A few days ago– Friday to be exact– I took Little Dog’s Mom to the grocery store as she is still in the “no driving” phase of cataract surgery recovery. I drove the car to the street to wait for her and when she got into the car she noticed some pawprints on the windshield.
Later in the day, The Teenager commented about pawprints on the hood.
The next morning, (yesterday) I went into our garage and smelled cat urine. I immediately texted The Teenager, “I think we have a cat in the garage.”
It took her about twenty minutes to find it, hiding behind a rocking horse from The Teenager’s toddler days.
So she texted her boss about borrowing a cat trap. We set up food, water, a bed and a litter box in the mean time.
Yesterday afternoon The Teenager set up the trap (with sardines) and this morning, we had a stray cat shaking and looking at us.
The cat is not reacting to us at us. It appears to be a “she” but we’re not poking around too much at her genitalia to be sure. We set up a crate in our mud room and soon she will need a bath (she is filthy), some fled meds and dewormer and hopefully after Easter passes we can have her scanned for a microchip.
In the meantime, if anyone in my neighborhood recognizes this cat and can send the owners my way that would be great. Because based on its behavior, this is someone’s lost house cat.
Last night, I started the dishwasher as I always start the dishwasher. It’s not a built-in dishwasher, but the freestanding full-sized dishwasher that sits in the middle of my kitchen like an island. I wheel it to the sink, pulled out the house and attach the female end of the hose to a special male adapter that resides at the end of my faucet.
I went out to my desk and left the dishwasher to do its business. Our dishwasher will be 20 years old in early May, it’s a Maytag as most of my appliances are. It joined us in our home somewhere around May 10, 2004. I know the exact-ish date because I was eight months pregnant with The Teenager and I said there was no way I was doing dishes by hand once the baby came.
I rose from my desk to meander through the kitchen on my way upstairs to my bedroom. I planned to make tea and of course unfasten the dishwasher from its bondage to the sink if it was done. It was not. As I wandered into the kitchen, my socks slopped through deep water and I immediately thought one of the animals did something undesirable. I looked down to see only water. Everywhere. Around the bottom of the dishwasher.
I opened the door and closed it again wondering if my haphazard dish loading of the poor machine had caused a leak. And then I saw water pouring down the hose from the sink to the dishwasher, creating a stream down the front of my cabinet. I finagled the hose so the water couldn’t possibly follow that angle… and then I saw that the counter was flooded.
We had bathed my cat, the dog and swapped out our own towels the day before so I had a pile of clean towels a few feet away. I began mopping up the mess, still uncertain where it had stemmed from.
I told The Teenager I was done and she said she would investigate. She told me she never did determine where the failure had been.
In the morning, I washed more towels. One of The Teenager’s friends came over for a Tarot card reading and The Teenager asked me to stay nearby in case she got stuck. I glanced over her shoulder at the reading– both she and I are often choppy in our skills– and the whole reading just made sense.
Odd, I thought to myself.
I went about my work, researching and drafting some profile information on local political candidates for a freelance assignment I have. I was very cold and decided to take a shower to warm myself.
When I got out of the shower, puddles pooled across the entire length of the bathtub atop my beloved ceramic floor.
Why is the water going haywire? I asked myself.
Of course, I opted not to research it. Instead, I asked a friend who has some knowledge of these elemental natural matters. Turns out it was her birthday, so I took a moment to celebrate her and asked her what she thought.
I also turned on some yacht rock for quiet background noise. Spotify thinks I’m in a yacht rock phase.
“Ahh….new moon in Pisces,” she replied. “LOTS of water energy all over right now, my dear! Not all of it comfortable!”
So I googled it.
Difficult news and disappointments may leave Taurus (that’s me) disconnected or unsure. You might even feel a mix of anger and sadness. Whatever emotions come up, it’s important to acknowledge them and know that they are valid. Journal how you can use your intuition and wisdom to determine next steps and find solutions. Trust yourself. You have the strength to overcome.
