Meet Sophie

 

We waited a day for the right name. A little shy at first. Maybe still a little high from her spay surgery. She has quiet and solitude for the first time in her existence. 

Bringing her home rescued yet another room in our home that had been consumed by a hoard. She has everything a kitten in recovery needs. Like every baby, it's sleep, eat, drink, use the sandbox (!), play, then start all over.

I'm not sure if it will hold, but she's a cuddling lap kitty. A first in my experience.

Per shelter instructions, she needs to be quarantined from the others for two weeks. There have been noses and paws under the door. Reproachful looks in the hall.

I've been lavish with treats and love for them. They were okay, but distant, when Camilla came to us only three years ago, so I'm sure they'll adjust to another little life.

The challenge will be keeping her 100% indoor cat, while Bailey is free-roaming. Salem only goes out when I do.

Extra love for the anxious. 

And extra treats for those who love them.

After a long and strenuous day, curling up on the bed and watching The English Patient with a purring kitten was the perfect antidote. I haven't felt peace this deep in a long time. Love is a drug.

Ryder

Reno and Ryder (maybe)

Ryder, Rob, and Reno

My brother's son Ryder, passed away over the weekend after a long, difficult fight with cancer. He just turned 21 in the spring.

As if I ever had a picture of just one twin or the other!

When they were still in diapers and cruising, they had distinctly different personalities and, of course, their own private language. 

 Then, one day, I witnessed them pull that evil twin switcheroo, one pretending to be the other for a long minute, then both of them having a hearty cackle over the scam they pulled. 

I'm sad to say that due to family drama and distance, I never got to know them well, but I know my brother.

What I can't imagine is the kind of grief a parent feels on losing a child. Glioblastoma is particularly cruel, and I will say out loud that I'm glad his terrible suffering is over.  

 

I also believe in the never-ending energy of the spirit getting another chance to start life anew. 

 

New young energy

 

It's been an emotional week for the family. Charlie started middle school on Wednesday. A bus rider for the first time since kindergarten. He's taken to it like a duck to water. I'll still drive up and spend an overnight or two in the future, but am unsure whether "Nana picking you up at school" is cool. I'll leave it up to him. 

Since Camilla disappeared in May, our family has had a hole in its heart. She was a homebody who spent much of her days tucked in the corner by the window to the right of my stitching chair. We will never stop missing her sweet energy.

We signed up for an online missing pet community and weekly, I'd get an email asking if she had come home. I responded, and her photo and info was boosted to the top of a list. This email was followed by an email from a participating animal shelter with page upon page of pictures of animals waiting to be adopted.  I honestly HAD to stop looking because 95% of them were kittens. 

Thursday morning, Colin came into the studio and told me about a vivid dream he had about Camilla. The sadness gripped him. An hour or so later, I bit my lip and started scrolling through the Pawboost photos. 

  His dream set this in motion. Emails, calls, and we were on our way down to the shelter to meet the newest member of the family. 3 months old. Female. As yet, unnamed.  We will pick her up on Monday. 

Colin has always worn his heart right on his face. 

And these two definitely know something about their world is about to change. The big challenge is going to be keeping the youngster an indoor cat. There will be confinement to the dye deck.  There will be a one-way cat door for Bailey. Challenging. Not impossible. 

Camilla. 2021-forever in our hearts

Behind some scenes

 

Did the Nazca of Peru have good imaginations, or did they just like working big? Both? 

All of these critters will find their way into my work eventually.

I've always been drawn to the Ancients' way of seeing these things.

Mayan alphabet

And some heavy beads for spell work. 

I already have black feathers.

The word work had me looking for an old file last night, and I came across what will probably be the opening for what I've been calling the Monkeytown Murders. Two versions that need to come together, one line at a time. Then, some serious reconsideration of that title. 

It's an interesting time to be working on a story about how children, who traditionally have so little agency, take matters of justice and revenge into their own hands. With a little help from friends.

I was reminded that the Spirits always have a hand in my creative work.

Darkness on the land

Yesterday was hard. Saying goodbye for a measure of time while Charlie finds his feet, his people, in school.

On the way home, a Costco run. Those concrete floors are brutal. I take full advantage of the display furniture, and I wasn't alone. 

Loaded up the car for an uneventful drive home. Grateful that Colin was waiting to do the unloading and stowing because I was beat.

An hour later, I remembered that I had to get to the Vet to pick up cootie medicine. The cats were well past the 30-day mark from the last dose, so I didn't want to let it go until Monday. 

Friday afternoon traffic, 100 degrees+, and Jack Flash threw a check engine light and started to overheat just a little. Enough to make me test that old wives' tale, "turn off the AC". Yeah. It worked well enough to get us home without further incident. Of course, you know, I dropped AAA last week. 

A quick phone consultation with Jake indicates that a new thermostat is needed when he's here next week. I'm good. 

                                                                             ☆~○~☆

It doesn't take much to unsettle me these days. 

I put a black and white filter on the image search for the car, and stumbled across this. My maternal grandparents. 

Family lore is that Antonina was only 14. Such was their culture. 

I see my face in hers.

And it brings me back to thinking about how EPSTAIN must be the final blow to that creature in the White House. However you do it, no matter what bullshit he pulls to distract, don't let up.

