I’m fairly sure that one of The Heroes of Olympus books is hidden behind all of that fluff. Either that or it’s The Goblet of Fire. I can discern the name Frank. *I think it’s The Son of Neptune, looking at my Goodreads records.
Bookcases make the best backgrounds.
So this is going to be a summer of probably very few postings, and I’m sorry. Thursday I broke my arm, and while I’m trying to do what I can, life’s a bit of a painkiller- and pain-induced haze right now. In the meantime, please enjoy some shelfies, starting with this image of my cat as a kitten and an ARC that looks like it should have been a planned marketing shot (in my humble opinion) instead of a happenstance.
Sometimes invention is born of necessity, thriftiness, spatial reasoning, sympathy (in Rothfuss’ sense), and a little out-of-the-box thinking. Our cat found the toilet paper roll and started shredding it. I did some searching around the Internet and found some clever solutions but most required me to buy something and many would involve more permanent damage to the cabinet on which the toilet paper holder hangs—which is troublesome since we rent and the cabinet is not ours to damage. Originally, I’d decided to try to use a 2-liter soda bottle to make a cover for the roll… but I couldn’t easily cut into the plastic, and I gave up before I hurt myself.
An empty tissue box became the savior of our toilet paper. And I mean that quite sincerely because our cat hasn’t found the toilet paper to tear up since.
Admittedly, I didn’t try to fit the tissue box unaltered over the toilet paper roll, and less work might be required than I did, but what I did was not strenuous or lengthy:
I widened the hole at the box’s top a bit, just using an ordinary, unexceptional pair of scissors. Essentially, I mirrored the cut of the preexisting opening on the box’s backside to let the roll sit nicely centered inside the box, where the tissues had been. Once I’d done that, I added two cuts, extending upwards from the farthest point of the opening to catch the roller of the toilet paper holder.
This same cover has been in use for a month and a half now, and while the cardboard is a bit more pliable from being handled than it once was, it is still intact and still performing its role well.
The slit at the top has been widened. We found that offered more flexibility—the cover being able to catch more easily with less finesse, and doing so allowed the cover to accommodated fuller rolls better.
Has anyone done anything similar to cat-proof their toilet paper? Has anyone got any improvements? Does anyone have other genius DIY solutions to this common problem?
I am afraid that I have no book review or anything else prepared for today, so have a shelfie and a photo of my cat. Not nearly as nice a photo of her as the last one that I posted.
While I don’t generally approve of my cat making her way onto this second shelf–from which I fear she can reach the things that we’ve moved to the third shelf to keep them out of her reach–I had to admit that she looked too classy and too photo-worthy sitting there, so I snapped a picture or two (in the first she was looking at the camera but blurrier than she and the books are here). This photo just deserved to be shared here. So here’s a shelfie. Enjoy perusing the titles.
This photo has me thinking of perhaps adding a new feature to this blog. Who would enjoy a Shelfie Saturday maybe that is just a post with a pretty picture of books–my books or the books that I work with or maybe even the book that I am writing? There might be occasional cameos from my cat, but I’d never promise them every week. What do you think, loyal readers? Like the post if you think I should do the thing?
We left Hostel Kanouya the next morning. Our hostess followed us out into the street and just as we were about to turn the corner, we turned around to share a wave. “Wait. It’s tradition,” I said, before turning. After we’d turned the corner, Kari told me that it was in fact traditional to see guests off like so.
We went to Kyoto Station, checked all of the coin lockers, and eventually settled for putting our luggage in the luggage room downstairs for a little more money and a bit less stress. There are fifteen floors in the JR station. We climbed as high as we could go through a series of staircases and escalators for the view from the top of the building. Plexiglass kept us from a dizzying fall but also obscured the view a bit. There was a small garden on the rooftop. There have been buildings I’ve regretted not climbing, however, so I’m glad this cannot be one of them.
A train then took us out to the Fushimi-Inari Shrine, easily one of the most photogenic architectural pieces I’ve ever seen. I have a wealth of pictures of the complex, which ranges across the mountainside along 2.5 miles of trails (let me tell you, it felt like much more than that). Trying to cull them down to the best to put on this blog has been a challenge.
We spent very little time by the main shrine itself. It was a breezy day however, and the breeze made the streamers flutter, so those pictures are worth including.
Then we left the main complex to strike out for the trails, and perhaps you will recognize the site from this first picture.
There are two branching trails beneath rows of these orange torii. The crowd thins the farther you go along the trail, but even so it was difficult for me to take pictures that would not include fellow travelers.
