Waxing nostalgic...

Today I have been feeling quite nostalgic. This is due in part to the news that the remains of my "aunt," (second cousin, really) had been returned to us after she donated her body to science. She will now be cremated and her ashes laid to rest in her family plot. This woman led a very genteel life. Sheltered and safe, she was well loved by many people for her entire 90 years. She rarely traveled, never wore pants, never drank a soda out of a can, never drove a car, operated a computer or owned a microwave. She never married or really even dated. She never flew in an airplane. And yet she had this compulsion to donate her body to science. It seemed like a wild thing for her do, so brave! I loved her deeply and miss her sorely. And I admire her to my toes.

Thinking of her made me think of my parents and grandparents and sister, all gone as well. And that made me think of the grief one feels when someone special leaves this earth. And THAT made me look back, through the frame of my experiences and realize that when I lose someone, what I feel the most is regret. I regret the things I didn't say, and the time I didn't take. I regret the calls I didn't make.
Thankfully I am a person who usually learns from past errors. I believe that I have learned to tell the people in my life that I love them, often. And more than that, I think I do a decent job at showing them, too. Days like today help me narrow my focus... and remember how important it is to me to have few regrets.

Juggling chainsaws...

God gives people individual gifts. Sometimes the gift we receive is one we never could have imagined when we are 5 years old and patting our Aunt's cat ever-so-gently and being severely bitten.

Some people have gifts of compassion, of healing, of creating something wonderful, or of making gobs of money. My gift? Grooming cats. The cat pictured here is a Maine Coon Cat. A big guy... 15+ pounds. Solid muscle, and long, matted fur. And I groomed him... combing his back, sides, muscular thighs. I shaved his belly. I gave him a wonderful, warm, fragrant bath. Then I combed and fluffed him dry. He was mostly very sweet about all this... but he had his moments, see above. This grooming thing is a feat I repeat often.

Please note the size of the fangs on this kitty. And he had claws to match.

Here is a point of interest to non-groomer types. MOST cat bites become infected. This is because cats have these fangs that inject pasturella multocide bacteria, a little staph and a variety of other nasties deep into your flesh. In the last 25 years I have only had a handful of cat bites... only one requiring medical attention (and it healed beautifully!) I groom most cats with no restraints, occasionally having someone hold the cat for just some small portion of the procedure, like when I clip the "potty" area, an area no self respecting cat will tolerate without some struggle.

I am not sure why I have this odd talent. But I do. God does have a sense of humor.

STOP!

What my husband wants winter to do...!

February storm...

The storm blew in with high winds, so that when I woke and looked out the window, I couldn't. Because the glass was obscured in snow. Our grill sported a +12 inch hat of frozen white. Too bad, because since we were without the god of electricity, it would have been nice to be able to grill some of the meat that was thawing in the freezer.

The dogs were spooked all day because the house was so very quiet. No humming of the refrigerator, no rumble of the old furnace in the basement. (No loud music from my husband) Hardly any cars thrummed on the road outside, though plow trucks roared by occasionally, spewing sand and salt.

We tried to take a rare nap, but just as we got warm and drowsy under the feather duvet, our plow guy called and told us to move our cars so he could clear the drive. Roused from the warm bed we shoveled and spun tires until the plow guy came and towed us out. A walk up the road showed us that the footing was treacherous, the snow covered a thick layer of ice.

Back indoors we concocted a wonderful vat of soup on the wood stove, and served it with focaccia left over from yesterdays baking spree. Candles and oil lamps cast a warm light, and flames from the wood stove flickered rosily. Conversation flowed. It was almost sad when we heard the furnace rumble to life, and the lights flickered on.

A day with no power, no running water, no flush toilets... (no INTERNET!), makes the hands on the clock seem to slow measurably. It is a pleasant reflection to a different time, with a more metered pace. But as for me, I am glad to have my plumbing back.

Making changes...

A woman on a radio show I listen to often says something to the effect of,
"If you want chocolate cake, but you keep buying vanilla cake mix, you will be disappointed every time."

I rather like this saying. It makes me think of the things in my life that I perpetually get results I am not happy with, and reminds me that oh-so-much of that is firmly within my control.
Now I just have to figure out how to convince myself to use the control I have.

(Smooch says he likes both vanilla and chocolate. He also says, "Let me eat cake! Please??")

Blue and white night...

It snowed yesterday and all day today. Yesterday was a mix of snow and rain, leaving about 6 inches of heavy wet stuff coating every twig and wire. Today was decorated by big, soft flakes. Feathery crystals that drifted down in slow motion, barely accumulating at all. The sunset was rosy and beautiful, but I got home too late to capture it on film.

I had a whim to make pizza from scratch, and as I mixed the dough I glanced out to see the world was blue. The sky was dusky, and the snow reflected the hue. My camera snagged the flavor, and the snow peppered the image of pines cut from black paper, like a grade school art project.

Praying Mantis...

When I was in fourth grade at the Harry Lee Cole school, my best friend Melanie and I used to keep Praying Mantis' as pets. We'd find a mantis, 2 or more inches long, and bring it home with us. We had little homes for them, in old aquariums if I remember correctly, all set up with green plants and sticks to climb on. During the day we'd loop a thick thread (or was it dental floss?) around the insects slim thorax and take them to school. At recess we'd run past the spots where the grass was worn down to dust by a thousand cap toed tennis shoes to where the trees abutted stone walls. There we'd turn rocks and sticks over until we found a cricket or two. Then we'd feed the unfortunate creature to our thread-bound bugs. Our friends would watch in rapt horror as the mantis snagged the offered pray. If we were very quiet, we could actually HEAR the sound of the mantis munching. After a day or two of captivity would we release our little green friends and hunt for a new one to experience fourth grade and a steady diet of crickets.