Requiem for A Featherweight

January 2, 2008September 9, 2009 / still a dreamer / 4 Comments

She was a tiny little thing, and I’d really grown so very fond of her. Sadly, Stripes is no more and I sure do miss her.

People always find me when they have a problem with an animal, and so it was a few nights ago that my neighbor across the street had knocked on my door. She said she’d just come home and saw a cat in the road hit by a car … it looked like my next door neighbor’s. I grabbed my coat and ran out to find Stripes lying there, bleeding, still warm, the life knocked out of her limp body.

Stripes did indeed belong to the folks next door, and had two young girls that loved her. Stripes and Pumpkin, half siblings, are/were primarily outdoor cats with shelter in their garage at night, all up to date with shots, neutered, etc. Her life with me was somewhat tangential, I guess you could say, but I loved her nonetheless. I saw her daily, fed her a “snack/meal” almost every day, and sat outside with her whenever I could.

With big green eyes and so very sweet and affectionate, Stripes was a little heartbreaker, and I say little – she couldn’t have been more than 5 pounds. I’d sit out on my porch to journal with my feet up on another chair so she could fall asleep on my legs. After eating, Pumpkin was off to whatever he had next on his schedule, but Stripes would have cuddled as long as the cuddles were coming. She patiently allowed me to remove the burrs from her fur acquired from her gallivanting all over the neighborhood, where she was a disturbingly good huntress. It’s no coincidence, I think, that there was a dead mouse about 2 feet from where her body lay in the road.

I miss those hopeful green eyes looking up at me through my back door screen … for a bite to eat or perhaps some snuggling … she loved any and all attention. Mine are my indoor cats; Stripes and Pumpkin had become my part-time, outdoor cats. It doesn’t matter that she wasn’t “mine.” She found a comfortable spot in my heart, and that’s where Stripes sleeps tonight.

Sweet dreams, little one.

CRASH!

December 29, 2007January 1, 2008 / still a dreamer / 2 Comments

That’s not the beginning of a children’s book – it was the final sound of my G4 giving up the ghost. I work on a Mac – the G4 was a beautiful, silvery machine with a mirrored CD drawer. The artist in me loved just the look; the professional artist in me loves the whole way a Macintosh works and all the ways it makes my work possible.

It had been locking up way too much; freezing while I jumped between programs … I should have called my Mac guy earlier, but it may have been too late, anyway. I’m told this version of the Mac tended to run hot, and I, for most of its life, had no A/C. Sadly, I may have inadvertently brought about it’s demise.

Now that a phenomenally stressful week sans-Mac of my life has passed, and I’m almost caught up with all I couldn’t do without it, I sit in front of a yet more beautiful machine – an iMac.

With great speed, an OS so quiet I can’t even hear it and a big, black glass monitor which shows me perfect detail, my heart is beginning to rest. I’ll somehow manage the unexpected expense, and am happily exploring what this new version brings me. Is it sick to love your computer? Or is it about the life it makes possible for me … it probably doesn’t matter. I’m writing again, scanning, designing and creating … with a big freakin’ smile on my face. And THAT’s what matters.

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Birthday Sunset

November 28, 2007November 28, 2007 / still a dreamer / 2 Comments

Sunset

Today as I began journaling I wrote the date and saw that it was November 28th — my Nana’s birthday. My Nana passed away in 1972 at the ripe old age of 96. She was born in London and came “across the pond” in her mid 20’s at the turn of the century. She was already a widow, and came to the United States by herself to start a new life. How brave she must have been to leave all she knew and come to a new country alone.

Nana was always a big reader, and I remember that she read to me plenty when I was young, always in the green chair in the corner of the living room. I sat on her lap and she read me stories or my books about dogs, horses, birds, or elves and fairies.

I haven’t thought of her in awhile – she’s been gone now 35 years. She was quiet and refined in her British way, with a rather wealthy upbringing as I was told. Her lovely accent rubbed off on me, but I was forced to abandon it as I was ridiculed in grammar school as `talking funny’ by other kids.

Nana couldn’t cook worth a lick. All I ever saw her cook was a pepper omelette or make a bologna sandwich. When my grandfather was alive and they were together, he did all the cooking. Thinking of her, remembering her, brought a smile to my face. I looked out the window and noticed how the trees are finally almost bare of leaves. From my office window I can see the Delaware again. I’m reading a great novel – Nana would have liked it, I think.

This evening I watched a gorgeous sunset and ran outside with my digital camera to capture it. I think she would have liked that, too. Happy Birthday, Nana.

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Trick or Treaters

November 5, 2007November 5, 2007 / still a dreamer

100 kids – that’s about how many we see on Halloween in 2 hours where I live. In the country, it’s impossible to trick or treat on 2-lane blacktops to farms, so kids get bussed-in to little towns like mine where it’s also friendly and safe.

After you’ve finished answering the door to the many little goblins, princesses and bears, who sticks in your mind? This year, a 12-ish year old boy wore a good skeleton costume with different size cereal boxes affixed all over to his outfit – he was a cereal killer. That was pretty funny.

But who stands out every year and makes me curious is the child who comes and takes a small wrapped chocolate bar from my basket, hesitates, then quickly, almost surreptitiously, whisks another one away into their treat bag with a rather guilty face. I’ve seen one of these kids every year no matter where I’ve lived. Do you see that child, too?

It always makes me curious … do they like this candy so much and don’t get it very often? Are they just not getting enough in their life in some way? They could ask – kids that do, I always let take a second – but this child can’t ask, and needs to take. For some reason it just saddens me a bit – the other kids are having a big time, and this little one – a shy little girl this year – just looked at me real quick, then away, and took more. I wish I could spot her – or him – beforehand. I’d ask if they’d like another … and then they could feel good about being asked AND feel it was Ok to have more.

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Maybe more OMMM than OWWW …

October 22, 2007October 22, 2007 / still a dreamer

It’s really all a matter of words. And mood. So as charter members of OWWW, might we take a deep breath and turn those w’s into m’s and try for OMMM. A dear friend of mine has suggested chanting to get me out of that oww mood, among other things. To help me be calmer and to tune into the greater consciousness. I’m all for it.
Admittedly, chanting seems a bit strange to me. I’ve always sung to myself and frequently hummed, but actually chanting is something very new. Even though there may be no one around, it’s so different from anything I’ve done, that I feel like I’m sticking out in a crowd.
Getting ourselves into a spiritual place is a much better thing than complaining about too much to do, although the latter is so easy. Clearing energy and just BEing – that is a challenge. It’s one I attempt to master every day, sometimes with great results, others less than stellar. But I admit, I do find the chanting somehow comforting.
The chant is one from Nchiren Buddhism … and has it’s own website … how to chant, how to pronounce the words and the meaning of the chant. Too long for a blog, but you can do a search easily enough. Here’s the chant: nam-myoho-renge-kyo. For when you want to choose the ommm instead of the owww.