I feel like I have a post to write...

...but it just hasn't come out yet.

You know that feeling when you've been sick for weeks and you are just wondering when you are finally going to get over it, and one day, there is that moment when you think, "hey, am I getting better? Is this it?" And maybe there will be some backsliding, but you know that was the day you finally began to get over whatever crap you caught in the first place.

I feel like, after almost a year, I've finally had that day. I was walking the fields yesterday, trying to figure out what I should pay to have mown by the neighbors and what I should just let return to brush and forest. I was checking for ruts and bumps and dangers that might not be as easy to see once there is eight inches of grass growing across the hillsides. I was watching for curious evening deer and avoiding the occasional mucky spot.

Suddenly it occurred to me that I had not been thinking of my "ex" at all. And yes, indeed, I think of him all the time. This deep furious burning anger that is there constantly, hiding an even deeper grief for the loss of a person who didn't exist. It's a poison that contaminates every moment of my life. But while I was walking my fields, it was just plain gone.

And it was really like getting over an illness. You know that moment when you are so happy that you can finally BREATHE? Or that the headache has finally gone away?

It's like that. I could finally breathe.

I hope I have more moments like that.

Getting there

I had the astonishing experience of getting like, almost everything done.

Well, not precisely. But everything I thought of doing, I had time to do. And I did it, rather than obsessing over it. It seems like every day, there is a little less to do, rather than a little more.

I even had time to go for a walk up to the cabin, and sit in the Adirondack chair at the top of their field and watch the sunset.

And watch The Daily Show in bed. :)

I did more than one post on the Wildrun blog...

So that counts for one post here. :) Right?

Okay, okay, I'll post something.

My system, I believe, is slowly going into shock over three warm semi-sunny days in a row, with the possibility of another tomorrow. I got my recycling out before dark (gasp) and my dishes are done before bedtime. AND I scooped the cat boxes in the house. The cat facility cat boxes get scooped twice a day, but my poor house cats sometimes end up giving me the hairy eyeball because I've forgotten them. I haven't yet cleaned the fish tank yet. I did get Linda's check in the mail. I didn't get a thank-you note written today, but I did paint my front door (one home-improvement done each day---check!). I even washed my kitchen garbage can and did three loads of cat laundry.

Ah, and Lynn from work just IM'd me to say GO TO BED!

So I'm going. Good night!

Remember how I promised a blog post every day?

Here it is. Goodnight! :)

Spring cleaning; spring errands.

Having a sick cat sort of changed my priorities this week, and my "make a list and follow it faithfully" plan went by the wayside. This weekend I'm playing catchup, and with the warm weather and bright sun, it enjoyable rather than a chore. I'll keep a running list today:

Got up, washed my head, threw on clothes, and zipped over to Waverly with a Kuranda bed and a big stuffed dog for the pancake breakfast (and Kuranda bed drive). Debra was already there and the place was filling up quickly.

