Tell Me A Story

I had a dream about my maternal grandmother. 

Except she wasn't in it.  

In the dream, I was at the two-flat she called home rescuing some kittens.  

Not her kittens, for she never had kittens (any pets for as long as I'd known her).

This was the most vivid dream I've had in a long while.  

The vivid dream compelled me to look up the address (of course I remember it).

According to the street view, the building is empty and boarded up, for sale—"investor's special!"

I know not what any of these means.  

I do know that now I want kittens that I absolutely cannot have.  

                                                                 

                                                                         Buttah (flashback) RIP

Another Year Older

Pete at Fifteen

Do you remember when you first learned to read? Or write? Or ride a bike? Or anything that you can point back to that changed the course of your life? That opened your world? That upset the applecart in sometimes good or sometimes not so good ways?  

That first one? 

Fully disclosure, I do not remember many of the life altering moments. Well, not the exact moments but certainly took in full measure of the changes, the shifts.  I recall quite fondly the first time I rode a bicycle all by myself.  I remember the first bike I received as a gift. I remember using those wheels, and my power churning those wheels to put some distance between home and the rest of the world.  

Well, the neighborhood, at least.  

One of the exact moments I remember is meeting Pete.  And I remember bringing him home from the shelter.  Pete, you see, was my first pet as an adult.  Actually, the first cat....ever.  My family owned dogs (many dogs) when I was growing up.  My children didn't have pets as children.   

So Pete checked many boxes with his presence.  

Pete, like Buttah, were the pets, the cats I didn't think I wanted and certainly didn't think I needed.  

I was wrong. Pete is exactly what my household needed at the time and is exactly right for the household now.  He's a prince.  He's not a cuddle puddle kind of cat and that is okay, I have understood that about him from the very beginning. I respect his boundaries. He loves that about me.  

The other first I remember is the very first blog post on this space.  I remember discovering blogs as I was discovering myself, as I was, in the word of former first lady, Michelle Obama, "becoming." I was living a shadow life, a shell of my actual self, going through the motions, keeping up appearances, following the path set out before me.  

It would be some posts later before I actually uttered the words, that truth, the soul of me--that which others in my life report to have known, or had guessed to be true.  It would be some 1,000 (plus) posts later that revealed other truths, insights, humors, highs, lows . . .   

And loss. 

Within these pages I talk about the loss of my mother, my father, the diva dog and the orange boy. Thanks to these pages I was comforted and supported. I have cherished the community that visited here and grateful for the bloggers who have shared their lives, journeys, insights, truths, highs, lows, and more.  I cherish the friends made through blogging.  

Like Pete, this space is fifteen years old this year.  (Pete, 03/06   Middle Girl, 03/29) 

Like I love the prickly Pete. I love this space even as the community at large has opted for other mediums or distanced themselves off the internet. I love what remains, I love what may be again someday. And even if it is never like it was, this space will remain a special repository for my thoughts, truths, joys, and pains.  

I remain ever grateful for the readers, commenters, fellow bloggers, and friends.    

May peace be with us all. 

                                                                                       

Dog With A Ball In The Creek

     

  

       

  

  

  

Brrr

Pete, keeping warm

We have had some chilly weather. There was even snow one day this week. Not earth-shattering news. It is, after all, November. And this is, after all, the Midwest. It is what happens.

Still, most, seem to be of the opinion that it is too early for such folly.

But, not I. (mostly) 

It is November in the midwest. Chilly and snow, (more often than not) are on tap. 

That said, it would not hurt my feelings one bit if the 50s would return for the next two (or three--okay, that is pushing it) weeks. 

PS: cauliflower masquerading as mashed potatoes, not half bad. 

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Be Still

Pete in the Middle

When last we met Buttah was the featured feline planting himself in the middle of a project. Not to be outdone, here is Pete smack dab in the middle of a different project. Pete, unlike Buttah, isn't about offering any advice or wisdom. His motivations are: 1. feed me and 2. crank up the heat. He cares not what is going on unless he has determined the goings on are interfering with 1 and 2.

