Long time no blog

I didn't intend to take so many lengthy breaks in my blogging this year. But 2011 hasn't been off to the most fantastic start. For me at least. But, I'm not going to dwell on all that. I'm going to focus on the fact that it's spring now. Plants are starting to poke their first fragile stalks through the still cool ground. Crocus are blooming. Daffodils should soon follow with tulips right around the corner. Days are lengthening and the quality of sunlight has changed. All these are awesome things.

I've spent a lot of time thinking already this year and we all know I already do more than my fair share of that to begin with. But it's been good thinking. Solid, self understanding type thinking. And I'm pleased with where I all this thinking has left me. I feel stronger. Perhaps more confident. I'd say wiser, but I think it's that I've gotten more in touch with myself rather than gained any wisdom.

So, it's on 2011. Take notice. I'm going to make you my bitch. The crap you've thrown at me thus far is not going to drag the rest of my year down. I will return to the happy and the awesome that I felt and was when this picture was taken last September.



And I might listen to this song on repeat a few times because it seems fitting and I love it and it reminds me of the amazingness of spring:

Moonshine

I had to put one of my cats to sleep on Friday. Moonshine was just a couple months shy of his 14th birthday. And I feel like I failed him. Even with multiple reassurances from my vet that he beat the odds and that we did everything we could for him, I still feel like I failed him. He was just a kitten like a couple years ago, how could he possibly be old enough to have heart disease???

And how could I not know that he had it? How could I have focused solely on his thyroid problem and completely missed the heart disease diagnosis in January of 2010? On the one hand this gave us a full year of normality. Well, normality and twice daily medications. On the other hand it made his decline seem so sudden and shocking.

Moonshine was given to me as a one year anniversary present by an ex-girlfriend. Another friend had given me a kitten for a college graduation present a couple months earlier (a little fluffy male bundle of orange fur which I named Sunshine) and that kitten desperately needed a playmate. Or rather, I needed someone other than me for him to play with in the middle of the night and while I was at work. Enter Moonshine. Who hide beneath the pedals of my ex-girlfriends car. He was a master at hiding. Even I couldn't find him in my own house at times he was that good.

Sunshine and Moonshine were literally night and day from each other. Sunshine is orange, Moonshine was black. Sunshine is outgoing, Moonshine was timid. Sunshine trusted everyone, Moonshine trusted few. Sunshine is a lot like Ms. Ex and Moonshine was a lot like me.

When Moonshine was a kitten he had an awful time controlling his tail. I just don't think he understood how it worked. He'd often walk around with the tip of it bonking him on the back of his head. His lack of tail control caused an unfortunate incident with a candle when he was a year or so old. Singed cat fur smells awful by the way. Thankfully he was no worse for the wear once the fur grew back.

He also loved to play fetch when he was little. He'd bring me a toy and I'd throw it in my tiny apartment and he'd chase after it and bring it back for me to throw over and over again. He outgrew this after a while, but it was adorable and the closest I've ever come to owning a pet who actually fetched. What about Maggie you say? I mean, she is a dog after all. Go ahead, I dare you to get her to play fetch with you. Go for it. I'll give you $100 if you get her to play.

Moonshine saw me through five moves (one interstate) and three girlfriends. We lived in six different homes together (three apartments, one townhouse and two houses). He and his brother Sunshine have been there for me for my entire post-college life. They were a constant no matter what else was going on in my life. When the bottom was falling out and my world was collapsing around me, they were there. They were steady and the same and normal. And even though you know when you adopt an animal that someday the day will come when you will lose them, I honestly thought that day was still years away. 13 isn't old for a cat to me. I really thought I had another 4 or 5 years.

Instead of an outright purr Moonshine would start off by making this grunting noise which would then lead into a deep purr if he was really happy, a deep purr which still had a grunting quality to it. I'd often call him my little grunty boy because of it. He was a sneezer (allergies maybe? Who knows. None of his vets over the years was concerned about it). And he was a puker (again no vet concern there) which the dogs who appeared later in his life LOVED! Maggie woke me many a night by vaulting off the bed to go clean up some puke. I think she was afraid someone else would get to it before she did if she didn't go get it RIGHT NOW! What she doesn't understand was that no one else in the house wants to eat the kitty vomit. Yuck!!!!

