In the summer of 2005, I had one cat, Gandalf. I loved him dearly, but wished he were a little more affectionate and a little less aggressive. When I visited my then-in-laws with my then-husband of less than a year, I was surprised by how docile their cat was. Not long after we got home, I saw a Pet of the Week news segment about how cats are often happier in pairs. My ex noted the gleam in my eye and said, “I think someone wants another cat.”
So one August day, we set off to an animal shelter in search of the friendliest cat they had. We considered a few fluffballs and even (briefly) a cool bobcat. Eventually I sat down, and a tiny cat with unusual coloring launched herself into my lap, rolled around, and started rubbing her head all over me. I looked at my ex and said, “I think this is the one.”
For a couple of days, she didn’t have a name. The shelter had called her Kelli. I tried out Lucy (as in Pevensie), but it didn’t feel exactly right. (Aside: My now-best friend’s cat is named Lucy. Alanna and I wouldn’t meet for another few years, and her Lucy wasn’t born yet.) That Sunday night, my then-brother-in-law commented, “She’s peach-colored. How about Peach?” Peach looked right at him and meowed affirmatively.
Everyone who ever met Peach commented on how sweet and beautiful she was. From day one, she was the Extrovert Cat to Gandalf’s Introvert Cat. Her characteristic behavior at the shelter turned out to be more hyperactivity than affection, though she was very friendly. She loved to be petted, but hated to be held or picked up, and rarely stayed still long enough to cuddle. When she wanted something at any time of day or night, she’d just start chewing on you – a habit that persisted all her life. She especially loved toes. She was generally more playful than Gandalf and sometimes liked to chase a ball. In contrast to her personality, she was quiet vocally and rarely meowed above a squeak. Oh, and PS, the socialization totally worked.
Peach was almost a year old when I got her, so I never knew what her kittenhood was like, but I suspect she spent most of it on the street. My dad called her “Street Cat.” If I let her, she’d happily lay on my car all day. She was also an excellent hunter. One day last summer, I’d let both cats into the garage for a while and left the house door cracked so they could get back in. I was in the kitchen cutting up a watermelon when I heard a scuffle at the door. A minute later, Peach strolled through the kitchen with a live salamander hanging out of both sides of her mouth. I froze, then tossed both of them back into the garage, told them to work it out, and shut the door. When I checked back later, the salamander was gone. I choose to believe she let it go – it was way too big for her to eat.
About four years ago, Peach started throwing up abnormally frequently. The vet said her mouth was rejecting two of her teeth, so I had them removed, but pretty soon the throwing up resumed and got worse. For almost a year, I tried everything I could think of to help her. I switched both cats to (expensive) grain-free food. I bought probiotics. Hundreds of dollars’ worth of tests showed that other than a total inability to keep food down, she was perfectly fine. By January 2012, she weighed six pounds and was so sick I was about to give up. Only then did the vet suggest we try giving her prednisone. She improved and gained some weight immediately, so by process of elimination, she was diagnosed with Irritable Bowel Disease.
Some cats with IBD live a healthy, normal life on meds. Some can even taper down to an occasional dose. Peach was never one of those cats. I had to manage her treatment constantly, and she never regained her full health or energy level. One fix after another proved to be nothing but false hope. Over the last six months, between the loss of my other cat and the packing up of my house, she got noticeably more distressed and lethargic. But after I moved into my new place almost two months ago, she perked up drastically and I hoped this was the change both of us had needed. She seemed much happier… but again, it was only temporary. Soon she was losing weight again and I was cleaning up messy accidents four times a day. A new, great vet recommended B-12 shots that had no effect whatsoever. Still, I was too close to the situation and had been dealing with it for too long to see that it was time to throw in the towel. My family had to sit me down and tell me that she was looking very rough and I needed to think about letting her go. So I started preparing myself. I’d always expected some Incident to let me know it was time, but I realized that with this type of condition, eventually you just have to decide that enough is enough… a sad application of my One Word that I never saw coming.
The Incident came anyway, last Monday. I arrived home from a trip to find an epic disaster that took me an hour to clean up. I knew Peach and I had finally reached our mutual breaking point. The next day I called the vet, who agreed that there was nothing else I could do for her. So on Friday afternoon, I said goodbye to my Peachy of almost ten years. As sad as it was, I feel totally confident that it was the right decision, and relieved that she’s no longer suffering and we’re both free. The way I see it, I got three bonus years with her, because I really didn’t think she’d make it the first time.
