Animal Kingdom

We have this cat, Two, who is 13+ years old. She came from a shelter in Portland, Oregon in 1999, when she pawed at me through the bars of her cage and convinced me to look past all the adorable kittens in the next room and take a chance on a seasoned adult with a past. Ever since that moment, she has maintained this scrappy, aggressive sort of sweetness about her that I've always liked.

For more than half our time together, she's been an indoor cat. I started noticing in recent years that she was slowing down a bit, becoming less playful, and watching the birds and squirrels out the back window with only very passive interest -- as though she were only doing so because there was nothing good on HGTV.

So I was pleased to see her enjoying some time outdoors when we moved into a house with a yard last fall. I indulged her desire to move in and out of the house every fifteen minutes through the winter months. It's been fun to watch her stalking little critters in the backyard and proving that she still has her hunter's instincts. And when she started bringing us dead mice a few weeks ago, well... I had mixed feelings.

I'm certainly happy to see the old girl's still got it. I hope my reflexes and acuity are anywhere close to that when I'm the human equivalent of 13 cat years old. And considering the pest problems that have plagued us in this house, having a mouser on patrol in the backyard can only help things. The tradeoff, of course, is that at least twice a week one of us has to shovel our dead little 'gift' off the back patio and into the woods. Yuck.

A couple of days ago I was sitting at the computer with MLM, when we heard the most horrifying squealing noise coming from the backyard. At first I thought it was some birds fighting, but when I looked up I saw something through the window that's been nightmare fuel ever since. Two was in the middle of the yard, gleeful, as a screaming baby bunny tried desperately to free itself from her jaws.

Now I'm sure some of my animal rights friends will point out that there's no difference between the life of a gross little wood rat and that of a sweet bunny rabbit. Death is death, no matter how cute the victim. And I would say, you obviously haven't heard a baby bunny scream. It was awful.

So I grabbed MLM and rushed out the back door, commanding my very confused cat to let go of the poor thing as it struggled for freedom. She looked at me like 'Are you kidding me?' But after a moment, she relented, at least long enough for the bunny to escape to the nearest bushes. Two glared at me for ruining what was obviously the day's crowning achievement, then returned to the patio to sun herself resentfully. I don't know what happened to the injured little bunny.

It was all a little too Discovery Channel for my tastes. In fact, it was kind of like watching the Discovery Channel only to realize that the lion who is gnawing on the zebra carcass is actually someone you see and interact with daily, like Fred from the accounting department. If, that is, Fred also enjoys curling up in your lap and licking your chin on a regular basis. No matter how domesticated my sweet little cat is inside the house, her animal instincts are right there, just under the surface, ready to move in for the kill.

Fortunately, the bunny screams stopped ringing in my ears after a day or so. But MLM is still pointing out to the yard periodically and saying "I see rabbit. Let go, cat!" Hubby finds this terribly amusing. As for me, I think I need until the end of the week. In the meantime, Two is permanently banned from all forms of chin-licking.

Blog theThirtieth

So it's Day 43 of my 30-Day Challenge. So much for the best of intentions; and I guess Morgan Spurlock's job is safe for now...

But here we are nonetheless, at Blog #30. When I started this little assignment for myself, the High Holidays were just drawing to a close and I was still sort of half thinking about packing some stuff for the move that I almost refused to believe was real until it actually happened.

Now we've been in the new house for nearly four weeks, and while there are still plenty of boxes piled up in the dining room and office, it is slowly starting to feel like home. We've found our new favorite pizza place, fixed a few leaks, and are beginning to check more things off the list each week than we add to it (barely, but still).

I've also realized lately that making plans to leave the house, see friends, and have evenings out are not things that can wait until everything is perfect in the house. First of all, things will never be perfect; and secondly, even when things are a bit chaotic, life has to go on. I do feel a little smattering of guilt when we venture out to do something fun, knowing that there are countless projects piled up waiting for me here. But then I think -- who cares? My home is not going to be featured in Better Homes & Gardens anytime soon, so why worry about it? [PS - if you come to visit anytime soon, you may be asked to unpack a box while you're here. You may also have to bring your own chair.]

I do think that attempting to blog on a daily basis has been really good for me discipline-wise, and reminded me that it really does pay off to exercise the writing muscle even when I don't feel like it, or I'm not sure I have anything to say. It's also been great to hear so many comments (on- and off-line) about the things I've written, and to receive so much encouragement.

