Last Thursday

 

I've been to the movies alone before. The fact that I can't remember which movies tells me something. 

Thursday afternoon, I was bored, cranky, and looking for trouble that didn't involve a keyboard. Ads for this movie had been drifting into my feed like a freak snowstorm. Without much hope, I went looking for a showtime somewhere not in Atlanta proper. I would not drive into the city to see Jesus do the Raise the Dead trick. 

Lo, there was a listing for Caught Stealing at a new theater not ten minutes from my house that was showing the movie at 4:40pm. I had an hour to grab a snack, spend another infuriating few minutes listening to the news before the show, and do a little more scrolling, but scrupulously avoided any movie trailers. 

Something possessed me when I walked through the doors. I went up to the man at the ticket counter and said, "I'm here to see Austin Butler in his underwear." I got four blinks and a senior discount. I will be remembered.

There was no one else there for the very first showing but me. I took a comfy recliner front and center, busted open my roll of Sweet Tarts, and got completely lost in Aronofsky's adventure for the next hour and 47 minutes. Holy crap! An original story.

I confess that for the most part, I missed most of the 80's and 90's, culturally. I had a husband, two kids, a house, and a full-time job. And from what little leaked into cable news, there was little charm there. Caught Stealing is fully steeped in the era and New York City at its seediest. The supporting cast was amazing. The soundtrack was a character unto itself. Fortunately, the theater sound did not try to blast us out of our seats and for me was easy enough to ignore for the most part. 

The story itself is woven around the arm's-length innocence of two stars--the guy who you will no doubt be sick to death of seeing, and a magnificent cat named Tonic. Good cat daddies are everything.  I hated Butler's Elvis, but he has been redeemed. I don't know about Best Picture of the Year, but best entertainment in a long time for yours truly. 

                            No spoilers from me. A good time was had by all.

The shift

In two short weeks, I've watched her go from a needy ball of fluff to an elegant huntress. When we were first thinking of names out loud, Long Tall Sally from the Alley popped into my head. Prophetic.

The favorite toy is a tiny mouse-shaped ball of cloth with a few fluffs of feathers sticking out of it. Almost all of the feathers are gone. She finds it and fetches it to me to be stolen from her and tossed, and she starts all over again.

There will be a well check at the vet this morning, and as soon as someone finds the baby gate and installs it at the top of the stairs, we'll give her the run of the third level. 

As much as her antics entertain, I look forward to some calm camaraderie. Play, even. The brief introductions have been as expected; expressions of disgust, but no overt hostility. 

Bailey and Salem will be reaping the benefits of her room with a view once everyone can come and go as they like - indoors.

                                        ~⚓~

A scene I've been working on got (and remains) bogged down. For inspiration on the power of pacing, I returned to this book. Only a few chapters in, and I read the news that the movie has been made. I sure hope they haven't messed it up. 

I am reminded of how the score of "Shakespeare in Love" moved the story along like a leaf on a brook that fed a stream that fed into a mighty river. 

I hope the makers of Hamnet remembered that as well. A writer has to make music with their words. No small task

It's hard to believe that I may have already seen the best pool days this year. Even though the sun is strong, it's suddenly dipping into the sixties at night, and that chill lingers in the water. 

 

Good drugs

...the legal sort. Whatever brain chemistry is happening when I find the groove. Mornings now are for writing. Coffee to noon, give or take, 800 to 1500 words. Some will be pruned away. Sometimes a fragment births a paragraph. I'll get wordy on you in a heartbeat. 

Today was the first pool day in too long. The first hour was skimming, brushing, and hand vacuuming the fine stuff. Then an hour of mixed dog paddling and drifting around cloud watching. I had to stay off the float because the skeeters were wild for my O+ today. 

After a shower, collapse. This drug, a powerful sleeping potion, comes wrapped in fur and purr.

Most of the morning, while I was in the studio, she was zooming around in her suite, fetching and mauling her feathered friends. We could hear her thumping around in and out of her boxes. Rumpus. Such a joy to see after watching her struggling to breathe. 

A necessarily smaller world...

 ...when someone is in quarantine. The medicine is working and she's eating again. Covering some of that boniness with some much-needed padding. 

    I suppose we could have left her alone in the bedroom. Everything she needs is in there. Toys, a soft bed. Boxes with cut-out holes. Food, water, and a sandbox. A huge window with the same view I have from the stitching chair and a big flat screen TV tuned to a channel that shows birds and chipmunks at a feeder. With audio.