Pete, Buttah, and their canine counterpart, Cinnamon impact operations; most every task, most every project. How little or how much depends on the energy emitted into the atmosphere. The dynamic of the trio of fur has shifted in the last few weeks. We are still working through the newest normal. Winter (even unofficially) is not our signature season.

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Still Life

The last couple of weeks have been full of a mish-mosh of events, emotions, and more. While there are many things to say, I find myself devoid of fitting syntax to relate any of those things except this: wherever there is a project to be done, there is Buttah offering his sage advice and guidance.

#MicroBlogMonday-click for more! 

Pete, My First

I AM the CAT. 

Sitting. Thinking.

Adding "LOL" doesn't make it funny. 

#SixWordSaturday  

Early Morning Ruse

Pete on alert. 

It is 4:12 AM and I am awakened by the rumblings of Pete and his co-conspirator, Buttah. It is too early to get up (for good) and too late to go back to any kind of serious sleep.

Though, blaming the awakening on the cats and by proxy, the pooch who is on instant alert and all too ready to rumble, is a bit unfair. It is really the fullness of a bladder that shakes a body from slumber


Point is, the too early wake-up call is frustrating enough on the weekends where a return to bed until at least an hour past sunrise is in play. The 4:12 AM rousing is beyond frustrating for weekday mornings where rise-and-shine time is no later than 5:30 AM; I am out the door within two hours of rising, and at my desk ready to work within another two hours.

So with all due respect to the forces that are Pete, Buttah, Cinnamon and the offending bladder, the mind and other body parts would appreciate a togetherness of spirit toward saving all antics until, oh, I don't know, 4:45 AM.

That wouldn't be great but it would be very much better.

#microblogging monday

Welcome to Wednesday: MeMe Edition

And so, my friend developed these questions and so, I'm answering: 

1. What topic is so interesting to you that you could talk about it for days? 

I'm sure I could talk about my  son and daughter for days. But, those two aside . . . pipe cleaners; home crafting golden product.  Okay, I'm kidding.  Popsicle sticks! I kid you not. 

2. Dream home: cottage at the beach, river house in the woods, lake house, penthouse in a city, farm house, castle in Europe, family home in a burb? Something else?

This one is tough and after much thought, lake house.  

3. What talent would you like to have that you don’t have already?

Piano. Hands down. playing, not building, just to be clear. 

4. If you could make one food that’s not good for you, good for you, what would you choose?

TIRAMISU 

5. The one piece of advice you would give to everyone and wish they’d follow.

Sock and a sock, shoe and a shoe. Not, sock / shoe, sock / shoe.  Oh, and kindness wins. 

6. What period of history would you want to visit as a tourist?   Edwardian.  

7. Do you have a hobby?    Slow dancing, swaying to the music.  (Arts.) 

8. If an animal could talk, which animal would you want to talk to? Buttah. I'm aching to know what kind of home he lived in before he was ours. How it was he wound up on the street, not the safest even for a cat with all four paws clawed. 

9. If you could be friends with a fictional character, who would you choose? Kay Scarpetta's niece, Lucy Farinelli. 

10. Introvert or extrovert?  All together now, i-n-t-r-o-v-e-r-t. 

Another blogger created another list of questions and I've decided to answer those as well. Next Wednesday.  Have a wonderful rest of the week. 

And So It Has Begun

MicroBlog Monday 

Nothing says "Happy New Year" like cuddling up with your long haired orange tabby and having said tabby sneeze in your face. Wiping cat snot off one's glasses at 4 in the morning is the pinnacle of woo-hoo, let me tell ya.  

Or, in other words, business (and beginnings of days) as usual. Buttah, the catdog, is ramping up his campaign to be top pet. That, and the colder weather drives him (and his elusive brother, Pete) in my room more often these days, causing the pooch's anxiety level to rise. 

The day proceeded apace with the usual things happening at pretty much the usual time for Friday was a workday; the shift filled with explaining to various patients why they owe what they owe, what their insurance didn't cover and in some cases, why. And, talking with insurance companies to follow-up on non-payments, providing the necessary information so they claims may be reconsidered. And reconciling accounts, applying credits to debits and sending out statements. 

And then, it was time to come home where the pooch, long-haired orange tabby and is ever elusive brother wait to be tended. 

