A Photo Album of Our Cat Tales

Mom asked me if we are bored with our cats, since there has not been a cat post lately. Nothing could be further than the truth! And here is the proof (and there is more where that came from, plus a cat tale for a day when I am not in such a rush).

Bird Watching - Ray and Jet

Sooo tired after playing with the kids! (Jet, of course)

Curious George Jet

Jet is fascinated with this new view

Guess who's sleeping in the bathroom? 

Yes, it is Jet of course, This must have been where he camped out for part of the night. I got up and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed an extra black shadow with me in the bathroom.

Jet's fascination with the bathroom (he has been known to hide behind the closed shower curtain) has resulted in being locked in a few times. Does he care? In this room full of wonder?!! You be the judge:

Locked in the bathroom - Take 1

Locked in the bathroom - Take 1, Part 2

Locked in the bathroom -Take 2

Jet's fascination with the bathroom never ceases to amaze him. A renewable water source is always been something that has intrigued every cat I've ever owned who has owned me.

Jet enjoying the best of everything - snuggled up in the toy cupboard, in amongst a kid-filled day!

Ray, the copy cat (after daycare hours)

And speaking of sleeping ... they love my new bed!!

"Ahhh! I love our new bed," says Jet

This is what I woke up to this morning. Jet front and centre; Ray stealing Jet's original spot

The Shoelace Heist

Step One - "Jet finds the hiding place!"

Step Two - "The prey is caught!"

Step Three - "Caught in the act! Jet makes his way off with his prize"

Jet discovers he is tall enough to reach the printer paper as it shoots out from the printer. He now swipes at this rogue paper and "files" it on the floor for me.

I opened the oven drawer one morning and Jet hopped in before I had a chance to react.

"This" (a cat toy mouse) is what he knew was hiding underneath the stove.

And he makes his getaway and saved the day. Another mouse has been captured, only to lose another day.

And has Ray noticed that Jet is getting just a little more than his share of the photo album? I went to snap a picture of Jet (again) after posting this and this is what happened:

Ray, the photo-bomber (does  he look angry to you or is this just a bad angle?)

Jet is hogging the attention. Again.

Jet, why is there an orange string in your mouth?

"What are you talking about?! I didn't do anything!!"

Things That Really Don't Matter

Lately, my early morning thoughts have been pretty lame. I used to jump out of bed with the seed of a thought in my head and by the time I worked my way through my morning routines, this little thought had time to marinade. I had lots of time to sit still and play with my words until they sounded a little more cohesive than a Facebook status update.

These days, sleep wins over all else. I have discovered the latest possible moment I can lay in bed ruminating about the day ahead of me. Then I have to jump into action and I'm lucky if I've had time to pour my second cup of coffee before my daycare day begins.

Last night and early this morning, the only thoughts I seemed to have were, "Whew! I'm too hot." "Brrr ... I'm too cold" and "Ahhh, I'm juuuuust right!"

If I didn't know better, I would think these little heat surges which have become my new norm were part of a fever or "overdoing". But I overdo very little these days. The muscle which gets the biggest workout in this body of mine, is my brain. And I have been know to break a sweat, just by thinking. So like I said, if I hadn't heard the phrase "hot flashes", I would think this was just me. And that I must be thinking too hard.

The interesting part about this very boring post is that I wake up before the surge. I wake up and lie there for a moment. I change my sleeping position and turn on the TV if my brain kicks into full gear. Then it hits. Whoosh! It is like there must be an early warning system as this power surge engages because I never wake up hot. That comes later.[That is, unless it is related to my brain engaging. See! I told you I broke a sweat when I think too hard!]

Add to this already tedious and quite boring post, the fact that I somehow set the automatic thermostat to be particularly chilly on Wednesday nights plus the fact that winter has just arrived in our parts and I have the "freezing factor" all figured out. Maybe I should crack open that little manual and figure out how to change that. One day. Probably some other day.

I finally enjoyed an almost commitment free night last night, so by 7:30 I was home, the house alarm was set, I was in my pajamas and settled into my lovely new "suite" which others may call a bedroom before 8:00. It was a glorious feeling. Except I couldn't stay awake long enough to enjoy it.

