I’ve always thought the enemies-to-lovers romance was a kind of bias-to-understanding story, close-mindedness to open, if you will. Which brings me to my bedroom.

A couple of months ago, I adopted a stray cat with only three paws but a lot of attitude (pretty sure she’s a Maine Coon). She was scrawny and wary and she had no idea what a litter box was for, but she needed a home and I had one for her, if I could just convince her to stay (and that the litter box wasn’t her bed).

After trapping her inside (she wasn’t amused) I won her over with expensive cat food and fresh water and a heated cat bed and she had the back bedroom all to herself so life was good. Then Krissie came to visit and the dogs and I had to get out of her bedroom and back into the summer bedroom with Emily. There were a few tense moments, but that’s all behind us now, probably because the dogs are very mellow (well, Mona is mellow) and Emily after months of good eating is now bigger than Mona and roughly the size of Veronica. And now when I sit in bed and look out at the tree tops of my back yard I have three roughly fifteen-pound pets snoring in harmony.

That makes me happy.

What made you happy this week?

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It’s snowing again. It snowed again yesterday, too. It’s going to snow this weekend. It’s going to snow a lot more at the beginning of next week. I have ordered Cadbury chocolate from England (because England has not screwed up Cadbury the way the US has because, as SNL pointed out, the only thing that still works fine in America is Tom Brady) and Tate’s walnut chocolate chip cookies from Amazon even though they’re a dollar cheaper in my local grocery, which I would have to dig out my car and drive through the snow to get so, hey, an extra buck is fine with me (sorry about that Amazon driver, but since you just leave the boxes on the hood of my car, never mind, I’m not sorry AT ALL), and a heated pad for Emily to sleep on since she will NOT leave the sun porch although she does deign to accept head scratches now along with pricey cat food and a full water dish, and also from Amazon both thick and thin Chop Suey noodles, not for Emily but for me because it’s comfort food time . . .

Where was I?

It’s snowing again. I have a draft post on New Thoughts on Writing Sex Scenes which I might get up tonight but probably not because I will have spent the afternoon shoveling white stuff which is still coming down, albeit not as enthusiastically. In fact, you could call this latest snowfall “lackluster snow.” It’s going to keep going, but it’s not going to be sprightly about it. It’s snow shrugging its shoulders as it falls. Whatever, it’s thinking. Who cares? Even snow is tired of snowing.

I don’t mean to complain (yes, I do, I do mean to complain) but I’ve had enough winter. It’s beautiful and peaceful and I’m sure there are other positive aspects to it, but whatever they are, they’re buried under the latest eight-to-ten inches (man, there are a lot of Game of Thrones “Eight inches of Snow is a good thing” memes), so, nope, not seeing the upside.

Feel free to talk about whatever you want in the comments since this isn’t a real post. Actually, you can always feel free to talk about whatever you want in the comments on any post because we’re not Topic Nazis here. That’s the royal We; it’s just me, really, covered in snow, on the lookout for any personal attack comments which have happened twice in the past sixteen years here, so it’s not like I have to be alert, which is good because I’m covered in snow . . .

It’s still snowing.

I think we got more than twenty inches.

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So here we are in the last three days of the year that was so bad it killed 300,000 (and still counting) people in America alone. I’m not sure what I’m expecting to happen three days from now aside from a huge psychological sigh of relief. It’s January 20 I’m really aiming for, when the Secret Service dumps Donald Trump outside the gates of the White House and let’s the real world have at him. Fake news, my ass, here comes the Southern District of New York, Donald, and they have some questions.

So what have I learned this year? Continue reading →

Milton died yesterday after a short but terrible illness.

Milton was joy made flesh, an inspiration for me every day. A master escape artist, he was known to the neighborhood as Houdini, digging through the fence frequently to spread happiness wherever he went. He escaped one day and I found him licking my next door neighbor’s face and making him laugh while he was under his car trying to fix something. He escaped another time and I found him in the arms of another neighbor’s plumber, also getting his face washed, who said, “Aw, I knew he had to belong to somebody,” before he reluctantly gave him back to me. Visitors to my house would often leave with “Thank you for a wonderful time, and I’ll be taking Milton with me.” Life was Milton’s oyster to open and every day was an adventure. A scourge to cats, squirrels, chipmunks, birds, and bears, he was also a master burrower and cuddler who made me laugh every day.

He is survived by his sisters, Veronica and Mona, and his godmother, Krissie Ohlrogge, who was the worst of his attempted dognappers. And me, although I don’t know how I’m going to make it without him.

Milton Smith: The Best Dog Ever.

It’s Write A Business Plan Month, and since I’m in the business of living, I think I’m gonna go for a Business of Living Plan. This should not be mistaken for a list of New Year Resolutions because I’m against those. This is more of a “Things I Intend To Do To Make Living More Excellent in 2020.” They are not ways to improve myself. Screw that. They are Fabulous Living Plans. Entirely different thing. For example, I can have as many French fries as I want on this Fabulous Living Plan because it does not involve restricting my food intake in any way. I may have to do that as another part of my life, but it does not go on this list.

I’m still working on my list, but it’s definitely going to include: Continue reading →

Today is Hug A Sheep Day.

I’m a big fan of sheep because of yarn but also because they’re fuzzy and huggable and my rescue pup Mona looks like a little lamb. I hug Mona a lot. She was the runt of the litter and was born without kneecaps in her back legs which means she can’t jump, but she can run like the wind, or at least a very small rabbit, and she’s happiest dog I’ve ever owned and I adore her, so today for me it’s Hug A Mona Day.

Feel free to define “sheep” as most befits your life and hug something close to you.

I was curled up in bed reading with dogs snoozing next to me and was suddenly struck with the most immense feeling of contentment.  Not joy or glee or passion or excitement, just the sense that where I am right now is exactly where I’m supposed to be, that the whole “bloom where you are planted” bit is backwards and what I’ve been doing my whole life is planting myself in different places, making different connections, trying to find a place to bloom, and then suddenly, after decades of re-potting and transplanting, I’ve taken root here in the quiet middle of nowhere and now there are buds all over the damn place.

What I’m saying is, I’m happy.  No reason.  Just happy.  So I’m wallowing in my contentment.

How did you wallow this week?