What do you do when you feel like you're struggling through life up to your knees in mud? We've all been there, when our older children are in a situation where we are helpless to help them. Sometimes I think parenting adults (and we still try, regardless of how old our children are) is even more difficult than parenting little ones. The older our children get, the more helpless we are. With more life experience we can see that the light heading straight for our offspring is actually an on-coming train, but we have to bite our tongues and wait for the carnage. Everybody learns their own way, and there is nothing we can do to help except pick up the pieces, apply as much love as they will accept, and move on. It sucks.
At the same time, many of us are dealing with elderly and frail parents. The problems that they are facing are as a result of choices that they have made in their lifetime, and we probably had no input about their decisions, but we are faced with the fallout. It is very painful to see people that we love and once considered a force of nature suffering. Most often, there is no choice that will make anybody happy. In the last year of my parents' life I had to separate them and force my father into the hospital and then a nursing home, where he died. It was the only time they lived apart for close to 60 years and incredibly painful for all of us. It sucks too.
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In a nutshell, that is when I started dying my hair purple. It made me laugh or smile every time I looked in the mirror, and there was nothing else in my life that could provide that. It's hard to remember to look after and be kind to yourself when you are facing circumstances that you have no control over. Having someone you can talk to helps a lot. So does cutting yourself some slack in other areas of your life. Exercise (if you can face it) makes you think about something else, and triggers lots of good feelings (pride, endorphins). Funny books or movies, if you truly find them funny, are great because again laughing takes you out of yourself. As difficult as it is, sometimes you have to try to detach yourself from the situation, because it is something that you have no control over. Of course the famous saying is "It's hard to remember your objective was to drain the swamp, when you're up to your ass in alligators".
It's been a while since I updated you on the antics of our kitty boys. As you can see in the photo above, they're doing very well! Huck has adjusted well to his new home, and our two boys are very happy together. They spend a lot of time cuddled up together and dozing during the day, but also have great and glorious games of tag.
Huck had to spend a day at the vet's for a small medical procedure last week, and you should have seen the look on Tugby's face when I put Huck into the travelling cat crate. It was absolute horror -- oh NO, he'll never come back. Tugby was clingy until his buddy returned, and then had to give him a good bath all over so he smelled like home. Huck has a clean bill of health now and is up to date on all his shots so we've all relaxed and taken a deep breath, I was a little worried after Chester became so ill.
Since all cats are individuals, we're still learning about Huck. This morning my husband found him perched 3 feet up the trunk of my Ficus Benjamina. Now, I've had this tree since we owned our original cat Smokey in 1985, and I have never before had a cat climb it. It's around 5 feet tall and not terribly sturdy for climbing. It sits in a fairly large pot which is actually on a platform with wheels on it. This is pretty big ambition for a 6 pound cat! Actually he loves to scoot around in the pots with wheels, and I can foresee a disaster of memorable proportions at some time in the future unless we can gently discourage Huck from his experiments. I have my doubts, because in my experience cats are pretty determined. The longer he waits, the bigger he will get, and the potential for damage increases dramatically.
Huck still enjoys visiting me in the bathtub. I'm not too sure how long he will maintain his fascination with water since yesterday I found him stuck with all four paws in the toilet. Neither of us were impressed with this situation, he even less than me because I washed and dried all of his paws before I put him down. He loves to tightrope walk around the edge of the bathtub, but one side narrows to about 1 inch wide with a wall very close. One of these days I will have a cat in my lap in the bathtub, I suspect.
We call Tugby "Ricochet Rabbit" after a cartoon character popular when we were young. That's because he bounces off the walls and furniture "bing - bang - bing" like Ricochet Rabbit did. He particularly likes to bounce around first thing in the morning after the alarm clock has gone off, but before I get out of bed to feed them. He'll hop up and down on me and then fly off down the hall into the kitchen, back into the bedroom and then hop back up onto the bed. It's a pretty persuasive technique to get me moving because he seems very heavy when he's bouncing on my back!
Tugby still loves to eat and I don't think it's possible to over feed him, in his opinion. Once he's finished eating he saunters down the hall to the bedroom where Huck is fed. He waits until I open the door and then rushes in to see if Huck managed to finish everything. If not, Tugby is more than happy to help with the cleanup, of course. He's grown so much from the gawky kitten we brought home last Fall. He looks like a magnificent leopard or panther stretched out, but he's still less than a year old and just a kitten on the inside.
