It used to be, as I came up toward the end of the year, I would go back and read all the entries I had written for the previous twelve months. And it used to be that as the year came to a close, I would also go back and re-read all the entries I’d written since I started this site nearly ten years ago. Of course, it was a lot easier to do that when there were only a few hundred entries to go through, instead of nearly 1500. So in the past few years, I’ve gotten out of the habit of rifling through the archives for those trips down memory lane. And it’s kind of ironic that I don’t do it anymore, since one of the main reasons for me starting this thing in the first place is that I have such a hard time remembering when things happened.

The prompt for today from Holidailies, though, was Five Years Ago, so on a whim, I decided to dig back through my archives to see what was going on, back in the December of 2004, in what seem such a long lifetime ago. Most of the entries are the usual sort of day-to-day life things – stories about friends and social gatherings and work. But the very first entry, December 1 of 2004, was this one, where I talk about missing Rebecca, the first of our cats who died.

And it hit me, suddenly, why it is that I have had such a hard time finding a way to write about having to put Sebastian to sleep back in August. Over the years, I’ve dealt with the death of five of my cats. The first was difficult because he had been a very troubled kitty and even though logically I know that I did far more than anyone else might have to help him, I will still always feel as if somehow I failed. The second was Rebecca – the very first cat that I ever had, all on my own, so she will always hold a special place in my heart. When she died, it was completely unexpected and the shock took some getting used to. The third was Allegra, and even though this time we were better prepared for it, because we were the ones who had to make the decision to help her pass, it was still so very hard. I love all our cats, of course, and I always will, but Allegra was my favorite and I suspect that I will always miss her. And as Allegra was for me, so was the fifth one – Tangerine, our latest loss – for Richard. Yes, she might have been my kitty at the start, but once Richard came into her life, she became completely his. And so, much like I will always miss Allegra, there is likely to always be a Tangerine-shaped hole in Richard’s heart.

So I think the reason I have had such a hard time writing about Sebastian is because losing him wasn’t the same. He was a wonderful kitty, even if he had his flaws (like the occasional need to holler at the top of his overdeveloped lungs at nothing at all, for no reason we could ever discern), and he was extremely affectionate, and he was with me for almost 19 years. On the last day of his life, when I made the appointment with the vet and knew even before we brought him in exactly what the vet would say, I cried. But once it was over, it was as if everything shifted. I was okay. He was an awesome, wonderful cat, and I was lucky to have had him for as long as I did, but there is no guilt this time, no surprise to the death, no regret for the way it had to be.

It is so hard, this issue of death and pets. The household suddenly minus something that was there before. You think you know the right way to react, except there is no right way. You think you are prepared, but you are not. You think you will grieve, but you cannot. You don’t think about it when you look at the little kitten, so cute and adorable in their cage, at the very beginning of their life. You do not think about the fact that eventually you will have to make a decision you do not want to make; eventually you will have lose them; eventually you will get used to minus one.

‘Tis the season for Holidailies

Today’s Holidailies prompt is:  ” Tired of Santa? Create your own iconic magical figure for the holidays.” And since today was another of those too-boring-to-write-about days full of work in the daylight and knitting in the dark, I’m going to play with this one instead.

First, let’s be very clear. I have nothing against Santa (as my yearly letter to Santa on this site will attest). But let’s face it, sometimes the big guy in red and white doesn’t exactly bring us what we were hoping for. Gift-wrapped presents under the tree are nice and all, but how about a Santa-equivalent who comes in and cleans the house while you sleep? I’d take that over a stocking full of candy any day. Or a Garden Gnome, or flies through the night, depositing perfectly calibrated garden plans for the clueless, and gaily wrapped packages of seeds for the more adventerous type.

