Hello. It's Me. Again.

Maybe you're relieved to see this post.  Maybe you're irritated.  Excited?  Well, I'm back, in a way.

I needed time away from social media.  All in all, and initially as part of my church's annual January fast, I stepped away from all my personal social media accounts (I still maintained the church's sites).  In mid-February, I returned to Instagram.  About a week ago, I began commenting and liking n Facebook again, but I still haven't posted.  I haven't returned to Twitter or tumblr at all yet, save for posting from my Instagram account.

I have to say that I was shocked to learn that I didn't miss Facebook much at all.  Although my feed has come to be less about catching up with friends than it is about mudslinging, religious fervor, and cat pictures, it's still very addictive.  A great time-killer.  Likewise, though, it's a great way to avoid responsibility and face-to-face interaction with other human beings.  I realized that was not a healthy way to live, and found myself pointedly ignoring my phone for long stretches, or checking only e-mail or text messages.  

In some ways, I've emerged happier.  I don't get sucked into the abyss that is the comments section at the bottom of every Buzzfeed post. I don't mentally correct grammar or wonder what type of horrible education/recreational drug the comments were influenced by.  I don't waste time on finding out which celebrity my cat's personality most resembles (although, for the record, I think Freyja might be Adele).  

I've also been writing.  A lot.  I was entrusted with the huge honor of writing a program for my church's Good Friday service, which is something we haven't done in many, many years.  I wrote it, cast it, and we are currently in rehearsals for both the Good Friday service and the Easter Sunday service.  I'm incredibly proud of my actors, and more than a little shocked that my father agreed to play Caiaphas, the High Priest!

I've also, against my wishes, had to return to work full-time.  I do like my job - don't get me wrong, I really do - but leaving Ronen is not getting easier; it's getting harder.  Since January, he has been struggling - we all have - with separation anxiety and sadly, I get the worst of it.  He's displaying an over preference for Daddy lately, and I get ignored when I pick him up from my parents' house.  Daddy gets squeals of excitement, and I barely elicit a casual "Mum."  I know it's normal for his age (almost two, can you believe it?) but it's very difficult.

But the point of this post isn't really to tell you where I've been.  It's to tell you where I will be.  I'll be here, a bit.  I'll also be posting material on an online writing portfolio in the hopes of landing some freelance work (more information to follow).  I'm working on editing a collection of my church-friendly skits in the hopes of finding a publisher.  And I'm really hoping to work with some of the teenage girls in my church to put together a conference for tweens and teens about what it means to be a godly woman (hint: it's probably not what you think it is).

So I won't be online much.  I'll creep on Facebook here and there, and I'll still be blowing up IG with cat pictures and baby videos, but that's about it.  I'm not ready to slip out of the grip of social media altogether, but I've decided that I'm in charge.  Not my Facebook feed.  Not the links to those soul-sucking political articles.  I'll be using my accounts to my advantage - not the other way around.

Blog Bit: Stuff My Cats Do (Part Three)

The cats don't often sleep with us.  We value our own rest too much to endure the perpetual purring of Loki or Thor's grunts as he shifts position.

Thor: EVERY SINGLE NIGHT before
I go to bed.  Pretty much going to steal
 my soul, I think.

Still, every so often, and usually on the weekends, we let the little buggers curl up with us.  Thor lays on top of me, practically curling up on my neck, until he gets bored, or I move, or try to get under the blanket (Thor is only happy when we are both on top of the blanket).  Then he sighs and leaves.

Loki, on the other hand, is pretty much like that toddler who you are REALLY trying to put in her big-girl bed...but who somehow finds herself wedged between you and your hubby, making weird noises and keeping either of you from falling asleep, while she blissfully slumbers.

She has a super-creepy and borderline dangerous habit of nudging me awake, then positioning herself so that my arm is parallel with her body.  Then she licks my fingers and wraps all four paws around my arm.  My hand usually ends up nestled in her soft belly fur as she purrs, while my flesh is gently enclosed by razor-sharp talons that could pierce my very soul at any moment.

It's pretty terrifying.

So, yeah.  We don't usually sleep with our pets.  And from what I hear about kids' fingernails and sleepy-time fist-pumping, we won't be sleeping with our children, either!

