Home Improv: Kitchen

This is the lamp and shade we rescued from my grandmothers. The BEAUTIFUL base was by itself. And this shade was in the basement rotting. The trim on it was falling off and it needed a good cleaning. This quickly became my parents' project. They replaced the trim with red duct tape -you would never be able to tell. The print behind this is one from my parents' house. All of this is sitting on a big trunk that Clara gave me. It actually says S.L.C. N.O.L.A. printed on the top. Its an old steamer trunk and opens to reveal this gorgeous green-lined interior. One day I'll re-do it, but for now, its great eye candy as a lamp-sitter-on-er.


As you can see, that's the lamp and print on top of the steamer trunk. That is the shelf across the window that my dad and I have sweat putting up. I didn't have much storage for dishes and glasses in the kitchen, so I made some. I put all my plates and glasses up there (flipped over and stacked bar-style) and I love it. That empty space under the shelf on the bar is where the Keurig goes. :)

This picture is just to show the grey wall contrasting with the fireplace in the kitchen. I have TWO exposed brick fireplaces in this place. (SOMEHOW.) I put all my copper/gold candle stick on this mantel and am going to get all matching candles. (i'm unsure of whether to do red or white.) And then of course, I have the copper swirlie-gig above there, which I can't find the votives for. It is pottery-barn reproduction via a very talented artisian friend of mine.

This is above the sink. I need to get a good picture of the entire kitchen area, note to self. This bar that the utensils are hanging on is much cooler than it looks. The edges are eagles and it is gold. It was used in my grandmother's house- I think- as a towel rack. I dig it.

Befores and Afters:

Clara gave me these cool bar stools - see on right - and two of them matched and one of them didn't. So I painted them all uniform black -see on left- and then sat them all together to form like a side table. They were just tall enough to be over the tall arm of the fainting couch to sit a drink on or whatever.

These metal tables are another great insurance-office find. They are metal and just plain and I used to have them as coffeetables in my apt in bg. I have even stacked them on top of one another to form a book-case like thing too. The green, however, just wasn't jiving down here in NOLA. Thus, spray paint to the rescue.

I painted the top red, and the sides black and left the insides of the leg the dark green, which looks oddly fantastic. And I also put these circular yellow placemats and a vase on them, (not pictured) and it sets it off VERY WELL. DIY, people. DIY.

Home Improv: Living Room, Too

I don't have an entryway, but i DO have a behind-the-door area. And I put mine to use. Here is my bulletin board that use to be brown and cork and now I (SHOCK) spraypainted black. Below are a mix-match of black frames and photos of my favorite dead celebrities. Included are : Alfred Hitchcock, Janis Joplin, Johnny Cash, Danny Kate, The Andrews Sisters, Kate Chopin, Bing Crosby, and Katharine Hepburn. The chest on the bottom opens up and I want to use it for blankets etc for the living room, and I intend to put an umbrella rack (once I find a suitable one) in the corner space there, too. Also, the calendar isn't up there yet, but I'm making a homemade one.

I know this picture is dark, but this is on the wall on the other side of the fireplace. These are the gates that used to be on my grandparents house. Their last name was Murphy, hence, the middle has a cool swirly M on it. Which, I am, obviously MARY, so it fits. Nice duality, there. I spray painted em white and spruced 'em up a little bit, but mostly let their wear shine through. That's what vintage is all about, right?

Home Improv: Before, During, After Living Room

Living Room Before Pictures:

Before the rooms had off-white walls and white trim. That's the front door and the black curtains I just had up for the time being.


Same , Other side. Black curtain. Red fainting couch.

Living Room During Picture:

This is after the walls were started being painted. Dramatic difference already. Hadn't done the trim yet though.

Living Room After: (Batch 1)

This is the same window as first picture. The credenza is from my grandfather's insurance office. The curtains came from my next door neighbor Clara, but originally were in the Pontchartrain Hotel. The frame is just the frame without the back and I'm going to put some of the old photos I have of my great aunts from WKU in there all off set.


This is the fireplace with wall painted and trim! You can't see it, but there is a ceiling fan cord hanging down. We took the ceiling fan from the kitchen and replaced it with a new one. I spray painted that black and we moved it to the living room and it looks like a new dang fan. I also spray painted the frame on the fireplace, it was originally brown wood and decrepid. The print is an Egon Schiele I got off Art.com. I am a huge Schiele fan. The double lamps came from my grandmother's house.

