#haiku

I have an Instagram account that I post to about as often as I post here. Except my Instagram posts include more poetry--haiku, specifically. This feels a little like cheating as far as blog posts go, but I thought I'd share a few of my instacritter posts with you:

Other chores await

But sleepy lap cat says no.

Chores will keep waiting.

  Why are we stopping?

I love hiking in the snow!

I don't like stopping.

A freaked out feline

Found at a local Goodwill.

Treasure left behind.

You know it's cold out

When the radiator sprouts

A fluffy cover.

Snugglebeep

Two years ago, I adopted a troubled little cat named Bailey.  He was terrified of new people and had lots of other anxiety issues.  He had lived at the shelter for most of his two years and was in need of a good deal of patience and quiet love.  Even though Bella never made friends with him, he slowly and steadily came out of his shell.  

He's still frightened of new people and anxious about loud noises, but he loves to snuggle with me and my partner and is relaxed around our two big dogs.  When I reread my post from his early days with me, I realized how far he has come and how much he has opened up to us.  His name changed from Bailey to Beep, once he let us see what a sweet, funny little guy he is.  It's incredible to see him cruising confidently around the house, asking for dinner or attention, and letting the dogs know where his boundaries are.

Slightly annoyed at having his picture taken this early

Early "brave" moment

HAPPY 2ND ADOPTIVERSARY, BEEP!

Depression and Bacon

Grief + depression = massive amounts of "please can't I stay in bed today" (hint: no, you can't). One of these days I'll write a eulogy for my little cat baby, but this is not that day.  I'm still disoriented without her.  I've been depressed for so long that I alternate between actual depression, frustration with the continued depression, and sheer boredom with being depressed. 

Fairy Tale

Happiness.

Like a unicorn
or a dragon-

A rumor, a tale
of something that existed
Once upon a time,

A long time ago.

I feel like this unicorn really understands my poem...

Yeah, depression is pretty boring.  More interesting--this weekend I invented a new comfort breakfast.  My primal version of the cinnamon roll is a bacon-wrapped banana, which is exactly as awesome as it sounds.  Wind a piece of bacon around a peeled banana and bake it at 400F until the bacon is as done as you like--crispy bacon, gooey banana.  And it's easier to make than the cinnamon rolls you get in the can.  It's not particularly easy to share, though, so I created THIS:

Baked Bacon-nanas

1/2 lb bacon
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp allspice
1/4 tsp cardamom
1/8 tsp cloves
4-6 bananas, sliced
Butter

Place the bacon on a wire rack over a cookie sheet.  Bake at 400F for 15 minutes.  Cut into bite-sized pieces.  Butter an 8x8 baking dish and place banana slices in the bottom.  Combine the spices and sprinkle over the banana slices.  Scatter bacon pieces on top.  Bake at 375F for 10-15 minutes.  Enjoy!

Still pretty danged easy to make and very easy to share.  Or not, because you may be tempted to keep it to yourself.
 

Three Good Things 1.17&18.15

Some of my gloom is lifting and I had a fun, relaxing weekend so finding three good things was pretty simple.

1. Spent the weekend with a surprise guest—one of my favorite dogs.  Bailey’s fear of the giant dog was eclipsed by his need for treats, and he managed to come out of hiding for dinner and snacks.  He even sniffed noses with the “monster” one time.  Brave little cat!
2. Had a fun afternoon of crafting and sushi with friends.  We didn’t accomplish everything we set out to do, but we had fun doing what we did.
3. Split a tasty bottle of Cava (Spanish sparkling wine) with someone who didn’t subsequently run 8 miles.  Fizzy wine is not awesome running fuel, but it feels tremendously decadent to have it with brunch.

Speaking of running fuel, I really need to start getting the long runs in before the weekend gets rolling.  I learned my lesson with trail rash last year—no alcohol the night before ANY trail run.  I am WAY too good at falling down.

Not my actual knee, but weirdly similar to scrapes/bruises I got last year

C'mon Spring!!

