Misha

Misha on the front porch, catching some sun and watching birds

I had to say goodbye to my long-time companion, my beloved cat Misha, last week.  This beautiful black cat found me and adopted me as his one-and-only person, and rescuer, nearly 13 years ago - the night before my birthday in 1997. Unlike superstition he brought me only good luck...and the unconditional love and trust of the kind our pets give to us.  I valued his more so...because wherever he'd been, he'd been badly abused.

Other pet-lovers will understand the pain and loss of losing a "member of the family."  Even though he didn't make much noise, the house seems overly quiet and much too lonely.  I still find myself looking for him when I come in the door (he would usually come to greet me...or try to "escape" outside even though he was an indoor kitty).  At night, sometimes I imagine I still feel his weight and warmth at the foot of the bed. 

I still can't bring myself to move his favorite "blankie" from one of his "nests" on top of the cedar chest in my bedroom.  He so loved soft places - especially blankets.  I always thought it was so funny how, if I took a blanket and wadded it into a nest, and dropped him on it...even if he was being cranky or irritable, it was an instant transformation into purring, happy, bread-kneading pussy cat.  And Misha loved canteloupe, ice cream....and bacon!

My mom always says it is so hard because we usually outlive our pets, and it never gets any easier to say goodbye.  This was so much harder because I had to make the decision to let him go.  I could not bear to let him suffer and try to keep him here for my own benefit.  But I am humbled by witnessing his last little shuddering breath.

Goodbye my faithful little friend....I know you will be waiting for me still when I cross over.

Existing on the Edge of Consciousness

Sometimes I think my whole life is like that, not quite "real"...and often a struggle to create and maintain my "reality".  It's like, when I listen to Celtic music, I respond as though I can almost, but not quite, understand the words.  Life sometimes seems that way too, as though I feel I should know and understand how to deal with it, but I am missing some crucial information somewhere along the way.  I often feel adrift, and even the few things that "ground" me, such as people I love, or my house, or my job are still ephemeral and could vaporize in an instant.

Confessions of a Shoe-A-Holic...Heart and Sole

I'm not sure exactly when my passion for footwear began. Perhaps as a little girl, maybe three years old, when I was given a pair of pink cowboy boots - my mom says I wore them constantly and even tried to wear them to bed! I have a pink cowboy hat now (with a story of its own!...why don't I have boots to match? That may have to be remedied!)

I can definitively connect a solid addiction to my "Disco Queen" days in the mid- to late 80s when I would suffer wearing 3 to 4-inch heels gyrating to the heart-thumping beats of Prince, Cyndi Lauper, Kool & The Gang, Madonna and Boy George under the revolving, scintillating disco-ball lights at my favorite clubs (does anyone remember Gambit's at the Marriott, Brandywine's, Jodphur's, Electric Cowboy, the Metro...?)

And when I say "suffer"...I do mean suffer...unfortunately I'm plagued by hereditary foot problems that have resulted in three surgeries in my lifetime (including what I hope will be the last one which I had in November...my new "accessory" is a titanium toe joint). I've never let that stop me from my love of dancing, however! No pain, no gain and all that. Perhaps my passion for dancing is inherited too...one of my maternal great-grandmothers loved to polka dance well into her late 90s (a secret to her longevity, perhaps?)...and when she broke her hip and could no longer go, well, she just decided it was time to "check out", which she did, at 98 years old. I'm thinking that's how I want to go, with my dancin' shoes still on!

Shoes are a fortunate necessity for dancing, but my passion extends to just about any kind of footwear. Casual, dress, professional dance shoes, tennis shoes, boots, slippers, flip-flops (can't call them "thongs" any more since that term now applies to skimpy little pieces of string attached to tiny triangles of material that somehow are considered "undergarments"), sandals. I have literally dozens of pairs of shoes...and I actually do still have some of my "vintage" pairs from the 80s and one pair of "platforms" from high school (which could very well bring in some dinero if I auctioned them off on ebay...which I won't.) I particularly love "sparkly" shoes, as evidenced by my latest purchase:




No, they're not Dorothy's...they're mine!


High heels, while many consider them a "torture instrument" of women's fashion, do have the amazing ability to create the illusion of longer, sexy legs by shortening the calf muscles or whatever. At 5'2" I need all the help I can get since it also somehow seems to make my rear end look less endowed by lengthening my proportions.