Amazing New Thing: Escalator Extras

Mom, Dad and I went to Target in Metarie. Two-story Target. Which is like a heaven to me in itself. And while there, Dad and I thought it was ignorant as hell to have a two-story big box store because of the cart. You'd have to take it up and down in the damn elevator. That is, until we realized the cart comes with you up the escalator.

There is the people side of the escalator and the cart side of the escalator. And you just get your cart and continue on your business once you get upstairs. They also have a checkout on top and on bottom. Oh my, my. I know this may not be amazing to others, but it looks insanely cool.

Mom and Daddy Sparr do NOLA: Day 1

Today was mom and dad's first day in NOLA.

I picked them up at the airport at 4:30 or so, after fighting awful crapshoot NOLA traffic there and back.

We came home and they re-met Clara and also Clara's very jack-of-all-trades BF Ken. Ken talked rock-shop with my dad (and kept up) and that is a feat all its own.

I drove them down St. Charles to ooh and aww at some more houses (Starter castles is what Clara calls them.) And we went to eat at Deanie's Seafood in Metarie. On the wine list, we found a very interesting type:

If you can't read it. The third one down on the list is 2006 Pinot Blanc Reserve Pierre Sparr.

Dad got a glass. This was his unending excitement:

At Deanies, I had Crawfish Ettouffe. Dad had stuffed shrimp. And Mom had some sorta regular shrimp. Ettouffe looks gross, but tastes yummy.

After food, we went to a two-story Target. And I saw an amazing new thing. But those posts are in their own Amazing New Thing category.

Murphy's World: The Lazy I Deal With

Murphy vomitted alot this week. I'm not sure if she ate too much, ate something weird, or just wanted to ruin my first day at Offbeat.

She's feeling better now, however. As seen here:

I told her she looked like a whore, laying out there with her goods on display. She had no response but to paw at her face more seductively.

Offbeat: Hidden Gems

At Ofbeat, I am a minion. And a nameless one mostly. I have interacted with a couple people in the office, Alex (one of the editors) and Ben (one of the advertising people) do know my name, I think...

Anyway, I sit in a desk and archive old issues of Offbeat for them. And I answered the phone a couple times on Thursday, even. Wow.

But as I was going through the archives, I found this little gem:

I know its difficult to read, but that says Louisiana Jukebox by Kathy E. Goode. Kathy is my one land-bridge of wonderfulness between Casey County (hometown) and New Orleans. I saw this and said OH! outloud and squirmed in my seat enough for the advertsing guy to ask me what was up. And so I told him that Kathy Goode was my boo, even though that isn't entirely true. But close enough. And that I used to go on really bad dates with some members of her family. ;)

Anti-Gravity Goodness

On Wednesday night, I went with Megan to a little get-together at Dan Fox's house. Dan is one of the editors of Anti-Gravity. I was originally just going to work for them until the gig at Offbeat came around.


Dan is an absolute delight. And his little friends, including a Mary, were also very fun. Note: I usually don't like other Marys, its the Scorpio in me.

Talking to Dan about Anti-Gravity was very inspiring. I just think that they have to find moderation between lax and lazy and uptight and crotchety. So, I decided to go to the birthday party (Anti-Gravity is 5 years old!) with Megan and Leigh on Thursday.

The party was very cute. It was in a hair salon called Twisted Hair Salon on Prytania and if I had known anyone there, which I didn't, it might have been very home-ish. I got there at a bit after 8 and we stayed til 840-9, and no Dan. So, we left. I do have to also say, they had a verrrryyy cool looking cake:



I hung out with Leigh and Megan and also their friend Paul, who is a future dentist. Dentist = boring, but Paul was very friendly. Yay for another new NOLA friend!


Also, there was a Chasen-like person there from Chicago. Read: artsy, small-bodied and facebook retarded. We attempted a friendship with him, but may have come on too strange/strong. When we asked if he had facebook, he said 'Oh i'll just see ya on the street." Awkkwkwarrd.

Living in Benjamin Button's Neighborhood

Today I finally took a picture of the Benjamin Button house, ala 1 mile from my house.

Just so that all my bragging could be justified:

Everything AND the Kitchen Sink

Today, I heard a ruckus outside. Which is completely normal. And then I went to check it out.

Lo and behold, Clara has finagled herself into a free 7ft counter and sink.