Speaking of dogs, Moonshine hated the dogs. HATED them. He ran away from home for a few days after Ms. Ex and I got our first dog, Joanie (who lives with Ms. Ex now).

My dad called Moonshine squat walker because whenever I moved into a new place Moonshine would squat walk through it until he got settled in. He was a very cautious kitty and would hide every time the door bell rang. Just in case. And he was an excellent judge of character. If Moonshine liked you then I knew for sure that you were a good person. I'm going to miss bringing people over and seeing whether or not he'd let these new people pet him.

Like me, Moonshine loved a good thunderstorm. When I first moved to CT we lived in a third floor apartment with a tiny little porch. At the first rumble of thunder Sunshine would dart under the bed to hide and Moonshine would beg to be let out on the porch to watch it. It didn't matter to him that it was raining and he might get a little wet, he was bound and determined to watch the storm.

Also like me, Moonshine adored olives. I could never open the olive jar without him knowing it, no matter where in the house he was when I opened it. I always saved one or two of the olives I was eating just for him as a treat. They weren't a daily thing, but he LOVED them. I knew he was really really sick when he would no longer eat the pieces of olive I offered him.

Between the two cats Moonshine (who was found on the street with his mother when he was just a little kitten) was the better hunter. While I love my Sunshine dearly, he is not the brightest bulb in the chandelier. Moonshine is such a good hunter that one time he even brought me a mouse from the basement with the trap that actually killed it still attached. He was really proud of himself that evening.

Maggie was terrified of Moonshine. Probably with good reason. He would sit on the dining room chairs and swat at her when she walked by. He was black and blended into the shadows so she never saw it coming. Quite a few times he trapped her in a hallway in the house. All he had to do was sit in the middle of the hall and look at her and she'd flat out refuse to walk around him. I had to rescue her from him quite a few times. Even after all that Maggie would still try to get him to play with her on occasion. Maggie might be an eternal optimist.

Over the last six weeks I watched Moonshine get sicker and sicker and weaker and weaker. He had fluid drained from his chest cavity twice. The last week of his life he was barely going through the motions and weighed about a third of what he weighed in his prime. I watched him like a hawk to see if he was still breathing. That's exhausting. One morning last week I couldn't find him in the morning when I got up. When I did find him in the basement he didn't respond to me calling his name and I actually asked him, out loud, "Moonshine, did you die?" But he hadn't. He was just in the in between. Not quite here but not quite there either. He spent quite a bit of time there during his last week or two.

Moonshine never got as much attention as his brother did. Or the dogs when they came. Part of the reason for this was because I was really really allergic to him, the rest of it was because affection was always on his terms. He hated to be held (and I have the scar on my left wrist to prove it). His idea of snuggling was sleeping on the same couch as you. Later in life he finally started sleeping next to me on the couch, actually touching me. I still have guilt that he didn't get as much attention as the others. I probably always will.

I am now thankful for the ridiculous winter we had. I am so grateful for all the days when it was too snowy to do anything but sit on the couch because I got to spend quality time with Moonshine in what I didn't realize were the final weeks of his life. He would sit with me, next to me, as I knit or watched movies. And he'd purr that grunty purr of his and we were both happy.

It's the silly things about him that I miss most. The house is so quiet without him (and he was a pretty darned quiet cat). He used to meow every night after I got in bed. A lot of the time it was just as I was drifting off to sleep and I would get so annoyed. He was playing with his favorite green catnip sock and would find the perfect spot to meow so as to maximize the acoustics of the house and make it as loud as he possibly could. I cannot even begin to tell you how much I miss that meowing now that it's gone even though I'd have to yell at him every night to get him to stop. He stopped doing it a few weeks ago when he got sicker. I even miss him scratching his claws on the sisal rug in the entry way even though I'd yell at him for that too.