Another site said that this is the time to wish upon a star, make a dream come true and manifest. This article also pointed out that it’s a Pisces super new moon. We have reached a portal for manifestation and spiritual awakening– in Pisces, the sign at the end of the zodiac, where dreams and reality merge.
That feels like my whole “theme” for 2024.
Merging reality and dreams.
And it looks like Venus will be in transit through Pisces until April 5 encouraging empathy, kindness and artistic expression.
And for Taurus specifically– it will be a time of renewal of friendships and future endeavors.
“Envision your dream life and believe in the path it takes to get there.”
Meanwhile, the Teenager says she will run the dishwasher tonight.
Yesterday, I visited my primary care physician. He was thrilled because my blood pressure has stayed at 100-110/70 for the last six months. I am disappointed that my weight has not budged.
Around the last snow storm, I noticed my sinus troubles got so bad that only a day of Sudafed would stop my sneezing (see more here or via the publishing company’s Substack newsletter here) and that since then the mild lightheadness and congestion have not abated. And since I took a flying leap out the warehouse door March 1, 2023 and following that with stair acrobatics at home March 13, I had to ask my doctor– could my sinuses be contributing to my fall risk more than we realize?
So, he changed up my allergy medicine to move me from OTC remedies to prescription medication.
I also mentioned that my heart rate has been stable, even when I have no caffeine or overindulge in the stuff, and that salt has a strong effect on my heart and my weight. But I was no closer to keeping my heart rate under control first thing in the morning.
He asked me to tweak my beta blocker routine to take it before I get out of bed in the morning. And to be completely attentive to it at night. For a month, I am to take both half-pill doses as close to 7 o’clock as possible to see if that prevents my heart rate from jumping from 60 to 80 when I sit up, and then from having another jump from 80 to 100 when I stand. If that balances out my heart rate, he may move me to an extended release medication to maintain my heart rate. Especially since I have a small aneurysm in my brain.
The new allergy medicine he put me on– shifting me from Zyrtec and Flonase to prescription strength Claritin and Nasonex– was ready at my pharmacy by dinner time last night.
“It’s a preferred medication of your insurance,” my doctor said, “so it shouldn’t cost you too much.”
So, the teenager and I took the dog on a walk to CVS this morning where the generics of these two medications, for a one-month supply, cost $93. I know my Zyrtec and Flonase probably cost similar– but I never pay full-price. I use coupons and extra bucks and buy the generic, and on top of all that buy the twin pack and split it with my friend Nancy.
We walk home, and I don’t really complain about the price because I need to know if sinuses are increasing my fall risk and I want to know if I can reduce that risk so the investment is worth it.
On the way home, the dog was frolicking on a small hill, and she came trotting down to catch up with the teenager. She misjudged or maybe lost her footing and raced down the hill right at me, hit me in the legs and sent me flying. I landed on the sidewalk. My knee has a hearty scrape, my hands are sore, and my nervous system is done for the day.
For the last week or so I’ve been struggling with some congestion– nothing serious, but my head and now my throat are swimming with phlegm regardless of whether I take my allergy meds, or cold medicine, until I hit the Sudafed. I’ve been working hard. I’m always working and sometimes I don’t know what counts as work. Do only billable hours count? Do marketing and networking hours count? How much time should I commit to my traditional publishing authors vs how much time am I “allowed” to work on my own creative projects?
I’ve been applying for jobs and working to build my business at Parisian Phoenix Publishing since I lost my job at Stitch Fix. I have not found a job, though I have substantially increased my business. Enough to live on? I don’t know. Unemployment will run out in a few weeks so I will find out. I guess.
I had the opportunity to visit with the woman who loved to ring the gong earlier this week. She arrived wearing my favorite Stitch Fix sweatshirt, the Midnight Society alumni hoodie. I also visited with Nancy Scott and filed another story with Armchair Lehigh Valley. Today “the dentist’s book” arrived in ARC format. (And the UPS driver opened the door to my house not realizing that the dog had access to the porch. Luckily, he was fast.)
