Hunting Feline, Happy Human

The recent cold snap means one thing around here- mice.  They've pretty much left my house alone this winter but it seems the last blast of cold may have stirred up a bit of mus musculus mischief.
Not that I've seen any mice per se, but I have seen an uptick of feline kitchen curiosity.

It's never surprising to see Alice, cat number 2,  staring into the unknown in the kitchen.  She has always spent time casting a gaze under the stove from her perch on the counter.  (Not much cat discipline going on around here.)  However, that kind of gazing is mostly for crickets.  Yes, Alice loves to feast on a nice Acheta domesticus.  They must be quite filling though because I often find little legs abandoned on the kitchen floor.

Edgar, cat number 1, prefers to wait for food to be served.  He doesn't waste time staring into the nothingness under the stove. So, when I stumbled in for the first cup of coffee the other morning I was surprised to see 4 very intent cat eyes peering under the refrigerator.  Both cats were in pounce position, they stood still like a heron waiting to pierce its dinner, leaving me quite sure that there's a mouse in the house.

It's nice to know these pets of mine have my back.  Sure, that's not the way they see it.  For them, it's an instinct- an instinct I'm happy exists.

Secret Writer

My sister-in-law recently had her first writing piece published in an online magazine.  The story itself, one about a childhood sexual assault, was not an easy read as far as subject matter goes.  The writing, the way she wove the story together all while choosing the most precise words possible, was fabulous.

And then at the end of the article was the little blurb that describes the author.  It begins with her name and ends with the phrase, "is a writer from Kingston, NY."

The idea of referring to myself as a writer is something I've never quite considered. Okay, that's a lie.  I've dreamt of being a writer for at least 40 of my 56 years, but I've never had the courage to define myself by that label.  Years ago, I shared my secret desire to be a writer with a close friend.  She didn't give it a second thought.  Instead, she replied, "Writer, huh?  Well, I guess you best get writing."

 I do write.  For the last 12 years, I've been meeting with my wonderful writing group 8-10 times a year.  Together we've composed and read a helluva lot of writing.  I'm not proud of everything I've brought to the group, but I'm proud when I think of all the writing I've done.


Seeing my sister-in-law's name in the same sentence as the word "writer" was exciting, and maybe it gave me a little courage to consider whispering that very term when describing myself.

Sssshhhh...

Lucky Me

Tonight my belly is full of pancakes.  Kathy, a good buddy of mine, and I have been eating pancakes together on Mardi Gras Tuesday for over ten years now.  We started out meeting up at a local diner-because sometimes you need an adult beverage with your Tuesday night pancakes, right? When that diner closed we found a variety of other places to enjoy pancakes, wine, and friendship. 

Recently, we've found it to be just as fun to hang out in the kitchen for a homemade pancake dinner.  Tonight Kathy and I hung out at her kitchen counter just like we have on many an occasion.  We toasted with a cocktail. We chatted while pancakes were flipped and while they were eaten.

After dinner, the King Cake came out and I was handed the knife to cut the first piece.  Whaddya know...there was the baby, ready to bring me luck and prosperity throughout the coming year.

Friendship, pancakes and a little bit of luck.  That's what I call a good Tuesday night.

Aunt Mary

I can't really look at the date March 4 without thinking of my great aunt, Mary Grace Bryan.  She was born in 1900 and died in 1984.  As a kid I always thought it was cool that she was born in 1900- it just made it that much easier to figure out how old she was each year.

This morning I stared at the date, March 4, 2019, and thought, Wow, Aunt Mary would be 119 years old.

And then, in the midst of the chaos of a 6th grade homeroom, I took a minute to think of her.  I thought about the warm Cream of Wheat she would make for us, the best tuna salad ever that came out of her kitchen and the Kool cigarettes she used to smoke.

Finally, I thought of the last words she ever spoke..."I love you."

I smiled and than returned my thoughts to the group of 15 students before me.

Mission Complete

It's been quite some time since I've been home for three days in a row.  I must say, it has been a fabulous long weekend filled with productivity.

Before I went to bed last night I created a list of five more things I hoped to accomplish before the end of the weekend.  I'm happy to report that laundry, shopping and grading are done.  I have filed all the papers that have been overtaking my dining room and kitchen.  

The weather outside is wet, but the temperature isn't cold enough to offer me any hope of missing time from school tomorrow.  So tonight, as darkness falls I'll feel grateful for the gift of extra time at home this weekend and take that feeling into a new work week.

Oh yea, the last item on my list was to write for my blog.  So I guess it's time to mark that off my now completed list.

It's a Sheet Show

There are two things that will awake my cats from a deep slumber.  First, and somewhat obviously, is the sound of myself in the kitchen.  It doesn't matter if they are hungry or not- if it's close to eating time or not.  If I'm in the kitchen they come padding in assuming I'm whipping up another can of flaked tuna, cheese, and chicken.

That makes sense to me.  What doesn't make sense is the speed with which both felines can appear out of thin air when I'm upstairs, far away from their cat perches, changing my sheets.

Saturday is the usual laundry day.  So Saturday afternoon or evening I am usually fluffing up some fresh, clean smelling sheets as I ready them for placement on my bed.  Without fail, I have two assistants getting in the way as I try my best to smooth out the fitted and flat sheet.  Suddenly, the place that we use for sleep is the best carnival attraction in town. 

It takes a few tries to get the fitted sheet in place.  Before all is done I have to carefully extract a gray ball of fur who is determined to kill the sheet monster.  The battle begins again as soon as the flat sheet settles into place.  By then there may be a black fur soldier ready to take on the big sheet monster.

Eventually, the comforter and pillows are put back in place.  I walk downstairs with two cats on my tail who will, no doubt, be ready for battle again next weekend.

Free To Do What I Want

In what has to be one of the biggest surprises of the year my school district closed today, leaving me with an entire day of freedom.  Freedom to do whatever I wanted.  I was free to get out of bed whenever I wanted, free to drink a second cup of coffee with my feet propped up in my lady lounge chair and free to move through the day at a more desirable pace.

There were lots of complaints from parents all around the county, but not one from this "in the weeds" teacher. 

Without a thought, I settled myself and my computer into the lounge chair with a cup of coffee by my side and got to work grading all that work that I couldn't seem to get to all week.  Every essay, every homework assignment finally had a grade.  I checked in to see if students had turned in missing assignments and made the necessary corrections in my grade book.  There was a quick break for some avocado toast and a second cup of coffee, but then I was right back to work.  By eleven o'clock I was, for the first time in quite a while, all caught up...and yet, there was still most of the day waiting for me to do whatever I wanted.