 

Three Good Things 1.15.15

Was still in a horrible mood yesterday and refusing to deal with some things.  In spite of that, I've managed to find my three good things:

1. Joked around with my ex-coworker/friend via email, including sending her the pic below.  She is the most fabulous person I know--always beautifully made up and well-attired.  I give her a hard time about her fabulousity, but she knows it's because I'm a little jealous (and because it makes her laugh.)
2. The snacks I brought to go with the beer at our STEM Tavern were happily eaten up and my ex-boss offered to bring snacks next month.
3. Bailey (the newish cat) was mind-bogglingly adorable as he tried to convince Bella (the oldish cat) that she should sniff noses with him through the baby gate in the doorway.  She refused and got cranky at him, but you should have seen all the chirping, purring, and pure cuteness going on.  I really don't know how she can resist that.

 

 

 

 

Fabulousity vs. Crafter Grrrl

Flying Solo

I try not to talk about relationship stuff on this blog—wouldn’t want anyone distracted from the poetry, recipes, running adventures, pop psychology, and occasional funny cat stories.  Ha.  But in the aftermath of my most recent breakup, I’ve noticed something.  I hate being single.  I know I’m a grown woman and we’re supposed to learn to love ourselves and be happy with all the other types of love in our lives.  We are supposed to pamper ourselves, enjoy the chance to do whatever we feel like doing, and be happy and fulfilled alone.  Mostly, I can do that.  I’m an introvert by nature so I’m fine with my own company and I do think I’m pretty awesome most days.  I’m often selfish, so I’m good at pampering myself and prefer to be in charge of my agenda.  I love my friends and my cats and they love me back.  I stay in touch with my family via phone calls and Facebook.  So why do I get all morose just because I don’t have some doofus texting me a couple of times a day to tell me what he had for breakfast or ask me what I want to do with the evening?  Why on earth do I feel such a strong need for attention from some male person?  Argh.  Even when I know what I should be doing and what I should have learned by now, there’s still that little voice that says “I need a sweetheart and I need him RIGHT NOW.”  That little voice must be ignored.  I will use my free time to get some crafty crap completed and text my friends a little more often and maybe plan a couple of girl’s nights to distract me.  And I absolutely will not pay attention to the hot ex-boyfriend who has gotten in touch with me because I try not to make the same mistake twice.

I also try not to talk too much about my cat.  There are plenty of reasons that I’m crazy—there’s no need for one more.  But do you remember how I said I was volunteering at the animal shelter?  Almost every time I volunteered, I’d fall in love with one of the cats.  The next week, that cat would be gone—adopted.  Eventually, that adoption streak had to end.  I noticed one cat who had been there longer than most of the others.  Bailey was sweet and liked to be petted, but always looked miserable and sick.  He crouched in the bottom of his bed as if someone were pressing down on him.  I told him that he’d have to sit up and look friendly in order to find a forever home. 

One day, I introduced my (now former) boyfriend to him and of course, he just had to find out the cat’s story.  (After I heard the story about Titan, who was found with a rope around his neck, I’d stopped asking.)  Turns out this little guy had been taken from a hoarder 2 years previously, when he was a kitten.  He had been there longer than any other cat.  He’d been part of a bonded pair and had been adopted out briefly when he was less than a year old.  The person returned him but refused to return his sister.  He was a staff favorite, but they knew he’d have to find the right household if he was going to have a real forever home.  Well.  I wanted to take him home before I heard the story.  After all that, I was determined.  He came home with me a couple of weeks later.

Had to brush my teeth in the kitchen that morning!

He lived in my teeny-tiny bathroom for a few days.  One morning, he was curled up in the sink so I figured he was ready for more exploring.  I let him into my craft room where he promptly disappeared, was found, disappeared again, got found again, then disappeared once more.  I rearranged the room to limit the hiding places and he got comfy in his bed under a clothes rack.  He explores the room late at night and has started coming out to see me when I stop in to pet him and feed him.  He’s still terribly nervous but finally beginning to show signs of relaxing.  It’s been amazing to watch and it makes me smile just to think about it.  In the last couple of days, he has begun to walk around the room a bit even when I am in there with him.  This gives me hope for his future.  Sure, he may never be gregarious, but he may come close to normal.  Bella hasn’t met him yet, but she knows he’s in there somewhere.  Let’s hope the little diva is as sanguine about him joining the household as Bailey and I have been.

Bailey up and walking around, even with a spectator!

Critters

First Bunch of Critters:  Viruses.  There is some sort of cold/flu virus going around our area.  The symptoms aren’t particularly horrible but it leaves you feeling completely exhausted.  I was sick for at least 2 weeks, home from work for one of those weeks, and I’m still feeling pretty wimpy.  It thawed enough on Sunday for me to at least try to do some trail running, but it was more of a hike interspersed with a bit of jogging.  Baby steps.  Yuck.