However, the holiday figure I’d like most of all, these days, is the Organizing Imp. The Organizing Imp and her band of merry pixies fly from house to house, sprinkling problem areas with magic dust and leaving sorted, filed, neatly categorized spaces in their wake (sort of like the Finisher, but a bit more specialized). I cannot tell you how much I would love to have the jolly Organizing Imp come whisking down our chim…oh wait, we have no fireplace…hmm…have the jolly Organizing Imp come sliding down through the exhaust hood and tackle one of my projects. Like, for example, the yarn closet, which was *supposed* to be my closet where I kept all my stash neatly on shelves, safe from cats and other critters, but has mainly been a place where we stash things we don’t otherwise know what to do with, like boxes of CDs or random holiday decorations or the extra table. If the Organizer Elf were to give me the gift of something as simple as being able to walk into the yarn closet without having to *climb* over something, or perch precariously on one foot in order to reach the laceweight drawer that is half-buried behind stuff,  it would truly be a very merry Organizmas

‘Tis the season for Holidailies

Aside from the haircuts and the making of soup, yesterday I pretty much spent the whole day knitting. This morning, I did the same thing. Richard braved the wet and the cold to get bagels for breakfast, and he camped out in the office and did some writing while I hung out in the living room with my yarn and some cats. I even knit in the car on the way down to his parents’ house for the annual decking of the tree, because I really wanted to be further along than I currently am, so I was willing to brave potential queasiness just to get more work done. Luckily my sinuses are currently taking a brief hiatus from their ongoing quest to kill me, so that was two more hours of prime knitting that I might otherwise have missed out on.

Richard’s mom’s been directing a play, so while they she and the youngest sister were out, his dad assembled and put up the tree. They didn’t get home until after we and Richard’s other sister (my almost-twin) showed up, but we got a chance to sit around and chat and annoy the cat and laugh at the antics of the dogs in the meantime.

We decorated the tree, somehow managing to get every single ornament on there, but by the time we were done it had developed a rather precarious looking list toward the center of the living room, so there were talks of securing it with fishing line later, after we’d all gone home. The oldest sister had brought dinner – chicken stroganoff – and we’d brought salad fixings, and later there was also pie.

The drive home was in the dark, so no more car-knitting for me, alas. We played Very Scary Solstice and Jonathan Coulton songs and sang along, both there and back. We came home to styrofoam peanuts all over the dining room floor (guess what the kittens have been into) and needy cats, and I came home to find to find this posted. I’m still working on my own interview, as November was hectic for me, and December has been hectic for my interviewee, but it was fun to do this half of the project, so it was nice to see it online.

‘Tis the season for Holidailies

I wish I could tell you that, since it was almost mostly non-rainy outside today, and we had absolutely nothing at all planned except for getting our hair cut, that we did amazing and fabulous things today. Alas, that is not exactly true, unless by ‘amazing and fabulous’, you will accept ‘ knitting and making soup and staying inside’.

Today was the sort of day where I suspect, if we hadn’t actually had to leave the house to go get the haircuts, we might have just spent all day in our pajamas or sweats. So it was just as well that we had at least one excuse to get out and go somewhere. And then, hairs cut and both of us looking significantly less shaggy than before, we headed back home. We stopped by the grocery store first, and bought ourselves another turkey to cook up, just for leftovers, except all the turkeys available now are frozen, so it’s going to have to just sit in the freezer for a while until we’ve got time to deal with it. We went to the pet store to pick up food and litter, and returned home and lugged everything inside, and although we toyed briefly with the idea of putting up a few more holiday decorations outside (I say that as if we’ve put up any at all, which sadly, we have not), we did not actually step foot back outside the door for the rest of the day.

A day or two ago, Emily had tweeted a recipe for Chickpea Noodle Soup, which sounded extremely easy and delicious (my kind of recipe!), but since this is me, after all, I had to play with the recipe a bit. We got another CSA box delivered yesterday, which meant it was time to clean out the fridge of anything remaining from the previous delivery, so I heated up the broth and then tossed in a bunch of kale and some carrots and celery, and I used whole wheat noodles because we actually both prefer that kind these days. The soup turned out amazing, and I deliberately cooked the veggies until they were so soft they just melted in your mouth with every bite. This recipe (my modified version) is definitely a keeper.

‘Tis the season for Holidailies!

Another long day at work, filled with meetings and scrambling on reports and more swearing at Sharepoint (because for a software that is supposedly “easily customizable”, it is a great big pain in the ass to tweak). I got home at a little after five, and Richard showed up shortly thereafter, and the two of us waved blearily at each other and then collapsed for a little bit, just to try to recharge before the rest of the evening. A friend had invited us to an annual caroling party, and this was the first year it looked like we could go (because usually one of us has something planned, or else is sick), but after the long week, I admit to having a few thoughts about just bailing on the whole idea and staying home.