I think I'm going to change hair salons. I'm not happy with my current stylist and it's time for a change. You know how these things start. I used to go to a stylist who had been highly recommended by a girlfriend whose hair always looked good. I liked the hairdresser a lot, and always had a good hair cut but she didn't colour my hair purple, I did that myself in the laundry tub. Then she went on maternity leave and introduced me to another stylist at the same salon. The new hairdresser was okay, and coloured my hair as well. Together we explored a number of newer, funkier styles. She encouraged me to grow my hair slightly longer and presently it's in an asymmetrical cut that is driving me
crazy because I detest my hair in my eyes (I am not a sheepdog). I always look amazing when I leave the salon because she blow dries my hair and uses a variety of different potions on it. Of course, I can never duplicate that look at home.
For the last few haircuts, I've noticed that my hair goes totally flat a few days after its been cut. And when I blow dry it, it doesn't fluff up, it lies flat against my skull and looks scruffy. I've also noticed the odd clump of hair that doesn't seem to have been included in the style, almost as if she forgot to cut it. Although my mother spent many years of her life getting her hair styled once a week, I have always been no-fuss hair person. I like to be able to wash my hair, flip my hands through it, blow dry it if it's cold out and head out the door. I will spend a little bit of time and attention while blow drying my hair, but I expect the result to last a day or so.
I had been contemplating a colour change in December, possibly a nice turquoise blue, instead of the dramatic royal purple or magenta that I've had for the past several years. I had blue hair a few years ago, but found it was very difficult to maintain. I had been growing the purple hair out gradually, and discussing the change with my stylist for the past few haircuts. But all the promises she made about checking out what was available never happened. When it was time to make a decision I went back to the purple hair, because I didn't have enough information to make another choice.
I am not a
high-maintenance woman. I don't wear a lot of makeup, although I use
more now than before. I generally wear blue jeans and comfortable
shoes, and if I have to dress up I prefer comfort to fashion. I like
bright, clear colours and don't wear black often. I have no fashion
sense so I don't follow every fad that comes along, and I don't invest
in a few classic pieces that will go with everything. Isn't that what jeans are for? Right now I am spending far too much time and attention on my hair. It's good, straight, relatively thick hair. If it gets a decent hair cut and a small amount of blow drying, it looks attractive. And, if I'm going to dye my hair purple, it behooves me to have a decent hair cut to balance the attention that the colour attracts.
I am not a difficult client for a hair stylist because I am open to different ideas and colours, and enjoy trying new things. I don't expect a new hair style to change my life or make me look 10 years younger. I know that hair will always grow out so if we make an error in judgement, it won't be too long until we can try something else. At the moment, I am feeling a little taken for granted and not listened to. Instead of making a scene, I'll just make a total change. I have found someone whose hair I think looks attractive, and asked for the name of her hairdresser. I will phone the new salon and arrange for a consultation, because I am not going to jump willy-nilly into a new situation without a little bit of research. Then, if I am happy with the change, I will cancel my appointment at the old salon.
Well we never got the snow the weathermen were threatening Toronto with yesterday. Instead it rained. Big surprise. I seriously hope that meteorologists are not paid on a par with executives and CEOs who are paid millions and millions of dollars. Maybe they should be paid in a direct ratio as to accurate they were. I like that plan. Let's see how enthusiastic and doom predicting they would be on minimum wage, with a big bonus only IF what they told us happened.
I'm in a real "if I ruled the world" mood today. I'm making lists of things that I don't like and other lists of things I'd make sure happened, if anybody ever listened to middle aged me. For instance? How about two ladies' washrooms in grocery stores. Wouldn't it be nice if there was an alternative room so we didn't have to rock from foot to foot and do the pee-pee dance because a yummy mummy who is toilet training her beloved toddler was in the only bathroom for far too long. And how about if we went back to the days when little girls had feminine names and weren't called "Sydney" or "Elliot" and then their parents get all upset when you ask how their son is. Bad enough when the style was for semi-ambiguous names like "Mackenzie" or "MacKenna", but now baby girls can be named anything. Sheesh.