My own novel has gone into design, so it looks like an April launch will be happening (official release date my birthday, May 20).
And The Teenager, who will only be the Teenager for about three months, built me an office space.
A lot of life is a leap of faith. I’m exhausted from the jump– speaking of which my fitness coach Andrew at Apex Training has been brutal in my workouts later– but sometimes you have to keep going.
I want to improve my web site, add more pages, keep content fresher. I want to gain more Substack readers. I want to make a business plan, somehow fund a larger marketing plan, write and promote more of my own books, continue my career as a journalist and transition into a memoirist and disability advocate as well.
24 hours later…
I meant to write something cohesive and intelligent and wrap this all up but it didn’t happen so here it goes as is.
I didn’t realize– or perhaps deep down inside I did– that I did not write in this blog at all in the month of January. I have written in the Parisian Phoenix blog, on my Substack, for the Lehigh Valley Armchair Substack, for Kiss and Tell magazine, for press releases and social media…
But not here.
I have spent much time applying for jobs, going on job interviews, and following up with second interviews, and working with my authors at our small publishing company, attending networking events, meeting with other writers and professionals, and grocery shopping at discount retailers like Grocery Outlet and the Dollar Tree.
(Grocery budget has been $25/week, but this week I splurged and bought a baker’s dozen bagels for $9.50 at Panera because they have a sale on Tuesday, and I used my CVS coupons and their sales to buy 2 boxes of KIND breakfast bars, a box of Grape Nuts and a box of Cocoa Krispies for $13.)
My personal favorite cheap meal this month has been these gnocchi from the Dollar Tree, served with a cream sauce I made with butter, lemon, and some artichoke hearts (using the oil they were marinated in). The artichoke hearts and the Barber Foods Chicken Stuffed with Broccoli and Cheese came from Grocery Outlet. The whole meal cost me about $3 per serving. And I used up some half and half that was on its last leg.
If it weren’t for car insurance for the teen and heat (I’ve been keeping the house at a balmy 60 degrees since I had to pay for $600 in furnace repairs in December), I have enough clients to keep me afloat indefinitely even after unemployment runs out in about six weeks. But the uncertainty of it all is hard. My biggest faux pas since my lay off was dropping the oil cap into the engine compartment of my car while topping off my fluids before a winter storm.
Luckily, good old Southern Candy and her son came to my aid and he fished it out for me– took him 45 minutes and the promise of the $50 cash I had in my wallet. I could hear my Dad laughing the entire time. I swear he’s been playing practical jokes on me from the afterlife with all of these little mechanical problems.
Like he’s checking to make sure I can take care of myself.
Sometimes, Daddy, I don’t know.
We had two snowstorms in January. During one of which, the first actually, one of the Teenager’s college friends spent the night. (Photo: Here they are at about 10 p.m. having a snowball fight with one of our neighbors, a high school friend of the Teen.) The College Friend hails from Los Angeles, so this was her first snow. And we bundled her up in home-knit hats and gloves and sent her out to shovel and play in my snow boots. Because Lord knows I am not going out in that if I don’t have to.
I drove over to the Bizzy Hizzy, the now nearly empty Stitch Fix warehouse, to show my daughter the old Freestyle and Pick carts that had been set out for the trash. The carts are laminated, corrugated cardboard so I imagined they deflated pretty badly in all the rain. I explained to her how we used to pick, and showed her the pencil cans we used to hold our water bottles and the heavy-duty page protectors that held the pack slips after installation of the Big Ass Fans blew them out of the carts. Three years, evaporated and erased.
I’m still working out with Andrew at Apex Training and meeting my strength goals even if I am failing at my weight goals. The Teen says I need to be more body-positive, but I know I am regularly showing more than 500 garbage calories into my body for the emotional sensation of it. And I also know that as someone with heart and mobility issues, being overweight is not helping.