She literally brought a sink home today. It amazes me.

HGTV : Mary's World

This is my new creation of the week.

I bought two cans of primer spray paint. I bought two cans of red spray paint. And voila. Dresser re-done. For $12.

It was still a bit splotchy earlier, but it looks better now. After REALLY REALLY drying. Murphy loves it. I'm going to make it into a little breakfast bar, me thinks. Might even put some twinkle lights on there at some point.

I know this house stuff is very boring, but I'll get to the interesting parts of my life after I load up all these mini-milestones.

Pots and Pans

I took these pots and pans out of the trunk finally.

Another thing my mom has bought me that I didn't appreciate until later.

I'm so tickled with them that I almost want to figure out how to cook.

I don't know how to attach a steamer or use it. If anything it just looks like it'd be better as a really mod coaster.

Friending without Facebook: Part Deux

So, since last post, I have made a friend. Plus One.

Whenever I missed the Anti-Gravity meeting on Monday, (I have had a finicky-stomach/sleep schedule all week) I checked their Twitter to find out the next day that some little heyitsmegan demon was writing a story on being new to nola and new to nola music. Outrage! Who is this girl and how did she nab MY story? My blog is called New To Nola for christ sake! Oh, she got to do it because I wasn't there because I had overmedicated myself into oblivion, and she has no idea I exist? oh yeah, that's the one.

So, I did what I knew I had to. I tweeted that story-stealer and I said, GET OUT MY GRAVITY, BIA. No, that's not true. I said "Hey I was supposed to be at the Anti-Grav meeting too. Friends?" Or something along those lines. Because her picture was adorable, her tweets were a mix of witty and inside-joke-friendy, and because I was like, hmm, if she's there and I'm there, then we might have similar interests, thought-patterns, goals. And because I was desperate.

She was also, or so I know now, lacking in the NOLA friend dept. Not as much as me, because she lives with her also adorable GF Leigh, but still. After a word-vomit of emails and aim convo, I met heyitsmegan on Wednesday night with tremendous results. If you rated friend-dates for the potential of friend-marriage, I'd probably at least be more thoroughly skimming covers of friend-bridal magazines.

For all of you that know me, let me explain. heyitsmegan was listening to REGINA SPEKTOR when I got in her car. Which now, after I know her a bit, may be part of a networking ploy. She admittedly used a little person (ala the Little People, Big World kind) to help her in some of her plans. Pinky and the brain, maybe. My kind of person, definitely.

Either way, we talked about Anti Gravity. And how much we like it. And how cool it is, and how it should grow and grow. And our past experiences with journalism, etc. And we had sushi. And also perused Whole Foods. (NOTE: I was in Whole Foods in Lou one time, but I had forgotten the glory of it entirely.) And then we went to her apartment, and I mer her GF Leigh. READ: This is not the set-up for some awkward lesbian relationship as my testosterone-filled friends from BG have suggested. NATE.

Here is heyitsmegan (hhaha, I don't know why I feel the need to call her that in blog world) and Leigh. In a picture I stole from FB because they are public property now, damnit.

NOLA: The water

One of the times I was driving back over Lake Pontchartrain, I remember looking out at the water and saying that I just felt that being close to water would do me good. Well, today after my minor meltdown, I drove down Canal until I got to the Riverwalk and sat on a bench by the water for awhile.

See Here:

Lovely, right?

I was feeling very inspired, watching couples walk up and down the Riverwalk. An older couple actually had a little packed lunch and was sharing a bench right down from me. A couple girlfriends walked together and laughed. And strangely enough, I didn't feel alone. I just felt somewhat normal. Ah, water.

Then, this couple began walking past me. They looked sorta touristy. One carrying a backpack. Then, I thought touristy kinda bordered on homeless-y. It's odd how thin the line between tourist and homeless seems to be in this place. Anyway, they both had beers and were walking and laughing. I just watched the water.

And just at my maximum moment of serenity, the couple passed right in front of my line of vision. The man proceeded to vomit. With no jerk. No crouch. No holdback. Just blurg. Right down onto the street in front of me. And then spitting some in the grassy area beside me. And then, they just kept walking. What kind of courtesy to people is that?

I looked around for a reaction for fellow water-watchers. Nothing. Nobody even acknowledges this. There are laws that slap your wrist if you miss one little doggie doo-doo on the sidewalk, and this guy ralphs and ruins my first moment of calm in this city, and just walks it off. Eee. Here is my open letter with attached instructional illustrational for this man.