Second Bunch of Critters:  Brain Chemicals.  Part of being sick and exhausted was an inability to ignore my seasonal depression.  My favorite technique for dealing with SAD is to simply be completely unaware of the depression.  I cruise along like a blindfolded tightrope walker, getting things done in spite of the yawning abyss below.  “Don’t look down” is my motto from January until May.  However, any real drain on my energy (see First Bunch of Critters above) makes it tough to maintain my forward momentum.  I’ve had a few really unpleasant days lately, but at least I got a decent poem out of it:

Just Before the Dawn

Lying awake
With a mouthful of the unsaid.
No tears, just a grey heart
And a vague wish for sleep
In the deep charcoal
Of 0dark:30

Yeesh.  Hey, don’t let that get you down—it’s just the winter blues, okay?  C’mon Spring!!

Third Bunch of Critters:  Adoptable Dogs and Cats.  In December, I started volunteering at a local no-kill shelter.  I had to skip a couple of weekends because of the bleeping virus, but I’m back on track now.  So far, the cats I have most wished to adopt have been adopted by someone else.  Bella is always relieved to hear that bit of news.  Since she is “allergic” to dogs, I won’t even consider adopting any of them.  I managed to talk a couple of friends into walking dogs with me on Sundays, just to get the poor critters out of the kennels (and some of them need real help learning to walk on a leash).  It’s not always fun or convenient, but I love playing/cuddling/giving treats after the work is over.  Doing this distracts me from my own whining.  It’s so comforting to see the cats settling down to happy naps once the cages are clean and fresh or to watch a dog relax into the back seat of the car after a good walk in the woods.

In looking for a poem that I’ve always used as inspiration for getting out of my own head, I found this blog post.  Go read it—it’s pretty short so I’m sure you have time.  It includes the poem as well as a couple of very good ideas:

• PTSD and depression can be tackled without medication, but not without reaching out to others...
• Happiness always follows a good deed, if only for a moment, but that's how we live anyway--moment to moment one day at a time.

“Do something for somebody, quick!”

Changes keep ringing

Whew.  The new job is still awesome, but dang!  I've been soooo busy.  I am enjoying having weekends mostly free but I still don't have the interwebz in my house, so I haven't gotten around to writing anything new here.  I have finally unpacked though.  And Miss Bella is enjoying our balcony as long as the neighbor's dogs are not sharing her air.  She and I hang out there as often as we can, and I have to admit it's a marvelous place to spend an afternoon with a bottle of wine and a good book.

City Kitty keeps an eye on the passers-by

Got a new phone, which is smarter than my old phone.  As soon as I can figure out how to make it send pictures for real instead of lying to me about it, I'll post the view off the balcony.  I did get my personal library shelved, so you can admire that for the moment:

Paperbacks, over-sized, antique volumes, children's books

collections, non-fiction, misc fiction in hardback, city kitty

In other news, my good old car finally croaked.  It's been towed away, never to return.  The rubber duckie collection from the rear window is languishing in a box inside the apartment.  If anyone has a car for sale that is an automatic, less than 20 years old, less than 200,000 miles, for less than $2000, not required any serious mechanical work--please let me know!  I live about a mile from my new job, so I can walk to work (easy to get my exercise this way, too) but it would be helpful to have a way to get some cat litter home.

I know it's been a while since I posted, but you might recall that I was looking forward to spending time with a certain someone after I moved.  Well, that seems to have dissolved into a morass of anxiety, depression, lies, possibly some drugs or something--I have no clue.  Honestly, I'm not the one who is falling apart.  You can't help someone who won't talk to you. I went through an incredibly similar scenario a couple of years ago with someone else and it sucks just as much (maybe even more) this time around.  If I could borrow Jen and her buddies from "Jen" e sais quoi, I'd really appreciate it.  If a girl can't have a boyfriend, she should at least have some pals to bitch about men with, right? 

PS.  This is my 100th post!  Wo0t!!

Auntie Attack!

I'm not sure that continually posting about my brand-new niece is really any better than posting about my cat, but I just have to share this link with you.  If you want to see real people being super cute and romantic, plus some really fine photography.....go to Jill Gum Photography.  She really captured my brother and SIL and (of course) there are marvelous photos of the new arrival--squeeeee!!