In good news though, because I share so much about my journal both as someone with cerebral palsy and someone who finds strength training cool and empowering, several other members of my gym are now setting strength goals and strength training into their routines.
While visiting Nan the other day I got to meet a really cute dog. She’s a French sheep dog. Nan and her owner both told me her breed and now I don’t remember. I asked Siri and she suggested a Wheaten Terrier or a Goldendoodle and both of those are wrong. So, I googled French sheep dog breeds and it suggested a few and I immediately recognized the word “Briard.” And it is indeed a dog that would get stuck in briars.
And last week, the Echo City guys and I went out to Pints & Pies for burgers for the guys and pizza for me. It was a very tasty pizza. I have been dreaming of it and the cold Yuengling draft I had ever since.
Today, the Teenager and I went to Eva’s Bargain Boutique (the metaphysical store at the Palmer Park Mall that I first mentioned here). I had written on my calendar (or the inside cover of my 2024 Clever Fox planner) that with any purchase at Eva’s today one could receive a free tarot reading.
The Teenager bought incense, an incense holder, candy, tea and who knows what else. And we left. And she said, “Mom, aren’t you getting anything?”
“I told myself I would buy whatever jumped out at me,” I said, “but only one pendant attracted me and I thought I might just be attracted to the color.”
“Show me,” she said.
I did. “What do you think?” I asked.
“You need it.”
“Does it have anything to it?” I asked.
“It’s stable,” she said.
“Is that good?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“It’s not like stable as in dead,” I said.
“Then I’d feel nothing.”
So, I bought it. Feeling slightly uneasy because I spent $20 I probably shouldn’t be spending. As we waited in line for our reading– which turned out to be a past-present-future three card oracle reading– I mentioned the spell candles.
“I really like the various candles with the crystals and the herbs,” I said, “but I feel like that’s cheating and the universe would want me to make my own.”
“For us that might be true,” The Teenager said, “but for the average person, their belief in the candle is enough.”
She helped me put my necklace on– the gold chain beside my silver choker with tiny amethysts. I don’t know how charged they are, but amethysts are supposed to bring calm. Silver and gold might not be the best fashion statement but I like the crystal themes.
Her turn arrived. The reader was Suburban Mom Medium and she had at least two decks with her. The one she used for us was The Woodlawn Wardens Oracle Deck. I fell in love with this deck. She told the Teenager that she was sorry that in the past The Teenager didn’t feel emotionally and/or physically safe, that the present has a lot going on but if she’s patient, good things are happening.
While The Teenager was getting her reading, an old work colleague from my ProJeCt days walked by. I haven’t seen her in years.
Then it was my turn.
My reading looked like this:
I laughed when I saw the rooster. It was my past. I have a bit of a kinship with roosters and chickens. She said I’d had a lot of issues with communication in my past and that is has caused me some trouble. Then, she said I have my head in a lot of different places all the time and I need to take more time for myself. And then there was the bat, which means I need to listen to my intuition.
With that as the closer, I had to show her my bat tattoo, which was my first tattoo.
The Teenager had gone back into the shop to report back to the owner that we were pleased with the reading. Then we continued traversing the mall. The arcade was packed so we didn’t get to play air hockey like we had hope. The Asian Gifts store gave The Teenager bad mojo so we went to the General Store for a coffee and chai. (“The chai was basically sweetened spicy milk,” she later said. “It was good but it was not chai.”)
I had the blueberry crumb latte with the sweetness cut back, and that was good, but not as hot as I would have liked. I enjoyed it though.
And the we went back to Eva’s to ask what my pendant was.
The truth behind aura quartz is that real aura quartz is made from quartz crystals. They aren’t glass, resin, or plastic. They are genuine quartz crystals. Therefore, they contain all the crystal healing properties of quartz. That is the bottom line and the most important aspect for those looking to work with aura quartz for their crystal healing endeavors. An added bonus of aura quartz is that it incorporates divine metals, which bring an added spectrum of crystal healing energies that make many pursue aura quartz’s properties for their own practice.
