…I’ve been wondering if I’m being humored, like a pat on the head for a loyal canine companion…or if doors once slammed in my face and locked tight are opening just a crack to let me in?
I want to be let in, and the guardian of that particular gate knows it. So.
Tossing me a milkbone so I’ll piss off for a while or opening the door so I can bound inside and stay warm by that fire? Remains to be seen.
I suppose I could ask outright, y’know? Hey, what’s this all about? What’s the meaning of all this? Is there a meaning to all this? I wish there was a meaning to all this! I would like to apply a meaning to all of this!!
I’m always the asker, the blurter, the no filter brave one…and I’d like to not have to do that again here because…because. Because I’m stubborn. Because I’m proud. Because I’m loyal. Because I deserve to be on the receiving end of some good news.
Reflecting today on those who honor their word. Honor and integrity are sadly rare these days. People say a million and one things they don’t mean. They make promises they never intend to keep.
Yesterday I was pleasantly surprised that someone kept their word to me. I admit I’d given up on the follow through for this old promise. I had shrugged it off, what’s done is done.
I received a text message last night that the deal was done, circle closed, promise kept. Thank you very much for reminding me that it’s still okay to extend trust and that it’s okay to keep seeds of hope, even if they are tucked away in the back of dark drawer, slightly dusty.
As I watch snow falling out my office window, I hope I’ve kept my word to all of you to the best of my ability. I hope I’ve been reliable, and I hope that I continue to be reliable for you in all the ways that matter.
Remember back in the olden days when we used to email each other? I still pop open my inbox each morning in hopes of a real email. Usually all I find in there are 15 or so ads from places I only shop once or twice a year, so delete delete delete. There are a few subscriptions that arrive by email to articles and quotes, and I read those every day.
It’s a rare day to find a personal email, but I still skim the list of new mail, looking for that shiny gold nugget amidst the rubble.
I want to hear your stories. I want to know the details. I want to peek behind the scenes, beyond what you post on Facebook and Instagram. I want to know the real you, not the social media persona.
I miss snail mail, too. I have a couple friends that still send cards from time to time, and I display those cards for weeks. I love the effort behind snail mail. I had a friend who lived a few hours away from me in college, and he would decorate the envelopes before he’d send them, sketching in a little drawing on the back or coloring the entire envelope in a hodgepodge of shades; receiving mail from him was like receiving a gift, a treasure.
I don’t send as many emails and snail mails as I used to write once upon a time. I suppose in some ways I’m sitting around waiting for an answer to some of the big ones I sent out, or looking for feedback on the 600 zillion blog posts and articles I have floating around the corners of the Internet. Is silence the answer I’ve been awaiting? I hope not. I hope somewhere out there, you’re all coloring envelopes for me with your favorite colored pencils or roaming the aisles at the supermegamondomart, looking for just the right card. Maybe you have a draft email that you keep coming back to and revising, deleting and adding until it’s just right.
Tell me a secret. Tell me a joke. Tell me what your kids did that was awesome or embarrassing or awesomely embarrassing. Tell me who you have a crush on or why you think that new movie totally sucks. I want to know more than the character limit on your text message app will allow. Can we bring one on one communication back into fashion? Who doesn’t love a note written just to them, just for them? Status updates are handy and fun, but there’s none of the mystery and excitement of a new message in my email inbox or a hand addressed envelope arriving in with the mix of bills.
Can I challenge you to write an email today or drop someone a snail mail note? I will be generous in my challenge and say that those messages today don’t even have to be to me…but I want to hear from you soon. I want to hear all about it, whatever “it” is.
I’m pretty comfortable living in haunted spaces. I’ve had some kooky stuff happen in the houses I’ve lived in over the years. My current house has been pretty quiet, knock wood, except for the stealthy ghost cat.
The very first night I slept in this house over a decade ago, I felt a cat jump up on my bed and curl up by my feet. I am a crazy cat lady, so I know what a cat hopping on the bed feels like, but I try to discourage my cats from sleeping in my room overnight because of my asthma. I assumed one of my kitties had snuck in as I closed my bedroom door, so I felt all around the bed for the naughty feline, and there wasn’t a cat to be found. I turned on the light, and as you might’ve guessed, no cat. This process repeated nightly for about a week, and then the phantom cat came to my bed no more.
One night last week, I climbed into bed so wide awake I worried that I wouldn’t fall asleep in time to get a good rest before work. I was running through my mental to do list in bed, and I felt it: up hopped a cat onto the mattress, curling up in a ball by my feet. My train of thought screeched to a halt as I processed this: I was completely awake, and that was surely a cat. On came the bedside lamp, and nothing to be seen.
The ghost cat has been back every night for the last few nights, but I’ve stopped turning the light on. If a kitty from the great beyond takes comfort in snoozing at my feet, so be it. The Adventures of Kat and Ghost Cat continue…
Facebook is awash in “Gratitude Month” posts for November and Thanksgiving. It kind of makes me wanna barf a little, because gratitude should be an all year thing, not a seasonal thing, y’know? But better some gratitude in the world than none, I suppose.