Want another example? What about waterproof boots? I don't know about you, but I have a real problem finding boots that are actually waterproof. The manufacturers 
lie with a straight face. Now, I know you have to use common sense while
you're shopping. So any boot with a zipper that starts way down on your instep is never going to be waterproof, because zippers leak. Ditto for boots that you lace up. If you can see eyelets from the inside of the boot you know that you're going to have wet feet. Leather boots need to be waterproofed regularly, preferably every other time you wear them. And rubber boots are cold and don't breathe so your feet sweat which is no different being leaky. And explain to me the appeal of those Ugg boots from Australia that you see people from California wearing on a "cold" day. What is even remotely practical about a knit boot on a rubber sole? And why would someone in a dry, hot climate put anything heavier than a sandal on? Sandal season in Canada is far too short to faff about wearing woolly tall Ugg boots.
I think I'd better go find a couple of pieces of chocolate, I can feel the mood of this blog getting a little bit ... testy. Aah, that's better. We're going to dinner at a friend's house 
tomorrow night, and I volunteered to bring dessert. I'm not really a baker, because baking requires recipes and exactness and if you want to really get fancy, fussassing about. Normally I would just go and buy something nice, because the professionals do it so much better, but I know my friend would prefer something home made. I'm not doing chocolate. I'm actually making something called icky sticky date pudding
with a caramel sauce. It calls for lots of butter, some whipping cream and brown sugar. It's supposed to be served warm and be very comforting and cozy, so that suits the season. I'm also going to make good old fashioned lemon squares because I love lemon desserts, my friend's husband loves lemon meringue pie and my husband doesn't like dates. Sounds like a win-win situation to me.
I have no idea what the weather's going to do today. We're supposed to get snow according to the radio, which has been making dire predictions all morning. Actually Toronto is supposed to get the heaviest snowfall of the year tonight from a storm that is tracking up from the States. I think the snow is supposed to stop before it reaches as far north as us.
I sent my husband to work with a change of clothes today because he works in the northeast of Toronto and traffic can be horrible between here and there if it snows. So far this season he's only stayed down once, although he's packed a bag several times, because he'd prefer to come home if possible. I'm not afraid to stay here by myself, I lived alone before we married, and I enjoy being able to sleep spreadeagled and kitty corner every once in a while. What I really hate is being stuck here in bad weather waiting for him to arrive.
Our roads are clear and pretty well dry again, so we probably will get more snow than predicted. After that heavy dump we got a few weeks ago, I'd prefer to believe the weatherman than the groundhog. We've already discussed how accurate I believe men who consult rodents are forecasting the end of winter.
Speaking of weathermen, has anyone else noticed how hysterical they get, these days? They have computer generated, storm tracking, reporters on the scene, and cell phone photos sent in by viewers, not to mention Doppler radar in the background. They insist that they're predicting the storm of the century, the worst storm/drought/heatwave in living memory. They drag in statistics to prove that whatever we're experiencing is proof of global warming, or cooling, or whatever the theory of the day is. And then, nothing happens. Despite all the advances in meteorology, quite often the disasters they predict never occur. Sometimes I think they're disappointed when nothing happens. Occasionally, I wonder if they just get bored with everyday weather and see if they can get everybody stirred up over nothing. We have a local weatherman who can find something happy about whatever kind of weather we're expecting. It's always a wonderful sunny day, or a refreshing rainfall, or great snow for skiing, or a good day to fly a kite. I guess he's a glass half-full kind of guy.
In any case, there were a few flakes floating down around lunchtime, but nothing to mention. No matter how accurate the recent predictions are I'm going to go for my walk now and enjoy my latest audio book.
I'm listening to Alan Bradley's book "I Am Half-Sick of Shadows". If you have never read any of his earlier books, check them out. The heroine is Flavia De Lucce, who is 11 years old. She lives with her father and two nasty older sisters in a broken down English manor house after World War II. Her father is grieving the death of her mother and she is totally unsupervised with access to an alarmingly well-equipped laboratory. She loves concocting poisons and solving mysteries. When her sisters aggravate her, she plots their murder by arsenic or other poison, and imagines their painful deaths (which never happen, of course). She is a very observant and intelligent child and gets far too involved in local suspicious deaths, to the frustration of the local detective inspector. This is a series that I really enjoy reading, because it's very well imagined and written.
I was never a fan of home economics when I was in school. My mother taught me how to cook by example and learning how to make cocoa and toast when I was already responsible for family meals seemed like a total waste of time. My mother also loved sewing. I have proud memories of a pale yellow Easter dress she made me, and a pale pink dress with a satin sash as well. Mum could alter a pattern to fit exactly, and took pride in matching seams on plaid pants more exactly than you could purchase at the store. She sewed evening dresses and pantsuits for herself, and was always very attractively dressed. There was always an element of thrift and practicality about her sewing.
