Thought the First: this statement by a Heathen group in the Bay area is one of the best, no-nonsense examples of an oath of solidarity I may ever read, and you should read it. This is what our future norm looks like, if we commit to it and keep it alive. This is what I hope to see more of, what I myself will work toward. This matters. Black lives matter. Well said and well done.
Thought the Second: Bekah Kelso had her premier online concert last night, and it was great fun! She’s broadcasting another one with her full band as Bekah Kelso and The Fellas on January 28, via Concert Window.
Thought the Third and Most Fuzzy:
It got too cold out to continue working in my (only cursorily insulated) studio yesterday, so I moved operations back into the main house. It’s Arkansas weather in December, though, so it’ll probably change back to warmer temperatures before I’m done. 🙂 The last two mixes for the new record are coming along nicely. I’m beginning to think that my hardest work is done.
Moving back into the house to work has some side benefits. This morning, I’m sitting at my nifty homemade fold-down desk on the ground floor, watching my partner and our cats radiate contentment as I type. Well. Some are radiating more content than others just now.
This guy. This would be the furry intruder I mentioned a couple of posts ago. He had a big day yesterday. He suffered himself to be taken to the vet in town for neutering and shots, and all was well. We drove him home again through rain and sleet, he napped the nap of the righteous many times over, he fastidiously buried his business in the dirt beneath the as-yet unfinished steps to the entryway (about as good a poop situation as we could ask for, really, but we’ve since covered up the gaps and are encouraging him to use the vast outdoors from now on, and the litter box if he absolutely must), and he ate his weight in cat food. Without upsetting his stomach.
He purrs and trills without even waking up. He snuggles both humans without being wildly insistent, and he doesn’t particularly pick fights with his two elders (though the power struggle is just beginning, I know. There have been a couple of kitty Cold War moments). He actually seems to have pretty good manners – somebody laid down some stress musk last night somewhere in the room, but it’s not half as strong as it could be. And he’s still here this morning, not having suckered us into getting him all fixed up at the doctor’s only to vanish.
The vet says he’s about six months old, healthy, and that his bobtail is a natural one, not a trauma induced one. He shares enough characteristics with the Manx breed for me to think that he has the Manx bobtail gene and a bit of actual Manx in his pedigree somewhere. He’s talkative, affectionate, and relatively self contained.
My heart is essentially won.
Pooshka, however, is pretty upset with all of us. “You praised me for standing off with that…that VAGRANT and now you’re letting him EAT HERE?”
We are balancing extra cuddles and treats with giving him space to grump. I’m trying not to be too distressed over it. He’s an easy-going guy most of the time, and I hope he will adjust.
Minko, by contrast, is still queen of the yard and gives zero fucks.
“Welcome to Don’t-Suffer-Fools-R-Us. Please take a number and have a seat. And pet me.”
We are calling him Gawain, for walking in without fear like he owned the place and standing up to beings several times his size, thereby earning his hero’s rest. Ladles and Gentlebeings, I am pleased to introduce Gawain Rocky Rapscallion, initials G. R. R. Wish us luck as we all cuddle through his transition into our home.
….such suffering.