Q: Where does a 25 lb cat sit?
A: Wherever the fuck he wants.
It’s That Time of Year
Gonna get my jam on this weekend:
Also, stopped by for a group photo with the gang:
Wet noses all the way around.
Every Time You Go Away
I was back in NYC the first week of May because it was time to say a formal goodbye. My mother passed away on April 25th, probably around 5 am PST. I seem to only get to return to the city after some major change and, in a small personal way, this was as big as returning after 9/11. Just like that time, things are now permanently different than my memories.
We all start from somewhere and someone. For me that’s NYC and my mother. Granted, there was a brief stop in Jamaica but let’s go with what we can remember, shall we? Leaving NYC was a grand adventure for me, but I had no idea that it was going to be this long or that each time I returned, time kept changing the city and the woman. As discomfiting as change is, it also reveals. We grow more into ourselves as we age and some of the aura of infallible authority parents have drops as they age. NYC, with all it’s grimy magic, became more vulnerable in my eyes after 9/11 and much the same, when I returned in 2012, I realized my parents had somehow grown old too.
The NYC that is gone has revealed a NYC that is more crowded, even more split between the haves & have-nots but still teeming with energy and a diverse population that makes me proud and soothes. My mother that is gone revealed that she had a nickname to her friends and my stepfather; she was an active, busy beaver of a street minister and she even had plans of traveling next year to minister in South America. She had a large group of friends who are reeling from her loss, sisters that loved her and that she looked out for, mothering all of them in her own way. She adopted women as bonus daughters and my brothers’ friends knew her as a second mother as well. Which infuses me with pride and joy. The personhood we leave behind reveals our lives because death drops every barrier. It’s a good end when people mourn you.
My mother left me once as a toddler, to come to America and build a future for us both after she became a widower. She found my stepfather, bore 2 sons, had a long secretarial career and a retirement where she got to serve her faith. This time she’s left me in a different way. We get to see each other either again either as the flashing memories of my dying spark or when the spark of my spirit joins the fire that animates life. I don’t know which one it is. That’s the last mystery to uncover.
The loss of a parent brings a finality to your childhood that even growing your first set of greys doesn’t. Parents are permanent, right? Not so fast, says time. It’s not just the transition from care receiver to caregiver. It’s not explaining their cellphones and time zone differentials to them. You’re still their kid, even with your fancy expertise. Saying that last goodbye, though. That’s it. That’s when you aren’t a child any more. You are now changed into an actual adult. Not because of power, experience or your own money. Just that sense of loss of where you came from. That home is now just a memory because that parental presence is gone. Adulthood is where you have to be your own reassuring presence. I worry about my stepfather, who misses his best friend and partner of 50 years. I worry about my brothers who’ve never lived without their mom. Luckily, all the relationships my mother had have bound together to carry them. Church family reach out to them and pray with them, our blood & found family visit, our tenant drops off homecooked food. On top of that we also have each other. Like NYC, though, we are all changed. Hopefully, we will all live as mom lived, faithful, enjoying her Marvel movies and happily working to make the world a better world. After all, it’s not so bad to go if you leave them wanting more.
Open thread & obligatory cat pic.
Another Sad Milestone- I Was Just Outrun By an Actual Turtle
Breonna’s parents are out of town so she is staying at my place for a couple days, so we went for a drive and just drove until we found some place she wanted to eat. She chose Olive Garden:
The food was bad, but she had fun, so that is all that matters. Took the back way home (and I realize full well that the “normal way” is what most of you would consider back roads), and as we were approaching a bridge we saw something on it. Slowed down, and it was a turtle in the middle of the bridge.
That is no place for a turtle, and not wanting it to get run over, I pulled the car over to the side, stopped, and got out to move it. There’s a lot of snapping turtles in these here parts, so I went up and looked at it, and it had an almost flat shell that was all od green with no coloring, and a big nub on the end of it’s nose, so I didn’t know what it was but knew it was not a snapping turtle. Regardless, I know who I am and have 50 years of experience injuring myself in the most peculiar manner possible, and figured “bled out from a bite from a snapping turtle” was right on brand.