I preferred far less practical pursuits. I knit afghans and scarves, cross stitched a tablecloth, and made needlepoint pictures. My mother had a scarf she had started to knit before I was born and abandoned before it was more than 3 inches long. I refused to learn how to hem anything, and to this day I don't. My husband and sons know better than to ask me to mend or darn or fix any article of clothing unless it's a straightforward seam re-do.
I have always made it very clear that I don't like sewing and am not at all good at it. As a matter of fact, I sew like a dog walks on its hind legs: it can be done, but it's not pretty. Over the years I sewed place mats and napkins as gifts for my mother for Christmas. She was very surprised and touched. When our sons were small I made a deal with them, I would sew any Halloween costume their hearts desired, as long as it was a cape. They have been Superman, Batman, a wizard, one memorable year they were Ninja Turtles (a shell is similar to a cape). Well, you get the idea.
Last summer I made a quilt! It was a complete shock to me as well, but I have a friend who loves to sew, and knit, and needlepoint, and cross stitch, and make dolls. My old quilt, purchased nearly 50 years ago, had worn out and could no longer be laundered. My friend convinced me to make a rag quilt. Actually she took me firmly by the hand and did most of the work herself, but I did enough that I could take some of the credit. I learned that I didn't sew as badly as I had believed, and once I took my first steps I learned that I actually enjoyed the process.
In retrospect I realize that I was intimidated by my mother's success. When she was trying to teach me how to sew, I felt like she was proving how skilled she was, and how unskilled I was. I didn't have the patience or the maturity to accept her help. Perhaps I was starting to differentiate between us, by refusing to follow in her footsteps, and finding my own interests.
I spent a very enjoyable afternoon today with my friend, choosing fabric to make my second quilt.
I haven't felt really well since November. That's when I caught that "100 day cough" which had been making the rounds in our community. It almost never happens that my husband gets sick, but he caught this particular virus and brought it home to me. I kept it for a week, and then returned it to him as payback. Then our son visited from out of town, and he brought a new variety of virus home with him. We passed that little treat between us again, and by the middle of December I was feeling particularly ratty.
Fortunately, my brother-in-law offered to have our traditional family dinner at his home this year. If it had been left to me, we probably would have had Kraft Dinner for 21 people. On Christmas Day we celebrated with just the four of our immediate family. We simplified the meal, my husband helped with the turkey, and I spent most of the afternoon in the bathtub coughing.
In the New Year I started to feel better although I still had a nagging cough every time I tried to speak. Now that its mid-February the cough is practically gone and my energy levels have improved dramatically. I don't like taking over-the-counter medications, or antibiotics so I tend to use remedies and vitamins to try and build my immunity rather than masking the symptoms.
Yesterday my nose started to run. Again. Today I have been sneezing violently, and my nose is very itchy and sniffy. I don't have allergies, and am afraid that I'm fighting another cold. I have been eating very well, exercising regularly, and sleeping pretty well for a menopausal woman. I have no idea why I've had such a miserable virus season this year, possibly it's new bug that hasn't been around before, and possibly it's because the weather has been so mild that the viruses haven't been killed off. In any case, I'm going to increase my vitamins C and D,
and start taking oil of oregano for the next few days. Hopefully I can fight this latest attack off!
Everybody knows what curiosity does to cats. I'm reminded of this saying daily because since we've added Huck to the household he and Tugby are everywhere. This morning I looked up from washing my face, and saw two curious little faces on either side of me on the bathroom counter. Yesterday I was enjoying a bath when Huck decided to walk along the edge of the tub and check out what bubble bath meant. We were both lucky that he didn't fall in because having a lap cat in the bathtub is never a happy experience.
I have to maintain a conscious checklist every time I leave the kitchen. Have I remembered to put the lid on the butter dish and put it in the cupboard? Did I close the cupboard door when I was done? Did I put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher? Did I put the dirty pots in the sink and fill them with soapy water to soak? Any cups or glasses with liquid in them are fair game for sniffs and sips unless I'm right there to discourage the attention. I have no elastic bands because they are stalked and bitten into pieces as soon as they enter our house. There are no pens on the counter beside our phones, because the cats are playing with them in the middle of the floor. Most of my most fragile snowmen have been moved to a safer place, and I don't think we're going to make it until March without a casualty.
