Yeah. Well, I don’t have much to report, actually.
Catdeathwatch 2008 is in full effect. Poor Ninja/Nacho has lost bladder control (on my bed, thank you, among other places) and hasn’t eaten or drank in, well, awhile. He can barely walk and can’t go up or down steps any more. This morning’s vet visit may well be his last, because his pitiful face is too heartbreaking.
Thanks to all who posted suggestions about my coffee problem. This Whole Foods coffee I’m drinking presently is a temporary solution, and I’m reviewing your suggestions carefully. You can’t overlook the importance that these types of vices play in our lives.
So, you know, the transformation stuff. It’s been an intense week, rather. Things feel actually quite wonderful just now, and I’m hesitant to step off the conveyor belt again into transformationland. I’d like to enjoy this feeling of balance for a bit. The whole process, this deep inner soul-searching stuff, is as they say like peeling layers off an onion. Yeah, except I want to go right to the heart of it, baby! Either that or avoid the process entirely, can I do that?
Things I learned this week (that I already knew but had somehow forgotten):
1. I always have a choice. Woo hoo!
2. Um, refer to #1.
3. What I see about myself isn’t necessarily the way other people see me.
4. I always have the answers. Even when I can’t seem to find them.
There! Wasn’t that fun?
I will leave you with a story:
When I was 3 we lived in a 2-story house in a smallish town in the East Bay Area. We had moved there from southern CA, not that I remember much of that place. The new house had STAIRS! and a playroom where we kept our record player, my brother and I, that played a Smothers Brothers rendition of “Yesterday”. True! I never heard the music of The Beatles AT ALL until late in high school. Where was I?
Anyway. The new house had STAIRS (did I mention it had stairs?). And we’d relax after a hard day of whatever-it-was we did by watching Batman on TV, the campy version with POW! and ZING!, while dinner magically cooked itself in the kitchen or wherever, licking peanut butter off a spoon.
And on good days I’d get someone to fasten Blankie around my shoulders with a big fat safety pin and I could be Robin, flying around the house and hiding from Batman or some Bad Guys under my crib. Why didn’t I have a bed? I was like three!
And once our cat Lucky, who wasn’t very, got sick or had an accident or something, and he came home from the vet and I SWEAR TO YOU this cat had polka dots. Most of his normally black fur was gone, and instead he was white skin and red blood. Polka dots. I remember this CLEARLY, so I know it happened. No one else remembers this.
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