I then realized I'd forgotten my wallet.
Drove home; got wallet.
Picked up Pretty Girl's mom and had a wonderful breakfast.
Zipped home and took care of the cats.
Roared to Ithaca and just made it to the Cornell vet pharmacy to fill a prescription.
Stopped at Treeforms and bought some old fashioned stick candy.
Drove leisurely to fellow cat-fixer Susan's house (yes, another Susan).
Helped her get a stubborn cat into a carrier so she could return him to his home.
Susan offered cat food. Loaded up nine big bags and other goodies. YAY!
Stopped at Verizon to reactivate Mark's old cellphone, as mine died.
(Yes, friends, this means I have yet another cell phone number)
Fed the Fast Food Ferals
Stopped at Home Depot for glue and white duct tape.
Came to a screeching halt at Eddydale. PANSIES!!!!! Bought a whole flat.
Arrived home.
Opened windows. The cats love me now.
Turned on the outside water.
Fed cats.
Dumped cat boxes.
Washed cat boxes.
Mopped the kitchen.
Mopped cat box room floor.
Loaded dishwasher, and washed pots and pans.
Dumped the ashes and cleaned the woodstove.
Spent about an hour staining the outside of the barn.
Sat on the porch in the sun with Bear and tall glass of ice water.
Gave my roses one last sniff, hung them up to dry, and washed the vase.
Cranked the stereo in the great room.
Bleached the Brita pitcher.
Filled water containers for hauling water out the cat facility.
Filled the bird feeders. The chickadees thank me.
Got out the Goo Gone and went at the old bumpersticker marks on the truck's tailgate
Cleaned the truck, put on the magnetic signs, and covered the rust holes with white duct tape. (Duct tape. The non-mechanic's Bondo!)
Emptied and washed the UPSTAIRS cat boxes
Went up to the garden and assessed the fences with Bear.
Hauled bags of cat litter down to the cans by the barn.
Took the Christmas garland off the weathervane and the Christmas wreath off the neck of the Frankengoose.
Hauled wood inside.
Fed the fish
Dumped and washed one cat box in the cat facility.
Hauled the cat food out of the truck into the cat facility. Gave cats some wonderful Science Diet kibble. Cleaned the downstairs cages. Arthur (the new male cat) is a hoot!
(7:30 pm and it's finally getting dark. I'm loving the time change!)
Drove to Spencer to get some groceries and gas.
Went out and took care of the upstairs cats.
Remembered to put the flat of pansies in the barn so they won't freeze tonight.
Petted Faith (Hope's mom), and got a headbutt! Whoo hoo! Faith is tame!
Unpacked the groceries
Lit all the candles in the house
Called mom and made tacos while talking to her. I know, rude as hell.
Shared the rest of the shredded chedder with the cats.
Built a fire.
Picked up the uneaten bits of shredded cheddar cheese
Unloaded the dishwasher
Hand washed the dinner dishes
Dumped all the cat water bowls and refilled them.
Found a canning jar for my old fashioned stick candy.
Looked for the phone message I took from Linda last night. Can't find it. &*%##&!!!
Started a load of laundry
Wrote out a card and family stuff for Linda. Called, got vm.
Put on my "I'm getting old" glasses and fixed a chip in a bowl
Cleaned the bathroom while the tea is steeping.
Fussed over Cricket.
Tea and newspaper.
Nap.....
(Post note, "Nap" became "bed"....)






To be continued. There's no reason for anyone to read this post. I'm just writing it for my own sense of accomplishment.

Getting life in order

It has become clear that 24 hours in a day is simply not enough. Or, perhaps it could be, if I didn't pause to wait seconds thinking "What do I do next?"

So I'm making a list. Yes, indeed, I'm plotting every moment of my day. I figure it will take two weeks to work the bugs out (and new kitties have already thrown a wrench in the works--argh!), but this morning for example, I've already gotten thank-you notes written (one EVERY day), blogged (EVERY day), done one thing I promised to do (helped publicize Stray Haven pancake breakfast), and done some work for, well, Work. I'm now headed out to the cat facility, and will throw a load of laundry in before I go.

I have a daily checklist of things I have to do every single day, from morning to night (including my tasks for my job)and then a list of evening things to do for each night of the week.

It's pretty sad to have to have a checklist to get everything done. I mean, should I really need to be reminded to "Bring in three loads of wood" and to tell myself "Monday evening, recycling; Tuesday evening, clean fish tank?" I'm hoping I won't need it for more than the summer, and then things will be under control and the routine will be ingrained.

However, I really need to get to a point in my life where, for example, the fish tank is cleaned every week and always looks nice, rather than only getting cleaned when it looks like it needs it (or a week after I notice it looks like it needs it).

100% of my anxiety is just thinking about things I haven't gotten done. If I get most things done---less anxiety, right? Sounds good to me!

"Thank God I'm single"

I said it for the first time two days ago, and I actually meant it. I was driving in the darkness, listening to a country-music show (funny, I envisioned her as a brunette, and older) and the host was talking to a teenager who was in angst about a guy she'd been friends with for six years, whom she had feelings for (more than friends), but whom had a girlfriend. It was so sweet, plaintive, and painful, that it took you right back to your own high school emotional traumas, and I laughed in sympathy and without thinking, said it right out loud:

"Thank God I'm single."

And I do have to say that there are a lot of benefits to singlehood, in general. I was chatting with my mother last night about Easter, and it occurred to me I no longer have to worry about whether my partner is bored and wants to leave the gathering. I can just enjoy my family and stay or leave as I wish. Decisions are made simply. Even the best and most thoughtful partner deserves to have their feelings taken into consideration. Being single cuts the decision-making process down to the simplest form. "Yes, I can go" or "No, I can't." There is no "I'll have to check." I won't have to try and steer conversations to topics my partner might enjoy in an attempt to prevent them from being bored. I can just let other people be other people, and enjoy their presence.

