Comic Relief

I have written some pretty dark stuff lately. Riots with body counts, bombings, scenes that traumatize my protagonists. The United States is falling into disorder, and in two years there will be no United States.

I may write dark, but I don’t write unrelieved grim. There is always humanity. There is always hope. And there is always humor. My characters shine in small moments where humor peeks out, and sometimes I go from subtle smirks to full-out silliness.

Take, for example, Nephilim cats. One of my Archetype characters created a passel of immortal Archetype cats that teleport and procreate. Their offspring, like human-Archetype crosses, fly. They also get into trouble flying around outsiders. The beauty is that most humans can’t believe their eyes, and they ignore the obviously flying cats. But when the outsider recognizes this cat is actually flying, and the ten-year-old girls are scolding him for letting the secret out … a tense moment of an outsider knowing secrets gets silly.

I worry sometimes about my sense of humor. On the other hand, I worry that my writing can get too dark. I wonder if I have the balance right. I would love feedback on this, so if you’re one of my readers, please let me know! Link to my books here.

Writing with Chloe the Cat

Today, Chloe is helping me write the blog. Chloe is my second-youngest cat at age 4, and she is peculiar:

We adopted her as a kitten from the Humane Society — she was the one who spent her visit climbing all over me, so we knew what to expect.

The kitty we nicknamed “Itty-bitty-bitty-bitty-BABY-BABY girl” has grown into a chubby adult. She sits with me when I’m in my writing spot (a loveseat in the living room) or sits nearby, looking out the window. Often she asks for attention so it takes longer to get things done.

I’m trying to figure out what to write today (if anything). She is not helping any, choosing instead to sit on the back of the couch and read over my shoulder. Just now she ran toward the stairs for no real reason at all.

I guess I’ll just write on my own, then.

A Saint’s Day

I am going to write about the patron saint of this day, March 17.

Not that one.

I’m writing about St. Gertrude. St. Gertrude is the patron saint of cats for reasons that do not appear in her history. It might be because she was the patron saint of rats and rats spread bubonic plague so we have to bring the cats out to rid us of the plague — but no. Early Catholicism was brutal on cats, especially black ones.

Nowadays, though, in this cat-loving world of ours (the cats won!) Gertrude can be portrayed with a cat in her lap and the rats scurrying away.

St. Gertrude is also the patron saint of gardeners, widows, the recently deceased, the sick, the poor, the mentally ill, and travelers. She sounds like someone I’d like to hang out with.

How does one celebrate St. Gertrude’s Day? I guess by petting cats. They’ll be happy for the attention.

Three Good Things

Three good things.

This is an exercise I give my students in personal adjustment (positive psychology) every year. For a week, find each day a good thing that happened. Note it, then explain why it happened to you.

I feel like doing it today.

Thing 1: I got to work and there was a parking spot in the closest lot. As it was noon, this was a big thing.

Why it happened: because I didn’t wait till the absolute last minute to get to work.

Thing 2: I got a little quality time with Pumpkin

Why it happened: Because we adopted Pumpkin off someone’s porch and give her love and pets.

Thing 3: The weather is gorgeous.

Why it happened: Probably global warming. Not so good. But I’m enjoying the weather, because it’s supposed to drop to the 30s tomorrow.

Maybe this will help me appreciate the little things!

A Fun Work Trip

I’m on day two of a trip to Lexington/Liberty/Kansas City visiting interns. This also means I get to hang around interesting places we don’t have in Maryville. My husband is working remotely while I go to my internship sites.

Lexington, believe it or not, has an indie bookstore/cafe with a real ambiance to it, which is better than we have in Maryville. It helps that Lexington is a town with history, although I’m not quite sure what their history is*. Liberty is more urban, given that it’s closer to Kansas City. We didn’t do much in Liberty.

Kansas City is one of my favorite places. I keep insisting if we win the big lottery, I want to move here. (Richard is pushing for a smaller town. Which is fine, but it better have an indie cafe.) We stayed in KC overnight so we didn’t have to drive the 2 hours back down to visit our third intern. So far, we stayed in the 21c Hotel (based around art), ate an entirely too expensive and utterly magnificent steakhouse (Anton’s), and ate breakfast at our favorite breakfast place (eggtc). Now we’re waiting at Broadway Cafe for my appointment today, and from there we’re going to Whiskers Cat Cafe!

After this, I am going to need a rest, and I’ll get one for one whole day. Then I will drive to Iowa and spend the night in Des Moines. And have more fun.

* Lexington history features being the first booming town west of St. Louis, and for confederates. I don’t like the Confederacy.

Not Everything is Content

I just found a prompt on Loomly the other day (Loomly is a social media manager like Hootsuite except more user friendly and much cheaper) that suggested, just as I’ve seen suggested on TikTok, that ‘everything is content’. One should present what one is doing to the millions, thousands, or (in my case) dozens of followers on social media.

Photo by Guillaume Meurice on Pexels.com

I have problems with this. First, not everything someone does is ‘on message’. People expect a theme to one’s presence. On TikTok, @alexisnicole usually forages and makes amazing recipes with her wild crafting. @bdylanhollis cooks vintage recipes with often hilarious results. @dontcrossagayman tells his everyman hero stories about his interventions with bigots and creeps. They stay on message.