Losing both of my cats in the span of nine months (on top of everything else that’s happened in the last few years) is rough. A new friend commented, kindly, that I must be a strong person to handle this so composedly, but I told her it’s not so much strength as experience. I know this place too well. I know the drill of powering through the necessary awful thing, of making a double-bind choice, on my own. I feel like I’ve spent my entire 30s so far taking emotional knockouts and staggering up from the mat only to get hit again. I know it’s all part of life, and of course there have been happy times too, but I’m beginning to have serious objections to the frequency and intensity of hits I’ve had to take. I don’t know how many more times I can get back up. But that’s another post.
As weird as it feels to be alone alone, I have no immediate plans to get more cats, or even a dog or rabbit. Someday I will, but it makes sense all around to take a break. Freedom is the name of my game right now, plus I’m still too traumatized to risk another high-maintenance pet. I’m also trying to enjoy having any flowers I want in my house, knowing that objects will stay where they are, leaving food and drinks unattended, and other small luxuries.
And I see one other silver lining. It probably sounds crazy, but after a lot of reflection, I’m positive that I would not have decided to move when I did if my cat Gandalf hadn’t died. He was the best pet I’ll ever have, and losing him so suddenly was my final push toward making a big change. I’m hoping that the timing of this loss, of nothing tying me down, will also somehow lead to something positive and purposeful. I guess we’ll find out.
8 Comments + Posted in: cats, grief, memory lane
This What I’m Into is so late that I probably shouldn’t even post it, but too much happened in May for me to let it slide completely. Buckle up!
General Highlights:
May is officially the best month to live in Memphis, and this one was better than most. I’m so glad it was my first full month of Midtown residency! I kicked it off by attending all three days of Music Fest for the first time in a decade with my friends Kelsey and Gwen. The weather was beautiful all weekend, which has never happened in my recollection. BEST MUSIC FEST EVER. More to follow on this.
The following week, Gwen invited me to my first Memphis in May International Gala! It was fun to get dressed up and hang out on the Peabody rooftop.
The Grizzlies were in the playoffs again and the city was united again in the spirit of grit and grind. Myla and I first cheered them on from her couch (or, as her husband called it, “the cheap seats”) and then we and Alanna went to Game 4 against the Warriors, which the Grizz sadly lost. The masks are for our civic hero, Mike Conley, who deserves his own folk song to be sung in bars for generations. (If you doubt me, check out this Sports Illustrated article.)
As always, MIM closed out with the Sunset Symphony, which I attended with several friends and my parents and brother. I’m disappointed that they’ve decided to end that tradition after 39 years. We’ll see what they come up with next year.
Reading:
It appears I only finished two books in May (good grief) and they were both for review, so they’ll get their own posts later.
Watching:
Since I don’t have much time for TV, I tend to add intriguing shows to my Hulu queue and then forget about them. One night I watched the finale of Last Man On Earth (still making up my mind about that show), and at the end it shuffled to the latest episode of Jane the Virgin. I’m glad I was too lazy to get up, because I LOVED IT! It’s funny and heartwarming, and over-the-top on purpose. Plus, a truly ensemble cast is one of my favorite things. I also had no trouble following the story despite jumping in so late in the season. I’ve since gotten to the end, and !!!!
Also, XOXO to Hulu for saving my favorite show, The Mindy Project! I’m sure my Twitter followers are also thankful since I was posting a lot of Mindy tributes to cope with my grief.
At the movies, I saw the new Avengers and Pitch Perfect 2. Loved both.
Music:
At Music Fest, my favorite shows were Paramore (of course), Jenny Lewis, Ed Sheeran, and Bleachers. I also saw (in chronological order) Lenny Kravitz, Lecrae, Lindsey Stirling, Hozier, and St. Vincent. Bleachers did a cover of Kanye’s “Only One” that I wish was available for download – that’s a great song.
A couple of weeks later, I got a last-minute opportunity to see Beck at Mud Island with Kelsey. It was the best Mud Island show I’ve ever been to – they’ve made some improvements at the venue too. I never realized before how weirdly attractive Beck is. I love a self-aware geeky man.
Travel:
For the first time in my life, I got to do my own thing in South Florida for a weekend. My friend Wes and I went to the beach a lot, ate good food, saw amazing art, and went to a baseball game. It was very relaxing and low-pressure and just what I needed.
