Yes, Thanksgiving was last week. But in my house, we didn’t do the big turkey dinner… instead we did three days of renovations and reorganization in our house. My father-in-law moved out on the Friday, and by Monday afternoon, we’d ripped out carpets in two rooms (and by carpets, I mean three layers of carpet and two layers of ANCIENT lino), moved our entire bedroom upstairs, and we both had functional offices again. We’re still putting the last few items in their new homes, but our house is so much more awesome now. Plus we finally get to live alone. Just my husband and me. And the odd spider.
Things are good… the first month of being 30 wasn’t as awesome as I would have hoped. Living situation stress, school stress, personal stress… But my PhD is finally getting off the ground, Big N and I get to finally set up our own household (and have way more space than we deserve), I’ve been getting needed sleep and exercise, and things are generally looking up. In fact, today in my kitchen, I did my own little daily affirmation, in the style of the oh-so-adorable Jessica.
No, there is no video of my version. But here is a list of things I love today.
I love my husband.
I love my sister.
I love my mom.
I love my friends.
I love my house.
I love my office.
I love my neighbourhood.
I love my dance community.
I love my community centre (yay for pools and random conversations in steam rooms LOL).
I love my backyard.
I love my cozy sweaters.
I love my music collection.
I love my books.
I love breakfast (proof below).
I can make tasty food.
I can get my simulations to run properly.
I can keep my house clean.
I would (like Jessica) love my haircut, except that I haven’t had one in 8 months. But I have one tomorrow! YES. Then hopefully I can add “I love my fabulous haircut” to the list. 🙂
Speaking of breakfast, check out the happy face that appeared in my (slightly overcooked) egg this morning? 😀
Smokey the cat adopted us in January. It all started on a cold, horribly wet evening when we saw her soaking wet sitting on our steps outside… we knocked on her owner’s door (she lives three houses over), and nobody was home, so we let her come dry out in our house. We didn’t feed her or anything, we just let her hang out and then in the morning when it stopped raining, out she went. And she kept coming over and slipping in the door between our feet whenever we grabbed the paper in the morning or came home from work. Turns out they had a new kitten who was messing with Smokey’s favorite spots, so she liked our house better. More peaceful.
Then we found out she had feline leukemia, which can be transmitted to other cats if they share a feed bowl, so we offered to take care of Smokey, and her owner accepted, with the stipulation that she could come visit… And within no time, that cat had us trained to let her out our bedroom window in the middle of the night, put her in the bathtub to drink, and every time we opened a can of salmon, she’d come tearing in the kitchen and start begging like a dog. She also loved to sit beside us at dinnertime, just hanging out, never whining or trying to steal our food. I think she thought she was human.
In the last few weeks, Smokey started to lose interest in food, until she wasn’t eating at all. We tried enticing her with fresh salmon, beef, scallops, fancy cat food… anything, but to no avail. And she started hanging out in the darkness under the bed and would increasingly refuse to come out. We all knew she was well on her way to kitty heaven. So her owner made the difficult decision to put her down on Tuesday night. Smokey died surrounded by two families who loved her very much, and was laid to rest in our garden.
Anybody’s who’s spent any amount of time on our street probably knows Smokey by name. Elementary school kids loved to stop and pet her on their way to the school at the end of the block.
I have several scars on the back of my left shoulder from her claws… she’d always dig her claws in (and my skin scars extraordinarily easily… my husband actually banned me from picking her up for a few months before our wedding because he thought that scars + strapless dresses + photos = bad. I said that’s what Photoshop was for. And then I only picked her up when he wasn’t looking.) I wonder if I’ll still be able to see the scratch marks in 30 years.
And so, this last photo of Smokey goes into the box, along with her collar (if I get her owner’s permission to keep it… if not, this picture will have to do.)