it was closed, and then the first Indian restaurant was also closed, But Ghandi's was open and we had a nice meal.
























Jose.

Jose was an Indian food virgin. I think he enjoyed everything except the yogurt sidedish. Maybe we can Ethiopian food on Friday!

Chocolate malted cupcakes with vanilla malted frosting.
























I only ate two.

Weirdly cool temperatures for June here, it is like spring again. The pollen in the air makes my eyes red.

























Poor Mama Cat is better, but now when she gets in the litter box her hind end hangs out and she pees on the floor. Big ole sigh. I clean up the mess and hope she gets more sensible about it.

Tomorrow: cupcakes!

One of my great-great grandfathers, David Chandler (1847-1929).


























David.

I think he was a very handsome man.

The baby hummingbirds at work have hatched. Mama is feeding them and doesn't mind us watching her.
























Babies. Click on picture twice for full size.

I find myself ignoring the news at the moment. There is nothing I can do about the oil spill. There is nothing I can do about Israel murdering people (if I never heard another word about the Middle East I would be happy).

I'm back to the gym. While my mother was here I gained weight- I'm up to 205. Frowny face. Shirts are tight again. So aerobic exercise again, and watching what I eat. NO SNACKS!

Patrick's new pool was very nice to sit in when it was 105 degrees yesterday.



















Patrick.

He invited me over for a dip, which was nice was I was busy sitting at home feeling dull and listless.
























No longer listless.

Patrick had a bunch of pretty light shades to put up, so I used what little Gay Decorating Genes that I have to pick out colors.
























Patrick installing shades.

They light up his new patio nicely.



















Pretty!

I had some beers and sat in his hammock, after which we had beans and rice and a store-bought coconut cream pie (I know, but there wasn't time to make one from scratch).
























Hammock!

We then watched Thoroughly Modern Millie on the telly (Patrick's favorite movie), which made me laugh at appropriate moments and wonder why Carol Channing always looked like she was 80 way back in 1967.

So Arizona's reputation as a haven for racist folks just keeps growing. Now artists have been asked to "lighten" the skins of a Mexican-American and African-American children depicted in a mural in Prescott, a town located in central-northern Arizona. I was surprised that the artists are complying with the request, but I suppose mural-painting jobs are few in Prescott.

So let's review what's happening:

1). Dark-skinned children in a mural are not allowed

2). The governor has signed legislation banning school programs based on ethnicity or race. So it is now illegal to have a class devoted solely to Native American history or a club devoted to African culture. Classes devoted to White history (e.g., American or World History) are of course fine and dandy, and in fact are typically required.

3). The Arizona Board of Education has banned teachers with accents or poor grammar from teaching English. Exactly who decides what constitutes an accent (I have a northern Michigan accent) or poor grammar (lord knows I am sometimes puzzled by apostrophes) has not been defined. But basically this is meant to fire a bunch of Spanish-speaking teachers that were hired a while back to help Spanish-speaking students learn English.

4). And starting next month, Arizona police officers have to ask for identity papers for anyone they suspect might be in the United States illegally. And if you can't provide them, you get arrested. I note that a driver's license or even a birth certificate does not prove citizenship, so there are going to be a lot of innocent people arrested and dragged to jail, and a lot of people who will not be calling 911 because they are scared of the police.

Ironically, Arizona was supposed to get a 9th Congressional seat after the 2010 census was completed. But many people have left the state and many others are avoiding the census takers. The end result, Arizona may not be getting that 9th seat after all. Which serves the fucking racist Republicans just right.

Outside my office window this morning. One of several cottontails hopping about having brunch.
























Cottontail.

They won't go away. The nasty Africanized bees. I sealed up all the cracks along the guest house roof with very unattractive foamy stuff, and now they have decided to build a honeycomb on the underside of the roof.



















Bees!

There is a double-fist-sized lump of writhing bees around a white, waxy comb. Now I wouldn't mind a nice hive of bees in my backyard (honey!), but having them on the underside of the roof is a pain in the butt.

That and Mama Cat still peeing all over the place, my life is all discombobulated.

Well it was a busy weekend and I am sporting a tan and an extra pound. Yesterday I took Jim and George down to Cobban and Ray's fabulous house and we went skinny dipping in the pool. It was fabulous. Then I returned them to the airport and away they went. My house is quiet now.

Something is up with Mama Cat and she has decided to pee everywhere except in the litter box. Moments ago I was sitting right here and I heard a strange noise and turned and there she was peeing on the rug under my chair. Of course that explained the vague urine smell that I had been puzzled about, because after I put her on the litter box I lifted the rug and discovered it had been peed on repeatedly. I hope she is just a bit confused and not getting all demented.

UPDATE: Poor Mama Cat has a urinary tract infection. She is on an antibiotic for ten days. I've learned to go find her every couple of hours and put her in the litter box so she pees there and not next to my desk!