I totally understand the need for multiple pairs of black dress shoes and how it's a must for a certain outfit to be completed with just the right pair of shoes. A pair of tennis shoes for a business suit? Oh, no...well, unless you work downtown and keep a spare pair in your desk drawer to wear while walking at lunch time. It's de riguer in downtown business districts, but a fashion faux pas anywhere else. I did learn my lesson on stiletto safety early on in my first downtown job...I was hurrying as fast as I could (in spike heels, that's not particularly speedy) and as I was passing in front of a diner with a big plate glass window in front through which I was visible, one of my pointy heels landed with bulls'-eye accuracy in a teeny tiny little hole in the sidewalk just big enough for it to get stuck in. I pitched forward out of my shoe and nearly took a nose-dive into the cement. I still remember, all these years later, the embarrassment of trying to yank my shoe out of the pavement in front of the snickering restaurant patrons.






These have a retro-cool look to them that I love...and 4-inch heels which make them a bit unsuitable for dancing, unfortunately.



Now don't get me wrong, I actually do favor comfort over style (and yes, that usually is a choice that must be made when it comes to fashion). I'm also a fan of going barefoot whenever possible. Given the hereditary nature of my foot problems, I may be facing a fashion-free future when it comes to foot wear. You know, those homely rubber-soled shoes with velcro closures? It makes me wince to think about it... And I can tell you with authority: I will never, ever, EVER wear those dorky-looking things with the coiled-spring "heels"! They surpass even Crocs for ugliness. (I will confess that Crocs are quite comfortable - I succumbed to peer pressure and purchased some hot pink ones...I wore them a couple of times, but couldn't bear the ugliness of their existence on my feet. They found their way to a local thrift store in order to adorn the tootsies of someone far less image-conscious than I.) I also think there's a reason Ugg boots are called that...they're UGG-ly. (I can make libelous comments about shoes without negative consequences, can't I?)


It's comforting to know that I am not alone in my passion for footwear. Yes, there are others who know the powerful draw of the clearance sale shoe rack in the department store...the satisfaction of finding the perfect pair for an outfit...the ahhhh feeling of finding that super-comfortable pair to schlep around in on weekends....and the total "score!" feeling when a wolf-whistle follows the sashaying promenade in sexy heels.


Envision a world without shoes? Simply sole-destroying.

Awakening

I cannot even begin to express how grateful and happy I am to see and feel the arrival of springtime. Feeling something other than the bitter bite of arctic wind on my face, actually seeing my lawn after months of being buried under deep drifts of snow, no more walking through shoveled paths through knee- to waist-high piles of frozen precipitation or scraping frost off the inside of my car windows, "outside" being a place to escape to not from.

According to my friend Eric's research, we went for 107 days straight, from December 1 to March 17, with temperatures below 50F...and of those, 88 (nearly all consecutively) were below 40F. Definitely Nature's way of testing our endurance!

This past winter was a test of my patience, endurance and good humor. I have been noticing the changes in my own personality that I think are partially attributable to extended deprivation of sun and warmth. Other factors include, of course, the state of the economy and overall general stress...and I know I'm not alone in feeling the effects. I've been feeling unsettled, cranky, worried and frequently "blue."

Unfortunately, due to the nature of my employment, I get to bear the brunt of others' anger and frustrations on a daily basis. I've said it often of late, I have definitely noticed a marked increase in negative behaviors from the "public." More aggression, more anger...a certain "mean-ness" with little or no self-checking behavior. I think I can understand what "causes" people to vent like this...but although I'm often a scapegoat, at least it reminds me constantly to curb my own impulses to "take it out" on others. Unfortunately, I haven't always been successful.

But...Spring is here, I can feel it coming on...the air feels different, softer and warmer...the smells of softening earth and growing things and rain...the first bright-eyed robin was perched in the small tree in my front yard the other day and other birds nearby chirp happily. The flattened brown grass is greening and tiny shoots of my flower bulbs are poking through the dirt.

Then, this past Sunday, the first day of Spring, I saw this:

and it was time for new beginnings and casting off the numbness this past winter has inflicted. As for me, I feel as if something cold and hard inside me is loosening up and fading, an awakening. The Beatles wrote the song that now plays through my soul...

Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter

Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun

and I say it's all right

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces

Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun

and I say it's all right

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting

Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun

and I say it's all right

It's all right

Yeah, it's gonna be all right.

An Interesting Compliment

So I was descending the stairs in my pirate wench costume at the infamous Groundhog Prom this past weekend....and this black guy walking by looked up, saw me, and said "Woo! Girlfriend, you're built like a black girl!"

"Brick House", baby!