Music and Cats

Three years ago, I didn’t know what a blog was. Sure, I knew that people kept personal web sites, but I had no idea that this blogging thing existed. That was before my husband Paul was diagnosed with his second cancer. Eleven days after his biopsy, at the suggestion of one of our techie friends, Paul started a blog. Three days later, I chimed in. We posted to that blog at least once every day for six months. The first full month of that blog, the month in which we interviewed surgeons and got a second opinion and Paul had surgery, I wrote 26 posts. That was the month in which I learned that I could write more than just the facts, ma’am, and that I could enjoy the process of writing. Those discoveries have stayed with me, and led to my starting this blog.

It’s just a few minutes before midnight. When I hit the Publish button at the bottom of this screen, I will have posted to this blog every day for thirty days. I’m not aware of having learned anything about either writing or blogging during this month, but who knows? An epiphany could strike after the fact. If it does, I’ll let you know.

NaBloPoMo is over. Hooray!

Last week, when my parents came to visit from Houston, they brought with them three plump, rose-tinged grapefruits. These grapefruits came from a tree in my sister’s back yard, a tree that she didn’t realize was a grapefruit tree until last year, when it produced a single fruit. This year, with some pruning and feeding, the tree is producing many more fruits. Our nephews are excited about growing food in their own yard; I’m tickled that they (or at least their mother) shared some of their home-grown grapefruit with me.

Tonight, as snow blanketed our hill, I cut the last of those grapefruit in half. The bright, tangy aroma was a burst of warmth and sunlight on a cold, dark night. I carefully cut the sections from their membranes; the juice welled up and dripped onto my hand. I licked my fingers, not wanting to lose a bit of the juice. Spooning the sections into my mouth, I savored the sweet-tart taste of sunshine, of Texas soil, and of family. I squeezed the hemisphere of peel to free the last of the juice, and tilting my head back, let the juice run from the shell into my mouth. A few drops escaped, running down my neck, sticky and warm as little boys’ kisses.

Many weeknights, I can tell that it’s 11 p.m. without checking a clock. I know the time because I hear Paul laughing. Monday through Thursday evenings, almost like, well, clockwork. No matter where I am in our house, Paul’s chuckling reaches me, and always makes me smile. The person responsible? Jon Stewart.

Today Jon Stewart is 44. Happy birthday, Mr. Stewart. Thank you for making my husband (and me) laugh.

These are ten little Moo MiniCards, cropped from ten of my favorite Flickr‘d photos. Have you seen Moo Cards? They’re a petite 28mm x 70mm - about 1″ x 2-3/4″ for those of us who still think in inches. And they have my name and this blog’s URL on the back. Cute, huh?

But what would one do with these little cards? Put ‘em in a cute little metal tin, carry them with you, and you have the modern equivalent of the Victorian calling card.

I’ll be receiving visitors Wednesday afternoons. Please leave your Moo card with the butler if I’m not at home.

Since this morning, I’ve had songs running through my head. When it snows, ain’t it thrilling Though your nose gets a chilling We’ll frolic and play the Eskimo way Walking in a winter wonderland This is so unlike me. Not the songs in the head; I usually have some sort of music playing in my brain. It’s just these particular songs. Oh the weather outside is frightful But the fire is so delightful And since we’ve no place to go Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow! I am not given to singing Christmasy songs - even the more secular ones - before the beginning of December. So what are these songs doing in my head?

Yup, it’s snowing. In Seattle. In November. The snow has been falling much of the day, interspersed with rain and sleet.

And this evening we do have someplace to go - out to dinner with my parents, at one of Seattle’s hot new restaurants. Fortunately, it’s nearby. And my Yankee husband learned to drive in this sort of weather. And this may be our only snow this year, so we’ll get out and enjoy it.

…In the lane snow is glistening A beautiful sight, we’re happy tonight Walking in a winter wonderland.