I plan to keep blogging frequently, and maybe also to focus some of that energy toward other types of writing as well. I'd still love suggestions and feedback from those of you who enjoy the blog; so keep that coming. A couple of you have made suggestions already that are in the hopper, waiting for me to wrap my slow brain around them and come up with some sort of Mandafied take on them.

Reading is another big thing on my to-do list moving forward. I firmly believe that you have to be a good reader to be a good writer, but I don't always take the time to do it. I've had some great recommendations recently for both books and blogs, but I'd love any additional thoughts you guys have. Inspiration is never a bad thing....

Anyway, big thanks to everyone who's followed along with my little experiment; and I'd love to hear how your life experiments are going, too!

Love, Hate & Nachos; Thinking About Forever

What I Hated About Today:

• The dead rat in the crawlspace. Discovered with my nose. YUCK!
• Gratuitous landlord drama. (Seriously? It's been 9 days!)
• My fifth aborted attempt at a nap this week. 
• Having to miss out on (a) dinner and (b) time with a dear friend, because MLM was exhausted and overstimulated and needed a quiet night at home. Sometimes it's hard to make the right call as a parent...
• Huge knot on MLM's head after a toppling chair incident. 

What I Loved About Today:

• Walking to our new pizza place from our new house with my best friend and the kids.
• Checking out the very cool library on our way home.
• Finding out that our pest control company DOES operate on Saturdays (see first point above)
• Playing with my awesome new phone after a week sans cell. 
• A rare but welcome phone call from my brother.
• Georgia, 41; Tennessee 14. FINALLY!
• Having a husband who I love enough to miss terribly even after 36 hours.
• Today.
• Dinner: Nacho cheese in the jar, tortilla chips, and The Lost Boys on VH1. Somewhere there are college fraternities eating better than I am right now. Yummmm.....

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Most of our clothes are still in boxes, along with our nicer dishes and wine glasses, and lots of other stuff we don't use on a daily basis -- or at least can get by without. But last night I unpacked some of my most prized possessions: our books. I don't get to read these days as much or as often as I would like; or rather, I tend to fill my time with other things instead. But something about pulling those familiar bindings and arranging them on the shelves goes a long way toward making the new house feel like home.

Home. I'm starting to be able to wrap my brain around the idea... The unfamiliar feel of this old house is being replaced slowly but steadily by a sense of belonging. It might be a while longer before I think immediately of this place when I hear myself say, "Let's go home." There's still lots to explore and plenty of ways we are planning to make this place our own. Also, I don't yet know my way blindfolded around the Publix, which in my mind is a big piece of feeling at home somewhere.

Since we've bought the house I've had several people ask if this is our "forever house." At first I wasn't sure what they meant: one person explained to me that her Forever House would have a large pasture and room for horses; while another mentioned that they are looking for their "Raising Teenagers House" but not necessarily "Forever House." Hmm... I obviously haven't put enough thought into this.

So maybe a Forever House is a cross between somewhere you're planning to stay a while and a fantasy home? Is it where you imagine retiring? Hosting weekend visits from the grand-kids? Something you build? It may sound strange to say so, having just signed the next 30 years of our lives away, but I honestly haven't planned that far ahead. We love our house, and we definitely envisioned ourselves being here a long time when we made the move; but I guess I've always embraced the unpredictability of life so much that I've never spent much time planning decades down the road.

Could I see us living here in 30 years? Absolutely. Could I see us living in a two-bedroom walkup in Madrid or Western Ireland? Sure. Minneapolis? Uh... possibly, if there were a compelling reason to endure the cold. I've written before about the number of times I've moved and my love of travel... When I fantasize about the future, I think about my son being healthy and happy and loving his life (and maybe other kids if we are so destined); I look forward to growing old with my sweet hubby; I envision putting lots and lots of pushpins on our travel map and weighing ourselves down with an excessive quantity of family photos.

But I don't really envision this future in any particular place. Maybe because home has been sort of a transient concept for me for so long; or maybe because I'm naturally resistant to being tied down. Who knows? One thing I'm sure of is that as long as I have family and friends and love in my life, I don't need a Forever House to know that I will always have a home.

Blog #18

Darling hubby is out of town this evening, and MLM is long tucked away in his bed; so tonight it's just me, the trusty laptop, Sixteen Candles and a plastic cup of wine. Aaaahhhhh....

