Cat Bath

Big fluffy cat was perched atop the comfy chair meticulously cleaning his fur. Exhibit C (3 years old) asked me what "that cat" was doing. I explained to him that Bailey was giving himself a bath. Exhibit C asked if he was taking a long bath, to which I responded, "yes, he sure is." He thought about it for a few moments and then looked at me with those big brown eyes and remarked, "Bailey's going to be very wrinkly."

Looking

I'm looking at the blaze of fall colors in the woods through the picture window in my kitchen. I bought my house because of this window and this kitchen, and that decision has never once disappointed me. It is where decisions are made, work is done, friends gather and family shares... not just meals but laughter, wisdom and sometimes tears.

Today I'm having difficulty leaving my kitchen. It's warm and smells cinnamony good. It's safe here with no one to face but myself, though I am arguably my toughest critic. It's one of those days where my body refuses to cooperate. I feel I've little to offer to others right now, I can't crawl out of this time and space, and that there's not much to which I can look forward.

Sometimes a little glimmer is all I need, but it's simply not there today. However, if I look long and hard out my window the sunlight will undoubtedly catch one of those leaves in just the right way, glimmering, shimmering hope in the corner of my eye, and I'll suddenly remember how good it feels to feel good.

Ouch...

I am pained by the following text I received after asking a question regarding my cell phone bill:

This is Att. In regards to double billed minutes it shows you wasn't double billed.

Seriously? This is the best AT&T can do?

Dear AT&T,

If you're going to allow your practically illiterate employees to communicate with your customers via text message, you might want to consider helping them with the ampersand characater and adding grammar and spell check features. As a side note, I'd appreciate that tremendously so I can stop sending text messages to my boss asking her to "dmail" me things.

Your Pal,
The Cranky Princess

Words.

I've had a love affair with words for as long as I can remember. At the princessy private school I attended, we were required to take study skills as its own subject area for 5 years. Everyone moaned and groaned about it (though I feel certain that as they flew through college they changed their tunes about its importance), but not I! Outlines... notecards... highlighting... yummy.... almost as good as the actual creation of a piece of text.

Senior year of high school meant a semester of creative writing. We journaled, and from those journal entries created amazing works that we shared with one another and learned the art of constructive literary feedback. We had to write one short story a week, though my story count was far more than the teacher's requirement. I couldn't seem to stop writing, and I still have those stories in some buried treasure box in the basement. Many snippets from those stories are permanently etched in my mind. It was a rough year for me personally, and I realized that writing was only rather therapeutic and that the best literature is written from a place of knowledge. It's so simple, really: you write best about that with which you are most familiar.

In my freshman year of college I had the coolest ever writing professor. Her name was Anne... she was funky and fun and understood the importance of authentic tasks and meaningful subject matter. She pulled me aside one day and said "you have a gift and it begins with just one word, just one emotion". I'd been told by many teachers along the way that my writing was "good". I could write one helluva 3.5 essay, but this was the first time anyone ever told me that she'd connected to my writing on a deeper level, and I literally felt drunk with power, because words, I knew, were powerful things. I later had her mother as a professor for a course on Science Fiction and Fantasy Literature. I didn't realize it was her mother until after I got back my first paper, and at the top was written, "Anne was right... you write like an angel."

The realization that we are good at something is important, so too, is positive and specific feedback along the way from people for whom we have respect. I feel blessed that my gift touches hearts and has the ability to pull forth emotion, even from people who aren't so very emotional. I'm glad to have a creative outlet, for my reality is that someday, my body might decide it's had enough, but, hopefully, my mind will remain in tact and my words will continue to flow.

Tastes Like...

So we're sitting at dinner one night. I had made deeee-lish grilled pork tenderloin with a rockin' rub and a jalepeno honey sauce, and Exhibit B, who was 6 at the time, says, "Mom, what is this called again?" So I tell him it's pork tenderloin. He thinks for a moment and asks if it's like a pork chop. Yup, kinda. Then he says, serious as a heart attack, "I can't remember what animal pork comes from. Is it squirrel?"

I love kids.

The Foe and the Friends

There is a darkness enveloping me. I am fighting it constantly, and I believe I am winning that fight on some levels, but I fear I am losing most everything else in the process.

It will pass, and I've lived it long enough to understand that. I know what needs doing but I'm having such difficulty finding the energy and means to get it all done. I've lost myself and maybe others along the way.

On the plus side, I know exactly who my real friends are at this very moment. It's a small circle of incredible people and I thank them for all that they are and the strength they share with me. They've never run a mile in my Asics, yet there is a quiet understanding, a solidarity among us, and a collective sass factor of off the chain.

Veterans Day Thanks...

My step-father is one of the most fascinating people on the planet. He is a psychologist by trade and has voluntarily devoted much of his free time to veterans' affairs. He testifies before Congress on a regular basis, is frequently interviewed by news organizations as an expert on WWII, POW/MIA/VA issues, as well as post traumatic stress disorder. He is invited to the White House on a regular basis to discuss veteran's affairs and the state of the VA, but has refused to go. Seems he is not too keen on our current president. He was instrumental in pushing forward the WWII memorial in D.C. and was among the honored guests at its unveiling. His passion for his work with veterans from around the country and from every conflict, storm or war comes from the fact that he, himself, was a POW. He can frequently be found talking with former soldiers by phone... or handwriting them letters... helping them get the benefits they deserve.

So on this veterans' day, I am thankful not only for all of our veterans, but also for the work that my stepdad does to ensure that we continue to take care of those men and women that put their lives on the line for us.