hangers on doorknobs so the cat isn’t trapped in a room
the scratching post in my office
the cat tree in the living room
the cardboard boxes strategically positioned in all the best kitty spots
the blanket on the cedar chest at the foot of the bed
the half-empty bottle of anti-inflammatories
the half-empty bag of food
to make sure we close the laundry room door
the chair by the best people-watching window
to worry if I drop a bit of the brownies I made for the vet and don’t immediately pick it up
to mute the TV any time a crying baby appears
the cat bed by the fire
It’s sad not to have the cat here. That’s not so great.
But also? We had a friend over for lunch for the first time since the pandemic began. It was a fantastic festival of vaccinated friendship and exactly what we needed today.
We brought her home a few days later. Tintin was not quite as happy about the company as we had hoped, but we were right about her energy and intelligence.
Neko was a catch-and-release hunter who never met a mourning dove she didn’t want to bring home to play, a fierce protector who growled at unexpected visitors, and while never a cuddler, she always wanted to be close.
Was she smart? Oh yes. She led us to problems like leaking basement pipes and trained us to open the patio door on command, to build cardboard palaces, and to carry her up and down the stairs when they got to be too much for her to manage.
The garden queen in her domain, 2013.
Last month we learned she had lung cancer, along with a rare complication called lung-digit syndrome that made it hard to walk as well as breathe. We consulted an oncologist, got new meds, gave her treats, and generally did what we could to keep her comfortable. We watched her energy and appetite wane. She lost weight. Stairs became a draining once-a-day event. Two days ago she stopped taking her meds.
* * *
For fifteen years we made her hunting blinds so comfortable she couldn’t be bothered to actually hunt, decorated rooms with blankets and fleece beds, and made sure we fed the birds year round so that there was always something entertaining out the windows. Whatever we could to make her life better.
Sometimes the only thing left is to make the end as painless as possible.
This free service distills all that obscure fine print into a list of the least favorable terms and a letter grade so that you at least have some idea what you’re signing onto.
The sun just broke through the morning clouds bringing warmth and new life to the ocean. Not that it needs it. Birds are everywhere, their presence indicating a basically healthy ecosystem. It also tells me that despite not seeing much in the water, there’s a great deal of life in the ocean. None of this is familiar, from the crash of waves on a choppy day to the glint of sun off water or the gulls floating above the shore. I am here to attend a wedding but right now, that’s the least memorable thing about this trip.
On the way down to breakfast yesterday I passed an old photograph of Malibu Colony. It was taken from the north looking down toward the Adams House and beyond to LA. The houses were small then and pressed close to the beach, low against the wind. A two-lane highway separated the houses from a bit of farmland, a road house that is still there, and a series of empty fields that says all that’s needed about land values in those days.
It was a very different place and yet the ocean still dominates, the hills still face the water. The narrow road still provides a winding lifeline to the city, although it’s less adequate than it was a hundred years ago. Life is easier here now, if only because the residents have discovered, and packaged, the true value of the land. These rows and rows of pink houses, mansions on the bluff, and motels of all stripes exist because we enjoy the beauty of this place, but also because we love to walk to the edge, lean over as far as we can, and wonder what’s out there.
In my mind, this town at the edge of the continent is an outpost, our leaping-off point into the unknown. What an appropriate place to start a marriage, at the edge of the familiar, loved ones sending you off with well-wishes and heartfelt blessings.
* * *
We met for brunch at a café down the road from the hotel and I was treated to my first insider glimpse of Malibu life. Despite its unprepossessing location on the strip the parking lot was full of Mercedes. This is a mall, and it is treated with respect.
Squinting against the summer glare, I thought I’d stumbled into a supernova. Instead I was surrounded by women with blindingly white hair, their helmets and war paint and sleek-fitting uniforms overwhelming. Perfect hair, boobs, makeup and noses all packed into bodies at various stages of preservation. I let them pass.
Hands grip the boat’s side golden skin on the water summer sets so fast.
You know how sometimes you see a thing and it sets off little creative sparkles in your brain parts? Well, that’s what happened when I spotted this striking piece of art:
When I saw this my first thought (after “Ok, that’s insanely cool”) was “How can I do that?
Lucky me (and you, if you’re so inclined), the artist has not only created this installation* but turned it into an interactive opportunity. Just as I was visualizing the steps needed to trim a tap like that and build a fountain of plastics, I spotted this:
If you are an artist or creative that would like to participate, join us in creating a remix of the Giant Plastic Tap
I’m practicing new photo processing techniques and thought this was a good place to start. Lots to learn (ugh, lighting and color balance! I was in a hurry, but still) and this challenge is a great way to do it.
William Shatner, the 90-year-old perhaps best known for playing Captain James T. Kirk in Star Trek, flew 100km up into space in a Blue Origin rocket today. He and the other crew members returned safely to Earth ten minutes later.
In completely unrelated news, all those planning to zap Jeff Bezos with a phaser are asked to please stand down.
A long-time family friend always says goodbye by saying “Be good!” My father always answers the same way: “Have fun!”
You can see which side Samuel Clemens occupied.
“Be good + you will be lonesome. Mark Twain” British Library digitised image from page 10 of “Following the Equator. A journey around the world [With a portrait.]”
It’s good to see at least some progress on long-overdue Indigenous issues, but it also raises a question. How do we deal with difficult topics? Expression, sharing, recognition, and dialog are constructive options, and art plays a fundamental role in each of these elements.
This article interviews Indigenous creators, about their art and their thoughts on reconciliation, and also includes links to their work. I particularly like this quote from Inuk singer-songwriter and filmmaker Elisapie:
“Like I always say, this is our story. But this is definitely your story, too. So get on with it and discuss and face those uncomfortable questions and try to find the answers, too, right?”
* * *
I also like this quote from Murray Sinclair:
“I did say … at the end of the TRC report that we will not achieve reconciliation in my lifetime. We will probably not achieve it in the lifetime of my children. We may not even achieve it in the lifetime of my grandchildren,” Sinclair, a former senator and chief commissioner of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), told Unreserved host Rosanna Deerchild.
“But if we make a concerted effort … then eventually we will be able, some day, to wake up and, to our surprise, find that we are treating each other in a way that was intended when contact was first made.”
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