Aura Quartz Name/Type
Divine Metal it’s Bonded With
Angel Aura Quartz
Platinum & Silver
Crystal Gemstone Shop
I came home and researched it. Angel Quartz is a quartz with an opalescent shine. Aura quartz is a secondary quality quartz fused with gold or titanium to create unique colors. Crystal purists find any variety of Aura Quartz an undesirable freak, whereas the more new agey pagans find it a blend of two worlds.
I came home and followed my instincts to create an end of year ritual to calm me, connect me to my intentionals for the new year and serve as purification.
It used eucalyptus and lavender, involved blue candles, water and a resurrection plant. I posted it to TikTok (and YouTube).
Last week I got a message from fine artist and art book maker Maryann Riker of Justarip Press. She and I have known each other at least 20 years through my newspaper days in Phillpsburg, N.J. I heard about her art books and asked if I could do a piece of them for the paper and before long, I was in her home watching her unfold handmade books over her dryer and kitchen table.
Maryann was also a friend and creative partner of Nancy Scott. I originally met Nancy through the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group. Maryann and Nancy are the art-and-words combo similar to what Gayle and I have.
Maryann invited me, The Teenager and photographer Joan Zachary to meet for a celebratory end-of-year-drink at Bosergeist Brewing at the Easton Silk Mill. (Where we also included Nancy by pranking her. The Teenager can send announcements through Nan’s Alexa. So we sat in BoserGeist, Maryann stealing my beer, making Nan’s Alexa tell her things.)
Maryann thanked me for including her in the Parisian Phoenix crew. Joan and Maryann got to discuss artistic achievements through the year. Everyone celebrated the Teenager’s successful first semester at Lafayette College (A in photography, which made the artists happy, and B+ in her other classes).
We ate appetizers. We tasted craft beers. We laughed. Thank you, all three of you, for such a delightful mix of energies.
Maryann and I drank the last of the vicious peppermint beer that they make every holiday season. Then, I ordered a flight where we enjoyed the chocolate stout, the cranberry cheesecake beer (that had a burst of sweetness reminiscent of a smartie candy), the prickly pear and the “walking in the winter wonderland” which when cold did not appropriately show its flavors, but as it warmed tasted more and more like gingerbread.
This morning, I had to emerge from my holiday fever dream for some reality– luckily, it was a meeting with my good friend, mentor and partner-in-crime Nan.
If you’re not a regular, Nan and I have been working together for a decade. I’m an author assistant of sorts for her. She’s congenitally blind and a super-talented writer and editor. That’s why she’s one of the team at Parisian Phoenix Publishing.
Nan had written an essay, a humorous essay, “Large Object,” about my daffy life and my ineptness with my own calendar.
I slightly overslept, perhaps because of my killer strength workout last night– I benched 100 pounds with Andrew at Apex Training to meet my “Christmas Challenge.”
It wasn’t a good lift– but it was two sloppy reps that I technically lifted off my chest.
What was even more exciting was the full-body engagement I experienced during the lift. I haven’t been taking my muscle relaxer, Baclofen, and my legs have been stiff (and I wonder if some other symptoms I have had recently relate back to skipping meds) so I cramped pretty badly during the lifts. I came home and took the Baclofen and have continued it today, especially since yesterday I had a small trip.
So by the time I hauled my butt from bed on this damp, rainy, uncharacteristically 50-degree December day, I decided to take a Wawa coupon and get a free egg white, cheddar, honey turkey and spinach Shorti (with hot honey for the condiment) and man was that both basic and satisfying. (My blood pressure has been high, and up until yesterday I had been completely forgoing caffeine but that’s another story.)
I then swung by Panera for my free iced coffee as a member of the Sips Club. I love Panera’s coffee. This all meant going to Nan’s house backwards– which was a tad confusing especially in the rain. Do you ever do that? Get confused because you’re going the opposite way as usual on familiar roads?
