Ok....when I was little, teeny tiny wonderful little kittens LITERALLY seemed to just APPEAR on a regular basis. Sometimes we even had to bottle feed them and my parents would grumble and eventually would give them away because we already had TOO MANY animals. So why is it that when I really really really WANT a baby kitten, I have to pay* for one, and it's not even a baby anymore!
I want a free** baby kitten! And when I say baby, I mean, weened off mama cat but maybe not even on hard food yet. THAT kind of baby kitten. The kind that wakes you up every two hours for food and attention. The kind that every once in a while will topple over because their legs are still wobbly and their balance not so great. The kind that can only sleep if they're on your chest because your heartbeat is comforting (ok, big cats do that too, but I'm not talkin about big cats now)--and when they do sleep they still suckle and kick and twitch in their dreams the way only baby kittens do. The kind that still has blue eyes. The kind that their fur is still really super fluffy and downy and you're not even positive if it will stay white and gray or turn black. The kind that.....ok, I can't think of anything else right now.
The point is, I really want a baby kitten.
*The author notes and advises that all pets require--sometimes significant-- monetary expenditures in order to adequately support their health and well-being. The author simply would rather spend "adoption fees" on vaccines, spay.neuter cost, age appropriate food, litter and all the fun little feathery jingley toys that cats enjoy.
**See above disclaimer
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Sunday, November 20, 2011
among the dunes
As the end of my second year in the coastal south approaches, I continue to be amazed at the fact that four days before Thanksgiving I can pull on a bathing suit and head to the beach to spend the better part of my day there. That's not to say that it doesn't get chilly here, and it's certainly not to say that Rob and I don't sincerely miss the crisp air and painted landscape of fall in South Carolina or West Virginia. But as long as I'm here, I intend to appreciate the particulars of island living.
Walking along the beach path from 11th street to East Beach there is a certain point where shoes of any kind become an obstruction to effective forward movement, so I kicked off my flip flops and plodded the rest of the way to my usual camp site-- umbrella, chair and beach bag in tow. The beach looked different today, and for a second I actually had to take a good look around to assure myself I was indeed in the exact same spot that I have planted myself every time I've come to the beach this summer. And that was a lovely thing to ponder for a while because as soon as I knew I wasn't in a parallel dimension somewhere my inner voice gave me a kindly flick on the forehead for ever having assumed that something like a beach would ever remain the same. But for the record, it had changed quite a bit this time, as if the beach and all the sandbars had been slurried around overnight--they were significantly transformed.
Four and a half hours later I had watched low tide yield to the pull of the moon and high tide was clamboring in. I had finished reading the latest book to grace my imagination and for a while I just sat on my towel staring out at the ocean and wondering what to do next while at the same time being completely content with remaining right where I was with no active plans at all. But out of that strange internal obligation which is most likely a completely socialized thing of our culture, I got up from my towel and bent under my umbrella to put my book away...I suppose in an effort to--as Daddy Wayne puts it--"begin the egress." But as I put the book away I realized my beach chair was in the perfect amount of shade, so I sat down...and pretended to continue the egress while the other 99.9% of my attention was on listening to the sound of the ocean...which led into more thinking. And in my usual nature of taking delight in thinking and pondering and contemplating and realizing--and I will say my psyche rarely disappoints me no matter how big or small the process is--I began considering exactly why it was that I felt so OK with just staying at the beach until the cows came home, and what exactly the "sound of the ocean" is and other things like that. So as I'm sitting in the chair, thinking and guiltily messing around with my beach bag as if I, were I to continue, might actually convince myself to pack up and leave (which didn't really work because as I dug for my phone to check the time I noticed I had two magazines in the bag that I hadn't read yet...well I could read these and THEN go...) it occurred to me that the sound of the ocean was a natural "white noise" and that it, combined with the nearly perfect temperature and breeze, was probably behind the reason why I was so content, or perhaps, entranced...and my inner voice gave me another of those proverbial flicks because then it seemed obvious.
As I was recovering from re-entry to reality I see, out of the corner of my eye, a couple walking past and the guy points at me and I realize I/we know them. It was a couple who Rob and I have met and hung out with at a few parties and hoped we would eventually become friends with. So they were walking with their baby (who I now call "sweet baby James" as he is wonderful for holding and bouncing and chirruping and laughing with) and they stopped to talk for a few minutes. They were at a birthday party/oyster roast we went to last night and all of us had stayed out till the wee morning talking and laughing and having our hair and clothes and skin soaked with the smell of burning cedar wood and roasted shellfish and the low-country air of live oaks and moss and salt.
Anyway their visit broke the spell that had kept me at the beach for so long after I'd finished my reading and then I was glad I had been entranced for long enough to see them. Once they were on their way further along the beach I packed up my things and walked myself to the car. At home I warmed up some soup and sat down to write about today. Because it has been a good day. And I am happy.