You may now return to your regularly scheduled lives.  Thank you for your attention.

And just in case you're uninterested in babies or romance, here is a picture of my cat:

She is absolutely refusing to share the afghan

Fear 1

I feckin' chickened out.  Got there 30 minutes late and stood outside the restaurant, looking in at a table full of people laughing, talking, eating.  Knowing that I didn't have the nerve to walk in and interrupt.  That I couldn't possibly be welcome in there.  I hugged myself tight, but just couldn't.  Take.  That.  Step.

I turned and hustled away, trying to put my arms down, struggling to look as normal as possible, hating my scaredy-cat self.  I took myself to the bookstore, since that's usually a treat, but I was on the verge of tears the whole time.  I couldn't think of anyone to contact for support or encouragement or sympathy.  So I went home.  I didn't really feel like talking to anyone anyway.

I did some cooking, which filled the house with good smells.  Then curled up with the new Charlaine Harris/Sookie Stackhouse book and my cat and some homemade cinnamon kettlecorn.  Yes, kettlecorn is completely against the rules for Primal Blueprint, but I'm on an ice cream detox and I felt the need to eat my feelings.  It worked fairly well, too.  I quit picking on myself, got some decent sleep, and am resolved to try again next month.  I do feel a bit bruised and weepy today, but I'm sure it'll be better soon.

@depression--I'm still not talking to you, so get lost.


 

Antibiotics

I’m grateful for antibiotics and for considerate veterinarians.  I try not to post too much about my cat, even though she’s more entertaining than I am, but she had a rough week.  She had some, um, lower GI tract issues, which can be a big concern for a diabetic cat.  I called her vet’s office just as they were closing and they were kind enough to prescribe her some medicine and leave it outside for me to pick up.  (I’m also grateful to live in a small town, where we can do that sort of thing).  The meds took a few days to kick in, but she seems to be doing better now.  Whew.

I don’t have a picture of her on this computer, but here’s a picture of the tattoo I got in honor of her (it's on my back, in case you were wondering):

Little Cat Diva

Yes, I realize that this is likely to get me branded as a cat lady, but only by people who feel the need to put me in a box.  I prefer that my tattoos symbolize things that are important to me and my pets have always been a big part of my life.  Besides, this tattoo makes me laugh—I love the design.  The artist said he found out that his wife was pregnant the day he designed it, which helped him create something so cute.  Tattoos with stories are the best.  Does anyone else out there have a good tattoo story to share?

Peace and Quiet and Chocolate

I goofed off the entire holiday weekend, so I’ll have to be doubly thankful today. 

Over the weekend, I was grateful for peace and quiet.  I had invitations to dinner from a couple of coworkers, but I chose to stay home and relax with my little cat buddy.  We played on the computer and opened the gifts that had come in the mail and watched movies and read books.  I went running a couple of times, once with my ex’s dog (but she’s not barky, so it was a fairly quiet run).  I made a little more chocolate.  I drank pink champagne on Christmas Eve, which is one of my personal traditions.  I reconnected with an old friend who lives on the other side of the country on Christmas night.  It was amazing how quickly the initial awkwardness faded and how fast that magical friendship reestablished itself.  I was able to chat briefly with my best old friend and my best new friend, and my long-distance sweetie managed to email a little.  It was a sweet, quiet holiday.

Yesterday I was grateful for the movie “Chocolat.”  I really should get a copy of my very own, since I keep borrowing it from the library.  I hope that my chocolate shop will be even half as magical as Chocolaterie Maya.  As much as I like Juliette Binoche and Johnny Depp and Judi Dench, I love seeing the interior of that little shop, all the jars full of sweets and the plates filled with chocolates and the tiny packages.  I wouldn’t want to decorate my place just that way, but I’d like it to have that feeling.  The sense that there’s a bit of magic in each lovely container.  The rich smells to wrap around you and draw you in when you open the door.  The sight of beautifully decorated and arranged confections to make your heart shiver with pleasure.  The chance to sample the chocolate itself to delight your tongue.  The crinkle of plastic bags and the snap that good chocolate makes when you bite into it.  The sweet weight of your purchase in your hands and the knowledge of the pure bliss within.  That’s what my shop will be like.

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Now that you’ve finished daydreaming about buying something in my wonderful little shop, what are y’all thankful for these days?