Dear Man That Spewed,

I am unsure if you are homeless or a drunken tourist and while that is a problem, I will only address your bigger problem of vomiting in public. I understand that New Orleans is a boozy city and that Bourbon Street is mere blocks from the exact bench I sat on, but for the love of all that is Good and Trashy sir, please go to Bourbon Street to spew. It always smells a little like phlegm on that street anyway.

Or, find a respectable corner/hovel/behind a wall to crouch in. At very minimum, a step in the grass and a backturned to all on-lookers would be more acceptable. Instead, you treated this vomit like a sneeze and it hardly even affected your beer-guzzling gait. Vom-vom goes in the Potty. For future reference, see illustration.

Thank you for not vomiting directly on me,

Mary

New To Anywhere: Helpful Tip

I should probably go out and eat at like ...real restaraunts. But I'm a party of 1 and would not have a problem with sitting alone, eating, busying myself with a book/laptop/some other lonely person material. And honestly, I wouldn't worry about the girl-alone-loser-surely judgement from other tables around me. The problem is the server.

I just cannot face that server. See, I was a server and like any self-respecting food-slave, I took all my angst out on the customers I was serving by going back to all the other servers and talking shit about them. "Lady in booth 3 has a mole on her face that would warrant a moley-moley-moley mole, like austin powers style, check her out when you re-fill 5." Sigh. "Jerk in table 2 is either farting or has shit his pants." Sigh. "Girl alone over there has really weird Kentucky-sounding accent and is like...awkwardly trying to make real conversation with me as if she's been alone in her apt with her cat devoid of all social interaction for a week. Desperate, weird little girl." OMGAH, that's me.

So, I think lunch or brunch time food wouldn't be bad alone. But dinner is an absolute no-no, as of my comfort-level right. (Comfort levels are subject to change.)

So, I want to introduce my dinner time friend of the week. His name is Bertolli:

Bertolli may be a little bit cold-seeming at first. But that is just because he lives in the frozen food section at all sorts of big box stores like Target and Kroger. If you can just get under his cold packaging, Bertolli is your favorite at-home dinner date.

These things are freaking awesome for non-cooks ala myself. You can get abunch different kinds and they're all (so far as I've found) DELICIOUS. You put them in the skillet for like 10-15 minutes on medium (I do high because I have finicky stovetops.) and then cover them and voila, done. And the pictures on the package is damn near exactly what you end up with.

The one I got was like 6.00 at Target, and it makes enough for two people. Or in my case: party of one, two meals. This is mine from earlier:

Also, another helpful thing. My father always says to wash dishes as you cook and it will save time and painful scraping later. I am a little too lazy to follow this rule exactly, but I do agree that washing the big crap as you go is probably better. And now that I know I won't be able to wrangle Aaron into doing my dishes for me- I realize that I must deal with them myself. Be proud, Dad.

OMG Shoes, the real version

I have now filled two over-the-door shoe racks and still have shoes left over.

Here is what I'm dealing with: (not including boots, sandals, and one small box with some other heels.)

NOLA: Magazine Street-Walking

Today, I ventured out into the world. First, I went to the bank and deposited my rent check. Second, I went home and put on sunglasses and wandered a block over and down Magazine St. for an hour or two.


I went into an Antique Mall there and I saw these two things:


I am in love with this red wardrobey-shelf thing:

Secondly, I would like to say that before I met Aaron Clark I never looked at instruments in stores and antique places. But now, he's turned me into one of his little music-finder-worker bees. I saw this harpsichord. It's cool-looking.

In The Closet

I would like to share this photo of my closet. I believe closets should look so good that you want to leave the door open all the time. If they look like they are in a hip boutique, it'll make you feel like you're shopping and trying on your own clothes when you get dressed every morning.

I am very proud of my closet. Fin.

Friending People Without Facebook

Tomorrow, it will be one whole week since I have had social interaction with anyone beside workers at restaraunts and stores and my next door neighbor Clara. Webcamming doesn't cut it when the network is slow. And Murphy only wants to talk about food.

So, tomorrow, for my one week anniversary of independance/deathy-defying loneliness, I intend to make a friend.

