The holiday season is never easy for me. I don’t get it. I don’t like it. Thanksgiving is a holiday that celebrates killing the indigenous population and stealing their land (which land rights causes fights still going on throughout the world today, so we’re not the only ones.) As if gluttony and genocide don’t have enough of a greedy flair, we slide right from Thanksgiving into Black Friday, which in my generation has gotten extreme and then scaled back again.

Christmas is a joke here in the United States. I don’t think the average person really stops to reflect upon what their own Christian values mean, if they are Christian. Santa bringing children the latest commercial toys is just another way to fuel our consumer-mindset and make those who have less feel like less. If you want to celebrate the birth of Christ, in a festival stolen from the pagans, maybe we could focus on Christ instead of the fat man in the red suit.

And then we make hopeful resolutions and head into the new year– which happens to be a cold, dark time.

On Monday, I was on my way to the gym. And I noticed a squirrel rustling in the bushes from the corner of my eye. And something looked wrong. I got closer, which terrified the squirrel, but I stood still so he stood still. And we looked at each other.

At first I thought he was covered in paint, but then I saw puffiness to the whole mess. It looked like he had gotten into some sort of wet spray foam. I wanted to help him, but I had no idea what to do. And even now, my soul hurts for this squirrel as I wonder: Did he end up in the wrong place at the wrong time and his squirrel curiosity did him in? Or did some person do this to him? Did some person get mad, toss him in a bucket, and spray it with foam?

I don’t know.

I don’t know what happened to that squirrel, but I’ve done a lot of thinking during the last two-plus months since I lost my job and found myself in one of the strangest job markets I ever landed in… I might even be a little scared. I’m nervous about aging. I’m nervous about the college student’s bills (now her car won’t start). I’m nervous about the cost to heat my house and what happens if I don’t find a job or more clients soon.

And yet I keep thinking about that squirrel.

A friend of mine broke his leg on Sunday and ended up in surgery and spending his Thanksgiving in the hospital. Yet, he still sounds strong and brave and contemplative. And maybe that’s the only way we get through this days– staying strong, and brave, and contemplative.

I’ve done a lot of eating my feelings lately, and gained back the almost ten pounds I’d lost. But I keep gaining strength at the gym, so that’s a plus. This week, The Teenager who will be twenty in a few months will have a second attempt at dental surgery, and I hope this time it’s a success.

I signed up to do NaNoWriMo this year, and the goal is to write 50,000 words in a month. I’ve written almost 31,000 with five days left in the month. But I’ve gotten to chapter 17 of my fifth novel, Absolution, so regardless of the word count I call that success. And I might just make that deadline. But if not, it’s okay.

As most of you know, I foster cats. As my health and financial issues mount, and my “political” disagreements with the group fester, I have pulled away from taking new cats. I just can’t do it. I have one foster left– one I was tricked into taking– and that little guy is easygoing but so nervous he acts like I’m going to kill him.

There were 29 cats we helped in the last three years. Compared to some in the group, that’s a low number, but as a single mom in a small home in town, that was a lot. Especially when the rescue’s own financial issues couldn’t allow them consistency in certain aspects of foster. But they do their damn best to do best by the cats.

So we are happy to announce that the rescue has offered to let The Teenager adopt Touch of Grey, the most challenging rescue we had, and the Teenager accepted. This makes me happy because Touch has truly become a member of the family and has started acting like a happy house cat.

I may not have been able to help the squirrel, but I helped those 29 cats. And not a day goes by that I don’t wonder how some of them are doing… like Georgie, my Khloe princess, three-legged Louise, lunatic kitten Eminem, cuddly Slim Shady, shy Minerva, I could list all of them… The adoption is the easy part. The hard part is when the adoption updates fall away, and you don’t get any more texts about how they are doing.