So I’ll spend at least part of my afternoon reading, drinking a smoked yaupon tea with whole milk and maple syrup, maybe have a treat, like one of the donuts we picked up yesterday. I’ll also check every half hour to see if we’ve managed to trap that last kitten, and generally take things slow.
…
Who am I kidding, of course I’ll have that donut!
Here’s hoping your day is good too.
“Trees that are slow to grow bear the best fruit.”
Between house stuff and criss-crossing the city for errands I haven’t had time to do anything special today. I did finish up a reread over breakfast, one I knew would satisfy, so I’m feeling pretty good. (I’m one of those people who enjoys rereads. It’s like ordering your favorite meal, knowing that you’ll love it.) The fact that this book is one in a long series is even better.
Isn’t it nice to have something to look forward to?
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.
Part of what good fiction does is to create a world and place the reader in it, allowing you to imagine yourself battling the Empire, slaying the dragon, or rescuing the fair prince in distress. But I get it, fiction is also a distancing mechanism.
Satisfying stories open with a problem and close when that problem is resolved, leaving the reader with the sense that they’ve helped and no more needs to be done. I think that can be particularly true when it comes to real challenges like climate change.
Sometimes what’s needed is a picture.
* * *
Meet ThisClimateDoesNotExist, a project by a group of scientists from the Quebec AI Institute in Montreal. They’ve put together a tool that lets you visualize the impact of climate change not on the world in general, or even a region, but on an address.
Take Killian Court at MIT, overlooking the Charles River. What would it look like flooded?* Or the US Capitol Building? Or the Sam’s Club parking lot in West Palm Beach, The Alamo in San Antonio (and I’m pretty sure we can kiss the River Walk goodbye), Pike’s Place Market in Seattle, or (now it’s getting real) the Guinness Brewery in Dublin?
* Not worried about flooding? Try the options for wildfire or smog. Also unpleasant!
Then picture yourself there too. Who better to be the hero of that story?
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