If you haven't noticed, 30 Days of Blogs has really turned into more like "30 Blogs in 40 Days" or something similar. [Note to Self: Try, try, try not to take on ridiculously ambitious projects while moving.] Like many projects I start with the best of intentions, my expectations for myself were less than 100% realistic. I fully believed I'd be able to pull this one off, with a day off for Yom Kippur and one or two more around the actual moving day. And like most projects I start, I underestimated both the time and energy I would want/need to dedicate.

The last 10 days have been pretty brutal, stress-wise. Moving is already somewhere on the Top 10 list of the most stressful events a person can experience; and this week I also got to add a broken washing machine and a suddenly-dead cell phone to the list. Add a few other work, family and personal challenges; and mix that in with chasing a toddler around a bunch of boxes and breakable items.... well, you can see why I've come up a little short in the blogging department.

On the bright side, like most projects I start, the 30/30 blog challenge has been a great learning experience. Plus my attempt at reaching the ambitious goal has helped me to be more disciplined and write way more than I normally would've this month. Too often, I think I look at the goal I haven't reached rather than the progress I never would have made if it weren't for that very goal.

This idea reminds me of one of my favorite quotes:

Ideals are like stars: you will not succeed in touching them with your hands, but like the seafaring man on the ocean desert of waters, you choose them as your guides, and following them, you reach your destiny. (Carl Schurz)

I know most people had this on the wall of one high school class or another -- maybe next to the "teach a man to fish" poster -- but I've always liked it anyway.  It's a good reminder that there's nothing wrong with setting crazy-high goals for yourself, because in trying to reach those goals you can get where you're really supposed to go. The hard part is to keep challenging yourself to get closer and closer to the ideal, without beating yourself up when you fall a little (or a lot) short.

That's a fine balance. I struggle with it often; and I know many of my friends and clients do, too. When do you push yourself to go a little further, work a little harder; and when is it time to give yourself a break, shut down the computer (or whatever), put your feet up and just enjoy where you are? I wish I knew the answer or had some formula to suggest. But I don't -- sometimes I push myself entirely too hard and take on way too much; other times I realize that I have the capacity to achieve and give much more than I actually do.

For tonight, I think a good balance means bidding you farewell and enjoying the final scenes of a John Hughes classic. Maybe I'll get motivated to unpack a box. Or not..... Goodnight!

Name that Weird Feeling

It's been a long day, friends. I'm at work between clients just now; and this has been the most peaceful part of my day so far. Otherwise it's been lots of packing and hauling and being really, really angry at the Comcast people. It's amazing how much power over us some companies wield, like those who provide internet and phone service, such that with a simple error on their part they can completely ruin the better part of an important afternoon for us (their customers) and not so much as bother to apologize. Why should they? Where else am I going to go? Another company with equally bad customer service and fewer options?

Don't worry, I'm not going into details here. Saving that for the angry letter I will either decide not to write, or fume over for hours only to have it tossed in the recycle bin by someone's assistant. Maybe if I'm crazy enough when I write it, it'll get posted in the Comcast break room, where the employees will come to laugh at it and eat donuts while some other poor sucker is "holding for one moment."

While I work on my phantom letter to the Comcast executives, I am also trying to focus on all the excitement I should be feeling right now about the new house. Have you ever noticed that there are certain occasions in life where things go really well and you get exactly what you want, and yet you feel that somehow your level of thrilled-ness seems to fall short of what is expected at the moment? When everyone can't stop saying "Aren't you just so excited?" and you find yourself thinking, "Yes, but....."

"Yes, but actually, I'm worried about all the things that can go wrong," or, "Yes, but the excitement is being overshadowed by the enormity of the logistics/responsibility," or, "Did you know you have to go through LABOR to have a baby? It sounds really painful and it's scaring the crap out of me!"

This is one of those moments for me. I was totally psyched about the house when we made the offer, and once we had it under contract I floated around for a few days, pretty giddy. But I didn't want to get too overly excited until closing, aware that things can always go wrong and not wanting to set myself up for utter disappointment. And since closing actually occurred yesterday, I've been so darn distracted by everything that has to be done immediately that it's been hard to stop and celebrate.

We will, of course, celebrate upon move-in; and I know I'll be as happy as I have been expecting to be in our new home. But I always feel a little weird/guilty when people ask me how excited I am, or tell me how excited they are for me, and... well, it's hard to tap into that emotion at that moment. This was also true toward the end of pregnancy, when everyone around me was anticipating the joy and I was primarily preoccupied with worry. It's sort of a temporary dissociation from happiness. Has anyone else had this experience? If so, maybe we should come up with a name for it!