Second, not everything someone says should be out there. I have chronic bipolar depression. I know I can occasionally say “I’ve been dealing with depression,” but what I can’t do is go through a stream of consciousness about what it feels like to be depressed. That’s too much. I can’t ask my readers to be my therapist.

I must admit I struggle with content. I seem like I write all over the place, from reviews of apps to snippets of poetry to progress reports on my writing to my own personal experiences. If I have a message, it’s “This is what it’s like for me as a writer.” Part thunderstorms, part computer programs, part coffee, part cats, part violets. I hope it works, because I’m trying to stick to the good content.

If My Cats Were Authors

Someone posed the question on Twitter: “What would your cat’s autobiography be titled?”

There are four cats running the household so I came up with the following:

Me-Me: It’s All About Me-Me
Chuckie: No, Skritch RIGHT THERE
Girlie-Girl: Confessions of a Grouchy Cat
Chloe: ZOOM! The Adventures of A Lucky Kitten

My readers met Me-Me yesterday: she loves paying attention to her favorite human because her favorite human loves paying attention to her. Weebles (as we call her) is 11.

Girlie-Girl (or Girlie, or Twirly Little Whirly Girl, the calico, is our oldest cat at 14, which is 72 in human years. She grouses at me when I pet her; she grouses at me when I don’t.

Chuckie (aka Chuckie Monster) is a long lean orange cat of three years. He’s mostly settled down into a mellow lounge-around-the-house cat except when he gets into mock fights with the youngest of our crew.

Chloe (Little Girl), the youngest, is 10 months of age. She still has the zoomies and pounces on things, has almost learned to open doors (the lack of opposable thumbs is the only thing saving us all). She’s a tortoiseshell.

This is Girlie, the oldest (Calico in front) and Chloe, the youngest (tortoiseshell)

I probably write too much about my cats, but that’s because I love my cats, and because they’ve asked me to ghost-write their autobiographies.

National X Day

Today is National Dark Chocolate Day. Oh no! I have no dark chocolate in the house! I must go out and buy some!

According to this article, all those “National X days” are created by industries in order for us to buy more. Which doesn’t explain National Cat Day because there isn’t a big rush to buy purebred cats on that day. (I am convinced that National Cat Day (October 29) was invented by cats to get more treats, though.)

But do people actually go out and buy ice cream on National Ice Cream Day (July 18), or pickles on National Pickle Day (November 14), or avocados on National Avocado Day (July 31)? According to the above article, they do.

(Right now, my cats are trying to convince me that National Cat Day is every day, and that International Cat Day (August 8) is also every day and they get double treats).

Every morning, my husband announces the National Day of the day, which is how I know that today is National Dark Chocolate Day (today). I don’t really care if I’m being sold to; I just have fun hearing how ludicrous some of the candidates can be.

I’m not sure what behavior the keepers of the National Day Calendar are trying to support with National Grab Some Nuts Day (August 3), however.

Sunday morning with coffee, cats, and blogging

I write this blog every day with coffee. I sit on the loveseat in my living room, surrounded by cats, sipping on my coffee (cream, no sugar) and typing.

Today, on a Sunday, I move more leisurely because I don’t have to go to work. I get started writing a bit later, and I have more time to enjoy my coffee. The coffee, homeroasted, is a Costa Rica Helsar Macho Arce with orange and walnut notes.

This is the coffee we’re drinking.

Right now, Girlie-Girl (a grumpy calico aged 15) sits to my right, next to the trackball. Chloe (the fiesty little tortoiseshell, plays at my feet. Me-Me (the needy dilute grey and white), jumps on and off the back of the couch. She’ll be back soon.) Chucky (the huge orange cat) minds his own business.

I don’t plan what I write; rather I search my mind and my soul on what I want to say. If I had to plan every day, I would not be writing every day. It would cease to be fun and relaxing. I have enough things in my life that aren’t fun and relaxing.

My husband updates me on the upcoming weather; it looks like we’re getting 8-12 inches of snow Monday and Tuesday. I work from home Monday; the storm may mean I work at home on Tuesday as well. Regardless, I will have my morning ritual of coffee and cats.

And here’s a picture of Girlie helping me write the blog.

Experiencing Very Little

Not much to say today. I’m in quarantine as usual. I desperately need coffee as usual. Classical music is playing in the background as usual. I’m beginning not to be able to tell the days apart, except Richard is home all day on Saturday and Sunday. The cats are being bad as usual. The view outside my window is quiet as usual.

Although onism is the realization that one will not experience all there is to offer, it’s doubly poignant now with all the ordinary things we’re missing: funerals, weddings, high school graduations. Regular schedules. Daily rituals at the coffeehouse. Extended peer groups.

It’s okay to mourn or even resent the strictures put on us at the moment. But stay safe. There’s so much we don’t know about the virus yet, and what we know is sobering. We need these quarantines to control the number of sick who need extraordinary measures so that hospitals don’t get overwhelmed. But have your feelings, and go on practicing safe existence with social isolation, wearing masks outdoors, and handwashing.

I will never be able to experience all things in this world. But I’m making a list of what I want to experience when this is over.