Friday, March 3, 2017
Spring's just around the corner for the fifth time this winter :( One day high in the seventies...next day high in the forties. I view my world a lot from windows nowadays. I'm looking out one now as I type, and lunch on a concoction of baby dutch yellow potatoes and ground sirloin sauteed to a golden brown with fresh ground sea salt and black pepper, then two eggs lightly scrambled in...scrambled eggs succotash, I guess, and just half a cup of steaming hot coffee with milk.
To be simplistic, we shall just say I've been under the weather mentally these many days. Seems to be overly easy to say I forgive you when one feels betrayed, but so dramatically complicated to actually forgive someone in the far corners of my mind and in the bottom depths of my heart.
I'm realizing that the effects of continual stress has cocooned itself around me with a ton of masking tape, and breaking away from it's hold is proving difficult. Repeating a forgiveness mantra has helped concerning people in and out of my life, because the more I say it, the more I believe it :)
Listening to beautiful music has been re-introduced into my world and of course, there are the stretch exercises I will be doing until the end of time to increase my quality of living. The ability to walk and sit should never be underrated.
Becoming a bit more minimalist with material things in my life has been an underlying theme since the creation of this blog and !rats! my life is still bogged down with material clutter :( :( :( I'm working on it. That's all I can say...I'm working on it!
I've shortened my version of room clutter roulette. Second move is straight to the trash can. I'm still trying to figure out how to empty that recycle bin in my head.
The woebegone saga of Charlotte and Austin concluded yesterday with the bars of confinement torn down and relegated to the dark recesses of the garage. Fingers crossed! For those who have too soon forgotten, they were doomed to the prison of my studio for the last two years because of a spit fire calico named Lacey on a mission to chase Charlotte to the moon and leave her there, and a black stinker of a cat on a mission to chase Lacey off the face of the earth forever.
Two years later I finally had to admit defeat at trying to integrate this little black pesty cakes into the household of other cats. We had to remove him completely. The choice I made to try and keep happiness with the rest of the gang weighs heavy on my heart. I can't forgive myself for giving up, because he went to a place that wasn't a guarantee of his continuance of life. That's the best I can do without actually saying I probably gave him a death sentence. I'm still sad on that one even though it was six months back.
life goes on.
Saturday, January 14, 2017
Woke myself up
purring last night,
curled up tight
on the living room couch...
rubbed my nose
on the dining room chair,
licked my fingers
to rubbed over my ears...
gulped down hubby's sandwich
when he left for a beer,
stared with indifference
as he blamed his poor dog :)
poked holes in the arm chair
with my teeth and nails,
then jumped on the counter
to lick dirty dishes...
I'm doing as I please,
with only one complaint,
this evil-smelling cat pan
is two smidgens too small.
Sunday, January 8, 2017
There’s a theme in my subconscious that seems to be my troubled place lately…I lose my car keys. Seems simple, doesn’t it? Sadly, in cuckoo land, the mysterious meandering labyrinth that houses my past brain work dispenses bits and pieces of rationality and absurdity into my sleepy time head as if a convoluted snail was on the warpath. It goes on and on and on, minutes seeming like years, until antagonized beyond despair, I uproot myself out of my satirical journey of misery by waking up.
I’ve been known to add to the dream each time it overtakes me in slumber, but no matter how long I prolong the agony with additional pieces added to the puzzle I still ascend to consciousness analytically disillusioned. I would like to obliterate this warped dream for eternity…to wipe it off the face of my mind forevermore, but self-analyzing isn’t my forte.
So...here I am destined to repeat over and over and over again this insane journey to find my car keys in a story that’s a concoction of mundane and wacky simultaneously. I need a wee bit more resourcefulness on this one to keep me interested in staying awake in my sleep until I find those dag nab bit #$!&*# freaking car keys.
It’s always night…deep darkness, the blackest of times. A shadowy feeling of doom wraps its cold arms around me. What follows, follows in vagueness, as the unhappy dream always evaporates from my awakening the moment I open my eyes, and files itself back into my subconscious in the wrong folder. Unsolved it is always doomed to repeat some version of itself.
I’m leaving a meeting, a meeting that takes place and ends where no meeting should ever take place or end…that’s the feeling…the meeting has no name, the place has no location…it all just exists because it can. Anything’s possible in looney tune land.
I can’t open my car door because my keys are not on me. I panic! People are ending their talking and beginning to enter their cars to drive off into the distance. I need to find my keys before that happens, leaving me really no time at all. If I want a ride I need to ask NOW. If I accept a ride, how will I ever locate my car again in this landscape of nothingness?
I’m 99.9% sure I can retrace my footsteps and find my keys. If I don’t find them, I'll be screwed. So, of course, because I seem to love a bad ending, I chose to look for the non-existing keys and let the crowd disperse without a trace.
It’s the next scene, and I’m on my own. I’m in a building of no shape. I climb up a very long, steep ladder and through a hole that is littered with clutter and obstacles across an open space from where the ladder ends. I have to do this to get to that vague place where I know I was before the meeting ended. I never, ever find my car keys, no matter how many times I go down that ladder and back up it and pull myself through that open hole defying gravity.
That’s where the dream becomes tediously monotonous…up the ladder, down the ladder…up the ladder, down the ladder…up the ladder, down the ladder…reminds me of husband looking at the store shelf for that non-existent bottle of barbecue sauce that isn’t there but will be if he looks just one more time :( HELP!!!
Perhaps, to give up is to admit my mistake in judgement that will affect the quality of my life from that moment forward. I DON’T KNOW! I never give up. I try again…up the ladder, down the ladder…up the ladder, down the ladder…up the ladder, down the ladder with a few extra embellishments thrown in. OOOOOoooooooooo…I’m so doomed.