Farewell 2009.

I wrote a post that was beginning to sound far too "me, me, me."

The delete key is a very satisfying tool.

What shall I do in 2010?

I can tell you what I have done so far. I have learned to play Auld Lang Syne. (But not that good. Maybe next year). I have also discovered that when it comes to Mardi Gras beads, old Ivan is faster than any kitten. I could learn a thing or two from that.

Boy, do I need a better camera

I finally got a good shot with a cat and a mandolin. Clearly, it would have been a better shot with a better camera, but oh well.

This is what I do when my fingers are recovering.

Snow and mandolins

Forgetting I had taken Wed and Thursday off, I had told Nate at Finger Lakes Guitar Repair that there was no hurry on the mandolin because I would never make it to Ithaca before the weekend anyway. Once I realized I was missing three full days to noodle around on it, I gave myself a V-8 bonk to the forehead.

But yesterday the phone rang and it was Nate letting me know the mandolin was finished! I said I'd be right over, but of course the cat facility sucked me in for a heavy cleaning and I was a half hour late. Luckily he was helping someone else.

Having my own crazy space (the cat facility), it's always rather fulfilling and relaxing to wander into someone else's. Finger Lakes Guitar Repair is a workshop on King Road is a warm corner full of hardcase guitars waiting for repair or pickup, a workbench, a rack for woodworking planes, another for small handtools, a computer, and countless other wonderful things I failed to register. My little Kentucky sounded and felt so much better. He straightened the neck, lowered the action, replaced the strings, and did some fretwork, handed me some pages of chords, a list of recordings, and a CD of mandolin music, AND sat me down for a 10-minute "what I wished I known when I first picked up the mandolin" session. All for fifty bucks and a set of new strings.

And he had already sent me down to Ithaca Guitar Works to pick up some proper picks and a dampit.

I cannot begin to express how much better the mandolin sounds and feels. When I looked around on the internet and saw every page yammering about proper set-up (a term I had never even heard before), I initially was skeptical about spending money on a $100 instrument. But looking further I realized a LOT of beginners were playing $100 instruments, and if they have a truss rod, there might be quite a bit that can be improved on a neglected instrument. The action on this one was so high it was eating my fingertips up. I wrote that off to me being new to playing...until I picked her up yesterday and touched the strings. What a difference.

Anyway, the mandolin is nothing special, but she's fine until she falls apart, I'm told, and by then I'll know if I'm going to keep playing, and I'll have learned a bit before even thinking about buying a better instrument. After years of picking up tinny guitars (it's no use wondering how a proper set-up would have improved those instruments since I was starving-broke back then anyway) it's nice to have a playable instrument.

Now, of course, I'm noticing the sound of a mandolin every time it crops up on the radio, and I drop everything, grab mine, and try to play along. It's amazing what you don't notice until you have reason to.

I wonder what else I'm missing in life that I just haven't noticed?



And yes, like everything else in my life, I am arranging to have a hanger on the wall so the cats can't knock the mandolin over when it's not in its case. I considered a floor stand, but quickly concluded the cats and dog would knock it flying in short order.

Just an aside...

Frighteningly, it appears mandolin players are also internet fanatics. There are all sorts of listservs, videos, and online training pages. It's like having a beginning instructor in your den. They appear to be very big on "community" --much like the feral cat folks.

However, the last thing I need is another reason to be on a computer. :)

I'm very pleased with the mandolin. It is exactly the kind of instrument I can curl up with and play. The neck, however, is very narrow. I keep reminding myself I did this with a violin and should be able to deal with a mandolin over time, but it's hard to forget that nice, wide, guitar neck. Ah well!

I realize this mandolin probably needs to be professionally set-up. Luckily that's not a very expensive proposition.

One happy thought I stumbled across as I limped through chords and scales, was that I was relearning my childhood violin fingering. And suddenly there was a little emotional flash... "I could play violin again, down the road!"

So, while nursing my poor string-abused fingers, I punched in "violin and mandolin" and "mandolin set up ithaca" and found this sweet instrument at IthacaString.com.



Which just goes to show, I can find a connection to cats on ANY subject whatsoever.

Mandolins and eagles...

So, I come from a musical family.

However, I myself did not inherit the "patience" gene. I played violin as a child (a beautiful instrument of my mother's), dibbled around on our baby grand (a lucky purchase made by my parents when a neighbor had to sell three pianos in a tiny village that should scarcely handle the sale of one), and I've picked up the guitar countless times.

And I've put them all down again. If you don't have patience and dedication, you aren't really a musician. You are a person who appreciates music. There's nothing wrong with that. After all, musicians need an appreciative audience!

I own a Baldwin piano, which came to me via Mark's family. Now and then I lift the lid and attempt to run through the children's pieces I used to play. She needs a tuning, and two of the keys don't play. I haven't called in a technician because I fear a couple-hundred-dollar tuning will turn into a many-hundred-dollar repair.

Yet I refuse to let her go because...well...when good pianos come into your life, it is very hard to let them go.

Lately, primarily because the music of Nickel Creek carried me through my first year here alone, I've wanted to learn the mandolin. I've considered picking up the guitar again instead since I'm already familiar with it, but I would like an instrument small enough to travel with. I had purchased a Martin Backpacker about 8 years ago for that reason, and quickly learned that they are impossible to play comfortably, especially in a classical position.

Yet I always have this silly dream of sitting on my porch, tilted back in a chair, picking away at some stringed instrument or another, on a warm sunny day.

Primarily because my not-so-affluent family somehow managed to stumble across beautiful musical instruments to grace my childhood, I am a tone snob. Really, really a tone-snob. I can't abide an instrument that sounds at all tinny, but I also refuse to spend a lot of money on an instrument I may put aside in six months. I also understand that a good instrument costs good money, and looking for a dirt-cheap good instrument is somewhat of an oxymoron, and shouldn't even be admitted aloud in musical circles.

Mandolins are already a bright-sounding instrument, so there is a very fine line between "bright" and "sounds like a dime-store ukulele" when you are in the price range I am looking at.

Last weekend, while Christmas shopping, I wandered into a store in Ithaca and was confronted by an entire wall of mandolins. Not being able to play, I asked if one could be played by someone in the store. The guy working there picked one up (warning me they were all beginner's instruments of exactly the same model), but he could scarcely get it tuned, and the sound was brash and unpleasant. I thanked him, said "no, thanks," and accepted the fact that I would never find a really-low-cost playable mandolin and perhaps I should just invest in the piano I'd been neglecting.

Even though I couldn't play it on the porch on a warm summer day.

Yesterday, I had a wonderful Christmas here at the house with my sisters and my mother. Because I am hours from everyone, it was a far-too-short visit. But even in only six hours, the shared meal, the visiting, the laughter over gifts, the reluctance to leave...well, it was one of those good jumping off days that you think "OK, maybe I should try really hard to be a better person from now on."