I also miss him meowing when it was dinner time. He wore a tiny little watch under all that fur and no matter the weather he always new when I was supposed to be giving him his dinner. He'd be meowing right now actually if he were still with us. And even though he was the smaller of the two cats and the definite beta he would push Sunshine out of the way and eat both dinners some days. I loved to watch him do this and assert himself for a change.

I know have far too many litter boxes and food bowls and food for one cat. And the house feels unbalanced, lopsided if you will. The energy is all wrong. I miss that little guy terribly. He and I were a lot alike, well, as alike as a cat and a human can be. I didn't think losing him would affect me as much as it has but I have been a wreck for weeks now. And while I am relieved that the waiting is over and that he's no longer suffering his loss is palpable to me. It physically hurts.

I'm sure there's a ton more I could write about him. Like how he would follow me around the house if I were on the phone and beg for attention, meowing quietly at me if I didn't give it to him. Or how he would hold a grudge and was cold and calculating and would take revenge on Sunshine hours or days later by a vicious sneak attack for one offense or another. He was a unique little guy.

I know putting him to sleep was the right thing to do. I know there was no other option. I know it was the kindest, most humane thing for him. I know he beat the odds for his diagnosis according to my vet. I do know those things. But it doesn't make me feel any less of a failure to him. It doesn't make me miss him any less. It doesn't make the void any smaller or put the house back in balance. I hate how all this feels. They just aren't with us long enough.

Rest in peace Mr. Man.

Enough with winter already!

Apparently Connecticut has done something to anger Mother Nature. Or maybe Old Man Winter. Or perhaps both. Because we've had storm after storm after freaking storm since the day after Christmas. Each dumping more and more snow. January was the snowiest month in history in CT. Well, since 1905 at least when they started keeping records.

Normally I'm not a jealous or envious person, but right now? Right now I envy those people in my state who have only to clear off their cars and shovel out a parking spot. It seems all I did for the month of January was snow blow and shovel and then do it again. And again. And again. And again.

And don't get me started on the people who are posting things online about how they're inside having hot chocolate watching hubby, or significant other or whomever shovel or snow blow or plow. To that I say, unless you have a medical reason NOT to be out there helping get off your ass and go freaking help. Snow removal is exhausting and if there are two of you in a household you should be splitting that job.

I have burned so many calories shoveling and snow blowing (which takes a lot of effort even though the machine does a lot of the work) that I can't eat enough to be full most days. I'm constantly hungry which is a pain in the ass.

And yes, shoveling is wonderful exercise and I'm grateful for the chance to get out and move this winter. But what I'd really love is a break. My neck/shoulders ache. My forearms burn. My hands are sore so knitting is hard or just impossible some days. The other day even my ankles hurt from all the shoveling.

The snow is up to my hips. The fence in my front yard is nearly completely snow covered. All you can see is the center light post which is 7ish feet tall. I can't see to back my car out of my driveway anymore which makes me even more thankful that I live on a quiet street. I had to shovel a path (and then snow blow it) for the oil delivery folks so they can bring me oil so I can heat my house. Maggie is bored out of her mind since we haven't been on walk in weeks. I've lost track of the number of days of work I've missed from all the snow. Today is the second day just this week.

Now, I do love winter. I love all the seasons. But I'm ready for this one to end. I have a feeling the snow is going to be around until at least May though. The piles are deep and compact. And somewhere in one of them lies my Christmas tree.

Wherein I whine for a moment

Sometime last week a contemporary of my grandmother's fell at school (the same school where my father and grandmother taught and where my mom, dad, aunt, uncle, cousins and I all went to school) after tripping on a book bag which a ten or eleven year old threw down in the hallway without looking. This 90+ year old woman fell, gashed her head open and broke her hip. We won't talk about how she probably shouldn't be teaching any more at her age. Instead you get to listen to me whine for a minute or two.