So I went back to the car, found some gloves, then remembered that I had a big pair of silicon oven mitts from the time I took a lasagne to the chambers house when Bob died, and forgot to bring them back in. So I put them on, went up to the turtle walking as quietly as possible so as not to spook it, leaned over to pick it up, and as soon as I so much as brushed it the fucker took off like a rocket.
It ran on the yellow line all the way to the end of the bridge and stopped, which was good, because at least he got winded before I did. I then picked up the turtle, walked him into the woods, set him down, and walked back to the car where Breanna was hysterical. “That was a fast turtle,” she said, and we giggled the rest of the way home.
FWIW, the turtle was an Eastern Spiny Softshell- I looked it up when I got back home:
Also, as a quick FYI, there is an appropriate way to pick up turtles so as not to harm them, which for some reason I knew already (because of course I did my head is filled with worthless shit like this but ask me to remember what I went to the kitchen for 20 seconds after I go and I will draw a blank), but should you ever find yourself in this situation, remember to do it this way.
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Special Announcement- We’re Having Grandbirds At House Cole
Several weeks ago, the nest that stayed all winter was torn down and then… it was not rebuilt. I threw up a bunch of ferns to make the porch more inviting, moved another feeder out front, and… nothing. I began to worry- where are my birds? Were the ferns too small? Did the black snake under my porch (it’s a biggun) scare them off? WHERE ARE MY BIRDS?
I am pleased to report that when I went to Lowe’s today for more soil, I saw a bird fly out of the ferns. I went over, checked, and sure enough there are five tiny eggs in a petite little nest. So it looks like at least one more generation of birds.
I’m very excited. I was filing the birdfeeders and putting out suet this evening, and momma sat in the wire and sassed me until I left. So we have healthy eggs and an alert mom. And that is good. I’ll take some pictures in a couple days.
I was actually suffering in silence, really upset that my house was being shunned, so this came as such a relief.
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Mistakes Were Made and Advice Was Ignored
Pretty day today and things are in bloom, so I thought would take a picture of my beautiful trees in the front yard:
I just can’t wait until they are towering over the house. That one branch on the tree to the left that crosses the sidewalk is about 7 feet tall, and I am so excited that in about 5-10 years it will connect with the tree to the right and form a canopy.
Speaking of trees that have grown:
The apple tree to the left was bigger than the willow when I planted it, and I planted it two years before the willow. We’re a couple years away from my entire yard becoming a life support system for the willow tree, and I am ok with that. I imagine Pooh and Piglet sitting underneath enjoying the shade while Eeyore whines that the willow is too close to the house.
BTW, if you are wondering what filter I am using for these pictures, it is called “Smudge on the lens.”
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Open Thread
I’ve been mentally composing a piece on Police Reforms for quite some time now, and will get to it in a day or so, but I want you all to start thinking about it in the frame of “What needs to be done” and “what can we do” and not get all wrapped around the axle with bullshit like petty squabbles about how calling it defunding the police was stupid. I’m not worried about selling the policies, that can come later. I’ll talk more about this in a couple of days.
Watergirl and I had a conversation today about the website and the various things that need to be fixed, and she started in on me about the ads again, and I guess a number of you have had complaints. Please use the damned complaint forms so I can see them. Hell, my email is there, and I believe it or not have a pretty good response rate to your emails. Watergirl and I will be contacting the developer and the ad guy in the upcoming weks, so in a few days I will also be posting a complaints/issues thread (don’t clog this thread with your bitching, pls, save it for the appropriate thread).
I started watching Resurrection: Ertugrul the other day on Netflix, and I just love that streaming services have opened up my viewing world to so many overseas dramas. All the people are so beautiful, and the foreign languages sound so exotic and mystical, even when they say mudane things. It’s fun.
I have decided that one of my favorite snacks is to refrigerate bell peppers (red, green, yellow, orange), cut them into strips, lightly salt them, and eat them raw. They are just so good- sweet and salty with a nice crisp crunch, and so juicy. They just feel and taste so good. And they are guilt free.
Steve goes to the groomer on Friday. I am not doing it on my own again. Fuck that.
Look at this fat bastard:
His coat is such a mess and he battles me when trying to brush him.