I'm still bundled up in a lot of anger, and I could see moments yesterday when that came through. You'd think after 16 months, it would be gone, and on the phone last night I apologized to my mom for my flashes of rudeness. Her understanding response made me cherish my family all the more.

It really was a good day.

Kind of like my experience with instruments, these starting-over moments can be too-quickly forgotten, so I try to hang onto the glow as long as I can.

I had not forgotten it this morning. I had had a good night's rest. I had a steaming cup of coffee at my elbow.

I clicked on "musical instruments" in Craigslist just for the heck of it.

There was only one post today, also from an early Saturday riser:



It was a Kentucky mandolin, and was a step up from their basic model. In other words, a pretty good little mandolin, and it was $100. That was less than the tinker toy mandolin I'd looked at the week before.

I immediately sent an email, hoping that at 7:30 am the day after Christmas, I would be one of the first fools on Craigslist.

I was.



One of the best things about Craigslist is that you are buying from real people, in their own homes. The seller in this case was a student from Green Mountain College (who had good questions about Marcellus natural gas leasing) at his parent's home in the hills of Newfield not so far from me. Their pretty little plotthound mix didn't much like the smell of me. I had no ideal plotthounds could bell out as clearly as any coonhound.

When I picked up the mandolin, I noticed there was a small crack between the fretboard and the neck, but as soon as I ran my thumb over the strings, out-of-tune and all, you could tell she had a good sound. A mandolin is tuned just like a violin, so there was an immediate memory leap. This instrument had the same depth as a decent starter violin, and she had a comfortable heft and balance.

It was a lovely trip, to meet great people, and now I have a lovely little mandolin.

Because I was up and about so early, I ran into Ithaca to feed the cats, came home over the hills, loaded up the trash, headed over other hills to the Barton transfer station, and while coming through the Catatonk Valley, I saw a large line dipping and gliding in the grey sky.

It was an eagle.

It's not many people who can sit in their beat-up old truck with a mandolin in the passenger seat and watch an eagle fly overhead.

Life is good.

Something other than media commentary...

Between work, kitten care, adoptions, and general house stuff, my blogging track record has fallen. Tonight I lurked around the house getting photos of the gang when they were unaware. Ditz, as usual, was in command of the bed.



I finally got a good shot of Molly! The poor girl has been seriously neglected since the temperature fell. Long walks just don't thrill me when it's 7F out!



Thankfully, the kittens keep her occupied. I'm not sure what she'll do when her buddy Cheeto goes to his new home this weekend.



Cheeto has been a true joy to have around, but it's time to him to move on to a new chapter in his life.

Please tell me he did not say this

Chris Denton, an attorney who represents large landowner groups looking to make lucrative deals with energy companies, put it this way: "Right now, we have the luxury of being able to have this discussion about what is the best way to regulate the Marcellus. But you don't worry about highfalutin intellectual matters when you are starving. There might be a time when we are in such economic distress, we just have to do it."

The national economic picture is not looking promising, he added: "Remember, we are at war."

I have been struggling with the Marcellus drilling issue. If you are not local, you may not know that our region is on top of a large band of natural gas deep in the earth. But it is not in pockets, where companies might engage in "hit or miss" vertical wells. It is all through a layer of shale that must be fractured apart with water and chemicals, and accessed via vertical and horizontal drilling, which would enable companies to draw it out.

It also means pumping a huge volume of water out of our creeks and rivers, adding toxic chemicals, pumping it into the ground, and pumping it out again, additionally contaminated with radioactivity.

Guess who is sitting on top of that Marcellus Shale? You guessed it. Little ole Wildrun.

I am one of those landowners who really could benefit from the money from natural gas leases, and royalties, should there be any. I barely manage to meet my bills each month, and that wouldn't change much even if I stopped rescuing cats. A lease extension payment last fall enabled me to keep this place. The lease company then sent me a letter saying they weren't going to honor that lease extension to pay me the remainder of what they had offered. Luckily, my lease with that company has now expired. They came to my door asking for me to consider a new lease, but hey, they didn't honor the last one so I'll be damned if I'll sign another with them.

If they HAD honored the first lease extension, right now they would be paying off that agreement and I would be refinancing my farm, paying off my ex-husband, and wouldn't have to make a large mortgage payment. But they didn't.

I'm desperate, but not totally stupid, to sign with them again. Especially now that additional concerns have arisen about Marcellus Shale drilling.

Tonight yet another article appeared in local press. The local coverage recently has been excellent--primarily because local activists jumped into the picture.

I am one of those who feels drilling is inevitable, but that we need safeguards in place during drilling, and we need to examine what we are going to do with all of this water. We also need to examine the fact that landowner's wells WILL be contaminated. It may not be many, but it will happen.

I was pretty disgusted by the patter that came out of the mouth of the landsman who showed up on my doorstep last week trying to get me to re-sign. He insulted the governor and the DEC, compared NY to southern CA, admitted his job provided no health insurance (!!!!!), and then handed me an offer than was worse than the one the company had not honored before.

However, I'm also not impressed with lines from "experts" like "highfalutin intellectual matters" and "Remember, we are at war." I really, really hope those were unfortunately remarks taken out of context.

Since when it talk about looking before you leap, "highfalutin?" And what in hell does the war have to do with this?

All I see are people wanting to make money. Not starving farmers so much as natural gas companies and lawyers. And yes, I want to make money, too. I want to keep my farm. But I don't want to be the one who contaminates my neighbor's well, either.

I don't find that to be a "highfalutin" concern.

I'm awfully tired of listening to men who want to sound like they are good old boys. I'd like my landsmen and the expert lawyers to sound more like they understood those "highfalutin intellectual" concerns and took them seriously.

I was going to join one of those "large landowner's groups" and now I even wonder about them. Are they really about more protections for the land, or just more bonus money and higher royalties?

A "Tiger" is remoted related to cat topics

And besides, this is my personal blog, so if I want to talk about something other than cats, I can.

The "Tiger Woods Accident" is a perfect mirror for our sad media society. The man drove out of his driveway in a manner (too fast, too aggressive, didn't pay attention, any of the above) that resulted in an accident. His wife heard it, ran out, and aided him. A neighbor called police for assistance. Tiger was taken to the hospital and was released. In a one-car accident that doesn't involve alcohol, you provide your personal information, license, and insurance to the police. While it always helps to know why you mashed the gas, it's not required by law to reveal it.

If you are speeding, you get a ticket for going 80. You don't have to share that the reason you were speeding is because you wanted to catch your husband cheating on you.

But now, the media feels that Tiger has "something to hide" for not telling us WHY he peeled out of his driveway.

Let's entertain some scenarios.

He got in a fight with his wife and roared out of the drive in a huff, secretly hoping she'd be worried for him as he zoomed out onto the road.

He needed a six-pack to entertain a buddy and was headed to the stop-and-shop (but hadn't had too much to drink yet, because "alcohol was not a factor" in the accident) and wanted to get back quickly so "Larry the Cable Guy" wasn't on pause too long in Netflix.