Based on her behavior, what she needs the most is company. She waits by the door if she hears footfalls. Sits at attention. I have to watch my step moving around in the room because she's a foot weaver. 

So we've been taking turns being littermates. She's a cuddler. Not so much being held, but leaning up against you. Claiming? Sheltering? It's easy to make her purr, now that she can.

I'm grateful for this situation that's got me back in the word-wrangling mode. "Slash & Burn" is at 61K words and will likely finish out around 100-110 words all told. I'm having fun with it again!

Because she's feeling better, winding thread or stitching is now out of the question. Her favorite toy is a wire spring with a feathered whatzis on the end. 

Colin is an excellent cat dad. 

All Sophie's extremities seem long. Ears, legs, and that tail!

Bailey and Salem are being patient. Because I share the master bathroom with them, I invested in a Giant Cat Shit House expecting that Sophie would likely be using it too.

I spent some time looking through the scrap basket this morning and came across this beautiful light linen table scarf. 18x30 maybe? I don't even recall dyeing it and can't bring myself to cut it up for scraps. 

A toast to 'H'. You persist.

You might think I'm putting my head in the sand based on this post, but no. I wish. I've added some very tasty memes to my collection. Please spread them far and wide.

This went only this far.

They got to see each other. There was no hissing or growling. No faps. Sophie folds one of her ears down when something bothers her.

The beginning of a friendship. She has another week of meds and lockup. 

Salem was not so charitable. She hid under the table and later left a statement hurk on the carpet smack in the middle of the floor.

time slows to a crawl

 

I chose this one because it looked like it came from the same tree as yesterday's deceitful beauty. This afternoon, I picked it up from the desk in the bedroom and very nearly threw it, uneaten, into the woods. 

Then I washed it and took a bite.

Heaven. 

Everything a peach should be. Neither of them had a sticker indicating place of origin, so I'll recant my statement about Georgia peaches. It could be local.

I managed to scuttle out and get some errands done today before my kitten-sitting began. The post office does more business with people getting or renewing passports than with letters and stamps, and it's not set up properly for that.

The parking lot was double rows, and I was the only person at the counter sending mail. Everyone else was in chairs waiting for the passport boogie to begin. And people bring their kids with them, of course. The lobby felt like a daycare center minus teachers.

Anyway, in and out, then on to Walmart to find a humidifier, as suggested by the ER vet. Cool, not steam.

I encountered four employees who didn't know what a humidifier was or where one might be found. One by one, we narrowed it down from small appliances to baby stuff to the pharmacy.

Once home, this summed up the rest of my day. I was glad for rainy weather.

Smart girl immediately thought the stream of water vapor was something to play with, so I didn't have to box her up for a treatment. She helped herself. 

It really seems to help. Her barking sneeze quieted, and she (we) were able to get a good nap. 

On my last trip to New York, my sisters and I drove to our favorite seafood place in Rhode Island - Georges of Gallilee. After we ate, I deadheaded the giant marigolds growing in pots outside, stuffing my pockets with crispy seed heads. This is the first time this has ever paid off with real flowers. 

Behold, the Daughters of George's Giants growing on the dyedeck.

What's today?

 Sophie came home last Tuesday. Since then, she's come down with an upper respiratory virus, which seems to be common in shelter kittens. On Friday, our vet checked her over and prescribed the gooey pink stuff for her slight temperature and my anxiety about the look of her spay incision. She'll be fine as long as she keeps eating and drinking. Sometimes they develop dangerous mouth ulcers.  To that moment, she'd been a chowhound. The sneezing grew more frequent, and as of Saturday morning, she refused food and water, and getting the amoxicillin into her was life-threatening for all parties. By Sunday morning, I was a wreck and took her to the 24 hr ER vet. The staff there must be used to near-hysterical pet parents. They were kind and supportive. Found her mouth and throat to be clear, changed her Rx and added an appetite stimulant. I got a hands-on lesson in best practices for giving cats meds and finally some sleep.

Still, in my lap is where she prefers to recuperate. You know a kitten is sick if you can stitch over its head without any interference. 

Thriftbooks delivered.  This may not be everyone's cup of tea, but to me, page after page of wonder. 

The earliest iteration of the TV series Yellowstone was set in 1883. This novel is set in Butte, Montana 1891. Rough places, times and people.