Blog Bit: Stuff My Cats Do (Part Two)

Loki plays fetch. 

At first, I genuinely thought it was a fluke.  What self-respecting feline, after all, would play with humans as a simple-minded dog might?  But then, Loki isn't exactly a self-respecting feline.

She's pretty much half dog and half skunk.

Thankfully, though, that "half skunk" part is diminishing, as we recently changed the cats' dry food to an indoor variety.  Up until about two weeks ago, I swear, that animal smelled like the devil's feet.  The odors coming out of her were otherworldly.  She farted when she got excited...when she was startled...when Ross came home (she loves him)...when she was picked up...so, pretty much, she farted dozens of times daily.

Ick.

But about that dog half...

Two weeks ago, when I was in the kitchen baking (unusual for me), I noticed that Loki had gotten yet another one of my hair elastics (I practially buy a new package every month, thanks to her) and was playing with it noisily on the floor.  A little frustrated at her claws tap-tap-tapping on the floor, I picked the thing up and tossed it into the basement.  She shot after it.  Then I returned to the counter.  I turned around, and she had already flown back up the stairs and deposited the elastic at my feet.



Loki with her preferred human companion.

Freak, I thought, and kicked it back downstairs.  Down and back, like a rocket.  I abandoned my baking and kept throwing the elastic.  We went back and forth maybe nine or ten times before she flopped down on the floor, tired.

That was cute, and kind of creepy, I mused.  Cats do strange things all the time; it's part of their nature to be spontaneous in the most inconvenient and odd ways.  Like the time I saw Thor puff for no reason and start to dance sideways.  Or the time he licked the shower walls for, like, an hour.  Or when the house is perfectly silent, and they leap to their feet out of a dead sleep and fly through the kitchen like furry meteors after each other.

The next day, I was making dinner and listening to an old radio program and there she was again, begging to play.  She even danced around like dogs do when they realize they're about to get some attention.  I threw the elastic and ignored her, but she added another rule to the game.  I was no longer allowed to ignore her, as she kept nuzzling against my feet and legs until I played.  This was a clearly new tactic; Loki is extremely affectionate, but she is not a leg nuzzler!  Perhaps she had seen Thor employ this clever strategy in order to snag a piece of ham or glob of tuna from me while I was cooking!  She was perhaps less simple than we had originally guessed.

Anyway, long story short, Loki and I have played fetch maybe seven or eight times in the past two weeks.  She's particular that we play with the elastics; even her small mouse toy won't make it back up the stairs with her.  And they have to be thrown down the stairs.  If I throw them into the other room, she won't bring them back to me.

So, fetch.  On her own terms.  I guess she's still a cat after all.

Things I've Learned Whilst Being Unemployed

1. I drink coffee more now than I did when I was working.

2. If you don't shower within 3 hours of waking up, you don't shower at all.

3. Eating can become a hobby if you aren't careful.  I am not careful.

4. I have more time than ever to maintain the house, and less desire than ever to do so.

5. My cats spend 85% of the day sleeping.  They are shockingly dedicated to their art.

6. I cannot hide birthday gifts from my husband (actually, I knew that before I lost my job).

7. Creating a routine without the obligation of a third-party (work, etc.) is nearly impossible.

8. Tumblr can be a scary place.

9. It is impossible to convince a cat that a laptop is not a heating pad.

10.  This isn't as relaxing as I was hoping it would be.

Four More Dirty Little Paws

She's charming, cunning, lithe, stealthy, fierce-looking, with intelligent eyes and a perfect face.  And she has turned Thor's world upside-down.

Of course we named her Loki.

Ross and I had been toying with the idea of getting another cat for a few months, but we hadn't really made a concrete decision.  We vascillated over the cost, the benefits, and the twice-as-stinky litter box that would result from an additional feline in the house.  Two weeks ago, however, we made the fateful decision to walk around at Robinson Mall and browse while longingly savoring the aroma of Chick-Fil-A and McDonald's (we're trying to cut back on fried food, and that is, naturally, when it is most alluring).  We happened upon a display set up by the Humane Society for their cat adopting promotion. 