But we went anyway. It’s been raining on and off for the past few days, and the host sent out a note earlier saying that if it continued to rain, we might just all carol at each other, inside where it was warm and dry, instead of going outside to carol to other people. We swung by Trader Joe’s to pick up some goodies to bring (since I’ve not had the time, or the energy, to do any actual baking this week) and then headed off to the party, which was held in a lovely little house in East Sacramento. The house was comfortably packed with people by the time everyone showed up, and we all sat around and ate and drank and chatted, and eventually someone pulled out the caroling books and a bunch of us all sat around in the living room and sang in two or three part harmony. Eventually someone thought to poke their head outside, and hey, the rain had stopped again, so if we were going to go caroling to the neighbors, we’d better do it right then. So we all bundled up with jackets and hats and umbrellas (just in case) and grabbed song sheets, and then went outside and wandered around the neighborhood and sang Christmas carols to whomever was brave enough to answer the door. It was a pretty large group, and at times it was sort of like herding cats, trying to get everyone coordinated on one song, but it was a lot of fun, and I was very glad that we had umbrellas with us when the rain kicked back in in earnest. Back to the house we all went, laughing and slightly soggy, to warm up with mulled wine and cider and cookies, before finally heading home.

I haven’t been caroling in a very long time, and usually it has been so cold that it wasn’t nearly as much fun as I wanted it to be. But even with the rain, this evening was a lot of fun, and I am glad that, despite the very long and tiring week, we ignored our impulse to stay home and be hermits, and instead went to the party and had a good time.

‘Tis the season for Holidailies.

Today could have been another long day, and the morning, at least, was long and involved significant amounts of under-the-breath swearing on my part (due mainly to attempting to get Sharepoint to do what I wanted it to do, despite its best efforts to thwart me). This afternoon, however, was much less stressful, because today was our office’s holiday lunch.

I bought the stuff for the annual gift exchange last year at the day-after-Christmas sales, but naturally forgot to bring it with me to the office this morning. Luckily the restaurant to which we went was pretty close to where I live, so I just dashed out the door about ten minutes before everyone else, and managed to get home, get the thing wrapped, and get back to the restaurant before the half the others arrived.

Lunch was delicious, and we all sat around the table and talked and laughed and had a very nice time. We did the gift exchange (we always do a white elephant sort of thing, except everyone brings nice presents instead of tacky crap) and we ate dessert (oh so good) and then I pondered, briefly, going back to the office, but by then it was almost 3:30 and it was so very close to my house, and the lunch was deliberately scheduled late so we could all just take the rest of the day off, so…I did. I wish I could say that I came home and took care of things that needed to be done at the house, like laundry or dishes or putting things away, but instead I came home and I curled up on the sofa with several cats and an afghan and I read a book. When Richard came home we peered into the depths of the fridge and the freezer and finally decided on hot dogs for dinner (we have been extremely uninspired to cook this week), except we didn’t have any buns, so instead we wrapped them in tortillas. Richard made noises about white trash dinner, except that, as I pointed out, a white trash dinner would use regular flour tortillas, and the ones we used were the high fiber, whole wheat, hippie tree-hugger variety, so at least there was some nod to health, however small. Of course, then he took a bite first and looked thoughtful, so I asked him how it was and he said it tasted about like what you might expect, and now I have been giggling about that all evening.

He had his writers’ group over for a meeting, which meant the house did get a rather hasty tidying, at least, and I went off to my weekly knitting group and drank coffee and worked on the big, giant project that is sucking up all my free time as well as my life, until one of the women who’s most recently given birth showed up with her adorable new little baby boy, and then we all took turns passing the baby around and cooing at him and admiring his little knit hat and booties (a hazard of being a baby born into a knitting group), and it was a very lovely way to end a very nice day.

‘Tis the season for Holidailies

The last few days have been been the sort where we work long hours, come home in the dark (although admittedly it gets dark pretty early these days) and then collapse in a heap either in the living room, or in the office, too tired to care about much of anything. So you’ll have to be content with yet another story from the weekend today, since otherwise this entry would pretty much read “woke up. went to work. came home. blerg.”

