Amy F. Quincy Author/Freelance Writer


May 2013

Turf Wars

130525_0001Carlito’s a pussy. Cat. Of course, I mean pussycat. But my mom’s cat, for being such a big, strapping, good-looking tom, is a bit girly. As I settle in, I thought Mom and I would be the ones bickering over territory. Turns out, it’s the animals having trouble with whose space is whose. Actually, there’s no squabbles going on there either. From the moment we moved in, it was clear – Bella’s the boss.

I was all set to feel bad for her, having to live with two males. No need. She’s a tough lady. She keeps both boys firmly in their place. Frankie’s always known where he stands with her. In the houeshold hierarchy, there’s Bella, then him, then me, then Carlito. Mom’s dead last. I fight a losing battle with Frankie for dominance, but Mom doesn’t even enter the ring. Or bother getting suited up. Actually, in Frankie’s eyes, I’m probably after Carlito. Which is pretty bad, cause as I said, he puts the pussy in pussycat.

He’s proof you can’t judge a book by its cover. I mean, he’s really quite strong and handsome. But then he follows my mom to the kitchen and lets out this pathetic little mew. I wouldn’t even call it a meow. It’s kittenish. And downright effeminate.

My mom says he has all sorts of childhood issues. She found him, homeless in Miami, the last of his littermates to be taken in. She says he was a big kitten, too large in fact, to still be at his mother’s nipple. But there he was. And there you have it. I think his problems began there.

130518_0003Fast forward to present and Bella heads outside for her first stroll around the pool. The area outside the house has been Carlito’s territory. After all, she’s clearly an indoor girl, while he’s always been inside-outside. He meets her eyes briefly, then disappears, relinquishing any and all claims, while Bella schmoozes her way around the patio furniture. He loses inside too, but there I’m to blame — I’ve let Bella in Carlito’s space, but not the other way around.

So while Mom and I keep politely knocking or calling first, and the cats have worked out that what’s hers is hers and what’s his is hers, only Frankie has no boundaries. He barges in unexpectedly anytime he feels like it, through the doggy door I had put in. Bella sits and looks out, watching him mysteriously appear and disappear, but so far not figuring it out. Hey, I said she was bossy, not bright. 130516_0014

Digging My Digs

Several people have suggested to me that I post pictures of my new place. Since I have been preoccupied with decorating and not writing for awhile now – I’m going to go with that. I’m keeping it simple. Perhaps next week I’ll get back to the business of writing a proper post.

130519_0002 The headless moose greets visitors at the front door. This tragedy occurred sometime during the move. The responsible party has not come forward. The head was located days later and the moose awaits reconstructive surgery.130519_0014

My art looks much better here and I have more wall space.  The painting on the right, done by a friend of mine, Lora Davis-Henningsen, hung at my mom’s and was blocked by some furniture. Here, it gets the attention it deserves.130519_0013

The kitchen is a work in progress. As you can see, I can’t wheel under the sink so it’s not exactly handicap accessible, but it suits me just fine for now.130519_0019

Judging from reactions, the bathroom seems to be the piece de resistance. I transfer using a pole, not the typical grab bars, or else with my ataxia, I’d be banging my head against the wall. The pole at my old place had a medical look to it. This one is pure stripper pole. The contractors asked me if I’d be dancing around in there. I responded with, “Kind of, but nothing you’d want to watch.”130519_0020

And let’s not forget what really makes a house a home.130514_0011

Love on Mother’s Day

Happy Mother’s Day to my biggest fan and cheerleader.

Me and Mom '89?If you have a mom, there is nowhere you are likely to go where a prayer has not already been.  ~Robert Brault

The Inevitable

photo_2I thought that once I became disabled, my exciting times were behind me. I no longer entertained thoughts of touring the countryside by RV, living abroad or learning a foreign language. That’s nonsense. I may stay put in Jacksonville, but look at the new life I’m about to begin! As I move this weekend, I’m reminded that everything changes, even for me. I may even start slurring some Spanish.

“Change is inevitable – except from a vending machine.” ~Robert C. Gallagher

Update on the Air

130423_0012Bella’s worst fears were realized one night when I shifted to the opposite direction and rolled the entire mattress on its side. I dumped myself, Bella and all my bedding straight to the floor. Note to self: air mattresses can topple. They don’t just feel like they will — they’ll do it.

Frankie had already moved into the office to sleep on my power chair, but he did come over to check out the situation, wondering, I’m sure, why the heck I was on the floor. Bella leapt from the bedroom, never to return. Seriously, it’s been days and she won’t even enter the room except to pass quickly through it on her way to the litter box, let alone touch paw to mattress ever again. Frankie promptly curled up in my bedding.

The fall was in super slow-mo, very gentle. It didn’t even hurt. After all, I had the wherewithal to take a picture, didn’t I?

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