Around Town:
Myla and I attended Friends Trivia at Schweinehaus AND WON!!! The two of us beat out over 30 other teams! I was so excited I briefly considered adding “Memphis Friends Trivia Champion” to my resume…. #achievement
For Mother’s Day, my mom and I rode our bikes to the Brooks Museum to see a photography exhibit, then around Overton Park to the Bike Gate and then to the Square for an early dinner at Lafayette’s. She’s thrilled about me living over here, and I’m happy to have her support and participation in fun things.
Wearing:
I feel meh about my entire summer wardrobe, but in a month’s worth of bargain shopping, all I found were these two pairs of VERY comfortable shoes. Oh well.
Pinterest Quote of the Month:
On The Blog:
I posted ONCE in May and it was a One Word update: Enough, Seriously.
I also wrote about the historic Memphis Bicycle Co. for Memphis Type History. The liquidation sale was a really cool experience.
Posts I Loved:
♥ Last year, Sarah Reck let me beta-read her latest novel, The Rules of Summer Camp, and I LOVED it. Now it’s available on SwoonReads for your poolside or beach enjoyment!
♥ Kelsey Munger: When Self-Care Means Not Apologizing
♥ Emily at The Waiting: Eating the Elephant
♥ Lindsey Coates: Dear Rebel Wilson
♥ Katee Forbis: The One About Superfans
♥ Hannah Brencher: I am not the point.
♥ Kate Conner: On Loving People Who Are Hot Messes
3 Comments + Posted in: what i'm into
For the past month, I’ve watched countless walkers, bikers, and runners stream by my gate in my new neighborhood, but haven’t had time to join them. This week, I needed to check on the hours of a business up the street. I also felt a little stir crazy from being sick and needed to move around. So I decided to stroll there and back. At a slow pace, with no music to distract me, I soaked in the details of all the beautiful old houses along the way. I exchanged smiles with the many other pedestrians I passed. I stopped to listen to a singing mockingbird. At some point on the return trip, I felt a sense of stillness and space – a few moments’ break from being cluttered up to my mental rafters. It was a relief to know I can still experience that. It had been a while.
The Year of Enough has been declaring itself loudly in this move. I dropped almost everything when my old house went under contract, repeating the excuse that I needed to get through the move and then I’d get right back on track. But after a month of residence in my new place, I’m still taking life one day at a time. There are still packed boxes in every room, and almost nothing on the walls. Between settling in to a different type of space, and my workload hitting its most demanding level in thirteen years, I just can’t chase hard after anything else. I’m not even ready to think about going back to community band, especially during our busiest time of year. I’ve barely even picked up a book. My commitment to church activities and community isn’t living up to my original intentions. I want to spend intentional time with friends old and new but fail to initiate plans. I’ve become That Person who RSVPs the day before. Worst of all, I haven’t been writing – here or anywhere. In that area especially, I feel like I’m in a rushing river, clinging to a rapid, and with every week that passes, I fall off and drift further down the river, increasing the distance I’ll never be able to make up toward personal goals and being a “successful,” productive person. For the sake of my health, I choose not to hustle. Then I go out with friends, and enjoy the city I love, and sit on my balcony for a while, and the little voice inside says, See, you DO have time to hustle, and no one respects you anymore, because you’ve stopped taking life seriously.
When you boil it all down, my main reason for moving to Midtown was to be happy and free. What a selfish, scandalous thing for a Christian to admit. But God encouraged me in it at every point in the process. It’s already one of the best decisions I’ve ever made and I am confident He endorses it. So, after everything I went through to get here, why am I in such a hurry to weigh myself down again, especially with some things I’m not even sure make me happy anymore? My basic needs are covered. I work hard. I’m still trying to love and help people well in a day-by-day way. And when I’m not listening to that little voice, I have peace like a river in my soul, and I’m very happy. Maybe it’s okay to let that be enough, at least for a while. Maybe it’s okay to look at the path right in front of me and do what comes naturally instead of trying to force it. Maybe I’m still somehow useful as I am right now, still going somewhere despite my current lack of drive and focus. And maybe people will still like and care about me even if I’m a little messy and not making it a priority to do everything right.