This weekend was Christmas Concert weekend for Vox Musica. Dress rehearsal on Friday, and then concerts Saturday and Sunday evening. There’d been a lot of messages flying around for the Saturday concert in the days building up to the concert, primarily centered around the fact that a group of Midtown businesses decided, last minute, to put on some kind of light parade sort of event, which would result in blocking off the streets around the church where we perform. Since this was to take place at 6, and the concert was to start at 7pm, parking (and driving) near the church was likely to be problematic. However! The church where we perform owns most of the block, including a large office building around the corner, that comes with its own multi-level parking garage. They would have the garage open, just for us! Crisis averted!

I carpooled to the church  at 5:30 with several other singers, since we figured it was better to have fewer cars to deal with due to the aforementioned possible parking problems, and we got there just as they were unlocking the garage gates. Off we traipsed to the church. We did warm-ups and vocal exercises. We ran through a few last minute checks on the songs. And because of the aforementioned parking/driving problems, we started the concert about ten minutes late, just to make sure everyone had a chance to get in.

It is important to note here that the parking garage, once opened, had a sign, clearly displayed, which said that it would close at 10pm. Richard, having followed the email flurry, chose to park in the parking garage. So did many other people. The concert began at 7pm and with intermission and such, it usually goes for about an hour and a half, leaving plenty of time after to hang out with friends before returning to the garage to head home. This was all working out so well, since good friends of ours came to the Saturday concert, so after it was over, the four of us went across the street to a little crepe place and ate delicious crepes and chatted and generally had a good time. We all made sure to keep a close eye on the clock, however, because the sign in the parking garage CLEARLY SAID that it would be closed at 10. With twenty minutes to spare, we headed off toward the garage, figuring it was better to get there on the early side, just to be safe.

The first sign something was wrong was how dark the garage was as we walked down one side. The second was the presence of the gates, now closed and locked, with nary a soul to be seen to let us inside. The four of us were joined shortly by another small group of people who had also been fooled by the presence of the sign, and based on the number of additional cars visible in the garage, we obviously weren’t the only ones.

We all pondered the situation. One of the other group – a young woman who had had far, far too much to drink, decided to hop the gate (although what she thought she woudl be able to do in there, I’ve no idea). There was a lot of chatting and laughing about the situation. Several people whipped out their cell phones and worked their way through the list of numbers to call for after-hours, and eventually, someone answered. Ten minutes later (although it felt like longer, since it was quite cold out), a truck pulled up and a man came out to let us in. He wasn’t the one responsible for locking the gate – no one quite knew who that was – since his company merely leases the garage from the church on weekdays, but he was at least nice enough to let us go in and get our cars. Shortly after he arrived, a police car also drove up. I suspect someone heard the overly drunk woman hollering around in the garage and called them, but while the security guy who’d come to let us in handled the police officer, the rest of us made a beeline for our carst and decided to get away while the getting was good.

Now, remember that I had carpooled in with some of the other singers. So Richard had to drop me off at my car, halfway to home. By this time we were both extremely tired, and more than a little punchy (standing outside in the cold, trying to get to your car behind locked gates, can do that to a person). So the two of us headed home, each of us in our own car.  And that’s when I had a funny idea. As the street split from one lane to two, I pulled up along side him at a red light. It’s kind of hard to rev your engine in a Prius, but I was able to at least make do by hitting the brake pedal a few times, so the car would rock. He looked over at me and cracked up. The light turned green, and we both took off, because drag racing a Prius and an ancient Honda is just the sort of thing sober middle-aged people do on a Saturday night.

It didn’t last very long though. We only got about half a block before we both slowed down. Later, once we were both home and giggling about it, we agreed that we’d both had the same thought – that with our luck, there’d have been another cop, lurking somewhere around the corner, and one near-police encounter was enough for the evening. And we have all – our friends, and Richard and I – agreed that next concert, despite what the sign might CLEARLY STATE, we will not be parking in the ever so convenient parking garage. Or at least make sure to move the cars to somewhere that isn’t behind lockable gates if we decide to go out afterwards.

Tis the season for Holidailies

I woke up this morning to a clear and cloudless sky, and the air so bitterly cold that it almost hurt to breathe. We don’t get days where the temperature is in the 20’s here in Sacramento very often, so it’s always a surprise when they roll around. The backyard was glittery with frost and I had to rig up a makeshift ice scraper out of a few stiff pieces of paper in my glove compartment before it was safe to drive my car (it’s always preferable to be able to *see* out of your windows when operating a vehicle).