There is also an emotional freedom. It's a selfish freedom, but a real one. I've been asked on dates, but frankly, I've said no, because the last thing I need right now is to engage in that "Gosh I like him; Gosh I don't; Gosh how do I tell him; Gosh I think this guy's a stalker" game that comes with dating.

Just not interested, ya know? Of course, not yet being legally separated has a lot to do with it, too. There's just something creepy about dating another person when you don't yet have the piece of paper that says you are on your way to Divorce.

I was joking with my mother about how surprisingly wonderful it has been to set up the house the way I wish, and we both agreed that bringing another human into our own spaces now would be difficult to impossible. Luckily, I have a big house, and I joked that I could give the Next Guy the upstairs to fix up as he wished, I'd have the downstairs, and we could just visit one another's domains. Never again am I going to be frozen by trying to figure out what "someone else might like" and ending up with something both of us aren't happy with.

Being single again makes you look back on marriage and realize how you could have been a better partner, and realize as well that, despite all the pain, there's something to be said for a second chance.

Hey Mom!

Sometimes traditional modes of communication fail, and therefore blog announcement may help. Hey mom, your new email address bounced on me, and my phones are out of order! Just wanted to let you know! Love, your daughter.

Key West blogging

One of the most interesting things I've discovered about being on my own again is that I talk to strangers now. When I was part of a couple, there was a lot of "it's you and me against the world" going on. It's understandable that when you are traveling with someone you love, you share your observations with that one person. There is less need to converse with those who are simply walking by.

Now I'm by myself. It's me IN the world. And vacations are a different kind of relaxation now.

I was quite shy 20 years ago. I expect my various jobs have had a lot to do with me coming out of my shell. When I was single back in my 20s, I used to envision myself as an observer hiding in the forest, looking in at the ring of light around a fire, where all the other people were. I didn't mind that existence. It fit the lone wolf image I cultivated at the time.

I'm not like that anymore--for better or for worse--and I've discovered there is a fantastic freedom in talking to people instead of just watching them. I supposed most people know this already.

So, okay, I'm a slow learner.



Most people in Key West are, of course, from somewhere else. I discovered a jewelry vendor/artist on a pier with his wares laid out before him (click photo to expand). He was dreadlocked, tanned, and originally hailed from Delaware. I bought two necklaces from him--one for myself, and one for my friend Nancy who has helped me through hell this past year. I could have purchased similar necklaces in a shop along Duval Street---or even in Ithaca for that matter. But they wouldn't have been strung in the sun on a pier with the wind blowing, and the cash wouldn't have been passed from the hand of the buyer to the hand of the artist.



Post note: LOOK AT THAT WATER SPARKLE. I swear, I'm going back every year.

Ready for spring

We are back to cold temperatures again, and for some reason, the house just won't get warm. I think it finally has reached that point where the ground, the foundation, the very walls have become saturated with cold and no measly human measures are going to keep up with it.

I retire to my den and the fireplace and wish for spring.

I have only two words for this photo....

Mark. Hofferbert.

Blah blah blah....

Perhaps I'll make a resolution that my posts will be no longer than 500 words. Sometimes I go back and read my own posts and roll my eyes and say "Susan, just shut UP already." :)

This is me, absolutely.

Fear of flying.

I like the last part where she gets a job that requires frequent travel, and mitigates her fear with drugs, alcohol, and meditation.

I am SO "there." I haven't gotten to the drugs part (although I'm considering a trip to a doctor to explore that option), and I've stopped the alcohol because the nasty little bottles of chardonnay onboard now cost $7. I now request a glass of plain ice. But breathing exercises and meditation, and being relieved to find an interesting seat partner...that's me, on every trip.

The things you find on Facebook....

I'm sure you'll need a hint. I'm the fourth from the right, standing, blue shirt with white turtleneck. So there, proof positive that I DID have black hair at one point in my life. :)

Click the photo to expand. That would be 1983, novice crew, Ithaca College.

The sun finally comes out

FINALLY we had a day that wasn't so cold it socked you in the face as soon as you walked out the door. I got some work done in the morning, zoomed into town to buy supplies and feed the Fast Food Ferals, zoomed home to clip the matts on my neighbor's cat's butt, and began to clean, clean, clean.



I did take a short walk to enjoy the day, because who knows if there will be another one.



I also logged into Facebook, which I only joined because someone "friended" me, and discovered about twenty other people had also "friended" me. So I am now a Facebook devotee. I have already chatted with two people I haven't seen in years. Crazy.