By 8:30, I was ready to call it a day. Funny how those days where you do very little are the most tiring. By doing very little, my body wasn't worn out enough to sleep through the heat and chill factors throughout the night.

My goal each and every day is to be settled in for the night and in my pj's as early as possible. My definition of a good day, is being in my pajamas by 6:00. Is it really any wonder why I toss and turn at night?

And does any of this really matter?!! These are the thoughts I woke up with this morning. I may as well have stayed in bed. Or else not bothered writing at all.

Out With the Old

After our massive house reshuffling event of 2015 a few weekends ago, I ended up with a pile of excess "stuff" we have amassed. I piled it up at the bottom of the stairs instead of finding new hiding places for it. I was pretty sure I could find homes for most of it and I was right.

I had a light daycare day on Monday, so I took individual pictures of this "stuff" so I could advertise it to give away on Kijiji as soon as I could find a free day. Yesterday was not entirely "free" but I thought I could squeeze my free-for-all into a relatively calm daycare day. And I did.

I placed twelve ads in between 8:45 a.m. and 1:30 p.m. and by 5:30, nine out of twelve ads were answered, spoken for and picked up. I have people interested in two of the three items left over and what used to be a pile that was four feet high by two feet across by another five feet in width is all but a memory. Three boxes sit by the front door in anticipation of being picked up this morning and if the other two items don't go, they will be donated (along with the clothes that I must cull through and get rid of - another weekend's project).

I have at least four closets that need a good culling and the job of shedding that which we no longer use is getting a little easier with time.

I don't know what it is about a heart that constricts as it looks at "too much" and doesn't know where to begin. Is it because I'm overwhelmed? Is it fear of letting go? Is it the longing to hold onto what once was? Or the fear of regret, after giving away something I wish we still had?

It feels good to re-home that which we no longer use or want. I could donate this to a cause who would come and pick it up then resell it, with proceeds going towards their overhead and a charity. But there is something that feels very good and very right about cutting out the middleman. I like giving freely and getting the sense that anyone who makes their way to our doorstep to pick it up will most likely utilize that which has been gathering dust around here.

I gaze at the empty spot where everything has been piling up and smile. My load feels a little lighter when I'm not carrying excess baggage. Every time I do this, I almost look forward to the next cathartic purging of our closets and drawers. Almost.

I long for just a little more time within my weeks. Seven days is just not enough. Not if I want to enjoy that new bedroom I moved into a few weeks ago. Mom asked me how I am enjoying it. "I love it!" I told her. "I just wish I could spend more time in it!" Mom wasn't expecting that answer. She had guessed I would be full of regret over my decision. How could I be? I moved everything except my closet into my new "suite". It holds no excess baggage. It is freeing to walk into a room (which resembles a hotel suite, only better because I don't have to move out of it in a day or two) which is not crying out, "De-clutter me!" in this house full of surplus.

It's coming. Out with the old is making room for the new. Or used. A friend just donated her old computer to our daycare last night, in the hope I will be able use the pile of outdated kid's computer games that I have not been able to part with. Yet ...

Can these be saved or are they the next things to go? 

Stay tuned and I'm sure you'll find out, whether you care or not!

The Wide Open Door of Friendship

A few weeks ago I made a public declaration that I wished for more "depth" within the conversations in my world. I felt I was living in a superficial world and I was depleted by having to try so hard to sustain a conversation. Mere days after that blog post, the depth I was looking for was everywhere.

I have been inundated with attention due to my birthday this past week which has spurred on a great deal of contact with those who touch my world. It has been a little bit incredible because the depth of the conversations and visits I have had has been a gift.

I have a few friends that I see once or twice a  year. We always part ways promising to get together more often but life happens and the next thing we know, we are celebrating one or the other or both of our birthdays with the hope of "doing this more often" during the (next) following year.

Each time we get together for that annual birthday supper, I quietly wonder "Are they just doing this to be polite?" "Have we drifted apart and out of each other's lives to hold a conversation?" Even friends I see more often than that get busy and I always fear the day when we may realize we don't connect on the same level that we once did.