I talked to Nate earlier on the phone and he suggested just going up to people and saying hi. This sounds good in theory because I imagine going up and saying hi to Nate, who would totally welcome this behavior. Then, the more I've thought, I've imagined going up to other people I know, as a stranger, and just saying hi. Tyler Roberts types would think I was off or maybe going to rob him. Michael would think I thought he was straight and blurt out something about Hannah Montana to tip me off and avoid an all-too-awkward make out later. Elizabeth Rue would squint at me and either laugh and hug me, or say "So, heh, uh, whats wrong wtih you anyway?"

All these response aren't THAT bad. But then I started imagining real stranger types. Not just people who I know as strangers.

Potential Things that Could Go Wrong:

1.) The person sitting alone that I approach could be dating/engaged/married to a very jealous pyscho person who enters the cafe moments after I have guts-upped enough to say "HI." and assault me with a cafe au lait and to my utter disappointment, I would find out later that this person is the daughter of some important figure in new orleans like the Mayor or the Editor of Offbeat (the magazine i want to try to intern with.)

2.) The person I walk up to is deaf. And then, I just look like a handicap-hunter.

3.) I realize 2-3 sentences in that this person is sitting alone for a reason. Not just to shoot the shit. I realize this when I view his laptop screen and he is watching a documentary on a woman who still breastfeeds her 8-year old, and upon me seeing this, he goes "Ya ever seen this? I think she's REALLY onto something."

These are just some thoughts for now. I will report back tomorrow.


PS. What prompted my decision to go friend-hunting tomorrow, other than my absolute lunacy, was that my neighbor Clara is having a friend from Phoenix in right now. They came in her house and I just heard them yipping and hugging and yawing on and on about stuff. Chitter chattering like all of us used to do in college. And I really missed everyone. I'll make new friends, but I'll never replace the ones in Bowling Green.

NOLA: Things I Dont Get, Yet

Posts with the title "NOLA: Thing I Don't Get, Yet" are my way of admitting things I dont get and hopefully, that I will eventually get said things.

2 Things I Don't Get Today:

1. Why Nobody Understands Me When I Speak Even Though I Am Capable Of Understanding Their Creole/Cajun/Louisiana Chewing Gum Slur

I have eaten a decent bit of fast food since I've been down here because I've been cleaning and looking like crap. And because I haven't really got comfortable walking around the neighborhood alone just yet, especially since my cell phone broke. At Mcdonalds, KFC, and Wendy's, the drive-thru ordering has been a complete nightmare. They don't understand me. I am not even rhyming Sprite with Diet like my normal talk. I am enunciating and doing everything Judy Woodring taught me...damnit.

2. Whether or Not I should Feel Bad for Getting Stuck in the Middle of the Road in U-Turns when I Block The StreetCar:

In New Orleans, you have to like...make U-Turns all the time. Or like turn across the street car path thing on St. Charles. (And um Canal or whatever, but I'm not on that road as much.) I know that technically I'm probably in the good and I have the rightaway and the street car must stop. Or maybe not. Like if I think I'm going to get in a streetcar's way, I may go down a couple blocks past where it is and then turn around. But in the event that I do get stuck in that little median, and there is a streetcar waiting, I just feel bad for the tourists/locals aboard. Tourists probably ooh-ing and aww-ing at houses. Locals probably being like "that damn idiot could have turned 10 cars ago."

Moving: Still. Still Moving.

So, after exhaustive hours-long unpacking, I'm still not done. But the major things are accomplished. Furniture is arranged for temporary purposes, maybe permanent. And as Michael knows, I advise to put furniture where it goes for sure at the beginning, because you won't want to move it later.





I think this photo of Murphy explains our mood best:

I really do believe if cats had a little place we could screw in broomhandles, in their laziest states, they would be nature's swiffers.

NOLA Food: Five Happiness Chinese

During my last night at the hotel, I ordered takeout from Five Happiness Chinese. I read in one of the local magazines that it was the Best Chinese in New Orleans. I safe-ordered, Sweet N Sour Chicken, white rice, egg roll. The total was over 11.00. I'm thinking that order was approximately 5.25 back in the WKU days from Happy Inn.

Ahh, city inflation.

Anyway, the restaraunt looked pretty cool. Might be nice for a little day, but a little steep for Chinese when you can get a buffet for around that much a piece. And it was yummy, but not heart-stopping. Considerable portions. Pretty tasty. 3.5 out of 5 Stars. But maybe I'll warm up to it.

Here's a photo I sent Aaron. Who thought that the overall layout of the Chinese was phallic. I agree.

