It's been a while since I was here. I've been...
... I've been looking for a job. It's hard when you realize that your dream doesn't provide a viable income yet and your husband deserves to have a contributing partner where money is concerned.
Can you hear the tinkling of broken dream-drops falling around me? I'm not giving up. I'm just not as optimistic as I was a few months ago. I have always written because I need to write. I have always loved the sound of words well crafted. I still need to see if my words will ever fly.
So, thank you, all eight of you who read this.
I'm not giving up. I'm just not going to be able to focus solely on this thing that made me so incredibly happy. I'll still stop by when I can, because, well, of course I will.
The good news is what has been happening with Blitz.
Lately, he's a little shadow, sitting near my chair in case I need to lean down to pet him, bringing his favorite green string into the kitchen so I might stop to fling it around while the orange sauce thickens. It's been so long since we went out to eat that I learned how to make orange chicken. It's not bad. And since I'm standing around in the kitchen waiting for the rice to cook and the sauce to thicken, I might as well make myself useful and play snake and twirl and leap with the string. That's what Blitz thinks anyway. You should hear him nag me to pick up the string. That boy NEEDS to play.
Blitz really hasn't learned the fine art of getting out of the way when my bumble-feet threaten to smash his poor crunchy tail. When I rinse snow peas and carrots at the kitchen sink, he sits behind my heels. When I turn chicken in hot olive oil on the stove, he sits on my toes. When I pull cooked chicken breasts one by one onto a cutting board to cube, he stretches up the side of the cabinet and actually looks like a long lean cat for a moment. He cries. He begs. It's Mike's fault. When Mike makes his lunch, he drops a bit of meat onto the floor because it was the only way Blitz would come to him when he called. Now the little cat is the big cat and when Mike gets up in the morning, Blitz is the first one to run to him and ask to be picked up. Blitz is getting a little thick around the middle from all the snacks.
He actually looks like the 'dough rising' cat, sort of fluffy and spread out when he lies down. Only he's not the color of rising dough. He's the color of a brown mushroom. Well, if mushrooms could be striped.
So the only problem I see that Blitz still has is that he's still cautious of Nick.
I have to tell you that Nick has tried so incredibly hard to get Blitz to relax around him. Maybe that's the problem. Nick will come into the room on tiptoe, staring at Blitz in the hopes that he won't run away.
"You're stalking him, you predator," I said one night.
"I'm not stalking him," Nick protested. "I'm approaching him gently."
Gently. Right.
I grant you that. When Nick usually moves through the house, it's like each footfall weighs three times what it should. He's not quiet. He's not light-footed. Blitz used to react to his heavy footfalls, but I'm not sure he does any more. It's funny what you do and don't notice, isn't it? I think Blitz has gotten used to Nick's normal gait.
But now, whenever Nick tries to be light-footed, Blitz goes into escape mode. The boy is trying to pet me again. I'd better skedaddle.
He's a lot more relaxed than he used to be. Sometimes it looks like Blitz is playing a game instead of escaping marauding beasts. Still, Nick's cautious approach makes him nervous.
I would guess that if Nick walked around the house completely ignoring Blitz the way Mike used to do, Blitz would eventually approach him. But Nick hasn't done that yet. He so acutely wants to connect with this cat. You should see the look on Nick's face when he manages and Blitz lets him pet him. It's a bit of a heart-break.
And that is the problem, I think.
Blitz is a cat, after all, and has to set terms for himself. Nick is trying too damned hard for the whole thing to be cool. I wish I could tell Blitz that it's okay not to be cool.
Thank you for listening, jb
... I've been looking for a job. It's hard when you realize that your dream doesn't provide a viable income yet and your husband deserves to have a contributing partner where money is concerned.
Can you hear the tinkling of broken dream-drops falling around me? I'm not giving up. I'm just not as optimistic as I was a few months ago. I have always written because I need to write. I have always loved the sound of words well crafted. I still need to see if my words will ever fly.
So, thank you, all eight of you who read this.
I'm not giving up. I'm just not going to be able to focus solely on this thing that made me so incredibly happy. I'll still stop by when I can, because, well, of course I will.
The good news is what has been happening with Blitz.
Lately, he's a little shadow, sitting near my chair in case I need to lean down to pet him, bringing his favorite green string into the kitchen so I might stop to fling it around while the orange sauce thickens. It's been so long since we went out to eat that I learned how to make orange chicken. It's not bad. And since I'm standing around in the kitchen waiting for the rice to cook and the sauce to thicken, I might as well make myself useful and play snake and twirl and leap with the string. That's what Blitz thinks anyway. You should hear him nag me to pick up the string. That boy NEEDS to play.
Blitz really hasn't learned the fine art of getting out of the way when my bumble-feet threaten to smash his poor crunchy tail. When I rinse snow peas and carrots at the kitchen sink, he sits behind my heels. When I turn chicken in hot olive oil on the stove, he sits on my toes. When I pull cooked chicken breasts one by one onto a cutting board to cube, he stretches up the side of the cabinet and actually looks like a long lean cat for a moment. He cries. He begs. It's Mike's fault. When Mike makes his lunch, he drops a bit of meat onto the floor because it was the only way Blitz would come to him when he called. Now the little cat is the big cat and when Mike gets up in the morning, Blitz is the first one to run to him and ask to be picked up. Blitz is getting a little thick around the middle from all the snacks.
He actually looks like the 'dough rising' cat, sort of fluffy and spread out when he lies down. Only he's not the color of rising dough. He's the color of a brown mushroom. Well, if mushrooms could be striped.
So the only problem I see that Blitz still has is that he's still cautious of Nick.
I have to tell you that Nick has tried so incredibly hard to get Blitz to relax around him. Maybe that's the problem. Nick will come into the room on tiptoe, staring at Blitz in the hopes that he won't run away.
"You're stalking him, you predator," I said one night.
"I'm not stalking him," Nick protested. "I'm approaching him gently."
Gently. Right.
I grant you that. When Nick usually moves through the house, it's like each footfall weighs three times what it should. He's not quiet. He's not light-footed. Blitz used to react to his heavy footfalls, but I'm not sure he does any more. It's funny what you do and don't notice, isn't it? I think Blitz has gotten used to Nick's normal gait.
But now, whenever Nick tries to be light-footed, Blitz goes into escape mode. The boy is trying to pet me again. I'd better skedaddle.
He's a lot more relaxed than he used to be. Sometimes it looks like Blitz is playing a game instead of escaping marauding beasts. Still, Nick's cautious approach makes him nervous.
I would guess that if Nick walked around the house completely ignoring Blitz the way Mike used to do, Blitz would eventually approach him. But Nick hasn't done that yet. He so acutely wants to connect with this cat. You should see the look on Nick's face when he manages and Blitz lets him pet him. It's a bit of a heart-break.
And that is the problem, I think.
Blitz is a cat, after all, and has to set terms for himself. Nick is trying too damned hard for the whole thing to be cool. I wish I could tell Blitz that it's okay not to be cool.
Thank you for listening, jb
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