I am watching the PBS Nature program "Cats". I am not alone.
One of the two new cats has brought dead squirrels into the kitchen. Two yesterday. I disposed of the first and thought I'd slipped a cog when I found another in the exact same spot not two hours later.
I suspect Bailey is the killer. I've watched him hunting. Young and inept, he's learning as he goes. We have plenty of rodents so I'm not all that worried about the birds.
And speaking of watching, the head movie critic of House Lacativa just had me sit through "Midsommar".
I'm supposed to be doing a half-dozen different things: getting up to speed with my coding. learning how to interface with potentional cover designers. prospecting the web for images pertinent to the same.
Instead, I'm trying to keep a mild cold from becoming a spring behemoth. Thinking about looking at the ProChem site for new dye colors. Stitching alien instructions. Listening in on conversations between my characters. Shaping the plot of the next book with each stitch (telling my phone the details so they won't spin off into the ether). Worrying about distant family. Thinking about distant lives.
Low tide stuff, but action is required. Library. Orange juice.
My sleep/wake cycles have been sacrificed to family duties for a few days. I keep asking myself if this is Sunday.
Charlie stayed overnight Thursday. All the cats see these sleepovers as an invitation to Circus. With all four of them, kid and cats, in my bed I got about two hours of sleep. I dropped him off at a friend's house for the day on Friday and was home by mid-morning. A twenty-minute nap turned into two hours and that awful "what day is it?" lost weekend feeling that persisted through my shift at work.
Saturday dawned sharp and cold. The sunlight by itself almost too harsh to work by so I balanced it with the task lamp, but I was restless. Couldn't settle into a stitch or sequence. There was editing to do and reading for a friend.
I'm resigned to let this take it's sweet time to manifest. Let it rest and not get obsessive with progress.
Gifts came. The best kind. On the bottom, a long-coveted treasure from afar. Thank you!
Colin is busy reclaiming the living room from a cluttered hoard. "Cutting for Stone", I thought I'd lost. Yet to read and want to.
The two books on the top of this pile were from deep in our disordered stacks. I'd say they've come from beyond, including a note, a slightly delayed valentine. One of my first Tarot books and Marcus Aurelius' Meditations, provenance unknown. The note was between them.
It's interesting how some people seem to be afraid of secret messages. Rest assured, if I have something important to add to the conversation, I will stoop to crude language at a third grade level to accommodate those who need it.
In the meantime, I watch my country try to eat itself alive . Notice the word "try".
I believe that the oppressors will choke to death on their own agenda because there are far too many good people who oppose the self-serving ugliness of the current administration. Those who support that evil agenda will forever bear the stain of their fear and greed. We see you.
What to do? Only what one person can, one moment to the next. Be kind. Vote. Keep your knives sharp.
Taking charge of things that I can affect in real time.
I've donated, made calls, and will vote. Other than that, I'm out. Social media outrage, no matter the platform, is a waste of time. It's certainly no place to get valid information.
I know who my people are and will stay in touch.
This is one of my Dixie Minks, really no longer fit for wearing in public, but it's like a favorite cardigan. The right elbow was worn through and there was a "lose your glasses" hole in the chest pocket. Fixing it up was time well spent today. Worthy.