Meet Lily

I adopted a cat. Meet Lily.

Lily on the stairs

She was a TNR cat who’s been living in the neighborhood for about four years. I started feeding her a few weeks ago to try to get her used to me, and she started coming up on my porch and leaning on my door. We made eye contact and meowed back and forth, so it was obvious that she was socialized, not feral.

My neighbor helped me catch her. She’s still adapting to this weird living inside thing. (Lily, not my neighbor.)

She has a vet appointment in a few days to get a check up, shots, and anything else she needs. Once she’s officially parasite-free and her nails have been trimmed, I’ll start slowly introducing her to Fiona, my bunny. Right now a baby gate is keeping her from entering the living room, so she only has access to the upstairs and the stairwell. She’s been spending most of her time in the coat closet and in my studio under my workbench.

If I pet her, she purrs loudly, but she insists on staying back where I have to nearly dislocate a shoulder to reach her, so I can’t pet her much. I think eventually she’ll be snuggly, but I have to give her time. I can do that.

Life, Death, and Angst

me with my mom in 1967

My mom died last week. She was 77.

She had been sick for several months, but I didn’t realize how serious it was, because she’d been sick for most of her life, really. She had been in and out of hospitals for my whole life. Even before I was born. So I didn’t realize this was different.

And then I got a message that she was in hospice.

And before I could really get used to that, the next day I got a phone call that she had died that morning.

It all happened so fast.

And then there was her funeral. And two days later I turned 54. But for the first time ever, she didn’t call to wish me a happy birthday. I don’t have a mom anymore.

I didn’t always have the best relationship with her. We didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, and she was very critical of me at times.

But she taught me how to sew. And she taught me how to do long division when my fifth grade teacher seemed to be pulling numbers out of her ass. And she read a lot, so I observed that reading was a thing that people did for pleasure.

I know she loved me, even if it didn’t feel like it sometimes. But now she’s gone.

And now I’m 54, and I’m looking back on the past year, and I’m thinking, man, that was a really shitty year. A few good things happened, but mostly really shitty things happened.

Rob left me and told me he had never been in love with me. That’s pretty shitty. I had a several month fibro flare and major depression. Shitty. I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. Good to finally get a diagnosis, but shitty to have it. I became destitute. Shitty. I gained 30 pounds in about six months. Shitty. I met Russell. Yay, finally a good thing. I fell and broke my wrist. Totally shitty. It still hurts. I started taking coding classes online. Good. And then my mom died. That’s just totally shitty.

I am due for a lot of good stuff to start happening.

Do you hear that, Universe? Good stuff. I am due for good stuff to happen. A lot of good stuff needs to happen to me now.