Walking along the beach path from 11th street to East Beach there is a certain point where shoes of any kind become an obstruction to effective forward movement, so I kicked off my flip flops and plodded the rest of the way to my usual camp site-- umbrella, chair and beach bag in tow. The beach looked different today, and for a second I actually had to take a good look around to assure myself I was indeed in the exact same spot that I have planted myself every time I've come to the beach this summer. And that was a lovely thing to ponder for a while because as soon as I knew I wasn't in a parallel dimension somewhere my inner voice gave me a kindly flick on the forehead for ever having assumed that something like a beach would ever remain the same. But for the record, it had changed quite a bit this time, as if the beach and all the sandbars had been slurried around overnight--they were significantly transformed.
Four and a half hours later I had watched low tide yield to the pull of the moon and high tide was clamboring in. I had finished reading the latest book to grace my imagination and for a while I just sat on my towel staring out at the ocean and wondering what to do next while at the same time being completely content with remaining right where I was with no active plans at all. But out of that strange internal obligation which is most likely a completely socialized thing of our culture, I got up from my towel and bent under my umbrella to put my book away...I suppose in an effort to--as Daddy Wayne puts it--"begin the egress." But as I put the book away I realized my beach chair was in the perfect amount of shade, so I sat down...and pretended to continue the egress while the other 99.9% of my attention was on listening to the sound of the ocean...which led into more thinking. And in my usual nature of taking delight in thinking and pondering and contemplating and realizing--and I will say my psyche rarely disappoints me no matter how big or small the process is--I began considering exactly why it was that I felt so OK with just staying at the beach until the cows came home, and what exactly the "sound of the ocean" is and other things like that. So as I'm sitting in the chair, thinking and guiltily messing around with my beach bag as if I, were I to continue, might actually convince myself to pack up and leave (which didn't really work because as I dug for my phone to check the time I noticed I had two magazines in the bag that I hadn't read yet...well I could read these and THEN go...) it occurred to me that the sound of the ocean was a natural "white noise" and that it, combined with the nearly perfect temperature and breeze, was probably behind the reason why I was so content, or perhaps, entranced...and my inner voice gave me another of those proverbial flicks because then it seemed obvious.
As I was recovering from re-entry to reality I see, out of the corner of my eye, a couple walking past and the guy points at me and I realize I/we know them. It was a couple who Rob and I have met and hung out with at a few parties and hoped we would eventually become friends with. So they were walking with their baby (who I now call "sweet baby James" as he is wonderful for holding and bouncing and chirruping and laughing with) and they stopped to talk for a few minutes. They were at a birthday party/oyster roast we went to last night and all of us had stayed out till the wee morning talking and laughing and having our hair and clothes and skin soaked with the smell of burning cedar wood and roasted shellfish and the low-country air of live oaks and moss and salt.
Anyway their visit broke the spell that had kept me at the beach for so long after I'd finished my reading and then I was glad I had been entranced for long enough to see them. Once they were on their way further along the beach I packed up my things and walked myself to the car. At home I warmed up some soup and sat down to write about today. Because it has been a good day. And I am happy.
Monday, November 07, 2011
The most important things are the hardest to say, because words diminish them -Stephen King
We're all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness - and call it love - true love.
-Robert Fulghum
Wednesday, November 02, 2011
Before It Breaks
Around here, it's the hardest time of year
Waking up, the days are even gone
The collar of my coat, lord help me cannot keep off the cold
The rain drops sting my eyes, I keep them closed
But I'm feeling no pain
I'm a little lonely and my quietest friend,
have I the moonlight? have I let you in?
Say it ain't so say I'm happy again.
Say it's over, say I'm dreaming,
say I'm better than you left me.
Say you're sorry, I can take it.
say you'll wait, say you won't
say you love me, say you don't
I can make my own mistakes
let it bend before it breaks
I'm alright, don't I always seem to be?
Aren't I swinging on the stars? Don't I wear them on my sleeve?
Went looking for a crossroads, it happens every day
and whichever way you turn, I'm going to turn the other way
Say it's over, say I'm dreaming
say I'm better than you left me
Say you're sorry I can take it
say you'll wait, say you wont
Say you love me say you dont
I can make my own mistakes
I learned to let it bend before it breaks
- Brandi Carlile
Waking up, the days are even gone
The collar of my coat, lord help me cannot keep off the cold
The rain drops sting my eyes, I keep them closed
But I'm feeling no pain
I'm a little lonely and my quietest friend,
have I the moonlight? have I let you in?
Say it ain't so say I'm happy again.
Say it's over, say I'm dreaming,
say I'm better than you left me.
Say you're sorry, I can take it.
say you'll wait, say you won't
say you love me, say you don't
I can make my own mistakes
let it bend before it breaks
I'm alright, don't I always seem to be?
Aren't I swinging on the stars? Don't I wear them on my sleeve?
Went looking for a crossroads, it happens every day
and whichever way you turn, I'm going to turn the other way
Say it's over, say I'm dreaming
say I'm better than you left me
Say you're sorry I can take it
say you'll wait, say you wont
Say you love me say you dont
I can make my own mistakes
I learned to let it bend before it breaks
- Brandi Carlile
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