I keep a water squirter with me at all times (unless I forget where I put it) to discourage counter climbing, table sitting, curtain climbing and other heinous crimes. Unfortunately Huck has a better imagination than I do and when everything is suspiciously quiet, I can't always find him. It's easier when there's a rustle or a crash to catch my attention. Every night after we're in bed with the lights out I have to get up at least once to check out the suspicious noises coming from the living room.
Life was never this busy when Chester was around. He loved to hide in places: my lazy Susan, the pot drawers, the hall closet, the onion and potato cupboard. I thought he'd escaped outside many times because he never made a sound when I shut the door. I'd run all over the house calling his name, and he'd just wait for me to figure it out. But he never explored as actively as Huck does, and now Tugby has a buddy to explore with and a patsy to blame for any damage.
It's been exactly a week since I picked Huck up. He and Tugby are partners in crime, professional wrestlers, and love to groom each other and cuddle. Huck adjusted to us very quickly, and Tugby adjusted to having another cat around faster than I expected. I think we made the right decision, but I must admit it's a little unnerving to have two fuzzy faces gazing back at me unexpectedly.
I've decided to go for a walk today, rather than another snowshoeing expedition. My knees are even creakier than they were yesterday, so I'm going to listen to common sense and give them a bit of a break. Besides, after several days of above zero weather, snowshoeing is becoming difficult, to say the least. The last couple of times I went out, snowballs formed under the metal grips on the bottom of my feet, and I ended up several inches taller than usual. This is fine unless you're trying to go downhill, when your snowshoes don't have any grip at all. In fact my son slid several feet downhill yesterday, then stood at the bottom and laughed at me as I cautiously picked my way along.
Besides, the conditions
are perfect for making snowmen, and I noticed two excellent
specimens on the way home. I'm planning to take a quick walk around the
neighbourhood and
get pictu
res of them before they melt. Remember
we're supposed to have an early spring, according to the groundhogs, so
I'd better get walking before it's too late. This dapper fellow on the right caught my attention as I was driving home from weightlifting, and I had to walk past and admire him again. He's right beside a daycare centre, and I'm sure the kids enjoy his company. It was actually a great day for a walk, despite the slush underfoot. By the time I got home it had started to rain, as predicted. It's amazing how much lighter it seems out when there is snow on the ground, no matter how cloudy the sky is. The snow reflects light back and it's much more cheerful than it was a few weeks ago when we had no snow and cloudy days.
My knees feel much better after the walk, so I guess that was the right decision. One of the advantages of getting older is that I no longer feel the pressure to grit my teeth and continue to do something just because I said I would. No matter how unrealistic my expectations were and how miserable I was, if I said I'd go snowshoeing every day it would be done. Now I have the maturity to reexamine my goals and change direction if necessary, without feeling like I "quit". Another example of my LITFS philosophy, I guess.
We let Huck have the run of the house last night. It turns out that he is a snuggly cat who likes to sleep with us, so it wasn't the most restful sleep I've ever had. My night time temperature gauge has been been broken for many years. Fortunately I'm over the night sweats most of the time, but I really need to have light covers on year round and I wouldn't mind the window open when the weather is mild. This has led to many marital compromises over the years, especially with regards to use of the ceiling fan. 
Unfortunately adding a cuddly kitten to the mix meant that I spent more time than usual overheated. In addition, every time I got up to cool down Huck followed me out of bed and down the hall, spending as much time as possible underfoot.
For all of these reasons, I had a hard time waking up this morning and getting out of bed and pilates was the last thing I was interested in doing. Since I had missed class last Friday, I knew I really had to go this morning, or the momentum would be broken and then it's too easy to just stop attending class. Fortunately I've learned how to trick myself into going to classes, by giving myself permission to not be perfect for just this class. It's better to go and do the best you can, but take a couple of extra breaks when needed, than to stay home. I always put my yoga pants and top on first thing in the morning because it's difficult to make an excuse to stay home when I'm dressed and read to go. Of course, no matter how draggy I feel before class, I feel so much better after going.
I think I'm going to change my weightlifting class next session. I've enjoyed doing it, but it's time to increase both the cardio portion and the type of exercise I'm doing. The original classes have run from 11 am to noon, which was great in the winter when it was dark in the morning. The new classes will have a free weight component in addition to cardio, and the instructor will change it up every class. It's always good to make changes to your routine because otherwise your body gets accustomed to what you're doing. Classes will run from 8:30 to 9:30 am, which works better in the spring because it's easier to be out and moving in the morning. Also, I'll be finished a lot earlier so I can accomplish more before noon.