Four and a half years ago a similar incident is what lead to the death of my grandmother. The only grandparent I ever knew. Grandma tripped on her walker on July 4th, 2006 and broke her hip. She passed away four days later, five weeks short of her 87th birthday. The difference in these situations is, of course, that my grandmother died and her contemporary coasted through her hip replacement surgery without a single issue. She's likely to leave the hospital tomorrow or the next day.

And this, I am ashamed to admit, makes me angry. Which in turn makes me feel horrible and ashamed of myself that I should be wishing ill on a woman who spent her entire life teaching. A woman who has made a difference to so many young people. It's not even that I'm wishing her ill exactly, it's more of a "why did SHE get to live and grandma have to die?" kind of whining. I don't want her to die, that would be awful.

My mind is perpetuating the selfish whining of a little child instead of the rational thoughts of the woman who knows that her grandmother had been ready to go for years. I have some how managed to block out the knowledge that grandma asked the doctors to stop trying when they weren't able to get her blood pressure back up after surgery. She knew she'd had a good, long life and that her time had come. She was ready to go. She wanted to see my grandfather again, her husband who'd died 29 years before shortly after they'd retired. I was only 2 years old and know him only from pictures and stories. I don't remember him at all.

Rational, adult me knows that these two falls and surgeries have no relation to each other at all. Different circumstances, different women, different everything. Selfish child me cannot separate the two in my head. Rational, adult me is happy for this woman and her family. Selfish child me is mad that she got to live and my grandmother died. Rational, adult me feels awful and is ashamed of the selfish child me. Rational, adult me and selfish child me both wish we'd spent more time with grandma than we did.

Not to mention thinking about all this brings up thoughts of Ms. Ex and how she didn't want to go to my grandmother's funeral with me. That was awesome. Apparently having to take a day off work to be supportive of me was an inconvenience to her schedule.

I'm going to go let rational, adult me wrestle with selfish child me some more. And perhaps have a good cry.

So, it snowed

We got some snow today.



The news said 24 inches of it fell in my town.



Took me a very long time to clear my driveway and walk way and find my mailbox again.



Needless to say, Maggie was not amused.

Reflections on 2010

The end of the year is as good a time as any to reflect on what I've learned over the course of the previous 12 months. And since I love lists what better form to use for reflection than list form? In no particular order, here is a list of some of the things 2010 taught me.

1. There's always going to be someone(s) there for me to lean on. Lots of them in fact.

2. It's okay to lean on those people when I need them. When you reach out people reach back.

3. Everyone is doing the best they can. It may not be your best or my best or the best that we might want from them, but it is their best. And that's all we can ask of anyone. (This isn't something newly learned, but it's something I reinforced in myself this year.)

4. It's okay to light candles even if you're the only one around to enjoy them. In fact, that's the most important time to do it.

5. No matter how old I get I will always be the girl who falls too hard and too fast. I get my heart broken because of it. I'm okay with that and I wouldn't want it any other way.

6. My intuition and gut are always right. Always.

7. As crazy as my dreams are (and oh my god are they crazy) they always give me a clue to the issues I need to work out while I'm awake.

8. Letting go and trusting...two very hard things which I'm still learning how to do, but two things which can be the most rewarding.

9. Purling. Can't forget finally learning how to purl! Oh the beautiful things I can knit now!

10. I am enough.

11. I'm not willing to compromise myself. I deserve the best.

12. Dating just for the sake of dating isn't worth it. Even though you do get some good stories out of it. (I already knew this too, but again, it was simply reinforced.)

13. I am exactly where I'm supposed to be in my life even if sometimes that place makes no sense.

14. Everything I write here is my truth at the time I write it. I might not feel the same after I've written it and some of it might be written in the heat of the moment, but I don't regret a word of it. Even if I no longer feel the way I did when I wrote it.

15. I have nothing to prove to anyone anymore, including myself.

16. Reconnecting with old friends is very rewarding. Not only do you get to learn more about them, but you get to learn about yourself as well.

