madelines anyone?

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I had a Proustian moment this morning (yes, I said it – Proustian.) I lay snuggled in the warm bed with words weaving through my thoughts until two poems sprang, fully formed like Athena, right out of my skull. I was delayed in writing them down, though, by a cat sleeping comfortably on me, undisturbed by my creative process.

I don’t really know how this cat in the bed thing came about. For fourteen years he was never allowed in the bed.  I suffered from a debilitating condition all summer and spent a lot of time in bed. He would sleep on the rug next to the bed until we had a house guest with a dog, who scared him. So, I allowed him to sleep on the foot of the bed. After the dog left, he didn’t sleep on the bed all every night anymore, but he’s decided it is ok to come up there if he feels like it. He stays at the foot of the bed until he hears the alarm or I start to stir, then he climbs up and goes sleep on me.

I had to go to the VA today. I go every Tuesday to check in with my doctor and get physical therapy. That is going to end soon, though, so I am glad for that. It was a beautiful day in the valley, so I didn’t mind the drive up into the city. I enjoy seeing all of the animals in the fields. The warmer than usual temperatures has thoroughly confused the prairie dogs, though. I think they’re cute and don’t mind getting to see them in the dead of winter, but it actually does not bode well for them. The dumb ones, who didn’t prepare for the winter, are not going to die off over the winter. They’re all going to be out in force the spring, fornicating and spreading their dumb DNA even further in the prairie dog population. An excess of prairie dogs stresses the food supply and forces them to relocate. The dumb ones end up splattered all over the roads.

I was at place that sells rocks this afternoon. I want a source of old bricks because I want to build a flower box and a fireplace in my backyard. I might have to drive a couple hours, but they might be able to hook me up. What was interesting, though, was their massive cat. I thought it was a pot bellied pig when I first saw it lumbering around. It was friendly enough, and when I pet it – it was solid. The guy didn’t know what breed it is, but it is some freak of nature (or, more likely, closer to nature than our domestic house cats.)

Margaret Culkin Banning said, "Regrets are as personal as fingerprints." An astute woman, I think.