Then it happens. We get together and share nourishment and "coffee" (or a coffee substitute) and the words flow effortlessly. The next thing I know, three or four hours have passed and it has felt like the blink of an eye.

These conversations are real and deep and two-sided. Each and every time I sat down with a friend, I heard myself monologuing and I knew it had to stop. Then before I knew it, it was my friend's turn to take the role of being front and centre within our conversation. It worked both ways. I could feel the act of being listened to and I know I was captivated as I listened to the other end of this conversation.

Our lives are so multifaceted and diverse that I found a parallel existence within each and every conversation I had. One of my friends has a son a year younger than me and each of them were going through a similar "crisis" or time of great challenge at the same time this past spring. And the very day we spoke, they had an almost identical out-of-school experience. My friend looked me in the eye and said, "How do you handle this?" "What are you going to do?" and I answered honestly and in real time. Because that very conversation awaited me the moment I got home. Even though our sons are practically the same age, this is her oldest son. This is my third and youngest son. I spoke from a place of making many errors along the way of parenting. The timing of our annual supper was eerily impeccable. There was no one else I would have rather been talking to that evening and the feeling felt reciprocated.

The stories and relate-able tales I have to tell are long and varied and specific to the friend who sat before me. Each one of us opened up and told our story honestly and without filter. Our conversations were filled with a sense of trusting the other guy with your whole self. There were no holds barred. We were real with each other and the conversations took off and became meaningful, deep and they made my knees shake.

I am absolutely blessed with friendships which transcend "Facebook" and virtual and superficiality. I may not see them often or talk like a wide open book each time our paths cross but I think we both know the door is always open.

I wished for it and it came. "If you open the door to friendship, they will walk through and enter." The key word is "open". No holds barred. Trust, honesty, vulnerability and openness are good ingredients to add to a conversation you want to go below the surface.

My friends, you are such a big part of me. Even in your absence, knowing our next conversation will pick up where we last left off is all I need. I hope you feel the same way.

Terrorized

I have lived in fear. It is not a healthy way to live a life.

I was afraid within my marriage. Not all of the time. Just some of the time. It was cyclical and I could feel the waves before the storm rushed in. It took a decade but I finally broke out of that life. I moved five hours away and built a quiet little life with my children.

Our life wasn't perfect but it was very good. I was far from a perfect parent but I was trying my best. Of all the years of my life, "those" are the ones I would like to try to live over. I wonder if there is anything I could have done differently to change the way things unfolded. Because a decade after our move, I felt like I was living with my husband again. The constricted heart, the tension, the waves and the seeds of fear were becoming part of our lives again.

Once again, I made hard choices to "take back my life" and make our house a home again. The calmness, the feeling of safety and security seeped back into these four walls. I felt in control again.

There have been waves of fear since that time. I stopped delivering newspapers after a few incidents that reminded me how vulnerable I was when I was walking up and down the streets while most of the city slept. I loved the exercise, the fresh air, the peace and breathed in the beauty of nature while the world slept. But I was afraid to walk alone.

Our house has been robbed twice, our shed was vandalized and an "intruder" walked in through an unlocked door and wandered through our house before she took a nap on my bed. I learned that our walls of safety and the locks on our doors only bring a sense of peace. They are not foolproof.

I have been angry when fear dictated how we live and threatened our sense of security. "No one has the right to take away another human being's sense of feeling safe. No one!"

I have walked along in my quiet little life within my safe and predictable world and I have lived happily ever after in my place where "fairy tale endings" mean feeling safe and the belief that I am in control of my own sense of security.

I live a peaceful existence within a home, a community, a city and a country where "peace" rules. I have raised my children with the belief that I cannot change the world but I can make my own little impact by modelling a life I hope my children will envelop, live out and perpetuate. I believe little things make a big impact.

Then a read about the acts of terror which are unfolding as I live and breathe within this serene little existence I have come to believe I "deserve". And the ground I walk on begins to shake.

How do you walk away from fear when fear is all around you? How do you fight an enemy who does not have a face? How to you build a fortress of safety when all walls can be penetrated? How do you live in a world that is being infiltrated with fear?