Playing behind the scenes of the business as usual days are the other things; books to read, things to do, stuff to get, music (ear worms, like the themes to TV shows, I'll spare you which) 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th quarter goals and / or projects and words, and images. Words and images. Words and images, popping in and out of my mind. 

And speaking of words, inspired by my friend, I present to you my word of the year: c-r-e-a-t-e, manifested artistically and otherwise. The otherwise will likely revolve around the pooch, the long haired orange tabby, catdog and his ever elusive brother, Pete. 

Two and a Half

MicroBlogMonday

As I remain challenged to stitch together much in the way of coherence please indulge a thimble full of random thoughts:  

1. The work (of more import, commute) week is shortened by two and a half days.To that I scream a resounding YaY!!  Well, the commutes will still be three full days as I must return even after the half day of work. But, still . . yay.

2. You shall be pleased to read that after much hand wringing and hair pulling, I have finally decided my contribution to the eve breakfast potluck: deviled eggs.

3. A joyous noise moment: the company holiday party won't happen until the ninth of January. It shall be a casual, family affair. In a bowling alley. To that I scream a resounding YaY!!!

4. The pooch (don't worry, she has since had her face done, eyes no longer hiding behind all that fur) and the catdog, Buttah continue to  navigate a, "I'm the favorite" course.  Neither need not worry. Plenty of love for them both (as well as for the more aloof, Pete.)

5. A condolence card arrived the other day which confounded
and astounded in equal measure. Quite moved by the outpouring of kindness expressed therein.

6. Birds are a common theme in greeting cards. Birds are a common holiday theme. My comfort threshold with birds is low. Not so low that I'm overly quacked out by images alone. But should I come face to face with a gaggle of geese, a covey of partridges,  a murder of crows, and so on . . way quacked out. Still, I shall be looking for every and all opportunities to shrink the bird themed greeting card collection currently in my possession.    

Boys At Work

They are expert and offering their expertise with every project, from art to minor patches--they are

                         THERE. HERE. EVERYWHERE.

                                 YaY!

So, Yeah.

Lazy list because I should be in bed, but I'm not--but REALLY should be down for the count. 

1. Both Buttah and Cinnamon have been sick. Nothing serious, but damn. Tired. Stressful. 

2. I don't even want to begin to tell you how many conversations (with daughter) began with the status 

   of  poop. 

3.  Commuting is . . . well, I don't have the words at present. And even if I did--bed calls. . 

4. Some purging did happen and will continue, albeit at a turtle's pace. 

5. The summer so far has been, in a word, weird. 

6. My daughter is slated to assist one of her culinary instructors with a catering gig later today. She is so             stoked.

7. I am deep in the throes of a love / have relationship with paper. All paper. 

8. But, then again, back and forth it may be, that relationship with paper is . . .ahhh..

9. Lovely. 

10. That said, paper (as in bound in books) must leave. One box is done another shall be completed by the       end of next weekend.

11. Just in time to drop off (at the high school) for THE FAIR. 

12. No, I will not be shopping at the fair this year. 

13. That would be silly. 

14. No, really. 

15. Silly.   

All Ears

 

Pete as "Yoda" 

Buttah as "Yoda" 

While marketed as "Yoda" ears, I think they look more like a "flying nun" accessory. On the plus, the daughter (who loves dressing up the fur babies) only purchased one set. The cats get to share, which I'm sure (if they could speak) would be all, "oh, goody, goody, gumdrops" about that fact. 

Buttah seemed the more agreeable of the two over donning and posing in the ears. Though, Buttah is nearly always the more agreeable of the two. Ms. Cinnamon got saved from any new costuming. The daughter's budget will not allow, for now. 

Speaking of Cinnamon, the wonder dog, she's in dire need of another haircut. Schedules and budgets have not allowed.  But come heck or high water, IT. MUST. HAPPEN! While I like her micro curls, her face and feet are much too fuzzy. Decision must be made about how best to showcase her innate beauty.  

In other news yours truly is struggling to keep emotions in check. Tears are flowing easy like Sunday morning.  