I'm going to go snowshoeing again this afternoon. My knees are a little stiff after three days in a row but we're supposed to get rain tomorrow, so who knows how much longer the snow will last. Quite often our showshoeing season ends in February, and this has been such a mild season you just can't predict what's going to happen next. It's beautiful and peaceful in the park right now and I hate to miss a day. Soon enough it will be icy and muddy and I'll be back to walking around the neighbourhood, or perhaps around the bay.
Actually I invited our youngest son to come snowshoeing with me this afternoon and we had a great time. It's always interesting when you spend time with your adult children, because although you're still their mother, they have their own lives and interests now. My son picked our route so we started in the exact opposite direction to my usual path. Then we crossed over the stream and clomped up the hill on the other side, someplace I had never explored. He patiently waited for me on the steeper hills, and we chatted cheerfully about nothing in particular as we went. I had a great time, and I hope he did too.
Here is the first photo of Tugby and Huck together. There are still occasional bouts of huffing and hissing, but they seem to happen just before the boys get fed, so I'm blaming hunger. As you can see, there is quite a size differential between them. Tugby has had the benefit of the premium cat food we were feeding Chester, while Huck has been eating the food provided by Streetcats. I'm going to continue feeding the boys the good vet food until their kitten stage is over, because we've noticed that Huck's fur is just not as soft and silky as Tugby, and he seems to be shedding more. I guess you get what you pay for.
We had a
pretty substantial snowfall over the weekend. I took this picture last
Friday while I was coming back from my walk. As you can see, the front
porch has no snow at all, and the front yard has hardly any either.
The snow that was there was very icy and hard. Now, take a look at the picture on the right, which was taken from my living room window on Sunday morning.
We estimate that we received about 18 inches of snow overnight. So much for the predictions made by men wearing formal suits after discussing the weather with rodents on February 2nd! The bad news is that its not a lot of fun walking around our neighbourhood right now. The snow isn't deep, but we've had above zero temperatures and as a result we have very slushy roads. Despite many years of experimenting, I have never found a pair of walking shoes or boots that actually keep my feet dry and warm. I can do dry, if I'm prepared to use rubber boots. But the rubber seems to suck all the warmth out of my toes before I even start walking. And I can do warm, but by the end of the first block my toes are all wrinkled and shrivelled up, and cold because they're wet.
The good news is that I have been snowshoeing every day since Sunday. I am so happy that we finally got enough snow that we can go out. It's warm out, so I don't have to use too many layers, and I can nip out and clomp around for about 40 minutes in the afternoon. It's so peaceful in the park that you would never believe that you're in the middle of town, and a complete change of pace from my usual exercises. I found out on Sunday that I need to add more aerobic exercise to my program because although I wasn't stiff or sore, my heart was pounding and I was panting. A lot.
The last thing I want to mention is my valentine for this year. We've been married for over 30 years, so valentine gifts of chocolates and roses don't happen every time. Furthermore, this is the busiest time of year for my husband, and he is generally working at least 12 hour days, which make it difficult to go shopping. We found this plant container a couple of weekends ago at the local garden centre. It happens to look exactly like our dog Sammy, who died of old age last spring. My husband bought it on the spot and put a plant in the back. I think there are more loving thoughts involved in finding something like this, than in relying on the cliched gifts that big retailers want you to buy. The most memorable gift I've ever received for Valentine's day happened when my husband left for work as usual. About 15 minutes later the doorbell rang, and he returned with a cup of coffee and a cinnamon bun for me, with a small bouquet of flowers. He explained that he knew he'd be working late, and probably not have time at night to pick anything up, if he remembered.
We sat and enjoyed our coffee together, and then he went to work. It was a totally unexpected and thoughtful gesture that I will never forget.
I picked Huck about 6pm on Friday. He's only six months old, so quite a bit smaller than 
Tugby was when we got him. It feels really strange to have a smaller cat in the house. We bought him a collar with a bell on it, so we can hear where he is, instead of looking down to find him directly underfoot.
It took Huck about a day to feel comfortable in our home. The first morning he meowed loudly and wandered around looking for the rest of the cats from his foster home. At first Tugby wasn't prepared to be warm and friendly. He huffed and hissed and growled and generally made it clear that he was not impressed with our new addition. His hostility seemed to be more of a display than a serious dislike, because Tugby's ears were never flat to his head and he never actually attacked Huck, he was just very vocal. Occasionally, he swatted at the kitten, but his paw never actually made contact.
