Uneven

Something was needed, and I make this work. Uneven eating, up too early, my knee twinges for no apparent reason - but is calmer since braced properly. That weather that really isn't that cold, but seems to seep deeper, stain the mood, linger mournfully.

Good to have a few people over, only one of whom ate an actual meal - leaving us with too much food. D's younger brother warms any room, and Moby sits by him - taking the best chair in the process. His wife fits nicely, and we warm to each other. She's allergic to cats, which is part of why Moby got a bath last week. She didn't seem to have a reaction to him, and he didn't approach her - as we expected. They didn't stay long, but we were glad to spend time with them away from the rest of the kin.

Yesterday I grumped a bit, feeling idle and vaguely disappointed. We laundered and dried, folded and stowed, but that intermittent task jerked at my attention. So, I walked - further than I planned, and met three cats. One of those divided-face, brown & tan cats watched me as I ambled past. A small black cat kept close company in the little new-agey gift shop where I found this for the tree.




Long ago, our friend Ida, gave us her three Indonesian cat sculptures because we were sufficiently whimsical, and she planned to become a nun. That didn't work out for her, as, ultimately nothing did. (Although I hope there is a kind of heaven for her, or a gentle reincarnation, or at least a peaceful oblivion, since she had the deck stacked against her from the start, despite a brilliant mind and a great soul.)

The painted wooden cats now live with K & Dave, since we couldn't take them all when we moved to Boston, and the last one that roamed with us wound up there as well a few years ago. They are loved, which is all that counts in the end.



Another large black cat stared at me through shrubs on my way home.


Today quieted down, my knee insists on rest (and a brace - which I got it) so I accept.

For some reason, thinking last night about Aunt Mary, my father's older brother's wife. A large, loud woman with a wonderful smile. I didn't know her well enough to be comfortable, they lived a bit far for regular visits. One time, though I stayed with them a couple of days. She kept me up to watch Beach Blanket Bingo - which my mother would have strongly disapproved of. And she took me shopping with her - when she bought a large glass vase that was exactly what you would imagine circa 1970 in a home with gold painted mirrored wall and a black velvet painting of a toreador.

And I got to browse the toy aisle. With my mother, this meant a clear understanding that I could carefully enjoy all the toys, but that they stayed at the store. Exceptions being right before Christmas & birthday, when I was allowed to express a preference. Not being a greedy child, this was strongly internalized. And I could freely ogle all the toys.

So, when Aunt Mary asked me if I wanted the Barrel of Monkeys I was inspecting, I was stumped, I demurred, I outright refused, I urged her only toward the tiny version.


Then, she bought me the biggest one there.



Lots of bright pink plastic monkeys to chain together. I really didn't know how to be gracious, so alien this event in my small life. Very afraid my mother would think I'd begged for them, and I'd be in trouble.

Gifts can be burdens and lessons, both wrapped together.

Time off comes similarly mixed.