Speaking of yours truly, of great interest to daughter who finds herself  Fantasy Footballing,  Bears are 2-0 which matters not to yours truly except as in a purely conversational sense.And on that note: Must get to bed now, well, not to bed to sleep so much as to read before sleep. 

Ta Ta  

No Title On Purpose

Pete: Why are you such a suck-up? 

Buttah: Don't hate me because I'm beautiful!  

1.  In other news: my aunt is recovering, albeit slowly, from her stroke. 

2.  My brothers and I are still endeavoring to stay in touch. Granted, we don't have much to say to one another, but we do make the effort even if it is just to say, "hey". 

3.  Vet visit fail: the dog, it turns out, isn't spayed. She's in heat. She will be spayed as soon as possible after her cycle.   

4. I'm not surprised by the hatred spewed over this ad but it angers me none-the-less. Post racial, my ass. That said, the response from the company: Right. On. 

5. The week ahead is going to be a bear, quite possibly unbearable. 

Donning armor. Welcome, June. 

  

some things change, some don't

It's cold. That isn't news. It IS January and it is Chicago. I heard the other day that the single digit temps we had earlier this week were the coldest experienced in this area in two years. And though cold, I wasn't complaining for One: is IS January. Two: it IS Chicago. Three: there isn't wasn't any snow. (There is snow now, but just a tiny bit.) Four: No matter how cold, how bad it is, I know it could be worse.

.

So, it is cold. And now, a bit of snow. 

,                                                      

The pup however, is not at all phased by the cold or the snow. Granted, she hasn't seen a snowstorm yet. (There have been several inquiries as to whether she can *see* at all, what with all the hair and the phantom eyes.) But, I have a sneaking suspicion that she will handle mounds of snow in the same way she's handled everything else, with great mounds of exuberance.

There is much going around these parts, most of which I have yet to truly wrap around my head and wear it brightly. I'm worried about a some friends. I'm distressed over job, work issues. I'm fearful for my mom. I am harried, heckled, haunted, and hounded much.

But, I have a dog who is mostly calm about getting her hair snipped (except around her eyes). Hard to tell, I know, in the seated (most recent) pic that she has short ringlets instead of the shaggy dog appearance. Trust, she does. I have two cats who suffer the indignities of being (lovingly) mauled by the big, goofy dog with, well, dignity and I dare say, aplomb (mostly). I have a son and a daughter who enjoy talking to me and I enjoy most of that talking, very much.

And while it is very cold, I have heat, hot water, tea, soup, enough clothes to layer upon layer as well as a kick-ass pair of mittens (thanks to my good friend Maxine). I also have (still) a sliver of optimism that this cold snap is just that, a snap. And while my problems (and those of my friends) will not dissipate as the temperatures rise nor entirely on their own. But, solutions will be found, executed.

Things will get better. Here's to the mindset that has better coming sooner rather than too much later.

In the meantime there is the pup to walk, in the cold and tiny bit of snow.

Testing 1. 2. 3.

There is plenty to say, just no time, energy, focus to get it organized and down on paper or rather, screen. What I can say is that I'm glad it is raining instead of snowing. I'm glad my hip stopped hurting. I'm so saddened and distraught over the most recent (and seemingly constant) spates of mass violence. The fact that I had to ask mom for my younger brother's address speaks volumes. I don't intend to buy any "Christmas" gifts, though I will be gifting, much. I had the best time with my good friend at dinner the other night. Can't wait for a repeat. The cats are leery of the dog. Buttah however, will test his mettle against the big baby hound. And speaking of the the dog . . . 

Friends

Some time over the past few weeks Cinnamon and Buttah have formed some kind of . . . grudging acceptance for the presence of the other. Buttah braves journeys to the lower perches and the floor because he craves interaction and attention.  As a result, he suffers the clumsy, flopping ministrations of the big brown pup.


Eventually he tires of the game, fends off the big brown pup, and scampers back to higher ground. Or barring navigation his own escape, is rescued by one of the humans.  Still, somewhere in the midst of the ministrations, protestations, fending, and rescuing, they . . . bonded. Of sorts. More often than not, they are just sitting, in the same place, on the same bed, without incident . . . that is, until big brown pup deems the amnesty period over.