I had become accustomed to the various hiding places that Tugby had found to nap in, but so far I've misplaced Huck twice. He has an entirely new vision of the house, and has found new nests to nap in. I guess it will take me a few days to figure out where he's hiding!
We still leave Huck locked safely in the spare bedroom when we have to leave the house, and also during the night. That way, there won't be a confrontation that we aren't aware of. When we let Huck out of the bedroom in the morning, Tugby isn't as hostile as he was originally, and they have started to actually play together. Both Tugby and Huck casually drape their tail over the edge of a table, and then pretend to be startled when the other cat pats at it. Tugby still mutters under his breath occasionally, but they have had a lot of fun playing in the box in the kitchen and chasing each other all over the house.
Now that we have a kitten and a teenaged cat, we realize how much pain Chester had been in. He rarely romped and chased and played with Tugby, and in almost all the pictures we have of him, Chester is sitting in the sphinx position. Tugby and Huck play together for about half an hour, then separate to have a little nap and bath, then play some more.
Huck's foster mom has called twice to see how he's doing. I think they really miss him because he is a lovable and cuddly boy. I'm optimistic that within a few days we won't have to worry about leaving Tugby and Huck alone together, day or night. As a matter of fact, I'm expecting them to become good friends and companions for each other.
Remember when I said that I was going for a walk, and I was sure I wouldn't lose anything more? UnfortunateIy, I was mistaken. I had a nice 30 minute walk around several blocks. It was cool but not unbearable, and it started snowing gently as I reached the house.
I also had to pick up a couple of things in the grocery store, so I hopped into the car and went to No Frills. 
I
brought my favourite plasticized bag into the store, along with another
black fabric bag tucked inside. I generally underestimate what I'm going
to buy, and end up juggling heavy items if I don't bring a grocery cart with me, so I spent
the 25 cents, got the cart and put my bags in the basket.
You know
where this is going, don't you? Somebody stole my bags out of the cart,
and I never noticed until I got to the checkout and told the girl I
didn't need any plastic bags because I'd brought my own... and they
weren't there. I really liked that shopping bag because it was bright
red and yellow and had pictures of different kinds of candy on it. It
was very bright and colourful (I like bright and happy things). It was
roomy and strong so it carried a lot of canned goods or several milk and
juice containers.
I had
everything I had picked out when I reached the checkout, so I know that I
didn't grab the wrong grocery cart by mistake. Somebody deliberately
stole my happy bag. I got my groceries home packed into a cardboard box.
Well, I know my favourite saying is LITFS, but I
hope they put too many heavy things in that bag and it breaks. When
their eggs are on the very top. So there. Nobody said I had to be a grownup all the time.
Oh well, the countdown until I pick up Huck is still ticking away. Less than half an hour to go. I can hardly wait!
I must be Canadian, I spend far too much time discussing the weather. After four stunningly sunny days, we've returned to the gray, cloudy, threatening snow weather model.
I was lying in bed this morning contemplating what I was going to write about. For some reason I thought that writing this blog would reduce the number of words swirling around in my head at any given moment. I was wrong. Anyway, the alarm was set two hours later than usual because my husband took the morning off work, and you know what that means. I woke up at exactly the same time I wake up most mornings, alarm or not.
Once I'd fed Tugby and come back to bed, I remembered that I did 12 push ups last Wednesday at pilates. I was so excited there was no chance of going back to sleep! I hadn't even thought about what I was doing at the time, the substitute pilates teacher said "everybody do push ups" so we all got down on our mats and started doing them. I only did 12, but what's exciting about that is the last time I remember actually doing push ups is in 1967. I'm quite positive that I couldn't have done that many push ups then, either. That's how used to exercising, and doing what I'm told in class I am, I actually did something I haven't done in a long time (you do the math), but it took me another 2 days to recognize what I'd done. I think that's pretty cool.
Today is Huck day. We've told Tugby all about it, and he's rather sceptical because we've been promising him company for a week now, and so far there's no sign of it. Huck's foster mum called me last night and said she'd be home around 5:30 today, please come and pick him up as soon as possible. I think they're very fond of him and are dreading me taking him, so they want to get it over with as soon as possible. Keep your fingers crossed that they get along, because I'm a little nervous.