A friend called in desperation and needed someone to talk to.

He was half asleep and realized he'd forgotten something incriminating at a woman's (not his wife) apartment.

He was sleep-driving.

His dog was lost and someone called to say they saw the pup jogging down I-95.

Are any of these anyone's business?

The media is expressing shock that he won't at least share his "reasons" with police. Of course, the 911 tape has already been released, and anything additional he would share with police would become public record. Is is any surprise that he's not sharing details of his personal life?

What do I say? Good for you, Tiger! It's nobody's business but your own WHY you made a stupid step on your accelerator pedal. You should have been smarter. If you'd killed someone, you would have had to suffer the consequences. But whether it was because you'd were pissed because you'd forgotten to buy cranberry relish earlier that evening or because you had a fight with your beloved is nobody's business.

You aren't voting against gay marriage stating that it's immoral (while cheating on your wife). You aren't leading my church. If you were, yeah, I'd want to know, because hey, you took a vow, and it's possible you broke it.

But you play golf. So it just ain't my business.

Tell the media to go bark up another tree.

I'm sure if I backed out of my driveway, spitting gravel, and ran over that steep bank across my road, panicked, and ended up in my creek, would anyone be camped outside my house because I failed to reveal whether it was because someone saw a kitten on Halsey Valley Road or because I was headed out to puncture my ex's tires? Would anyone even think to ask?

Not bloody likely.

Thank goodness.

You go, Wood's family. Let them have a coronary because you won't spill your personal life. Yahoo has your wife labeled as a "mystery woman" tonight, because they don't have anything else to trumpet.

Even when they have nothing to say, the media will find something to say.

The very fact that media outlets are acting like rabid idiots when they have nothing at all to report indicates to me that they would be screaming mobs of idiocy if they were given even sliver of a reason.

Do we honestly think the media would shake Tiger's hand and say "Thank you, we wish you well" and walk away if he said "I had a disagreement with my wife and wanted to go for a drive to clear my head?" No one is that big a fool.

Especially Tiger Woods. If he wanted to share, he'd start a blog. ;)

What I am thankful for

It has been a long year and a half.

I used to be most thankful for a love I thought I had. It was really difficult to realize that person had been play-acting for years. I am sorry he felt he had to, and wish I had been more observant for his sake and ours. I am surprised that I am not over it, but nonetheless I am glad the relationship has ended. It wasn't until recently that I realized I was not being true to myself, my friends, or my family, because I was self-conscious about who I was to my own partner. It's just as well he's gone, as we were clearly not a match. I'm afraid I'm not generous enough to wish him well yet, but I expect at some time I will. When that happens, it will be a very good thanksgiving.

I am thankful, most of all, for my family, my friends, and all of the people who have to into my circle due to the rescue. I cannot believe the kindness and generosity I have experienced. It is something I might not have known under other circumstances. One of the most amazing things I discovered is that almost all my friends and supporters have experienced similar or greater challenges. They basically knit their fingers together, said "put your foot here" and gave me a strong boost up onto the horse's back (if you have never done this, or had it done for you in reality, it means a person is willing to get their hands covered with barn muck in order to throw you up on a saddle because you aren't yet big or strong enough to do it yourself).

I'm thankful for my job, even though it involves far too many hours for a normal human being. It has put me in touch with leaders in the field of animal advocacy. It has sent me where I would never have been able to go on my own. It has introduced me to people who want to make a real change in the world. It has thrown me into the lives of truly lost souls who need help. It has wired me in with the population that is 10 to 20 years younger than me, as well as 10 to 20 years older. It has placed me in a unique frame of reference that I could never have hoped for as a local independent rescuer.

I am thankful for the cats. And you know what?

I AM NOT A CAT LADY. I AM A CATALYST!

At the last conference I attended, a dedicated young woman said to me "I hate that term 'crazy cat lady.' I want to come up with something new."

She is a catalyst, too.

Unwanted cats cost this nation millions of dollars each year. Like lawyers and politicians, it's hard to be a "good" cat lady because the stereotype is so ingrained and there are legitimate concerns about animals hoarders an disreputable rescue groups. But like many lawyers and many local politicians, there are so many of us who are professional and dedicated to our communities.

Every time I help ONE person, the gratitude is overwhelming. These balls of fur that come into people's lives cause people great distress and concern. We live in a society that isn't willing to take a litter of kittens, bundle them into a pillowcase with some rocks, and toss them in a local creek.

Thank goodness for that. A person who won't kill kittens is probably going to stop and ring your doorbell if they notice your newspapers are piling up or your car hasn't moved for days.

And to those who say "Why do you spend all your time on cats when kids need help?" You know what? If your kid stumbled in front of a car, a cat lady would throw herself out there faster than any other person on the street. As food bank requests and ambulance service requests come into my mail, they all go out with a small check, because you know? All of those people are warriors and deserve what small amount I can give them.

No matter what your service, if you give to others, you are a warrior and a friend to me.

Happy Thanksgiving.

And thank you to everyone who has given to me, even if it has been only a kind word. Thank you to everyone who comes back and reads this regularly. Your dedication is a gift to me, and to the writer of every other blog you read.

You know who you are.

Catching up

I'm fairly certain I bought this chair for me. The cats, however, have given it their seal of approval. Thank goodness the fur vacuums off without much effort.



I realize I have been MIA for quite awhile. I've been adopting out kittens (not as fast as I ought), cleaning the barn, painting the bathroom (I'm not quite sure where that came from, but it happened), working, working, and of course, working. Oh yes, and getting trucks repaired.

By far the nicest thing that has happened in my life is the new Bishop's Inn in Spencer. The newest owner has ditched the "Main Steet Cafe" name, and is serving comfort food. All due respect to the previous incarnations, but Spencer just isn't big enough to support eclectic cuisine, and no one makes enough so pay over $20 for dinner. The Bishop's Inn has breakfast for well under $5 (there is always a $4 special), and lunch and dinner under ten bucks. They have a nice long comfortable bar and two large screen TVs tuned to the news during the day and sports at night.

And it's FULL. Seriously. I went in on Friday night and there wasn't a table seat to be had.

Additionally, the food is really good. I wouldn't even want to hazard a guess at the calorie load on the food there, but hey, it's not like you are getting health food at McDonalds.

So hey, let's go!



They also have Wi-Fi and I've taken my netbook in a couple of times to work. So now I can get out of my box without traveling more than three miles.

This is a good thing, as I've been experiencing vehicle angst. The white truck may have reached the "just needs a $5 part but it means yanking out the engine to replace it" point. The blue truck is back on the road and running well, but it's nearing 200,000 so it will constantly need maintenance. I would have no problem buying a new car with my credit rating, but frankly, I can't add a car payment plus new car insurance right before winter.