17. It's okay to ask for what you need. People can't read minds no matter how good their intuition is.

18. I am not broken.

19. As much as I might complain about my job sometimes, I do enjoy it or at least aspects of it. And the folks there have become a family to me in their own way (even when they frustrate the hell out of me). They will never know how much that means to me.

20. I need to be more open. This is a goal for 2011. I don't do resolutions, but I think goals are a reasonable alternative.

21. Fear doesn't protect you, it only holds you back.

22. There is nothing at all wrong with seeing the same artist in concert multiple times a year. Nor is there anything wrong with having perhaps too many jack and cokes during those shows and wooing a little too loudly and a little too much.

23. The Universe works in mysterious ways. You might not always get what you want, but you always get what you need. Instead of asking for what I want, I now ask only to be provided with what I need.

24. When I stop to listen my body tells me everything I need to know about it.

25. Instead of fighting the emotions and holding them back it's best to allow yourself to feel them, fully feel them, and then move on.

26. Giving feels infinitely better than getting. (This is something that Ms. Ex could stand to learn. I'd like to think she has in the years since our split, but something tells me this is a lesson she'll never learn which is sad.)

27. Some people are simply meant to be in your life and you recognize them nearly instantaneously.

28. When something feels right, it is right. If it feels wrong, it is wrong. Seems sooooo simple, but it took me thirty-five years to figure this one out.

29. In the past I haven't spent enough time telling the people I care about how much they mean to me. I'm working on changing this.

30. This one is something I didn't think I'd ever say again, but I am no longer averse to marriage.

31. Sometimes I just know things. I don't know how I know them, but I do and I am learning to trust in this knowing.

I'm sure there are more things I could list, but I think the list is long enough as is. I'm also sure that I've left some big self discoveries off the list, but that's okay. I've written what I needed to write.

Lyrics are hard to choose for this post. I mean, how do you sum up a year's worth of growth and learning and self reflection in a song? Instead I'm going to post some lyrics from a couple of my favorite songs from this year.

First up is Soldier by Ingrid Michaelson. I'm pretty sure I've used this song before, but I don't care.

I don't believe in anything but myself
I don't believe in anything but myself
But then you opened up a door, you opened up a door
Now I start to believe in something else.

But how do I know if I'll make it through
How do I know? Where's the proof in you?

And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won

Next up is The Light by Sara Bareilles.

In the morning it comes, heaven sent a hurricane
Not a trace of the sun, but I don't even run from rain
Beating out of my chest, my heart is holding on to you
From the moment I knew
From the moment I knew

You were the air in my breath filling up my love soaked lungs
Such a beautiful mess intertwined and overrun

Wishing you all a 2011 filled with joy and love!

Ghosts of Christmas Past

I miss these Christmases. Not the being a kid part (although, that's totally appealing sometimes), but the getting together at my grandmother's house with my aunts and uncles and cousins.



But grandma's gone. And my cousins have families of their own now. And we're more spread out geographically than we were growing up. So, it's just me and my mom and dad at Christmas. And the older we all get the more I start to think about what it's going to be like when they're gone. Which is totally not what the spirit of the season is about, but it's where my brain goes.

I know I've glamorized these family Christmases. I mean, I do distinctly remember how awkward they would get. How no one really wanted to go, but we all did anyway. How we would all eat before we went because grandma's cooking was never very good (and often consisted of leftovers from a church supper, in like April) and gave everyone gas. How very COLD her house was and how we would secretly turn up the thermostat while pretending to have conversations outside the bathroom.

I guess...I guess I just miss getting together with my family. I never see one set of cousins anymore. It's been years. The other set I see once, maybe twice a year, which is partly my fault because I don't go home for every holiday. But none of us really make an effort. Which I feel bad about sometimes. But then proceed to do nothing about it. And then I feel bad all over again.

I kind of can't wait for the holidays to be over. I'm looking forward to returning to my normal routine. The one where people everywhere aren't so stressed with Christmas cheer and where traffic returns to normal and you can set foot in stores without wanting to hang yourself. And where I can stop thinking about the ghosts of Christmases past.