joannebest











wills8
I’m trying.

I really am, but there seems to be a conspiracy surrounding me and everything I attempt to do.

Example: I’ve been working on a piece of writing, you know how it goes, you write, you save to draft, you edit, you delete and rewrite because suddenly every perfect word, every luscious phrase you previously wished you could come up with finally hits you all at once and you write like a fiend, fingers flying, things you didn’t even realize you were capable of reveal themselves on the page fast and furious and you’re happy, pleased with yourself, words spitting out so quickly you don’t take that tiny second to hit “save draft” because after all, you’re nearly done and won’t need to hit anything but “publish”.

And then the dog scratches on the door to come in so you turn away for a split second to open the door and bam! William the Siamese cat decides he wants to jump on your desk, sit on your computer and inadvertently/intentionally deletes every word you just wrote, goes on Facebook and pulls up things on your computer you didn’t even know existed.

Yes, I know there is the automatic save to draft but that does no good when you’ve just changed every word you wrote in the previous draft. Every. Single. Word.

Of course it doesn’t help that your mind blanks out and you can’t remember what you just wrote a few moments ago.

You try, or rather, I try desperately to rewrite using my last saved draft but it’s gone, like that first little puff of smoke when you relight a candle, your thoughts dissipate into the ether, never to return.

It’s discouraging to say the least, but I’ve been so out of touch with the world recently that to just give up is unacceptable.
I want it back, a poem living in my head for days, finally formed to my satisfaction, but it’s gone.

So what do I do?
I need to get back into the habit of writing every day, I can’t let another day go by without writing something post-worthy and I can’t pull those thoughts back into my brain, I can’t reach them anymore, they’ve moved onto another plane of existence, as everything that has meant the most to me in my life has done.
And I don’t mean only those who have left this life, but also my lifelines, the one(s) who have let me cry when I needed to and lifted me up when I was nearly underground.
I understand life goes on and things change in the blink of an eye, with or without our permission or knowledge until it’s too late.
I understand we all have our own baggage to carry around, hidden or out in the open.
I understand that empathy, which may be considered a good thing, can sometimes bring me to my knees as I’m overwhelmed on occasion with understanding, overwhelmed with thoughts of the burdens others live each day, overwhelmed with the fact that I care and worry more about others than I do myself.
Overwhelmed with being overwhelmed.

So I shall compromise.
Let it go because perhaps, for some unknown reason, it wasn’t meant to be.

Hence, a blog post.
Sure, it’s certainly nothing award winning, but it sure as hell feels good to write something again.
I’ve been lost you see, all summer long I’ve been without direction, without inspiration, my head full of nothing but how to take care of my Dad and his dwindling finances, as well as his fading health.
If I don’t write something down it flees my mind, and even when I do make my numerous lists, like Sisyphus, just when I seem to get to the top of the hill, everything I’ve done rolls right back down, taking me with it.
Yet still, I continue to try.

Soon a day will come when I reach the top of the hill and I will be able to look down and say something I haven’t said in far too long: Life Is Good.
Because contrary to the odds, I still believe that Life Is Good, and I have every intention of proving that to myself.
One way or another.

sisaphus1



This isn’t quite accurate as far as a Secret Santa Prompt, but in a way, it is, because William The Bloody Good Kitten was a secret gift from me to my husband.https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/secret-santa/
And I’m a rule-bender, so with no further ado, meet my secret pre-Santa gift.

wills1Now perhaps you can see why my life has been hijacked by cuteness.

wills2He loves to sit on my legs and I have the scratches to prove it.

wills4He does look good in blue….

wills5...and he knows it.

wills6He wanted to learn how to roll cigarettes.

wills7He’s obsessed with my computer.

wills8Which means anything I write that turns out bad is William’s fault.

wills10William wanted a quick shower but quickly realized the dishwasher wasn’t the answer.

wills11He decided to give me a bad review on Yelp after I showed him Siamese cat videos on Youtube.

wills15He’s very observant.

wills16And always ready to attack anyone who bothers me. He thinks only he can attack me.

wills17But when it comes down to it, William is pretty damn awesome!