I'm hoping to limp by with the trucks, but if the white one is unsalvageable, I really should use it for a trade-in, because if I do get a car, I want to keep one truck for trash and hauling. I can't sell the white truck and buy a car later, because then I won't have a trade in. And I can't just park the white truck until spring, because it probably would be junk by May. Although I could try storing it in the barn and hoping for the best.

Drat, drat, drat.

At any rate, should I get a new car, I'm leaning toward the Kia Soul. And no, it's not just because of the hamsters. Although, let's be honest, those darned hamsters did get me to pay attention.

One more task out of the way

I have a list of "things I gotta do. I not only "gotta do them," I gotta make sure I never have to do them again, or at least set up a system so that they are done in an organized fashion so they don't take unnecessary time and frustration.

At the moment I am copying off a bunch of paperwork from my dad's estate to send off to my sister. I was going to send it without making a copy and then thought "don't do that, Susan, or the gremlin will getcha." So the reason I'm blogging at all on this subject as I'm up here next to my old beater copy machine hoping the ink lasts for the fairly large pile of stuff. It's going to take awhile, and there's a computer sitting here, so hey, I may as well blog. If I've gotta be bored, so do you, if you wandered here!

Other things on the To Do list:

Get my sales taxes done
Close the Wildrun bank account and all other extraneous bank accounts in Tompkins County, since it's clear I won't be moving back there, and Wildrun's old incarnation is defunct.
FIND A NEW ACCOUNTANT. Anyone have any suggestions in the Owego/Binghamton area?
File for 501(c)(3) tax exempt status for Wildrun. Suggestions for a new name, anyone?
Get my sewing machine fixed. I can't make cat toys with a broken sewing machine!
Get my old laptop fixed.
Go through all my cat adoption/vet records, set up a better filing system
Set up an electronic email list of adopters/supporters
Start sending email announcements
Finish painting the cat facility
Fix the floor in the cat facility
Screen the front porch before Molly gets eaten by a coyote when she's clipped out.
Take photos of all the adoptables. Arthur and Faith aren't even on my pet list. wtf?
Buy a new camera. I have $300 in gift cards that aren't useable online, so I have to go to DEWITT to buy a camera. I guess it's time to go visit my sister in Syracuse.
Clean the downstairs of the barn in anticipation of the Open House.
Send spay/neuter certificates to my recent adopters
Wow, the more I add, the more I think of!

The desktop computer I am using was given to me by work when our company was sold to another company. I seldom work on it, because it has picked up this quirk. Any time I try to work in a new window, the cursor won't work unless I open the Task Manager and click on it. It has gotten so bad I keep the Task Manager open at all times at the bottom of the screen. How odd is that? So it needs its brain wiped, too, but right now the router, battery back up, etc. etc. are all tied into it, and I can't bring myself to mess with it. Once the old laptop is fixed, I will swap her in as the "brain computer" and send the desktop off to be fixed.

There is such a thing as "too many computers." But sure as anything, if I give one away, the one I keep will crash. It's like me having two old pickup trucks. If one dies, I can drive the other, until the day comes when I can afford another new vehicle.

That's the story of my life, and it's something I slowly need to fix. Nonetheless, as long as there are living creatures involved, it's a story of priorities. And while people may argue that "cats aren't that important," nonetheless, not feeding them or cleaning up after them will land you in jail.

So let's consider that important, OK?

Yes! I made it through this pile and the ink lasted. So it's off to the post office.

The cats like it. Of course.

That's as close to a couch as we are ever going to get, here. Well, unless you count the futon couch.

There. Once the wood is stacked, I'm ready for winter.

Post Note: btw, that pitcher with the flowers in it? History. The kittens knocked it over. Now you know why I usually only get things from garage sales and Craigslist.

Dear Dad.

When I am relaxing in my home, I will think of you. When the snow comes tumbling down, and I'm wrapped up working in my den, warm and comfortable, I will think of you.

As I have blogged about endlessly here, I am a Craiglist fan. Why buy new furniture, when sooner or later, someone will want to find a home for theirs, at a fraction of the price. Granted, it may have a rough edge, and you have to constantly lurk on the list so as not to miss what you want. I practically lived on Craigslist when I was looking for an antique armoire (and found one, too, for $80).

I have cats. There is something painful about buying new furniture, only to have cats destroy it. Mark and I purchased two Lane recliners over time, and the cats slowly picked away at them. Of course, I wasn't as vigilant as I ought to be about training them not to scratch, either. Only our futon couch won the war against cats, because the frame is wood, not upholstery.

When my father passed away, there was a small estate split between we three girls. It was not something we expected. Most of the money I used to ensure I could keep this house so I could continue to work with cats. Some I saved for the drastic house repairs that are to come (I was up on my roof the other day. Ouch. New roof soon).

But the other day the final check arrived, I looked at it, and thought, you know? I would like to have some furniture that I picked out. I would like it to be comfortable for me. I would like it not to be a compromise with other people (either the previous owner, or a partner whose preferences and body you also need to take into consideration).

I remind myself that some people closing in on 50 don't find anything odd about buying furniture from a furniture store rather than a garage sale or Walmart. Some people actually have entire rooms where the furniture all matches. Shocking!

Two chairs needed to leave to help my house look less like Cat Lady Land. The recliner that Cricket needs to get her three-legged self up on the cat tree, and my over-sized desk chair which was a gift from friends.

The recliner was the first thing you saw when you came in the door and has suffered the ravages of cats and time. It is also pink. Well, light mauve. Yeah...it's pink.

The desk chair, while it looks comfortable, is too large for me. It will be fine at the upstairs desk, however.

So....





I'll have you know that I spent so much time agonizing over that chair, FOUR salespeople came over to help me vote on which one to buy. The place practically broke into applause when I made my decision. I don't care if it's red velvet. I think it's cool.

And yes, the desk chair is brown zebra print! It exactly matches the brown carpet. I hope my friends who know me are laughing out loud now.



My back is so happy now. The Cricket chair has a cat in it at all times, so it appears to be a hit. Neither chair has arms to scratch. Take that, cats!

But then, I moved the recliner into the den (where my desk and the new zebra chair also reside) to live with the second clawed recliner.

Uck. Cat lady furniture.

So today I went chair shopping again, to search for a chair-and-a-half. Believe it or not, the one I liked best was also on sale, and was the least expensive big chair at Sam Peter's. But it didn't fit in my truck (yes, it's THAT big) so will be delivered tomorrow.

You'll be happy to know I do have some sense. It's brown. Just brown. Well, very plushy dark brown. Ummm...EXTREMELY plushy dark brown. It's a totally sinful chair.

Oh, and I bought a few more things.

A squirt gun. THREE squirt guns, so I can always have one at hand. And three rolls of double-sided tape.

Partan Bree, Spencer style

I found a recipe in a magazine. Like most foodie recipes, it took more work than I was willing to invest (cutting corn off corn cob, soaking the corn and cob in cream and broth).