The essay Nan wanted to cover was, like I mentioned above, “Large Object.” I giggled so hard while typing this because she captured the whole scenario so vividly. She also allowed me to do some footage for TikTok to introduce her on our Parisian Phoenix TikTok account.
From her essay:
Angel had a doctor’s appointment, a writers’ group audit and a job interview already on her calendar. As she checked her upcoming days, she suddenly started to laugh.
“Oh my,” she said, “on Monday, my calendar says, ‘LARGE OBJECT.’ I have no idea what I meant.” I quipped, “What? The meteor will hit your roof? The dinosaur will arrive in your backyard Monday morning? Santa’s sleigh practicing badly?”
Nancy Scott
The essay mentioned our love of planners, and I told Nan I finally got around to reviewing all of them that I had ordered for 2024. Then, I showed her the “winner.” And once again she ooo-ed and ahh-ed and lamented that if she only had the sight to see these calendars. And one day, I promised we would look for Braille versions.
Upon returning home, I prepared the TikTok video and received some packages as part of the Amazon Vine program. Once was a surprise for the Teen. And it made her very happy. A corset. Frankly, I was relieved it fit.
The last week or so I feel like my strength in the gym (Apex Training) has been dead on– the lifts have come easily and even as my feet/lower body doesn’t cooperate, I seem to get the job done without compromising my other body parts. Andrew, my fitness trainer and strength coach, has been a wonderful support and motivator as life has gotten dramatic and hectic for both of us.
Today I lifted a new PR on bench press– I am up to 80 pounds! As for flexibility and core strength, from my angle it fluctuates every day but Andrew points out a lot of his observations which suggest I am improving more than I might realize. I have noticed that I stumble less, even as my toes drag and my balance falters, knock on wood I have not fallen since Sept. 30.
I have gained back all of the weight I lost, between gin sours and peanut m&m’s and all sorts of chips from the Dollar Tree. And too much pizza! Even with The Teenager home after having her wisdom teeth plus a back molar removed, I’m still eating too much junk– milkshakes, cheese curds, the Wawa chicken fingers and french fries, Macs received for free with minimum purchase of a Diet Coke for me and a Sprite for the Teen all in the name of surgery recovery.
Meanwhile, I can see my muscles gain definition so I know if I’d stop putting junk in my body ALL THE TIME, I could really lean out and have great tone. But the immediate satisfaction of treats and savory, salty foods steals my discipline and knowledge every time.
As if that alone weren’t enough to kick my ass back where it needs to be, I’m starting to believe that the occasional out-of-breath episodes I’m having are symptoms of exercise-induced asthma. My allergies have been bad. The weight doesn’t help. And I noticed more and more that it comes on all of a sudden, even when I’m walking on a flat surface setting my own pace and not with anyone else, and I cannot get air into my lungs until I repeatedly take breaths through my nose and get a breath deep into my chest.
Today, it happened at the gym. I have never had anything like this happen at the gym. I was doing sets of 25 crunches on the exercise ball and really had trouble catching my breath at the end of the set. And I love those crunches! I normally knock them out like a beast!
Light Mobility Service Dog Update
Yesterday I was scheduled to meet with my caseworker at Susquehanna Service Dogs on Zoom. She asked if we could please reschedule for today and as I kept the end of the week open not knowing how the Teen would do with surgery, it worked out fine.
Today the Teen, myself and the caseworker met to discuss what my dog might be trained to do as a task for me, any concerns I might have, and some more updates about my lifestyle. The number one goal I have for this endeavor is to be able to go on walks by myself without fear. I miss my days of going for a 4-mile walk in the morning. I want that piece of mind. The other tasks that I asked for are help retrieving things from the ground when I can’t bend, carrying items I might have in my hand if I find myself struggling for balance, and getting a first aid kit if I need one.
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.
Angel Ackerman 