feline friday happy purrrrday

Having grown up on Long Island, there are a lot of times when I miss NY.  Today is certainly one of them because today is my mom’s birthday.  Not being able to go home and give her a huge hug on her birthday is hard, but I’ve talked to her several times today which makes it easier.

Things are a little crazy in my house right now – the tub is leaking again, work is driving me nuts, and the Man and I are prepping for an event – but mom understands and I even drove HER a little crazy on the phone tonight telling her all the things I need to get done this weekend.

Instead of wrangling the cats (they refused to pose with balloons for my mom’s big day) I’ll just share this link on an AWESOME event going on in NYC right now – the Purina Cat Cafe! Seeing is believing. And trust me, you want to check it out!

Hope you all had a wonderful week and a fabulous weekend lined up! And happy purrrrrrrrday Mom!!!!!


Can we go back to the weather from Easter please?

I can’t believe how (comparatively) cold and windy and bleak it has seemed the past two days when it was so gorgeous this past weekend. As this weekend looms I’m just hoping for more blue skies and warm winds to grace us.  I love spring and seeing the flowers and the grass growing and the birds returning to the yard, but cold days like today are such a slap in the face.

Our Easter weekend was very quiet but absolutely lovely.  The Man and I started out the weekend by picking up a dog crate off of Craigslist and meeting some amazing dogs at our local shelter. We even took one special girl out for a walk and LOVED her but she just wasn’t “the one” for us (shout out to June and all the amazing folks at Delco SPCA!) The rest of the day was spent at a wonderful lunch (where I got a sunburn on the back of my neck – forgot I chopped my hair!), mailed my mom’s birthday gift, and then did work in the yard. We ended our evening by having a dear friend over for dinner and broke out the grill for the first meal of the season.

Then came Easter Sunday. The weather was perfect, clear blue skies, and the Man and I were getting dressed to walk to church when he stopped me and asked, “What did you do to your leg?” I looked down and lo and behold I had a friend! It was a tick. GAH! Freaking out commenced, along with the discovery that we do not own tweezers.  A set of pliers and band aid later, though, and we were off to church.

Because the weather was so gorgeous, we went home, settled on the patio with coffee, and called our parents. Then the big meal of the day (as the Man had to work) was brunch!


I made the most AMAZING white bread in our machine the day before so we made French toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage. It was so gorgeous out we decided to just eat outside.


And then I decided we needed a festive Easter picture (and no, they weren’t Mimosas… I just have lapses in judgement sometimes).

IMG_20140420_104653_648Even though the Man had to go to work, it was a gorgeous day. I just can’t wait for this weekend to get back outside and finish seeding our lawn and start stripping the paint off a door (which will be my first project for the season!) and hopefully, this time, no ticks. On the plus side, for those wondering, I have no “bulls eye” and am on preventative meds – yay.

So happy hump day! And I hope all your bunny holidays were happy too!


rainy birthday

Working on your birthday is never fun. Working on your birthday in the pouring rain, even less so. Which is exactly how the Man’s day is shaping up. Hopefully, though, it’s not all bad.

The celebrating actually started on Friday when some wonderful friends of ours loaded down Paul with balloons and special coffees and candies as a birthday gift.


Even though we both had to work, I tried to surprise the Man a bit. The night before I had arranged a box of apple turnovers and his cards on the dining room table, so when the alarm went off this morning and the coffee had finished brewing, I dragged him downstairs with me to “get coffee” and promptly sat him down to enjoy breakfast and birthday cards (which the cats had thankfully/surprisingly left alone overnight). For dinner, my mom gifted the Man a fabulous dinner from a Middle Eastern restaurant near where we work. And then for dessert, I surprised him with a specialty cupcake from our favorite bakery.

So was it a traditional birthday? No. Do I wish I could have made it more special? Yes. But do I love him with all of my heart? Yes.

Happy birthday, love of my life.


feline friday “helps” work

As it is National Poetry Month, I figured I might as well share one of my favorite poems about cats, which describes Luna perfectly.

The cat’s song


Mine, says the cat, putting out his paw of darkness.
My lover, my friend, my slave, my toy, says
the cat making on your chest his gesture of drawing
milk from his mother’s forgotten breasts.

Let us walk in the woods, says the cat.
I’ll teach you to read the tabloid of scents,
to fade into shadow, wait like a trap, to hunt.
Now I lay this plump warm mouse on your mat.

You feed me, I try to feed you, we are friends,
says the cat, although I am more equal than you.
Can you leap twenty times the height of your body?
Can you run up and down trees? Jump between roofs?

Let us rub our bodies together and talk of touch.
My emotions are pure as salt crystals and as hard.
My lusts glow like my eyes. I sing to you in the mornings
walking round and round your bed and into your face.

Come I will teach you to dance as naturally
as falling asleep and waking and stretching long, long.
I speak greed with my paws and fear with my whiskers.
Envy lashes my tail. Love speaks me entire, a word

of fur. I will teach you to be still as an egg
and to slip like the ghost of wind through the grass.

Marge Piercy, “The cat’s song” from Mars & Her Children (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1992)

A week ago when I was doing some work from home, we had friends over. One of our friends brought their baby. Loki hid like normal, but Luna was very confused, and even looked panicked when I held him. Even though she was wary, though, she didn’t hiss or hunch of back or ruffle her fur. She just sat across the room, transfixed as I “cheated” on her.

A little while later, when I went down to my office to finish a transcription project, she followed me. Apparently, she was a little bit jealous that I was paying attention to someone other than her, so she got my attention the best way she knows how. By plopping herself right where I was working.

She spent the better part of the next hour rotating between sitting on my desk, crawling on my lap (on my wireless keyboard, and trying to throw various things OFF the desk and onto the floor. Including my computer mouse. Twice. But I love her. Just like any crazy cat lady, I love her.



past life

It’s National Poetry Month which, in my life, used to be a huge deal. It was a morning just like this one – gray, somewhat warm, and raining – that Cat, Erin and I set out for a day in the city. After a 45 minute ride on the Long Island Rail Road, a few subway stops, and a handful of blocks, we walked into a lecture hall at Cooper Union to hear Robert Pinsky speak. It was 2000, just around the time that he Released Americans’ Favorite Poems as part of his tenure as Poet Laureate.

I can remember like yesterday how my coat and backpack were drenched, my hair sticking to my back, as we sat, mesmerized but his rich voice and subtle lisp. It was the kind of day that I loved. I was in awe of his craft, his knowledge.

I lived in the world of poetry in high school. The Dodge Poetry Festival and Mr. Van Zant’s poetry class and readings at the Barn and poetry club and the Literary Magazine and celebrating National Poetry month with posters and trips to the Poets House to sit among the stacks and photocopy page after page of poem that spoke to me. They all seem so far away. But if I close my eyes, I can take myself back to that room with Cat and Erin like it was yesterday. But life is so different now. As much as I long to find her, I have no idea where Cat is. And as much as I’d love to just sit down on the spur of the moment and grab coffee with Erin, she’s almost 100 miles away.

There’s a post-it note, faded, in one of the pages of my Pinsky anthology. I don’t know why I marked it or the meaning it had at the time, but it’s still there. Remnant.


In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.

Nor for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Not for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.

-Dylan Thomas



My writing life seems so far away now.