I'm sure it is amazing when done as ordered, however, that wouldn't have happened in my kitchen.

So, anyway, let me put the water on for tea and I'll get back to you.

I'm back.

2 cups chicken broth. I used bouillon and water. For a year and a half I either (A) bought boxed organic broth or (B) tried to make extra of my own to keep frozen as a soup base. I figure I've wasted so much time and money (and packaging), I finally went back to bouillon.

2 cups half and half (recipe called for heavy cream. I figured halfnhalf was sin enough)
1 small can of quality corn (recipe called for corn on the cob, blah blah blah...)
6 slices of bacon. You can add less if you prefer.
8 ounces mushrooms, fancy-schmancy type. Recipe called for morels (!!!). I used about 6 ounces of shiitake.
1 1/2 tbsp minced fresh thyme. I used 1 tsp dried, but I'm sure fresh would be better
2 tbsp whiskey. I did use whiskey, but sherry might work for those who prefer it.
2 tbsp butter
1-2 leeks, white and light green parts only, chopped fine. I used one.
1/2 lb crabmeat. I used the fake stuff. I'll use real, next time. I'm sure canned lump crab would be better than the fake stuff.
Salt,and fresh ground pepper.
3 tbsp minced fresh chives (I used this, but you don't need it. It's just for garnish).

Combine 1.5 cups broth, 2 cups half-n-half, and 1 drained can of corn in a large saucepan and warm on low. Add a small amount of salt and pepper.

I'll have you know that the above directions just deleted about about a half hour of cutting corn off the cobs and soaking the corn cobs and corn in the cream/broth. If you'd like to do that, you go right ahead. You then discard the cobs. Unless you really like corn cobs. If you do, well, you are a weird one, aren't you?

In a skillet, fry the cut-up bacon. When cooked, add mushrooms and cook for about 7-10 minutes. You want it done to the point of having crispy bits to scrape off the bottom of the pan. Add the thyme and cook until fragrant, about one additional minute.

They would have you get yet ANOTHER pot to cook the leeks. I added the remaining broth to the bacon and mushrooms, and threw the leeks in with butter, for about 7 minutes.

If you want to cook the leeks in butter in a separate pan, you wash another pan.

I then put the skillet contents in with the corn/broth/half-n-half base. Add the crab. Add the whiskey.

Let cook about 5 minutes (do NOT bring to a brisk boil) and then salt/pepper to taste. Don't season it until it has had a chance to cook a bit. I then let it sit on low for another 10 minutes. Really, really low. Seriously, if you boil this stuff hard, all that work and money just went right down the drain, because milk does not like being boiled. But it does need to simmer to get the flavors to work together.

This recipe also suggests adding rice. I figured that with all the stuff in here, I'd rather eat it as a chowder/stew. But if you want rice, go for it.

This makes enough for four very generous servings. If you add rice, you will increase that. I cut the recipe in half, by the way. I could have fed the entire road with the original.

When I first put it all together, I was underwhelmed. However, after the thyme cooked into it and all the flavors soaked together, it was very good. I'm interested in seeing whether it is even better tomorrow.

PostNote: EXCELLENT the second day.

Speaking of the demon of fate. It...

...pisses me off.

So, my PO Box expired, and I went in and paid for it, and the Post Office person and I joked around while the transaction went through. Three weeks later, friends are telling me their mail is still coming back to them. Grrrrrrr.... OK, it's just a mistake. Back I go to the Post Office!

Two weeks ago I took back my library books, which involves a trip to Ithaca. Today I get an auto-dialer call telling me I have overdue items.

I do NOT like it when I have done something and I have to do it again! I especially do not like it when I have been busting my butt to get my life in order.

So I take three deep breaths and tell myself I need to pick up mail anyway, and I have to feed the cats in Ithaca, so hey, "no big deal." Except I know the library will be a pain, because the only answer a library knows is "We don't have it, so you pay for it," unless you can find the book on the shelves and set it in front of them.

I think it's time to go boogie with a kitten. Maybe some Michelle Shocked, turned up really loud? And more coffee.

This is a test of the emergency broadcasting system....

Will this post? We'll see!

I am staying up far too late tonight

...and it's a good thing. My 2008 taxes are out of the way, along with any future joint taxes. From now on, I do only my own taxes. I met my ex in town to sign them at the post office and send them away. He'll probably be just as happy to do his own now, and no longer have to wait until my business taxes are done. I then took my little netbook over to the Smart Monkey for an hour to work. I'm liking this little computer!

Taxes...that's one more load of guilt off my back. And I have a nice neat file here for 2009, and when forms and reports trickle in.

To my knowledge, that's the last time we see one another ever again, except by chance or accident. In the post office in Ithaca NY, LOL! The end of an era.

After I had said "sign here, and here, and here, and here's your copy" and he left, a gentleman in line said "I do taxes too." I told him my accountant was TurboTax and asked him for his card, but alas, he wasn't taking new clients. Then a woman waved her taxes over her head from the front of the line, and I recognized a woman I adopted a cat too.

She came over after posting her taxes, and said "I have sad news."

I hate that. I hate that more than ANYTHING. It's the way everyone tells me that I cat I adopted to them has died.

So sweet Dart has passed on. First she got a vaccine-site sarcoma and her leg was amputated, which she recovered from. The she went out and took on a weasel in a fight and her wounds became septic even after vet treatment, and she was put down. I'm not even sure I have any photos of Dart. I gave the adopter my card and asked her to please email me, because I had to get my taxes postmarked before 5. I hope she will. Perhaps she won't.

So yet another indoor/outdoor cat has died.

I also received word from my neighbors that Rudy disappeared while they were on vacation this summer.



Rudy was dumped here on the farm, and the neighbors were looking for a warehouse cat. Since he had been used to the outdoors, I sent them Rudy. He lived only a year with them before disappearing. They dropped off his shelter (given to them in case he was ever locked out of the warehouse) last week.

Really, I am absolutely done with adopting friendly cats to indoor-outdoor homes. Only two are alive. The rest are all a progression of injury and illness, all resulting in death. I realize the appeal of an indoor/outdoor cat (after all, I have Bear, and had Nick before that), but no more. Indoor only means indoor only. Period.

I have an symbolic demon that haunts me. As my ex walked away and I felt the weight lifted from me, it was the demon that sent my adopter over to me to let me know Dart was dead. Nonetheless, unlike the old days, I'm not letting this get me down, and the demon is banished immediately.

I have a good life, and even when cats die six years after I've adopted them out, they lived many years, happy and loved. I remind myself that there is not a wild animal on my mountain that dies an easy death, yet they have fulfilling lives. I will not let any demon of coincidence destroy the progress I am making.

Before the adopter had told me the tale, I asked her what Dart had died of, and she said "Courage."

When I die, I want to die of Courage.

Wrestling the paper demon

Sometimes,when I have time to dream, I dream of a day when all my paperwork is nice neat folders, and as soon as a piece of paper enters my home it goes into a file.