As we learned when we attempted to drop off Thor with them last year, many kittens are born between May and July, making it "kitten season".  Hundreds of babies are born to mommy cats who haven't been spayed, and animal shelters are literally up to their ears in frisky, adorable felines who need homes.  We had seen quite a few in our neighborhood without collars or bells - one of whom we even guessed might be Thor's mother - and all of the cats I had during my childhood had been strays.  (Moral of the story: spay and neuter your pets, people!  I don't have to get all Sarah McLachlan on you, do I?)

There were three cats at the mall.  One was a charming, calm black and white male, perhaps a year old, an antsy brindle-coated female of the same age...and a gorgeous, frisky, bright-eyed brown tabby.  Ross asked to pet her, and the volunteer hesitated, saying that she'd been handled a lot and she'd really only prefer if we played with her if we were seriously considering adoption.  Ross confirmed that we were - to my surprise, of course.  "She's just had her nap," the girl added, "So she will probably be really energetic."  Ross opened the cage and out sprung the tabby, inquisitive and excited.  Within a minute, though, she had fallen asleep in his arms. 

As children came up to pet and admire the kitty, I saw that Ross had fallen in love with her faster than he had fallen for me!  "Where can we sign?" I heard him asking of the kitten, whose name was actually Luna - but it wouldn't be for long.

I thought she was a pretty cute little catch, but admittedly, I was worried about my unsuspecting fur-baby at home.  Thor hadn't had much time to play with his litter mates, if there were any - we'd found him at five weeks.  He had gotten used to us and our schedules.  How would he take the arrival of a new kitten?  Would she be a compatriot or a competitor?

I read through the literature given to us, as well as did some research online about how to introduce a new cat to the existing one.  I read that the cats were not to see each other for a full week, resticted to simply smelling each others' scent on towels or washclothes.  Then, they were to be allowed to briefly see each other through a mostly-closed door, and even then, only while being given treats so that seeing each other becomes associated with positive things.

And I am so glad I disregarded all of that.

The layout of our house didn't permit it, and, frankly, I am too lazy to fuss that much over pets.  I'm sure the advice is excellent, but, after only a few hours of segregation, Thor noticed Loki through the glass door between the kitchen and the dining room.  He was shocked, it seemed, but he wasn't on the defensive.  He wasn't yowling or hissing, his tail wasn't lashing, and he puffed up only when I unexpectedly opened the door to come to pet him.

The separation lasted a day.

When they met nose-to-nose, Loki was in her glory.  A friend!  A friend just like me - but bigger!  Oh, yay!  Thor was hesitant and wary, and his confusion resulted in Loki backing him playfully into the corner on more than one occasion.  Really?  My mighty thunder-cat, perplexed by a two-pound kitten?  It was entertaining, to say the very least. 

Even as I watched them play (or, in Thor's case, avoid playing), I was thanking God that they were getting along.  I had heard horror stories of cats having to be separated permanently, or being returned to the shelter for not getting along with the existing pets - or children.  That was actually another reason we had gotten Loki.  The time will come when I do have a full-term pregnancy, and we didn't want  Thor to lose his little kitty mind having to adjust his lifestyle.  Now that he's adapted once to an interloper, hopefully it will not be as traumatic when we finally do bring home a baby.

Thor plays a bit rough sometimes, and Loki is certainly lively.  But there haven't been many instances when we've actually been worried about them hurting each other.  In fact, there was an interesting moment in the dining room just last week...

Ross had gotten home and was preparing the grill for burgers.  He came back into the house and we were playing with the cats when, suddenly, Thor puffed up to twice his size and began hissing and growling.  We followed his gaze; from atop the buffet table (his favorite spot), he was glaring angrily into the backyard at a little black female cat who was passing through.  The Black Widow, as we'd nicknamed her (come on, people, if we're naming our cats after Avengers, we'd best keep the theme), had appeared before, sparking Thor's interest, but this time he seemed particularly aggressive.  When his puffing and spitting finally intimidated (or bored) the cat enough for her to leave, Thor turned to Loki and protectively licked her ears. 

Okay, so maybe I'm projecting a little too much humanity onto my cats.  But that's okay.  Clearly, they get along and Thor has accepted Loki as his little sister.

Oh, and if you think it's strange for us to name a female cat after the Norse god of mischief...put down your DVDs and brush up on your mythology.  There's a lot more to Loki than Tom Hiddleston in a cape and horns - although his portrayal is certainly nothing to scoff at!