Monday, July 30, 2012
I hear grating, chewing sounds that can only be Sophie being naughty. "Sophie," I call across the room. "What are you into?" The tags on her collar clang as she sprints out of the room (so she can nonchalantly reenter channeling absolute innocence).
At my call, Nick jumps to investigate the area in the entryway where we have stacked our luggage and other road trip whatnots (having only recently returned home). "I don't see anything," he says, questioning my judgment.
"I heard something that sounds like Velcro!" I defended my perfectly capable ears. Our spring jackets rustled softly as he nudged them with his foot.
"Well," he began, "then it was either your jacket or mine…not sure which. I'll hang mine in the coat closet and see if you hear it again."
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Every time I return home, I call out a greeting to Sophie. She's most certainly a people-cat, but her instant response with someone new is STRANGER DANGER—BEWARE! As such, she never greets us at the door because the door opening is her signal to hide until it's safe again.
The greeting is sort of an "all clear" signal. She usually approaches cautiously…just in case a stranger slipped in before the portal to the scary outer-world sealed.
We arrived home this afternoon after two days away. I called my greeting and heard thundering paws sweeping down the stairs. She turned the corner sharply at the landing and all but jumped into my arms without hesitation. The moment made me smile because I know that her happiness to have us home nullified the strength of her wariness…
…and that's no small thing.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
So, I've wanted to write so often, but then I tell myself I'm tired and the evening passes without the slightest effort. I soothe myself, claiming that it's good that I'm busy living my life with no time to blog…but one thing I've learned over the years is that there is always time for a little more. A person can make time for a little more.
I found joy in writing fairly early in life. I do not pretend to possess any great skill, but writing feels like a treasured friend who helps me through the hard times and gives me the wisdom to fathom what "it" all means. Life…so hard and complicated and wonderful…and so incredibly beautiful it hurts.
I love sitting on the deck with my flowers. The heat, light, and honeyed fragrance on the air lull my sometimes anxious mind. Do you ever just absorb the quiet? At my most intelligent, I embrace stillness and revel in the feeling that I am part of something bigger when eventually the birds return to fly around my own perch, no longer afraid. It's a shame that I end up being quite lacking in intelligence much of the time. We seem to live our lives in sudden, jerky moments, and it frightens wildlife because it isn't natural…it dams the inherent flow of simply being.
What does all this have to do with blogging more often? Well, it's with writing that I am my most honest. I pull thoughts into the spotlight when I never knew they existed until just that moment they appeared. It's without writing that I begin to close myself off from simpler pleasures. I can never allow myself to be too tired or too busy for this.
Monday, July 16, 2012
I'm in a meeting, and we are putting the final touches on a presentation that we are giving tomorrow. When we get to the I/S portion of the presentation, the project manager asks for key system functionality items that she can list on the slide. We all come up with the first two bullets before looking to the I/S rep for more. I hear him pounding furiously on his laptop. "There is something wrong with the code," he all but growls. "I keep getting error messages. I cannot get the program to run."
Ever the smart ass, I chimed in a suggestion for the next bullet using my best marketer's voice, "It stops working when something is wrong!"
The two men in the room with me smirked, but the project manager began typing the next bullet: It stops wor—. I must have grunted or something to stop her mid keystroke because she turned to me.
Project manager: "What?"
So funny in fact, that she didn't even know it. You know, once upon a time people knew I was joking before I explained it to them. I know, CRAZY.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Debbie and Brenda came over for lunch today, and it was so nice to see them! Sophie is much less shy with visitors than she used to be, but Nick still knelt down to her level for a heart-to-heart talk before they arrived.
He explained that my aunts were coming. "You've met them before, but it's been awhile, so you may not remember at first." I peeked my head out of the other room to look at Sophie. He had her complete attention even though I imagine that we actually sound like Charlie Brown's teacher in her fuzzy cat ears.
Nick continued, "Now, they're cat people, so they know how to act around cats. But they're also going to smell…you know, because they have cats." I was completely bemused by this point, wondering where he was going with this little speech. "The smell won't be here all day, so don't go peeing everywhere to mark your territory. Unless you want to mark your litter box, 'cause that's okay."
With that, he pat her head and walked off, smirking at me as he passed.
I had no words. I mean, I have my share of conversations with the cat, but I usually do it without witnesses (Sophie is more likely to respond back to me when no one else is around…and she has all the best gossip). I think the little pep talk riled her up though, and she seemed eager for the new smells, diving into Brenda's shoes almost as soon as they arrived.
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