While I am no longer ruled by piles of paper, I'm also not in command of it. I have paper from work (faxed, emailed, and postal mailed which must be scanned). I have records for all the cats, and many many vet bills, which need to be copied and included in the folder of each individual cat. I have my father's paperwork (which I had thought was complete, but alas, tis not). I have my own bills that come through. I have receipts for work. Receipts for the cats. Receipts for house repairs. I have my record-keeping books. And then there is the miscellaneous paperwork. The projects you have planned. The article you would like to keep (I no longer do). I also have educational materials that I give out--articles, DVDs, brochures. THREE different types of business cards (work, cats, and wildlife should I ever handle wildlife again), as well as postcards to advertise in a more overt way.

I realize some people manage paper without difficulty. It comes into their lives, and goes out of their lives. I am getting better at this--in fact, quite good compared to the Management By Piles method I used to use. Nonetheless, paper does not EAT. Paper does not BREATHE. Paper does not need to have its LITTERBOX SCOOPED or its LAWN MOWED.

Guess what takes last place at my house?

Paperwork frustrates me, especially when I feel like it is under control, need something, go to grab it, find the nice fat file, and ARGH! The one piece I need is NOT THERE! How can this be? It's not FAIR! I was being GOOD! I should be REWARDED!

I have a desk dedicated for work, and most of my work paperwork is electronic, so luckily that is under control. Still, there are two folders--paperwork that is assigned, ready to be scanned, paperwork that is in process and may or may not be completed. I try to turn the paper "paper" into electronic paper as quickly as possible so I don't have to look at it, but scanning (ugh!) is surely a boring task.

The real issue is personal and cat paperwork. Especially cat paperwork. Let's say I go to the vet. I get a receipt for my bill. This also has the work done on that cat(s). So I need a copy in the cat's file (for the adopter) a copy for my books (taxes if needed) and a copy for my records on that cat (which I keep). That means, ideally, as soon as I get home I should head to the copy machine, copy, and file.

Yeah, right. What normally happens is I have a pile of recent vet receipts, until someone wants to look at a particular cat. Then I dig out the receipt and copy it. If I'm smart, I make enough copies so I can put the original in my tax file as well. If I'm lazy or low on ink, I don't. Which means I have to deal with it again later on (stupid).

Ink and copying is another issue. I live in the hinterlands. I am a two-hour round trip (when all is said and done) from a Staples, or Kinkos. I don't often have two hours. If my brain is engaged, I'll remember to take things into town, or pick up what I need, when I go to Ithaca on the weekends.

Often, my brain is not engaged.

Every time I can't lay my hands on something right away, I swear I'll get every little bit of paper organized. For the most part with new incoming paperwork, that's happening. But the old stuff? Ah!

So very simple requests can turn into a royal pain in the butt. Right now I'm trying to get information to family on the joint bank account I had with dad. Simple, right? Sure, if you are a person who keeps your check register updated, and didn't pay for a lot of bills with your personal debit card because the bank wouldn't open a credit card in your father's name. And if half the paper in your house hadn't left when your partner left. I doubt anything I need left the house, however it did all get moved to different files and places in the house.

So off to the bank to get the missing pieces, where I spend many valuable minutes with a teller who gives me moo-cow eyes telling me how expensive it will be to get the past records. I go home and look again. I go back to the bank and learn that "really expensive" is just a few dollars a record. For goodness sake, I realize we live in a poor region, but don't give me a heart attack woman! So I order the pieces I'm lacking.

All the time I am telling myself "never again, never again."

So if anyone has any really good tips on organizing paperwork, do let me know!




I tripped over the rolls of carpet for almost two weeks before finally making time I did not have to cut and lay it. I was having a major guilt trip the whole time, knowing I should be doing other things (paperwork!) but also knowing I can't get kittens out of the house (seven left!) unless people can get into see them. And kittens eat, poop, and grow (unlike paperwork--although you might argue paperwork grows). To top it off, stress and alcohol give me acne, so I couldn't even drink.

Which is probably a good thing, given that I was working with very sharp knives.



I'm glad that I did get it down, because I am so happy with the result--and the cats are so happy--that when I feel my blood pressure starting to rise, I just stand back and look at it. Nothing like a milk chocolate floor to calm you. And happy cats in the sun. I find them asleep where ever they like, scattered around the floor. Maybe there will be an empty chair for me to sit in now and then!

Warming things up for winter

I finally got the carpet down in both rooms, which was a bit of an adventure since some of the furniture in the den was quite heavy. Trying to fit in projects between all the other things in life has been adventurous as well. I had to concentrate on cutting the carpet slowly and carefully, rather than in my usual slapdash manner...keeping in mind the carpet was expensive.

The carpet became a priority because it was in the way and I need to have people over to adopt kittens.

My home is finally becoming the home of a grownup. I have the decorating sense of a college student in a dorm room. I can't envision what is best for a space, and I also feel like I should use whatever comes my way, when perhaps the best use for the thing would be the garbage or Craigslist. The best part of the major changes in my life these past 17 months is that I now have a new willingness to just get rid of things.

I have resigned myself to the fact that I will only stumble over good room arrangement by accident. I originally wanted the carpet: A) because painting the floor beige last year looked good, but required too much upkeep and B)it was freaking cold in here last winter.

Now that the carpet is down, it draws the entry room and the den together, and it makes the den look like--well--a real room. The area rug that had been in the den (black with a brown aztec-type design) was moved to the great room for lack of another location. I was certain it would be too "busy" for that space. But, surprise! It has instantly transformed half the great room into an area that is positive cozy. The great room? Cozy? Who would have thought.

Sheer accident.

In addition, the carpet, which appeared brown-orange-coppery under the lights at the store, looks like milk chocolate here, and the ceiling in the great room is dark brown. So now it looks like I planned this to tie the two front rooms in with the great room.

Sheer accident.

At least I'm no longer stumbling over huge rolls of carpet, and my tootsies are quite warm, thank you.

Yeah, yeah, another "today is the first day of the rest of my blah, blah, blah..."

So much to do, so little time. Every Friday arrives with a "let's get everything done for the week!(for employment)" attitude, with the hope that my job is all tidied up so I can commit to a sleeves-rolled-up, get-personal-things-done weekend. But 6:00 pm arrives with work left to get done over the weekend, and Monday arrives far too soon!

Nonetheless, the optimism of Friday morning remains.



In the interest of splitting work from regular life, I finally saved enough to get one of those dirt-cheap little netbooks so I am no longer doing anything personal at all on my work computer. My desktop computer upstairs has finally picked up so many quirks it is virtually unusable and needs it's brain wiped by someone who knows what they are doing. I held off for months on the netbook, waiting for the price to fall. I wasn't familiar with the cheapest option from Acer, so hesitated to get it. Then I spotted one of our primo tech guys sporting one at a work meeting and figured "hey, if he'll be seen in public with it, it must not be a piece of crap."