     

                             ~♡~

(There was a picture of a peach here. Couple bites missing. No idea where it went)

I had high hopes for this peach. Even gave it a day to ripen as it was a tad hard. I can't remember the last time I had a peach that wasn't mealy textured and nearly mango flavored. How are the Jersey peaches this year?

Georgia peaches suck.

Meet Sophie

 

We waited a day for the right name. A little shy at first. Maybe still a little high from her spay surgery. She has quiet and solitude for the first time in her existence. 

Bringing her home rescued yet another room in our home that had been consumed by a hoard. She has everything a kitten in recovery needs. Like every baby, it's sleep, eat, drink, use the sandbox (!), play, then start all over.

I'm not sure if it will hold, but she's a cuddling lap kitty. A first in my experience.

Per shelter instructions, she needs to be quarantined from the others for two weeks. There have been noses and paws under the door. Reproachful looks in the hall.

I've been lavish with treats and love for them. They were okay, but distant, when Camilla came to us only three years ago, so I'm sure they'll adjust to another little life.

The challenge will be keeping her 100% indoor cat, while Bailey is free-roaming. Salem only goes out when I do.

Extra love for the anxious. 

And extra treats for those who love them.

After a long and strenuous day, curling up on the bed and watching The English Patient with a purring kitten was the perfect antidote. I haven't felt peace this deep in a long time. Love is a drug.

Ryder

Reno and Ryder (maybe)

Ryder, Rob, and Reno

My brother's son Ryder, passed away over the weekend after a long, difficult fight with cancer. He just turned 21 in the spring.

As if I ever had a picture of just one twin or the other!

When they were still in diapers and cruising, they had distinctly different personalities and, of course, their own private language. 

 Then, one day, I witnessed them pull that evil twin switcheroo, one pretending to be the other for a long minute, then both of them having a hearty cackle over the scam they pulled. 

I'm sad to say that due to family drama and distance, I never got to know them well, but I know my brother.

What I can't imagine is the kind of grief a parent feels on losing a child. Glioblastoma is particularly cruel, and I will say out loud that I'm glad his terrible suffering is over.  

 

I also believe in the never-ending energy of the spirit getting another chance to start life anew. 

 

New young energy

 

It's been an emotional week for the family. Charlie started middle school on Wednesday. A bus rider for the first time since kindergarten. He's taken to it like a duck to water. I'll still drive up and spend an overnight or two in the future, but am unsure whether "Nana picking you up at school" is cool. I'll leave it up to him. 

Since Camilla disappeared in May, our family has had a hole in its heart. She was a homebody who spent much of her days tucked in the corner by the window to the right of my stitching chair. We will never stop missing her sweet energy.

We signed up for an online missing pet community and weekly, I'd get an email asking if she had come home. I responded, and her photo and info was boosted to the top of a list. This email was followed by an email from a participating animal shelter with page upon page of pictures of animals waiting to be adopted.  I honestly HAD to stop looking because 95% of them were kittens. 

Thursday morning, Colin came into the studio and told me about a vivid dream he had about Camilla. The sadness gripped him. An hour or so later, I bit my lip and started scrolling through the Pawboost photos. 

  His dream set this in motion. Emails, calls, and we were on our way down to the shelter to meet the newest member of the family. 3 months old. Female. As yet, unnamed.  We will pick her up on Monday. 

Colin has always worn his heart right on his face. 

And these two definitely know something about their world is about to change. The big challenge is going to be keeping the youngster an indoor cat. There will be confinement to the dye deck.  There will be a one-way cat door for Bailey. Challenging. Not impossible. 

Camilla. 2021-forever in our hearts

Behind some scenes

 

Did the Nazca of Peru have good imaginations, or did they just like working big? Both? 

All of these critters will find their way into my work eventually.

I've always been drawn to the Ancients' way of seeing these things.

Mayan alphabet

And some heavy beads for spell work. 

I already have black feathers.

The word work had me looking for an old file last night, and I came across what will probably be the opening for what I've been calling the Monkeytown Murders. Two versions that need to come together, one line at a time. Then, some serious reconsideration of that title. 

It's an interesting time to be working on a story about how children, who traditionally have so little agency, take matters of justice and revenge into their own hands. With a little help from friends.

I was reminded that the Spirits always have a hand in my creative work.