I can't think too hard about this because it makes my head and heart hurt. I need to keep believing if I raise "good citizens" and model the life I believe the next generation should emulate that I will make a small impact on those innocent little beings who have found their way into my care.

I often claim to be "Switzerland" when a dispute arises. I like to stay neutral and safe within the confines of a "country" that is a safe place to land.

Is there a "Switzerland" any place within this new world? I keep doing what I am doing, believing what I have always believed and I plan to hold onto the little peace of serenity I have found within this great big scary world. Because some place, in a land far away another mother has raised her family the only way she knew how and followed the lead of those within her community. An entire generation of children have been raised believing what they have been taught to believe is right.

As Glennon Doyle would say, "Just do the next right thing." It is all we can ever really do. I will not live in fear and I will continue to do the next right thing. Day by day, step by step. And I will continue to be grateful for this quiet little existence of mine, where I wake up to life as I know and expect it to be. Every morning we wake up to that, is a gift.

No Words, No Time, No Energy

The combination of a busy weekend (moving the contents of our house around), added to a broken up work week (which I thought was the answer to everything, but it wasn't) and a Wednesday off which was so mentally stimulating (I heard from so many people, my head is still spinning) has resulted in ZERO blog posts.

I was so full of energy and stories and inspiration on Tuesday, that I was writing notes to myself so I would remember what I wanted to write another day.

I visited with so many people on Wednesday (it was my birthday and I'm embarrassed over how many people remembered and acknowledged the day) that I think I used up my word quota for the month of November, in one day.

I came back to work after one day off, and it was like we were all confused by the lack of a weekend before we had another Monday. It was a very long two days. I am very grateful for a weekend to reset and reboot myself so I can try again next week.

I have been craving adult conversation in a big way lately. I got what I wished for. It was marvelous! But there was something about going from a day of adult company to a day of the company of one to four year olds that was hard. There wasn't a quiet day to absorb and reflect on the wonder of so many conversations before I was lost in my daycare world.

I must run off to work momentarily. I have words in me somewhere. There are a few notes and an unfinished blog post reminding me of this fact. I just hope to find enough quiet within these two non-daycare-days to find myself, my words, some quiet and some time to reflect.

I think words come from a quiet place inside of me. When my world gets too noisy, I lose my ability to write. I believe I am a hermit by nature. My friend calls me an introvert. We get our energy from solitude. Maybe that sounds better. I need just a little bit of quiet within my days so I can hear what I'm thinking.

What I am feeling is good. I feel happy. I feel content. I feel loved. I feel appreciated. But most of all, I feel wordless. So I feel just a little bit empty too. I need to fill myself up with quiet so the words will fall to the page again. I miss writing and I am afraid I could get out of the habit of writing if I ever stopped. So even when I have nothing to say, I will probably still say it.

A Train of Thoughts Which Led to Mom

I can't believe it's "Friday" already! Having a holiday sitting by itself, in the middle of a week, sandwiched between two working days on either end of it is my kind of week!

It is the kind of week where it is easy to say "Yes!" to most everything.

Friend - "What are you doing Monday night?"
Me - "Most likely nothing ..."
Friend - "Would you like to come over for supper?"
Me - "Sure!"

It was that easy. And it was easier just to show up, lose myself in friendship, good food, good company, cats and step into a conversation that felt like it had never ended from our last visit.

We scratched the surface and got deep and introspective at times, whimsical and silly at others but mostly we just enjoyed the flow of words and a conversation that took us to the place where it is easy to say what is on your mind, in your heart and share hopes, dreams, sorrows and pain. It was exactly the conversation I have been yearning for.

I got home to a message from another friend. "What are you doing on Wednesday? Do you want to get together?" My answer was easy. Sure! That sounds great!!

In reality, this is another weekend for me! I don't work every Saturday but I work enough of them to come to expect only one day off per week. So to have this gift of a weekend tucked neatly inside of a week is such a bonus for me. I am energized in knowing I have another "Friday night" on a Tuesday and another "Sunday" on a Wednesday.

I chatted with Mom last night and she wearily sighed, "What do you do with a holiday in the middle of the week?" My answer? "Absolutely nothing at all. That is the beauty of it!"

