We leave for college in about an hour.
Light candles!
Oh, and trivia hints are up.
Archive for News from the Homefront
Friday Catblogging: reeeeeeee-lax
What? I’m just hanging out!
Friday Catblogging: It’s Fanty!
Fanty hides from the camera. She hides when people move around. So if I move around, or someone else does, to get the camera, BOING!
But the other thing about Fanty is that she longs to be petted. She shoves her head into my hand. she is a violent attack snuggler.
So when Arthur came in (at my behest) to take her picture, I coaxed her out from under the bed with promise of petting, and then I did one of her favorite things: Grabbed the scruff of her neck:
ARGH! Yuk! ARRRRGH!
Dead mouse floating in the toilet.
ACK!
Seriously, it was just so dead. We know that my cats are Mighty Mousers, so from time to time I have to pick a dead mouse up off the living room floor, and it’s kinda gross, but not so bad.
But something about the floater? Just exuded death. It took me like three tries before I could force myself to get it out. I was shaking.
Arthur said, “Well, your day can’t get any worse.”
I hope he’s right.
The return of Friday Catblogging!
I had an old photo editor that worked perfectly fine and was in no way inferior to upgrades I use at work. But it was incompatible with Vista. So fuckity fuck. I installed an upgrade and now I’m back in business.
And look what I found laying around in my hall:
Verbal catblogging: How I sleep
I was totally up early to put up cat pics, and the batteries in my camera died, so I couldn’t download the pics.
With Arthur out of school, I can sleep with Mingo. What’s that, you say?
When Arthur was in high school, he got up at 5:30 in the morning. Which is to say, his incredibly loud alarm went off at 5:30, and then the second alarm clock went off at 6. Now, Arthur’s bedroom is down a long hall from my bedroom, and if I sleep with my door even slightly ajar, his alarms wake me up.
Me, not him, mind. But it’s fairly unpleasant, especially since I don’t need to get up until 7 or 7:30.
Mingo loves to sleep with me, and so I started letting him sleep in the room with me. But if I close the door, he scratches to get out way early. Usually when Arthur gets up, so he can follow Arthur around the house.
And weekends are no good because (a) Arthur will forget to turn his alarm off (in fact, his alarm is going off every morning while he’s away at Starwood, but not until 8, so I can live with it, and no I can’t figure out how to turn it off myself thanks for asking), and (b) if the cat sleeps with me on the weekends, he gets used to it and wants to sleep with me during the week. Which means that instead of waking me in the middle of the night to let him out, he’s waking me in the middle of the night trying to get in.
Oy.
But he’s fab to sleep with. He cuddles up and holds still with your arms around him. He’s like a breathing teddy cat. And if I brush him regularly, he’s all soft and snuggy.
So now that Arthur’s alarm is not an issue, I sleep with the door open, and Mingo sleeps with me. Yum.
A bad way to start the day
I was attacked by ants. In my car.
Okay, not in a Them! sort of way. And not like that Charlton Heston movie with Eleanor Parker in the jungle. More like, a few ants. Okay, and they didn’t actually attack. Still.
Every morning I put on sunscreen before pulling out of the garage. Today, a little black ant crawled off the sunscreen bottle up my arm. Ick. And then, I reached over to the seat for something (lipstick?) and there was another one. And then, about fifteen minutes later, I was looking at some papers while at a red light, and a fucking NOTHER one crawled up the papers. And then two more came out of my purse while I was at my desk at work.
Where did they come from? Is it safe to get back into my car? Or open my purse? I do not sincerely know. But I! Am NOT! Happy!
Meditation, Healing, Orien Rose
This email is from Orien Rose’s mother, Christine, timestamped 8:38 am:
Thank you for the texts received already this morning. She went under about 20
minutes ago…Orien just returning after being with her for the first few moments.I will post to the blog as soon as I can get to it!
Blessings
Sunday I didn’t post a meditation. Instead, Roberta and I spent about six hours writing a blog post about Orien Rose, a cover letter to send to bloggers (many of whom have responded with grace and wonderfulness), figuring out what our mailing list was, etc. That was my meditation, and yeah, that’s your meditation too. It’s about healing. It’s all about healing. In some ways, even the magic we do that has nothing to do with healing is about healing. Healing the pain of not having a job or a relationship. Healing the ache of the world through political or justice magic. Healing our ability to believe we can do magic. Being the change we want to see in the world.
I woke this morning and thought of Orien Rose. Showered and thought of Orien Rose. Made coffee and thought of Orien Rose. And at one moment, I wept; not from pain or sorrow, but from the wave of energy; of all the thoughts moving with mine towards this girl and her family.
I have a busy frickin day. But I will be thinking of Orien Rose.
Too Much Information
I’ve been struggling with a desire to write some personal stuff that is Too Much Information. I blog under my real name. I sell books. I am a Well Known Author™. So every time I think to write something, some of my better angels come to my rescue and say “Y’know, Deb, not everyone reading that is the audience you mean it for.”
Which is hard right now, because the thing I feel compelled to write is inappropriate, and I’m left with nothing to say.
So let’s try this: A relationship I sort-of-had got broken by someone well-meaning who interfered. I am not heartbroken, it was not that kind of relationship, although it might have become such someday. I’ll miss it. And I’m angry. And I’m trying to adjust my internal organs around not having this person in my life anymore, and around having been messed with badly by people who love me. So not heartbroken, but a little bit broken.
It’s going to take me a few days. I almost wish I was heartbroken, because a good cry might get the whole ugly mess out of my system.