 I have a bunch of great memes here. Spread them thickly and often.

I was hoping to return to the pool today, soothe body and soul, but overnight, the heat broke. It was so dark and broody all day that it was hard to look out the window.

This was the mood I slipped into. A dangerous one. If I were young, I might become a ninja witch. Let the bodies fall.

I wanted to work black spells. Simmer some death. Someone has to. 

Then, a friend let me know that one of my banners was tied inside the fence at ICE headquarters during the Atlanta Rage Against Regime protest.

I'll make more.

~O~

 

 And, Dee. You are so right about second stories. I think I'm letting the cards take over. 

Goodbye July

Summer sneaks away here in Georgia because they make the kids go back to school so damn early. It will stay hot and muggy with near-daily thunderstorms, but the buses will be back on the roads. 

We took a ride to find the middle school  he'll be attending. The best I could say about it was that it looks new. Massive, and there are tennis courts. 

I haven't done much stitching or writing this week. We've been spending a lot of time just talking. 

Charlie will turn eleven tomorrow. 

A distant sunset? Or a battle just over the horizon. It must not come to that. Must not.
 

Peace seems small

The water is about 85 degrees. Warm enough that when I go down the ladder, all my muscles and nerves find a way to relax. I wonder what would happen if I stirred in twenty pounds of Epsom salts? 

I have a new brush on a five-foot handle, which makes the daily sweep a piece of cake. A little wireless speaker, a bag of cherries, a pen, and paper. It's the best part of my day in the best part of summer.

I did a thing today. I bit the head off the snake! 

Did some taxes. Fuck you, Forosophobia. 

Somewhere, I saw a meme of Mike (turd) Johnson.

(Because Trump's balls won't lick themselves) You laughed! You know you did. 

I'm digging into the word whipping because books won't write themselves. Thank you, Dee, for reminding me to read like a reader. It's hard. 

Boil it down, but leave a little juice. See it from another angle.

A word about all these Known People shuffling off the mortal coil. They lived the lives they wanted. Creatives, celebrities, known to many...I'm unmoved. Cartoons everywhere of Jesus welcoming Ozzie and the Hulk home. They had their time. 

Each time I hear another name, I think about how the unsung thousands are suffering and dying before they ever had a chance to love life because of a few greedy, power-mad men who should suffer living death for their crimes. The wheel needs to fall on the right names and quickly.

And power to Colbert and the other nighttime wizards of whoopee! It's heartening to see them and SouthPark (which I have always despised) putting hot pokers to his rotting feet. 

 

Square one

 

One should not one-hand a short case of kidney beans from the shelf to your cart on the second day after a back crash. There was a warning twinge but I ignored it. 

By the time I got home, brought the perishables inside, and climbed the stairs, it was all I could do to sit in the desk chair and figure out how I was going to roll it to the sliding glass door. Salem wanted to inspect the high deck. It took a few minutes.

Is there a better word than breathtaking to describe pain? Breathtaking should remain a thing of wonder, but that's what it was. 

I stayed there close to the door because I didn't want to forget her. Even in shade, it was too hot out there. The sun was down behind the trees, and this little pile of crocheted critters was something to focus on between breaths. Each of these shots was accompanied by a splash of pain as I turned in the chair to catch the light. 

I contemplated re-wetting them with soda ash solution and painting dye directly to the pale places, the misses. It will happen. But not for a while. The blue cusspot with the golden belly is done. 

Her Highness came back to the door after a very few minutes, and the two of us made our way back onto the Slab of Rest, where she spent long minutes scraping salty grocery shopping sweat off my hands. 

I won't show you the ceiling I have to stare at. Besides cobwebs and old water stains, like most contemporary, cheaply built houses in the 70's, all the ceilings were finished with a mop of dicks dipped in plaster. I won't show you because you can't unsee it. 

There's too much of that on the internet lately. 

Smug faces thinking they have secrets as layers of rot peel away and drop off, and they start turning on one another, smarling and snapping. 

                                    We abide. 

Even though I have never been able to sit through the entire movie, that one phrase spoke to me. Abide.

I went online, applied, and somewhere, I have a certificate proclaiming me a Dudeist Priest. I should get a CLERGY placard for my car.

Who was that bastard Murphy?

 

And how did he get a law named after him? 

Less than a day after booking a flight for a short week at the beach, something in my back has crashed. If I were to list all the medical jargon, you would slip into a coma of boredom. I have. 

I saw stars and swore profound curses.

Normally, a hot shower fixes almost anything. This time, I was happy to stay on my feet and reach a chair. I took the last one of a bedtime-only medication and sat puzzling over my phone, trying to order refills for everything.  The cops will probably be waiting at the pharmacy.

Common knowledge suggests the cats have it right. Rest. 

I'm pissed that the nerve ablation has been a dismal failure this time. After all the time and expense, there's been little improvement. 

Could someone suggest to AI that we need a way to regrow functional spines?  Strong ones could be passed out to some CEOs, senators, and congresspeople.

I used to be tall. 

This is my summer uniform made from a light linen sheet. Really not much more than a pleated barrel with straps. I need to figure out sleeves for a cool-weather version. 

We the People

To keep my hand in color, cloth, and design, I'm working on a new flag. We are going to need one.

I knew these stars were headed somewhere else.