{June 3, 2014}   Rest In Peace Mr Big

big16
“There are two means of refuge from the misery of life – music and cats.”
~
Without warning, one of our cats died yesterday.
It was a normal day, me trying to break my writers block in-between the usual housewifey chores, windows open with a slight breeze gifting me with an occasional kiss as I ran through my well-caffeinated day from room to room multitasking, hoping desperately to break my brick wall.
The three cats were all sprawled in various places throughout the house, catnapping their way through the heat in their usual stretched out positions, safe and secure in their home because lets face it, our pets own us, we don’t own them. They just like to watch us pretend we’re in charge, it amuses them, but we all know they own our hearts and rule the roost.
It was nearing 7pm and nobody was home from work yet, I was taking advantage of the empty house to stare at the empty page in front of me and Mr Big was sprawled out at my feet, nothing unusual about that. Mr Big liked being around people unlike our other two female felines.
He’d follow you, chirping and purring and loving on you, so grateful for his forever home.
Mr Big, a lynx point Siamese was left outside when his owners moved. Abandoned. Some people shouldn’t be allowed to have pets.
After he was rescued he fostered in 3 or 4 houses, they were always multi-cat households and the excuse was usually the other cats didn’t get along with him.
My sister-in-law works at an animal hospital, she’s a vet tech, and we all followed the Tale of The Abandoned Cat, knowing we already had 3 cats and 2 dogs and there was no way we were able to…..
Yeah, we ended up with Mr Big, as we called him. Nobody had even bothered to give the poor thing a name, nobody knew for sure how old he was, but one look at him and Mr Big he became.
He was like no cat I ever knew, but the weird thing was he looked exactly like the lynx point Siamese we inherited after a neighbor passed away, they were like twins.
Except Mr Big was a love machine from the start. You’d pick him up and he’s put his paws around you, one on each shoulder like he was hugging you. He’d randomly howl for absolutely no reason then turn it into a yawn and a stretch, his Siamese cat eyes crossing before beginning a staring contest he always won. Because he had people eyes, not cat eyes.
Like clockwork, you could hear him coming up the stairs at night then he’d jump on the bed, do his best Stevie Wonder impersonation (Mr Big had bad vision and hearing) then flop himself down right in the middle of me and my husband, laying his head on one shoulder and putting his paw on the other’s shoulder. You know, so nobody would feel left out.
He’d stare at my face intently, his human eyes locking onto mine and he’d reach up a paw, claws in, and touch my face soft. Sometimes he’d try to lick my face and I had to tell him no thank you I don’t make out with cats and just keep petting him till I sneezed.
Did I mention I’m allergic to cats?
He was so long when he stretched he nearly took up the width of a queen mattress from claw to tail. And he’d lay his head on the pillow and get under the blankets watching television with us and purring loud with an occasional chirp thrown in there.
Then he’d remember he was a cat and spring up because he had to be somewhere else.
For absolutely no reason. Just cat logic.
I was petting him, explaining how frustrated I was with my writers block as he lay at my feet, he just did that low purr he always did, to let me know he was on my side.
I got up to make yet another cup of tea and stepped over him instead of making him move because, awww, it’s Mr Big, Senor Grande, The Biggest Man In The Vorld (that’s not a misspell, he demanded we say vorld instead of world, don’t ask.), Big Moner!
I stepped gingerly over him again so as not to spill hot tea on him and reached down to pet him only this time he didn’t purr.
I called him but I know he’s a heavy sleeper and half deaf so I got down on the floor to shake him awake and got no reaction from him. His eyes were half open but he sometimes sleeps like that and I continued to shake him, I started shouting his name, running my hands over him to feel him breathing, feel his heart beating, I checked his mouth, his breath, anything I could think of because this wasn’t happening I wasn’t losing another loved one we couldn’t lose Mr Big no no no no no God please no!
He was warm! He was just purring a second ago! All I did was walk a few feet and pour a cup of tea! There was nothing wrong with him!
Then I saw a puddle, forcing me to acknowledge the truth.
Mr Big was dead.
Just like that.
That’s when I started sobbing.
big19
“What greater gift than the love of a cat?” – Charles Dickens
big12big11big13



{December 1, 2013}   RIP Dinka ~ Sunday Stills ~ Pets

dinka

I stumbled across a blog just now called Sunday Stills, http://sundaystills.wordpress.com/about/,it seemed like a strange kind of Fate, because just a few hours ago, we had to put one of out cats down (it doesn’t seem right to use the phrase “put her to sleep” for something so heartbreaking).
We have 2 dogs and now we have 3 cats rather than 4 cats and of course each and every one of them is loved equally, we have no children, our Pets are our children.
Her name was Dinka and she was born in an alley to another stray in another town; long story short, she’s been with us almost since she was born and she let us love her for 17 years.
Of course she was a Diva, long, lean, she’d strut around the house like a supermodel and always let you pet her, you know, when it was convenient for her.
She was beautiful and sometimes, if you were really lucky, she’d let you sit next to her, but as much as a Diva as Dinka was, she could purr with the best of them. And Diva or not, she purred a lot. She was loved and loved us all just as hard as we loved her. We will miss you so much Dinka, I’m going to miss fighting with you for the faucet when I brush my teeth even though you always won.
Thank you for touching our lives sweet Dinka, at least we know you’re up there with the ones who went before you.



{October 25, 2013}   Michelle’s Weekly Pet Challenge

catsDrusilla and Anyanka guarding dog food

catrugMr. Big with his super-duper sleep mask

catdruheadDrusilla trying to stay awake

catdruBox of Drusilla

catdrinkThirsty Dinka drinking from the sink

catdinkmagsDinka and Maggie hanging out

catchairMr. Big caught in the act of table-sitting

catcapeDrusilla wearing her superhero cape

catblumBlum (RIP)

catbig1Mr. Big under the covers

catandjJasper and Drusilla pre-diet

catbigMr. Big looks good in plaid

http://hopethehappyhugger.wordpress.com/2013/10/22/michelles-weekly-pet-challenge-round-up-2/



yani3yani1yani2yani4yani5

Anyanka isn’t really a monster, but her green eyes, which no photo can ever do justice to, are piercing and oh so beautiful! Although she was named after a vengeance demon she is the definition of skittish. She sneaks around the house in the midnight hours and for some reason, I’m the only human she allows to hold her.



et cetera