I’ve been admittedly irritable lately. Financial concerns primarily are my annoyance as child support is about to end, yet there’s still school tuition to pay, health insurance, et cetera. I’m a speck worried about making ends meet, and I frankly think it’s ridiculously unfair that one parent is “off the hook” based on a birth date. I could use some gratitude so perhaps I can be less grumbly. I could also use a miracle or two.
I’m grateful my friends. We drink a lot of coffee. We laugh. We are sassy and snarky and happy together. Even though my new job puts me in a tough spot financially, it gives me much more room to see these wonderful people for meals and adventures. I love my bunch of weirdos, near and far.
I’m grateful for my fur children. The kitties and the doggies are always glad to see me. On a crummy day, they will always snuggle with me. Priceless.
I’m grateful for a warm house on this blustery cold day. It’s crazy to think that it was so warm outside just a few days ago that I had my windows open, and now the mountains in the distance are dusted with snow. It’s warm and I have my ginormous fleece hoodie on that could fit me and a few other people all at once.
Have I ever posted that I’m grateful for my slow cooker, because I totally am?! I made turkey with cranberries earlier this week, and last weekend made a chicken with salsa. I love my slow cooker.
I am grateful for this day. The sun is shining, the dogs are snoring on the floor, and it’s almost time to go to work, but I’m alive alive alive. I’m here. We’re here. This is good.
The number of people trying to hack into this site is, like, ridiculous. Why? I don’t even sell anything on this site. There are no secret credit card numbers to have here, no e-commerce to disrupt. Find a new site to hack into, like Apple or Amazon or something, somewhere where your efforts might be fruitful, because really, it just pisses me off that I have to lockdown a lowly blog on such a regular basis. No money here! Go away! All I have are words. No money here. It’s not worth the effort, ya’ll. No money here. No transactions here. Just some mood swings and words, move along, nothing to see here.
I am recovering from October. There were concerts and road trips and parties and dancing and costumes and adventures and so much laughter, so much joyous wonderfulness that I am exhausted. October was overflowing with opportunities to live and love.
There was sadness and loss. There was physical pain and there were multiple trips to lessen said pain. There was worry over the financial future and paying for the kiddo’s school. Most of that yuck is still lingering into November.
September and October always feel more like the dawning of a new year than January to me. I feel renewed, like I am starting over and reborn when the first chill hits the air. This time of year is exciting as well as introspective. When November and December roll around, I am ready to go into the cave with my creative ideas and bring out something new soon, but grrrrrr, let me hibernate in the cave with my thoughts.
I know you hated him. I know you, you right there, didn’t like him, either. As I was drifting off to sleep a couple nights ago, I remembered a moment.
We were somewhere lovely sitting in lounge chairs. We were watching the airplanes come in over the bay in the distance. He would identify the airline by the colors on the plane, and if he couldn’t identify it, he was looking them up online. He would identify the type of plane, too, and tell me something about it. That was it, you know, the part you never saw…the eager curiosity, the delight in sharing something he knew with me. It was pure and sweet and one of the reasons we clicked: unabashed enthusiasm for the whole wide world that we lived in.
I hadn’t thought of the time spent watching airplanes in who knows how long. It doesn’t change how you feel or how anything played out, but there’s always more to what you see on the surface. When I love with a love that is more than a love (yeah, I just ripped off Poe there), it’s not worship of empty vessels or attaching myself to any ol’ man. I have my reasons to stay, and I have my reasons to go, and seldom are any of the reasons public and obvious. I’m not a Kardashian, spilling my guts in a reality show in a non-stop awkward overshare. I’m an introverted writer who likes for the feelings to be on the downlow, yo.
I should do it more often…say thanks, that is, to the awesome folks who make sure that this website is on a functional server out there in cyberland…to the patient soul who listens to me when I’m like “MY SITE IS DOWN! MY ONE READER CAN NOT GET ONLINE!”
Thanks, James; thanks, Blue Dozen Design. Thanks. You are the wind beneath my blogging wings.
Change is scary, but staying stuck is scarier.
I miss my bed!
In Ashevegas, I am the Snot Queen. Here in the high altitude and desert, I am the Nosebleed Queen. I am always bringing sexy back, yo.
I just did a test to affirm what I’ve learned in my first week of a five week orientation process, and I did fine, but it was surprising to realize just how much I’ve already learned.
Sometime sushi places make this stuff up. Surf and turf sushi?? (it was good)
I am so grateful for all the love and encouragement that’s been given to me for this change. I’m still scared; I’d be lying if I claimed I wasn’t nervous and weirded out. I chose to earn less money in order to live more richly…I hope you’ll buy me dinner sometime 😉
I miss my kiddo. Teenagers are difficult animals that test our patience, but I miss her snarky eye-rolling face.
Flying is cool, but were the seats designed for people with no arms? Where am I supposed to put my elbows? Do I really have to fold up like origami for four hours at a time?
Audio books are awesome. Close your eyes. Headphones on. Kick the seat back that one glorious inch we’re allotted on a flight and it’s wonderful.
I miss my fur children. I’m told they miss me and are acting out a little…good. Let them know The Food Lady is coming home soon.