I always gritted my teeth checking my personal and cat email on my work computer, and taking it to adoption events to show off the cats just wasn't an option.

So, nowadays you can get a miniature laptop for $300 bucks. It doesn't have much space to store lots of programs and files, but files can be stored on flashdrives, and there's something to be said about not being able to download all sorts of crap you don't really need, anyway. This thing is fast enough for surfing, blogging, handling photos, etc. that I don't notice any difference between it and my laptop.

It doesn't have much volume, so if you have hearing issues, check that before you buy. You can use headphones if needed.

And it can go anywhere. I can even access most of my work files and work email via the internet, so if I want to work from another location I can do so without risking the work laptop. No more excuses for not updating my poor neglected website!

So no more excuses about not advertising the cats the way they ought to be, or not getting personal work done.

Speaking of employment, off we go.

Checking out the cabin

Up on the hill I have a cabin. I've never stayed there. Some of Mark's college kids camped up there, and there is a hunter and his son who use it each year. Over the years, we've allowed different neighbors and friends to hunt, but they've been more interested in trophies than taking doe off our overpopulated hill. A buck is just one deer. A doe is three deer - herself and the two fawns she would have in spring. If a deer is going to be shot on this hill, it needs to benefit the population, not just put antlers on someone's wall. We finally found someone who would hunt for meat, and he's been hunting here for two years so far.

The cabin has suffered from the weather, so when the hunter offered money this year to use the land, I said "fix up the cabin instead." He, and sometimes his son, have been up there five or six times this summer so I thought I'd go up and see what they accomplished.



Quite a lot. The roof has been painted with roof sealant. The ceiling inside has been painted (to wipe out the old leak marks, to check for new leak marks). They built a little stone threshold, cut down a bunch of old dead trees, moved a lot of junk, and even raked, it looks like.

They even brought up a carpet and a piece of vinyl flooring. I hope the mice don't eat it! And, speaking of which, they even laid out mouse traps (which are unsprung).



The son made a sign, and his father brought it up one day and nailed it to the cabin.



I suppose I should fire up the heater to make sure it is working, and get some water up there so they have something to put out campfires. Maybe I should put a gutter on that cabin and just get a rain barrel. Anyway, I was pleased to see the cabin wasn't going to fall down this year or next.

Go, young traveler, to Chicago.

Oh, hell, go even if you are old. What a gorgeous city! It's hard to keep in mind that, like all cities, it has its challenges. With my train and part of the hotel paid for by work (I paid for the extra night I stayed over), a great conference, and two half days to wander and learn, it was a rare opportunity to take a few breaths and a few steps for myself.

I love traveling alone. While companions are treasured for laughter and sharing (and sharing again, afterward), there is something to be said about sitting when you wish to sit, eating where you wish to eat, napping on a bench in the sun, pulling out a book at your table during your meal, falling asleep with the TV on in the hotel, and deciding to spend the last hours before the train leaves stepping from water taxi to water taxi to watch the city grow dark and the lights grow bright on the river.

Beautiful. Just beautiful.

I went to Chicago with three goals for my free time: Eat really good food, visit the SkyLedge, and buy a ring. (I buy a locally made ring, when I can, everywhere I travel). I did eat, I did get up to the Ledge (the regular windows had better views, IMO), but I couldn't find a local craft jeweler anywhere. I guess I needed to wander over to The Magnificent Mile, but time was too short.

The water taxi more than made up for any ring. I love finding beauty for just a handful of dollars, and it probably was the most beautiful experience I've had in any city.

So now I am home and inspired by the Feline Forum. I can't say I'm rested, but I'm certainly revived.



(the view from the water taxi, approaching Navy Pier, around 7:00pm)

Thinking that I might be happy

Yup, I think all ya'll worriers can find something to worry about other than me. I was sitting here on the porch the other day wondering what had changed and realized I don't feel GUILTY all the time. No guilt about my cats, about what colors I choose to paint the walls, about whether the grass got a little bit tall before being mowed, about whether my partner is doing more work than I am on the property (because now I'm doing it all)...

I don't have to obsess about being I'm too tired from work, home, and cats to be affectionate enough--because now I don't have to be affectionate at ALL. And you know, there's something to be said for that!.

I'm able to do things that I had compromised on before for the sake of the relationship. Don't get me wrong. It's worth compromising for the benefits you get from a partnership. You OUGHT to compromise on things when you love someone. But I have to say, once the pain of a breakup fade, the benefits of singlehood shine through.

It's funny to see what is getting done now that didn't get done for ten years...even though before there were two people here instead of one. I have to wonder what tied our hands. For the first time since I've been here, my front garden is actually a front garden, albeit a somewhat wild one (Yes, that is a zucchini in there). The house is (still slowly) getting painted. I'm looking forward to having the house redecorated by next spring.

Now all I have to do is get some serious drawing done, as well as some writing. When I sit back with a glass of wine and look up at a finished drawing...well, then I'll know things are really really OK.

Here's to all my friends, and my family, and all those Friends of Wildrun. You have saved my life, and I know it!

It's September.

And September is MY month. Well, my sister Linda's too. And now and then a new song comes across the radio that makes you keep the truck on when you pull in the drive, just so you can sit and listen.

Turn off the monitor to avoid those annoying colors and listen.




So damn easy to say that life's so hard
Everybody's got their share of battle scars
As for me, I'd like to thank my lucky stars that I'm alive and well...
It'd be easy to add up all the pain
And all the dreams you sat and watched go up in flames
Dwell on the wreckage as it smolders in the rain
But not me...I'm alive


And today you know that's good enough for me
Breathin' in and out's a blessing can't you see
Today's the first day of the rest of my life and I'm alive
And well...I'm alive and well

The stars are dancin' on the water here tonight
It's gonna fall a soul when there's not a soul in sight
This boat has caught its wind and brought me back to life now I'm alive and well

And today you know that's good enough for me
Breathin' in and out's a blessing can't you see
Today's the first day of the rest of my life and I'm alive
And well...I'm alive and well

Kenny Chesney and Dave Matthews.

Summer ends; fall begins; nesting

My neighbor around the corner used to have a "perpetual garage sale." This year she held no sales at all, which was sad because I enjoyed knocking around in them, but is just as well for me, because this woman doesn't stock junk and I always found something to buy. She has a knack for finding very cool, antique to near-antique stuff. Monday, I was running into Ithaca to feed the cats and realized she had her sale up...the only time this summer. Argh! On the way home I stopped by, and of course found something silly to buy for $3--a cat doorstop (signed, but I can't read the signature) that I am using to hold open the screen door on the den.

I'll know life is back to normal when that screen door is back in the barn.

Then I discovered she was the person who left this note. Well, I probably would have helped her had I realized it was her...but it's just as well I didn't, because she caught the little cat on her own, took it to the vet, and the cat is now living as happy as a clam in their house.

So there you go.

