Go do something wicked. Like take pictures up someone’s costume.
It appears I have a whole in my tights, in precisely that spot.
Recently I had to face a hard truth, that my sweet little Sidra-cat was not fitting into our little zoo. She and Dulce just felt the house wasn’t big enough for both of them to queen over, and Mau’s playfulness seemed to scare her. Our ladylike little Dulce was flat out aggressive to her, and Sidra began spending more and more time perched on top of the fridge.
And that’s no life for a little duchess like Sidra.
And yes, I did lots of research and tried everything I could think of. With a broken heart I resigned myself to the fact that the home my SidSid needed was not my own.
Fortunately, my good friend Fred wanted a cat of his own, and so now our little Sidra has his whole apartment and heart to rule with her delicate little paw. He buys her catnip by the tub, and she curls up on his feet while he’s on the computer.
I already miss her little chirp of a meow, but I feel so good about my little black cat getting a home of her own in time for Halloween.
…. was on an RV trip as a kid.
I feel asleep and when I work up, I thought we’d turned around, somehow my notoriously perfect sense of direction had exactly flipped. My poles had reversed. I thought north was south and south was north.
It took me half an hour to shake it off, push through it and re-set my inner compass.
It was a totally unexplainable and isolated incident.
Until this last little trip that I just took.
I think I left home twice. Somewhere between my flights, that sense, that tug of where home is, switched. This from the girl who went to Hawaii and was still glad to be back in her little house. Something really changed for me in this past week.
I think it’ll take roughly a year to realign it all, but this time I think I’ll listen and move myself, rather than try to convince myself what my gut is telling me is wrong.
“Sweet holy mother of God.
It’s like asking me 24,000 miles per hour feels like.
I don’t have the words.”
…… I had a sudden moment of panic that it had all been a dream.
Then I found it.
“She left last night, with the dogs.”
“That’s good she didn’t wait until this morning to evacuate.”
“Well, that’s not quite it. We got in a fight.”
I was in a magical place, maybe you’ve been there.
When I landed at the airport there was a flamenco guitar player there, waiting for his flight I suppose, or maybe just for me. I wouldn’t be at all surprised, not after this trip.
While awaiting a bus, a man with scars on his face appeared, silently offered me a barstool with a bow and a flourish, and disappeared around the corner. Talk about offering you a seat.
For such a flat place it’s sidewalks were ……. NOT. They made you feel deliciously drunken. As does a local drink, named for a color. The combination of the drink and the sidewalks cost me some skin and a little self-respect, but luckily both of those were quite cheap.
A busboy eyed my half-eaten, half enjoyed breakfast, tsked and whisked it away, reappearing seconds later with a heaping plate of cookies. I couldn’t eat them all, of course, but I sure tried, of course. The birds helped.
Where exactly was this place?
Well, it was on the migratory path of a very strange bird.
A place where pigs flew.
“I think this, this moment, will be the last memory I lose. When I’m a hundred and six, and can’t recall anything, not even that I told you this, exactly this, five minutes ago, I will always remember that your shirt was blue grey, the fan was blowing air over us, and you held my hand.”