The Move: Unpacking Stage 1

After two nights in a hotel room alone, I am now back in my apt. (not as alone, Murph is here.) I got home today and the power was finally back on, which resulted in the security alarm blaring like ZONKERS when I opened the door. This security alarm actually belongs to my next door neighbor Clara, who hasn't removed it yet, because she's been busy getting shmammered and breaking her toe. Ha.

I called her to get her to shut off the alarm and she came by in her pajamas. Cute lady. And then, I drove her to get her some Burger King- she purchased a commemorative Star Trek glass as well. And then, when they sorta screwed up our order, she proceeded to throw a momentary tempter tantrum and call the drive through people "FUCKING BITCHES SHE WANTED TO KILL" I love the shit out of her.

I came and much was accomplished. If you see the boxes in the prior post, they are now gone. As seen here:








This was 3-4 hours of work. We'll see what happens with the kitchen and other rooms.

I miss my friends. I have all your pictures up with the love and care of someone who's died. Maybe the wake should have been for y'all.

The Move: The Apartment & Boxes

When I first called Clara about my apartment, she talked to me on the phone for 15 minutes. I couldn't decide if she was crazy or awesome. Turns out she's awesome. And a little crazy. But so am I.

That day, I told her it was the first apartment I was looking at and she said, as I thought any seller would, "Once you see this, you won't NEED to see anything else." Turns out she was right.

On Thursday, we got to the place and Clara had cleaned out the bedroom, the office/spare room, and the bathroom all by herself. And the kitchen/living room was still left to be done.

Sammy en route:

Enter my four insanely good movers and my parents. Aaron, Sam, Adam and Ben were the lifesavers. If I didn't have them to help me, my dad's bad knee would have surely swelled to the size of a football and his good attitude would have immediately been hail-Maryed the shit out of there. Sam is born and bred sweet Arkansas, Ben is born and bred sweet Kentucky, Adam is a black person who had white skin so he got along fine in Eastern Kentucky, and Aaron should have brought his guitar. Nothing makes me feel better than when Aaron sings.

So, we moved all the shit. And this is the point things are at now:

My mother always buys me shit that I don't want at the time and am thankful for later. And she is a really really really bad backseat driver, something my father has complained about for years. I thought he was being tough on her until she blatanly ignored the GPS and questioned my directions.

My dad spent a million hours in the U-Haul divvying out boxes and furniture and I'm unsure of how he didn't suffer heatstroke, nor am I sure of how he stood that entire time, with not much time since knee surgery under his belt. I believe that his suspenders may hold it all together.

The Move: Murphy's Adventure

My mother shook down the local vet in my hometown for some kitty valium in order to subdue my big sweet baby Murphy on the 10-hour drive to NOLA. Of course, after forcing the pill down Murphy's throat, I spent the next 20-minutes terrified it was somehow lodged in her windpipe ala my fault. I then theorized she might only be living by breathing through her nose, and putting my face right in her smelly kitty mouth to see if I could register inhales and exhales.

Murphy wobbled all over the empty apartment. She almost fell out the open window. And then I forced her into her kitty carrier while she gave a half-hearted hiss. I was sure she'd be passed out soon. I'd seen the same drunk-dialer eyes on my friends Tyler and Michael right before they either cried or took their clothes off, or god forbid both. I imagine Murphy would shed her fur, and I would discover a hairless emotional animal in the cage later in the day.

This scene would have been more well-received. After being in the carrier for awhile, Murphy began meowing, whine-meowing. Then I picked the carrier up and sat it in my lap and baby-talked her. Then I put the edge of the cage toward the A/C Vent and turned it up to a million. Then I looked at Murphy's face. And I discovered this: The above picture is not a rabid cat, althought I bet rabid cats look this way. She's just panting. Apparantly, my own partiality to panic attacks has been passed down to my pet. She's shedding. She's breathing heavily. She's talking out of her head. Aaron (My amazing BF who drove this cat and me, the psycho-cat mommy the whole ten hours down there.) suggests that maybe Murphy has to pee. We pull over and usher her around awkwardly in the grass. She doesn't pee, but she stops panting. We think maybe she just can't stand the cage. So, the rest of the drive, we let her wander around the van. She still pants every few minutes. And she scratches the living shit out of my legs whenever I have to keep her from crawling under the gas pedal and brake. But no pyschosis. And kitty valium is for the birds.