The game, or rather the dance being played out has the feel of something brewing. . some kind of relationship. . . some kind of friendship.

Bearing witness to the brewing over the past few weeks has had me thinking about friends generally and my friends specifically. I count very few people in that category of friend (FB semantics aside). As a child I had difficulty making friends; our multiple moves, the sheltering thanks to my girl status, my being a bona fida introvert all played a role.

My high school years were the most static, as I spent 4 years in one school and was able to form a few solid (as solid as possible considering I couldn't / didn't invite people home) relationships. One such relationship followed me well into adulthood only to be lost to lesbianism, or rather her homophobic reaction to my lesbianism.

Fastforward to today and there are, as I said, very few people who I consider a friend (again, FB semantics aside). Each of the few are a treasure to me, golden. I trust each is aware of their importance to me as I am active in the cultivation of these relationships.

Still, something is amiss. Or rather, I am missing. The One.  Not necessarily a girlfriend in that sense (though that would be sweet) but a running buddy, a wing-woman, a "kick it" partner. There is a certain pathology at play with the relationships I have formed (and those that have stuck) that bear some exploration.

Perhaps some adjustments are warranted.

In the meantime, I thank you friends for being there / here for me. For helping me through some tough days (even if you didn't know you were). Your humor, honesty, creativity, and most of all your presence is a treasure, golden.

And, Cinnamon is pretty sure she wants Buttah for a friend. Buttah, on the other hand, seems somewhat wary. Though, I think eventually, he'll come around. I believe he will be able to teach Cinnamon to temper her ministrations, a bit.    





 

Two Days Running

There are many great pairings like chocolate and peanut butter, spinach and mushrooms, cheese and crackers, soup and crusty bread, bacon and . . . well, most anything, to name but a few. Conversely, there are pairings that are not so great, for instance, (any) breakfast sandwich with American cheese, fish on pizza, brussel sprouts and . . . well, most anything.  

I've come to the thoughtful opinion that another not so great pairing has to do with wonder puppy. Wonder...yes, she is that. She is also quite rambunctious. QUITE! And what doesn't pair well with rambunctious puppy is being ill. Especially that brand of ill that involves many instances of emergent . . .needs.

 . . And then there is the other, uhm, emergent need. The one that begins with a rumbling in the tummy. Not the gentle gurgle signaling the need for a bit of food. No, not that. The roiling, bubbling churn signaling that all is about to break loose. . . 

A bug infected Daughter's workplace, some of her co-workers, many of the children, and daughter herself caught said bug and suffered various manifestations. Daughter's version included emissions, an emptying of stomach contents from both ends--two days worth, several days ago.

When the bug caught up with me it meant,  well, let's just say, "thank goodness there is no vomiting" to quote Daughter.

Rambunctious puppy still needed walking, feeding, watering, training, engaging, guidance in burning off as much of that puppy energy as humanly possible. Not only thank goodness there wasn't vomiting, but also, no fever, no body aches (after the first day) and more. I recognize this bout of illness (not quite over but so much better than yesterday and the day before) could have been worse and am grateful it wasn't, for all involved.

On a side note, the flash of brilliance I had of taking rambunctious out for her last walk later (10 p.m) in hopes of her sleeping through (or at least staying sated and relatively quiet) until at least 5 a.m. (she's been rousing at 2:30--3:00 ish most mornings) was doused by the cats--who came tromping through at 3:30 this morning. Buttah, feeling neglected and likely overwhelmed has been sticking to me like glue today and deciding hell or high water he's going to beat this big floppy dog at her own attention getting game.

Saturday, Sunday, Pup Day

She is gorgeous; flowing tresses full of fun and frolic, warmth and desire.

That sentence was meant to start a story of a totally fictional nature. It (the sentence and snippets of the story to flesh out) has been rattling around my head for weeks now. I haven't been able to mash more than that sentence out.

So be it. I will continue to work on the story.

In the meantime, while we were not looking to introduce a canine to the household so soon, a confluence of events brought Cinnamon into our lives. She was rescued from a home with three (or more?) too many puppies. So now, she is ours.

She is settling in rather nicely.