One lone holiday stuck inside of the middle of a week does not have the same impact in Mom's world. It is not attached to a weekend, so the chance of some long weekend company is pretty close to nil. There won't be a stark contrast between the two days on either end of this day off for Mom. I think I understand what she is saying.

Mom is living the life it seems "we" are all talking about. Retirement, a time of ease and living without the demands of a full time job. Yet it is that very structure that we are fighting all of our work lives that helps us appreciate little things like a holiday in the middle of a week.

Mom's words often make me sit back and take inventory on the life I am living and where I think I want to go from here. She helps me appreciate the sense of purpose I have built into my life. I compare and contrast who I am, to who she is and I often say that I am already thirty years ahead of my time when it comes to the lack of desire to clean the nooks and crannies of our house. But I think it comes from a different place and that is what makes all the difference in the world. Her house simply doesn't get dirty. Heavens, it barely even gets dusty! So why would she feel the need to crawl on top of counter tops to clean that which is already pretty clean?

Mom has spent her life feeling driven. She went to sleep, mapping out the next day so she could make time for the sewing she so enjoyed or a project around the house that she was working on. She worked hard her whole life. I listen to her now and I hear a little echo in the place that used to drive and inspire her. Without that sense of purpose and a body that is slowing down, I think there is a sense of loss of what she once had. And here I sit, wasting (what she may consider) some of the best years of her life.

She spoke of investing on some new hearing aids when we chatted. She asked if it was crazy to spend "that kind of money" on them. I said, "Absolutely not! Other people spend money like that on a vacation and don't give it a second thought." Mom loves to visit and enjoys people's company so very much. If there is a way she can improve her sense of hearing so she can savor what she already enjoys a little bit more, it is priceless. She misses so much by not hearing the little nuances of a conversation. She is quick witted, spry and has so very much to say but I have a feeling she would enjoy all that she is, just a little bit more if her hearing was just a little more keen.

Mom is our miracle lady. In a world where it seems that "everyone I know" is dealing with either aches and pains and symptoms that doctors can't diagnose ... and even when they can, they cannot cure, heal &/or take away the pain. Almost (although she still has a "funny head" sensation which she has just learned to live with) every time Mom has had a serious set of symptoms which needed a doctor's intervention, they were able to diagnose, medicate &/or fix the root of the problem. Who can say that these days?!?

So if there is a way she can hear and enjoy her world a little bit more? I say "Go for it!!"  I told her "I would do it and I don't even have money." I will never be rich and I never will be, because I think like this. I spend my money (that which I have and that which I have not yet earned) on what is important to me. Everyone's priorities are different and I am not going to judge the choices anyone else makes. But when I see a solution that money can buy, when it comes to one's health or the ability to enjoy your life a little more, I think it is the best deal going.

I know Mom basically had made her own mind up before we spoke and (I think) she was maybe just bouncing her words off me to see how they sounded out loud (this adds such perspective and I highly recommend it!). As our conversation was winding down, she said even though she hasn't committed to anything yet, her choice of hearing aids were "Good", "Better" or "Best". She said she thought "better" was the way to go. I asked her why she didn't think she was worth the best. She said, "For a thousand more dollars?!!" in a tone that implied "Money doesn't grow on trees you know!" I think if that is all it costs, in a world where money cannot buy happiness, love, peace or health, I think that is a heck of a deal!!

I hung up the phone and smiled.

Mom has seemed haunted by the age "87 years". Her dad and two of her sisters died when they were 87 years old. Mom had that birthday this spring and I've never seen or heard weakness in Mom's spirit until this 87th hurdle of her life. I almost felt a resignation of her spirit at times and have braced myself for "anything". But if she is actually seriously considering in investing in her hearing, I think she believes not only is she worth it, but she is going to get her money's worth out of that deal!

You are worth the best, Mom! Believe it! Go for it!! And you go and get the best value out of that hard earned money. No, it doesn't grow on trees but you and Dad worked together to provide a crop which has sustained you comfortably throughout your "retirement" years. Not only are you worth it, I think you are a pretty solid investment and deserve to reap the rewards of your hard earned harvest.