I'm down to three kittens in the house because Francine is at the off-site cage at Cornerstone. It seems nearly quiet here! That will end, since I have four in the barn who will soon come in, or go to foster homes. Still, at least they are going out about as fast as they are going in.

I'm waiting impatiently and happily for my carpet to arrive. The thought of having floor covering that is clean, one color (versus countless throw rugs), and a color of my own choosing, thrills me. And two rooms with matching carpet, running into one another? You mean...continuity?

I'm not quite sure what's up with the gold and brown theme that is running through my life lately. I've decided not to wonder about it. For some reason I look at colors ranging from deep gold to copper and think "I want THAT." Well, okay, fine.

Sometimes I think "There's too much yellow and gold in the house." Then I get the same attitude that I did with the tattoo. Who the hell cares? It's my house. It's not like there are hundreds of people passing through here. It's probably more important that I like it, because then I'll keep it nicely. People are more likely to notice that the house is clean than "gosh, all her rooms are yellow or gold."

Speaking of tattoos, I continue to be very pleased with mine. I have no regrets at all...not one tiny twinge.

These days are so gorgeous. I love fall. I try not to think about the snow that will fall soon and enjoy these beautiful days.

Happy Labor Day...now get back to work

Yeah, I know it's a fuzzy photo, but I was too lazy to take more.

Fart and Hiccup were adopted today, leaving little Burp alone with the teenagers, and he doesn't seem too intimidated, as long as there is a door between them!

With Henry adopted as well, that's three kittens off to new homes this week.

You can see the pink carpet in the photo. Donna and Tim had old carpet come their way and I put some of it down in the walk-in room to see if I could tolerate carpet in that area. The floor near the bow window is like ice in the winter. But carpet and cats? Not to mention a little dog who isn't absolutely perfect with her house training? No way did I want to spend money on carpet, only to regret it later.

However, the cats were happy as clams once that carpet was down. I even found them sound asleep on it a few times. Apparently they have no sense of interior decorating and didn't notice how badly the bright yellow walls went with pink carpet. Ditzy obliged by throwing up on it three times to give me a nice "real world" experience.

So off I went, and after some serious sticker shock, purchased a really beautiful copper brown carpet for the walk-in room (but not the hall way) and the fireplace room. It won't be wall to wall in both rooms, and I'll be installing it myself (no way could I afford the $2000 I was quoted at two places to have two rooms entirely professionally carpeted). But it will be clean and neat, and it should tie the two rooms together. Especially once the screen door is down and stowed in the barn again after kitten season!

You little son of a *$&##!!!!!

Do you know how much this hat COST?

I got it at the Lorenzo competition last year and it was the only one there! I love this hat!

Oh well. I cut the chewed parts off and I guess now it has character.

Dogs!!!!

Peace after war

(to answer the two most common tattoo questions: #1, yes, it did hurt, but no, it didn't hurt much, and #2, $125. There, that's over).



Two things happened yesterday.

My ex came and picked up the last of his stuff, except for a couple of boxes of books. The farm is now mine in all but name, and my husband, other than signing taxes, is finally gone, gone, gone. I wandered about the cavernous lower barn yesterday, looking at all the work that needs to be done, and all the potential that lies there. It was kind of like discovering a cool old tree house on your property. I felt the stirrings of some long-lost twelve-year old.

(there is a nuthatch tapping at the porch roof over my head as I type this. There is something fitting about that. Hey, buddy, knock it off!)

The second event was that my tattoo artist called and said she had a cancellation, and was I interested in coming in at 3:00 instead of waiting until the end of September?

Well, how is that for great timing? So I shook out my wedding-ring pawn-shop money and headed into town. Ithaca was in its usual state of "periods of bright sun alternating with alarming downpours" but I watched it all, laughing and dry, in a chair at Medusa Tattoo.

I had SUCH fun sitting there laughing with Carol, the artist, and one of her friends/clients who wandered in for a visit and gave me a running commentary of all her very beautiful tattoos (and hers WERE beautiful tattoos) and her life, while furious kittens scratched at my upper arm (well..that's what it felt like). Periodically a person would walk in, taking refuge from the rain, and ask questions.

I think perhaps there may be no more interesting place than a tattoo parlor. Lots of people trying to find a way to express who they are--or who they think they are, or who they want to be--in a piece of art that they haul around everywhere they go and have to look at every day. I'm guessing people who come in for lots of tattoos might return just to be part of that comradarie over and over again.

The Latin "pax" I chose for the tattoo means "peace." More exactly, the reconciled peace after war. I need a reminder to continue to try to toss off being angry, and to celebrate those generous people in my life (both female and male) who are true friends, or acquaintances who appear in my life with genuine kindness.

I need a reminder that I am truly blessed and for me to continue to complain has reached a point where anger has served its purpose and it's time to let it go.

If it's not my ex that angers me, it will be something else in the future. There are always complications in life, and let's face it, life is only getting shorter. I want to live the remainder of mind dedicated to a peaceful existence rather than an angry one.

I haven't decided if the cat is resting, or recovering from a bit of a headache (as I smile). That paw by the head doesn't look as relaxed as it could--but then maybe there is some unexpected personal symbolism in that.

As a person who never has a good experience with haircuts ("at least it will grow out"), sitting down for a tattoo was a serious exercise in trust. I'd seen the cats Carol had done, so I was fairly certain she had the understanding to do them right. Nonetheless, until you walk over to their mirror, there is a certain underlying trepidation. I mean, I could have ended up with a really really stupid-looking cat on my arm, forever. Have you seen some of the cat tattoos out there? Most of them are way too "Hello Kitty" for me.

I also thought long and hard about whether I was willing to endure people asking me if I had had a cat named "Pax" for the rest of my life. But given that probably only five people a year are even going to see my upper arm, I'm not too worried about it. I don't commonly run around in sleeveless shirts. Explaining to a few strangers that it means "reconciliation" doesn't seem like such a bad thing to me.

So there you go--two milestones on a single Saturday.

Life is good.

Weight off my mind

It seems like there's never enough time for blogging anymore, but I'm so pleased with progress done yesterday that I just have to sit down with my coffee on the porch and take a break from email, phone calls, etc.

The day before yesterday, the mower place finally called (they said it would be awhile) and said they could pick up the old mowers in the barn. True to their word they showed up yesterday morning and loaded them up. I told them which ones I wanted fixed, and which ones I wanted to never see again. Unfortunately I had to leave them for a phone meeting, so I didn't get to ask them to look at my new mower, whose battery won't hold a charge (sigh).

That would have been enough good news for the day, except around 4:00 while I was tapping away at email, I heard someone on the porch. It was Buck, who hunts on my property, and what had he brought but a gorgeous huge mower on a trailer to mow the hill trails, and tar to start patching the cabin roof. And off he went, for nearly two and half hours.








More later, gotta go back to work!

You know I can never get a recipe right.

You've just gotta be sure to read the comments!