Draft 2021

I am ashamed. Today I went to an informal gathering of lovely ladies who meet to knit, chat, share treats, and enjoy each other's company. I don't really know anyone well as I have only just started attending. Most of the talk is of children, grandchildren, vacations, and, of course, knitting. But today the discussion veered into sensitive territory. There is a controversy in Knoxville, a town not too far from here, over a veterans memorial that shows a kneeling soldier praying in front of a cross. Understandably, there have been complaints regarding the use of a religious symbol on public property. This was not the sentiment I heard expressed today. The consensus of these ladies was that it was ridiculous to complain, the cross is meaningful to people, why should it have to be removed because a few didn't like it? I remained silent. I could have brought up the need for separation of church and state; that the display of any religious symbol on government property is tantam

Gus without a swollen nose Today when I went to the dog park I got more than just exercise. I was hit with an adrenaline rush from which I'm only now - two hours later - crashing. At first everything seemed just fine. Bertie was running, barking, sniffing. Gus was socializing, more with the people than the other dogs. But when I rounded the next corner I noticed Gus across the park, heaving. I came up to him to find him vomiting. It was full of grass, so I thought it was no big deal. I cleaned it up as best I could and went on my way. But then I noticed him rubbing and rubbing his snout on the ground. I came back to him and took a closer look; was his nose a little swollen? Nah, he's just enjoying a really interesting scent. I went a little further, keeping an eye on him, and he didn't stop rubbing and rubbing his nose on the ground. Concerned, I quickly walked over to him and saw that his whole muzzle was indeed swollen. I gathered both dogs and we quickly got to the car.

Gingerbread with spiced vanilla icing Today was nearly perfect. A cool breeze, high of 70 degrees, low humidity, and generally overcast. It made me think of my daughter, Melissa; all that was missing for her perfect weather was rain! I turned off the air conditioning, threw open the windows, and put on a sweatshirt. It even got a little chilly in the house. A few bushes in my yard are even stepping into their fall finery, lending a bright burst of red among the hostas. Even though it's still summer, I can't wait for fall. My September mood hinted at the promise of pumpkins, spiced cider, and gingerbread. By afternoon I had logged enough steps to satisfy my step-counter. I had made the crust for zucchini crusted pizza for dinner tonight and read a good deal of a novel. Bassets had been let in, and out, and in, and out too many times to count. Cats were attended to; laps, petting, admiring. And I was pooped. But I couldn't stop thinking about gingerbread. I looked online for

A selection of items Floyd brought to Melissa over two weeks this summer. Two of my cats are mighty hunters. Despite being totally indoor animals they've actually managed to catch two mice, countless spiders, some flies, and (horror) house centipedes. But their crowning achievement as hunters extraordinaire? Making sure we have enough catnip toys to survive. Floyd, also known as Floydicus Rex, Mr. Fluffernutter, and Captain Crusty (don't ask), bravely hunts, captures and kills a variety of catnip toys, dog toys, and the occasional pair of socks, multiple times throughout the day. He doesn't just bring them to us or leave them quietly at our feet. No, Floyd wants the appropriate level of appreciation for his prowess. He routinely catches a toy upstairs, then cries and cries, until we come to him and sing his praises. At night he'll often drag large dog toys up the stairs, crying his triumph all the way. He is not content without accolades befitting his stature, though at

I can feel the emotion roiling just below the surface. With each passing day, the clock seems to tick a little bit faster. Soon, sooner than either of us would like, and yet at just the perfect time, my youngest child, my baby, will be heading off to college. Today I teared up in the book aisle of Target. Actually, it started when I saw the children’s videos, then moved on into the preschool books, then early readers. It was like an emotional walk down memory lane. How could 18 years have passed so quickly? I remember her birth like it was yesterday (except for the pain - that always fades a la continuation of the species). My beautiful baby girl who needed to be held all the time. I remember a particular photo I took of me holding her and looking at ourselves in the mirror. I thought, at the time, remember this moment . And I did. And I always will. How to condense a mother’s love for her child into words? It’s nearly impossible. I have spent more one-on-one time with Melissa than wit

If a cat is beautiful  but there are no admirers to acknowledge it   Is he still radiant? Did you really need to ask?