The trail wound and branched and deposited us at minor complexes, abandoned save for us—or maybe they belonged to men or women who lived on the mountaintop. One just off the path backed up against a house, which we discovered only by accident by taking narrow, greenery-lined trails. I can only imagine that the shrine was there first, for the stone has an ancient feel to it—but perhaps that is the my Western mindset speaking, where a standing stone is a thing of ancient wonder, no one knowing how long it’s been there, how it came to be there, or why it was set so. Still, there’s moss on the steps of this shrine complex.
Kari had told me that this particular shrine sports feral cats among its patrons and inhabitants. I lost Kari briefly following one beautiful tom down a narrow path.
There too I shared a moment with a pair of Japanese women over arachnophobia when I spotted a spider dangling not too far in front of me. Some things truly are universal.
A little farther on and higher up, past at least one way station where refreshment and talismans could be found, we passed a passel of kittens among the azalea bushes. I rested a long while, watching them. By that point in our hike, Kari and I were flagging, but then began the litany of “Just a little farther” and “I just want to see what’s around that bend” and “I just want to see the view from there.”
That litany, joined by the occasional rendition of VeggieTales’ “Keep Walking,” took us the rest of the way along the mountain trails, with a few setbacks.
A man at a map of the trails told us to take the trail to the left after the way station that we would come to, claiming it would be the quickest way to our destination (I’m not sure we had a destination, but apparently, we did). We found the next way station, which boasted a lookout area as well. We rested a bit. We thought that we’d turn around, and with the thought that we might leave, I decided to climbed a steep set of stairs on the right. They led past a small house and to a mazy collection of shrines.
As I wandered the narrow paths between stone torii and upright markers, all dotted in orange torii-shaped petitions and red bibs for the kistune, the man from the house came out to his porch to play his wooden flute. It was a magical moment I wouldn’t have missed it for nearly anything.
The rest changed our minds, and we thought that we could go a bit farther. We thought that we took the leftmost turn, but we were mistaken. We went a ways and turned around, lured back to the way station by the promise of soft serve ice cream. I’m still puzzling whether soybean flavored ice cream provides more than the usual protein found in soft serve. (It was delicious, sort of sweet and salty at once.)
Kari found the third trail that we’d missed, the leftmost. We followed this beneath orange torii that opened up in occasional glades of stone and orange torii and upright stones. As we were following this trail, we passed a couple who were pausing before the shrines. I’d heard a strange trumpet earlier in the day, and had wondered, and I witnessed this man now blowing a long note on his conch shell. If you’ve read Lord of the Flies, you’ll recognize the importance of the conch shell. It is a magical thing. I thought then that these were perhaps genuine pilgrims, travelers here for the shrines and not for the trails or to check another feature off in sight-seeing bingo. Now I wonder if this man was a priest, having learned that conch shells are sometimes used in Shinto religious ceremonies.
This trail took us most quickly too to the peak of the trail. I think this was the destination to which the man referred.
The trail from there, of course, went downhill—and we began to worry how long the trail might be and whether it would loop or whether we could wander too far from the gate and be stranded in the dark woods overnight.
We waited on a steep flight of stairs for a passerby, and Kari asked if the trail did in fact loop and whether we would find an exit if we continued downward; neither of us had much desire to climb the steep steps upwards.
Having learned that we in fact were on a path towards and exit, that we weren’t likely to be lost in the wood, we continued downwards with a little more enthusiasm. We stumbled into more glades of shrines, including one that featured a small waterfall that could be found down a very narrow and by then quite dark trail, its stones dark with runoff, but was out of sight above or outside of that cleft. I wish that picture had come out more clearly.
Eventually we met up with a familiar path and familiar friends.
We also met up with a woman who seemed to live on the mountainside, carrying her groceries up the path. The cats were following her. She wanted to practice her English and gave us gifts, including a paper crane.
Having found the exit, we had to catch a train to Tokyo, where we had hostel reservations for the night.
Inari was a great way to end our stay in Kyoto, and for only having been there three days, we saw a great deal.
We arrived in the new city late at night and in a heavy rain. We decided to call a cab rather than risk being lost and confused in such a situation. The drive was short, but our cabman was amiable.
All photographs are mine. Click to see them larger. All maps are made using Google Maps.
Reviews, fiction, and a grab bag of thoughts
Reviews, fiction, and a grab bag of thoughts
Short fiction, poetry, and weird musings by BHS
Horse humor and the musings of a weenie adult rider and her lug of a horse
Fine cuts & curious tidbits - a historical smorgasbord about the 16th century.
all the kick-ass women the history books left out.
everything school never taught you