Remember my plan to start reading Zoe Sharp's "The Fifth Victim"? I seem to have misplaced the book. I spent quite a bit of time yesterday trying to find it! I have no idea where it is (have you heard me say that recently?) I have two reading nests in the house: my comfy chair in the living room by the window, and my comfy chair in the basement. There are several books in each spot, just not the one I was planning to read. I'm pretty sure I haven't returned it to the library.... I just checked my on-line library account and that's exactly what I did. I've returned it to the library without realizing it, probably it was hiding in my book bag and I didn't check the bag before I put everything in the return area. Oh, man! I can't believe I did that.
OK, I'm going to come up with a Plan B. I think I'll go for a walk. It's not cold, just gray and blah out. I can't lose anything, or forget anything if I go for a nice walk. It will clear what's left of my mind, and hopefully when I come home I'll have everything I left with. I skipped pilates class because I had a nice warm husband to snuggle up to, so a walk is definitely a good idea. There's probably a book on my Kobo that I've downloaded that I can read when I come home. I have to nip out and grab a couple of things at the grocery store before the weekend, so there will be less time to spend losing stuff before I go to pick up Huck.
I like to travel light. I don't like to carry a purse, I prefer pockets. If we travel somewhere I pack enough underwear, a couple of pairs of jeans and socks, some t shirts and an outfit that will pass for "good" in addition to as many swimsuits as possible (middle aged women and wet bathing suits are not a good combination!)
So, when you're discussing the rules I use to govern most of my life, I only have two basic ones, and we'll cover the first one today. In short form, its LITFS. This stands for Life Is Too Fucking Short. Its my favourite rule, and it covers almost any experience that I've come across so far.
Why bother carrying a grudge or staying angry with someone you love? It takes up physical energy, and even worse too much emotional and psychic energy. Once I've made my position clear (and I learned how to be vocal from experts) and calmed down again, its over. I don't like getting all worked up and then continuing the drama for an indefinite period of time. Of course, this depends on the circumstances, and perhaps I've been very lucky that nobody that I have loved has done anything irrevocable, like murder. Certainly, they've infuriated me, possibly hurt my feelings badly or crossed a line that I feel is unacceptable. But once the initial discussion is over, and everybody knows where I stand, it's time to move on. That doesn't mean that I don't remember what has happened, and have formed an opinion about how I plan to treat them in the future, it just means that there's no point in discussing the issue over and over and over again. LITFS
Why bother leaving the house with a rotten attitude, picking a fight with a sales clerk or innocent bystander? Any time I've slipped up and ignored this rule, I've regretted it. Certainly, living with purple hair has made me a little more memorable, so I'm more cautious about throwing attitude all over other people. It's far easier to shrug and ignore a person that you don't know who is trying to share their bad day with you. Nobody needs to know what I'm murmering under my breath as I smile sweetly. If 
nothing else, it
irritates them far more if you smile and ignore them than it would if
you let them achieve their goal. And sometimes, if you smile at people
you improve their day, so you both win. LITFS
Like everybody else, I can get really down on myself. As I've aged, I realize that doesn't really accomplish much except make me miserable. Far better to sit down and figure out exactly why I'm upset with myself, what I'd do differently next time, and release my disappointment and anger to the universe. All anybody can do is the best they can with the information they have at the time, and beating yourself up for days and weeks isn't going to change what has happened. LITFS
On the happy side, life is too short to refuse to do things you enjoy. I may not always like the number on the scale, but what do you gain if you focus on achieving your goal instead of taking pleasure along the way? For many years, I postponed feeling good about myself by thinking that I'd be happy when I achieved whatever that elusive goal was (weight, body shape, income). Then I recognized all the time I had wasted by ignoring myself and my needs and focusing on something that may never happen. Now I find that I'm actually enjoying my physical exercise, enjoying what I eat, and probably far easier to get along with when I was postponing gratification and denying myself happiness. LITFS
Speaking of which, today I am going to start that Zoe Sharp book, "Fifth Victim". I've been saving it for the right time. It's time to stop avoiding my walk on this sunny day, lace my shoes, hit the road, and come home to read my book with a cup of tea. LITFS
What do you do when you feel like you're struggling through life up to your knees in mud? We've all been there, when our older children are in a situation where we are helpless to help them. Sometimes I think parenting adults (and we still try, regardless of how old our children are) is even more difficult than parenting little ones. The older our children get, the more helpless we are. With more life experience we can see that the light heading straight for our offspring is actually an on-coming train, but we have to bite our tongues and wait for the carnage. Everybody learns their own way, and there is nothing we can do to help except pick up the pieces, apply as much love as they will accept, and move on. It sucks.