********

When we put the tree up, the weekend after Thanksgiving, we fully expected that it would be sporting kitteny accessories within an hour of being assembled. Rupert has, until now, shown a disturbing excess of determination when it comes to getting into things / on things / under things, to the point where we had already resigned ourselves to leaving most of the decorations packed away for the year. All the little nativity sets that normally get set up on the piano, and the awesome Lego castle advent calendar that I got on eBay last summer, have to wait at least one more year to come out of the box, because small things tend to get batted onto the floor, or carried off and hidden, or simply have this tendency to spontaneously develop toothmarks . The garland we normally hang around the columns in the living room and over the doors will not be making an appearance because a certain young gray tabby cat has recently figured out how to get up onto the little shelves.

So when we decorated the tree, we went through the entire box of ornaments and pulled out only those that we were quite certain were not breakable, and we refrained from draping it with the usual garland of beads (see this entry for reasons why), and when we were done, we stood back and watched the kittens and…we waited. The kittens came over to investigate the tree. Ingrid took a thoughtful nibble on one of the branches. Rupert batted at some of the lower hanging fruit. That night, they ‘liberated’  a small stuffed unicorn, which has spent the past two weeks being chased madly all over the house and several days later, they removed a small wooden snowman and then carefully ‘hid’ it behind the quilt rack. But aside from that, they mostly left the tree alone. We started to think that maybe, just maybe, we had erred a little too much on the side of caution. We started to discuss whether it might be okay to test out a few of the slightly riskier ornaments, just so the tree didn’t look quite so bare.

And then this morning, as we were eating breakfast, I heard rustling in the branches and glanced over, and then burst into laughter and Rupert’s little head popped out, halfway up the tree. As I dashed off to get my camera, he climbed up even higher, and then popped his head out again, reaching out to poke experimentally at an ornament.

Good thing we didn’t end up putting anything breakable on there after all.

‘Tis the season for Holidailies

After Richard looked at the weather forecast last night, I got pretty excited. I was all set for an absolutely *perfect* way to kick off Holidailies. I made sure my camera battery was charged and I went to bed, all ready to get up this morning and sneak outside to take a picture – because the weather forecast said we were going to have 1 to 4 inches of snow.>

Of course, when I woke up this morning and heard the slow drip of the remains of a rain fall, I knew what I would see outside the window. Wet, yes. Cold, most definitely. But definitely no snow. There have been scattered reports (and pictures) of snow from all around the region, but alas, Sacramento remains stubbornly snow free.

So instead of a lovely picture of snow-dusted houses and disgruntled squirrels, I shall kick off Holidailies with a little story from this past weekend, which I will call “reason 734 why Richard and I were meant for each other.”

Saturday afternoon I was sitting on the sofa in the living room, surrounded by cats and my knitting, when Richard came in with his hands behind his back, wanting to know if I wanted an early present. Naturally I said yes, because one should never turn down an offer of a present, and he handed me a copy of this:

I took it and I looked at it and my reaction probably surprised him for a brief moment because instead of getting all excited about it, I said “Um..” and then “Uh…hang on.”

And I scurried downstairs and dug around in the box of stuff I’ve already bought to give to him, and then came back upstairs and gave him this, which I bought because the instant I saw it I knew that he would love it:

(notice any similarity?)

Zombie carols, in case you were wondering, sound best when sung loudly, and deliberately off key. Sound effects optional.

‘Tis the season for Holidailies

Today is the last day of November. I suppose I ought to be feeling more of a sense of relief, except that I managed to hit that magic 50,000 word mark a little less than a week ago, so it’s not as if I’ve still had that goal hanging over my head. And as for this whole NaBloPoMo thing (blogging daily), somehow that hasn’t been as much of a challenge as I was expecting either. Will this keep me writing on a more regular basis? Hard to say. Holidailies will be kicking in soon, so there’s reason for me to keep up the daily posts at least another month, but beyond that, well..we’ll see. I’ve been here before, after all.

The kittens have liberated one ornament from the tree so far, and I am sure more will follow. They have now added ‘jumping onto shelves and knocking decorations to the floor’ to their bag of tricks. Also, I have my suspicions as to which one is responsible for me finding a bulb of garlic on the floor now, twice, the second time looking a bit worse for wear (these kittens will eat ANYTHING but really? Raw garlic?) but so far neither of them is willing to confess.