My day job...a tiny part

I help find rescue groups with puppies for adoption, coast to coast. Aren't they cute?

Don't forget to watch the Puppy Bowl!

Yes, I got to help with that, too. :) So technically, if you watch the Puppy Bowl, you help support Wildrun cats. How about that. So grab some chips and dip, sit down with your family or friends, and support Wildrun. Ha!

All the puppies in this year's Puppy Bowl are shelter pets from these organizations.

Yes indeed. I am a professional puppy pusher.

Damn you, Cary!

Got this in my email just now:



I haven't laughed that hard in months. OK, if Murphy is still there after I get back from travel next week, and some other senior-dog-sucker hasn't adopted him, I'll go visit.

He's gotta like cats, though.

Morning post-note: I cannot get a dog. I canNOT get a dog. I CANNOT get a dog. I must have some sense here. Sigh.

Am I really, hopelessly, cat-centric?

I'm the first to admit I love cats more than dogs. I especially love kittens more than puppies. I expect some of that is that any four-week old kitten can use a litterbox, but it's going to be quite a bit longer before a puppy figures it out.

I have a great appreciation for dogs. Having a dog is like having a seven-year-old son on a good day. They want to be with you, they appreciate every good thing you say about them, they have boundless energy, are smart as a whip, they love life, their eyes just SHINE, and they want nothing more than your approval.

Like I said, a seven-year-old son on a good day.

Sadie was Mark's dog. She like me well enough, but it was Mark she loved. I've often wondered what having a dog of my own would be like. Given my travel schedule, I know better than to adopt one now. When thinking about "The Future Dog," I waver.

A shelter dog? (Note: bad move, I've met Murphy, nearly adopted him, and didn't know he would be on Stray Haven's pet list) or a breed rescue dog? More to the point, a Great Pyr

I grit my teeth and remind myself over and over and over that I sometimes am traveling twice a month, and I don't want to kennel a dog. It's just not a good time to adopt.

So today, when I was visiting the Kitschen Sink, I experienced one of my other great weaknesses. Secondhand stuffed pets. Yes, seriously. An art garage was not a place I expected to have to confront this weakness of mine. And a stuffed dog, no less. I kept coming around to look at him sitting there on the floor. Surely he would be too expensive...

Not. That's the problem with secondhand stuffed pets. Cheap as hell. Damn!

So, we now have a dog. The older cats are seriously freaked. I had to move him off the bed but Ditzy still won't come in the room. The Terrorist kittens think he's pretty cool.



Unfortunately, now I've visited Murphy's pet note. Damn again! And Cary is IMing me to say she'll gladly dog-sit. Of course, she's in Pennsylvania, not exactly around the block.

Oh yes, I did buy some art at the art garage, although it was a wee little thing, given my commitment to buy a bigger piece. And here it is:

Wrapping yourself in things that make you smile

This photo of Tinker snoozing on the ottoman was supposed to go in the post below. As I was resizing it, I realized she was sleeping on a Native American rug that my college roommate Leslie had gifted me...oh, perhaps 27 years ago.

I have so many lovely things around my home that make me smile. I'd like to think I'm not a possessions-based person (I was happy enough in a beat-up old trailer as long as it was in the country with good neighbors), but as life goes on, you accumulate things and cannot help but treasure them when they come from people you love and from friends who care. It is one of the benefits of life passing, this gathering of memories in both mental and physical form.

And it's not even February

I promised myself today there was no leaving the house until certain chores were finished.

The Christmas Tree, for one. I would like to report it is safely out in the back yard, and the great room has been thoroughly vacuumed. Pine needles will, of course, continue to edge out from magical hiding places until approximately next September.

I also put on my boots and gathered up the bows from the fence and the barn. Ah, farewell Christmas.





I stopped beside the bird feeder to revel in chickadees...nearly 20 of them. I have a variety of additional visitors: doves, Downey and Hairy woodpeckers, tufted titmice, blue jays, cardinals, both red and grey squirrels, and of course the deer. The feeders are alongside the path to my porch, and the birds are quite bold. I believe the soft rapid-fire flutter of chickadee wings may be one of the most beautiful sounds in the world.

I tried to take some photographs but alas, my 4 year old digital camera is becoming pixel-challenged, and darting chickadees are beyond its capability.

However, it can still handle a zonked cat basking in front of the fire.