I been working on a website… all the livelong day…
Not done, but getting there.
Sweet Jayne.
Finally admitted to myself that it’s really, really, really time to pack the tree away.
Cute video of kitties opening one of my etsy kicksticks. Love it! Thank you, Lynda!
What a great week.
I told the stories on the 5th and 7th to be able to tell this one. It’s not full of deep thoughts, but it deserved the context of a story line.
Each day of my life I add to past experiences to form the fabric of myself and my life, as does everyone else. It’s the only way life has any context. I didn’t realize how much baggage I was bringing to the Christmas table until I did these writing exercises. Abandonment issues much? (The prompts are from 1,000 Creative Writing Prompts, by Bryan Cohen.) Past Christmases with my husband have been crazy stressful. Too many unrealized expectations that I’ve been carrying. In addition, I’ve been hanging my past, and my stories, on the tree. Where are his stories? Where are ours? So no ornaments went on the tree this year.
Instead we went to Target together and picked out a little tree. He picked out a star and garland. The star is lime green and covered in glitter. I LOVE it. I added some bead garland. We both set it up, we both removed the (nasty) lights that the tree came with, and replaced them with LED lights. You can see this baby from space.
I think it’s beautiful. It’s a blank slate. Neutral ground that we can add laughter to like tinsel. (We can’t hang real tinsel anyway because, well, Jayne would eat it. It’s because of you that we can’t have nice things, cat.)
I’m very lucky to have Travis in my life. Thanks, Travis.
Do you have your tree up? I’d love to see it, and to hear your stories.
The last time I decorated a Christmas tree with someone who actually wanted to be there, was around 2004 or so. H.J. invited me over to her house for the event. I loved it. I loved every aspect of it. I felt welcomed, and a part of a happy tradition.
She had a live tree, and used a stand that had seen more than a few seasons. It was all part of the tradition. Every ornament had a story; a history giving it a place in time. We put holiday bandanas on her pets and took some stinkin’ cute photos. The smell of damp pine turned the whole house into a holiday. We had ridiculously good chocolate and wine, and an episode of “Spy Girls” played in the background. We decorated with chaotic, wanton abandon. Gorgeous glass globes sparkled next to thumb-drives on lanyards. Why not?
I felt so included. Connected. Loved. I’m pretty sure I wound up sleeping on her leather couch afterward, but I can’t swear to it. I miss her. It keeps me up some nights, wishing I hadn’t taken it all for granted. I did stupid things, and it cost me that friendship. What I wouldn’t give to have laughter, music, the smell of damp pine, and the feeling of welcome, again.
From the desk of Shivers:
Mom’s been intending to write a newsletter for years, but seeing as she’s just too lazy and has foolishly left her laptop open, I’ve decided to write one myself. Being a wise 14 year old white cat, I have a lot to say on the state of things that go on around here.
First off, I’m not dead yet. The vet’s initial prognosis (given in June 2009) was way off. I plan on seeing my 30th birthday, at the very least. Take that, monkeys! You can put those “kidney values” where the sun don’t shine. I think that’s somewhere in Alaska. Just keep the canned food and head scratches coming. The heated beds were a nice touch, too.
Mom and The Guy moved us again. Ugh. What a hassle. I have no idea where all my old peacock feathers went, but at least I was given new ones. It’s lucky for everyone that my llama ball toy was found, otherwise I couldn’t have been held responsible for my actions.
The new place has lots of room, and best of all, stairs. I’d forgotten how much fun stairs are. My new favorite game is to play Rocket Kitty up and down the stairs at 3:00 AM, with my peacock feather clenched firmly between my teeth like a flamenco dancer’s rose, while wailing an opera of my own composition. Mom usually takes my feathers away before bed, now. Monkeys have no appreciation for the arts.
There’s also a large garden space out in the backyard. Oh yeah. I can’t wait to roll in that. We’ll get to hang out back there this summer, but only under close supervision, and only after our microchip information has been updated. I tell ya, zip through the fence and nap under the neighbor’s house just once, and they never let you forget it.
Gabe (The Guy’s son) is doing fantastic with his ear scratching technique. He’s got real talent. I also hear that he’s equally talented with the viola now, and is doing great in school. Pfft. The future’s in ear scratching and opening canned food, believe me. In any case, he’s a great kid and doing well in life. I can’t believe he’s 12! He’s got even more energy than I did at that age, and that’s saying something. He’s getting braces, soon, too. I think it’s supposed to help with his hunting abilities.
Maggie Mae has been attempting to beat her best weight ever by eating anything and everything that she can. Despite Mom’s best efforts, she is now strikingly potato-shaped. Oswald Underfoot has decided to get in touch with his heritage (Siamese) and is exploring exciting new vowel sounds. Jayne Cobb is trying to be braver. No luck so far. I have finally conned Travis and mom into feeding me only canned Avoderm Select Cuts and Wellness chicken. That’s right. Twelve years of planning have finally come to fruition.
Travis (The Guy) got licensed in ham radio. I know it sounds tasty, but trust me – that radio is nasty to chew on. Just don’t do it. He seems to really enjoy babbling at it, though. Travis and Mom seem to be trucking along just fine. At least, there’s been no interruption in the food and attention department. Comes to the same thing. Hopefully 2011 will be even better. Have a great holiday, everyone!
-Shivers