I loathe the term “season.” It’s become smarmy Christianese to me, because it’s often both invalidating and falsely hopeful. But sometimes it delivers much-needed perspective. A season of lowering the pressure and enjoying life doesn’t mean I’m wasting my life. I also shouldn’t feel guilt or shame because my life is, on the surface, fun and easy right now. To the wives, moms, and caretakers, maybe it looks like I’ve moved into a nonstop party. But I’m not going to ruin my suddenly light heart and light feet by apologizing for them. We are all laboring under our own burdens, mine happen to be less obvious, and I will no longer deny myself things purely to look holier or more responsible.
I went through a similar “season” the summer after my ex-husband left. I had a strong impression that I should relax, not worry about long-term plans, and enjoy whatever happiness God brought my way – anything that helped me feel good about life. I had worked hard for a very long time, and it was time for a “vacation.” I took it, and no one died. Well, it’s been five years, I’ve been through another (more mysterious) dark time of the soul, and I’ve had another fairly significant life change. Maybe I’m due. May it be enough.
8 Comments + Posted in: changes, faith, one word 365
General Highlights:
April was a very eventful month. After going through the entire selling and buying process in three weeks’ time, I moved to a beautiful townhouse in Midtown on April 16! On top of the upheaval of packing, tending to repairs and accounts, making a million decisions, and signing a million papers, I also had a big transition at work. My department was taken over by another department. I’m still doing the exact same job, but we have different bosses and a different focus and most of our processes have changed. Friends usually cringe when I tell them this, but so far, most of the changes have been awesome and I feel energized and hopeful. That’s major progress in two of my three predetermined Enough categories, and as Meatloaf says, two out of three ain’t bad.
I’m really thankful for all the support this month. Troops of friends showed up to help me pack, bring food (so appreciated when I couldn’t locate any of my food), take things off my hands, and exclaim over my new home. Others repeatedly talked me down from the ledge in stressful moments (selling and buying homes as a single person is HARD). Everyone seems genuinely excited for me, and I feel loved. When you don’t have the standard big life events that traditionally evoke support and celebration, it means a lot when the people you care about acknowledge and appreciate your milestones. Special shoutout as always to my parents, and to my sister Debra, who called to check on me EVERY DAY and always concluded, “You’re doing a good job.” Some days, that affirmation was my lifeline.
Reading:
I read a whopping four books this month. Here are three of them. Loved the first two, liked the second. They look pretty together!
Music:
No new jams, but I’m still very into alt-J. I loved their Coachella set on Sirius XMU and am excited that they’re coming to town in October! Who wants to go?
Around Town:
My friend Wes was in town for Easter weekend, so a bunch of us went to the Redbirds/Cardinals exhibition game and to multiple cool places around the city, including the new Rec Room on Broad, which is such a great concept. After moving, I started establishing myself at the neighborhood hangouts immediately. My first meal as a Midtowner was at Central BBQ, because it’s important to kick these things off right. The next week, I took an extra day off to unpack, and Myla and I lunched at the new Aldo’s Pizza location in Cooper-Young. I love it. The rooftop is fantastic, and the place was so new, they didn’t even have a sign out yet. #hipster
At Home:
Much more new-house stuff to come, but a few of my favorite things thus far: my beautiful kitchen; the dressing table I’ve wanted all my life and found on Craigslist (it’s handmade!); makeshift high heel storage in my over-the-stairwell closet.
Wearing:
I took out my summer wardrobe and packed the sweaters away after I moved, but quickly realized it was a little soon. (Wishful thinking.) I also feel meh about most of my stuff, and the pieces I do love are looking worn. However, this new clearance skirt from Old Navy is making me very happy!
Products:
My cat was not happy about the packing up of our old house, and she expressed it as pets often do. After a few days’ panic over the destruction of what was now essentially someone else’s carpet, I bought a spot steam cleaner off Craigslist. It was worth every penny – my stress level went down immediately. So far there’s only been one incident on the carpet in the new house, but I still feel better having this in my arsenal.
Beauty:
In February’s What I’m Into, I mentioned the Rimmel Stay Matte foundation I was trying. After a few weeks I decided it wasn’t working – when you’re still breaking out at 35, you need REAL coverage. (This is also why I can’t use mineral makeup.) I searched my go-to, The Budget Beauty Blog, for recs and settled on Maybelline Fit Me Matte. It’s far more effective than the Rimmel, with the same shine prevention, and I plan to stick with it for the near future!
Random Happiness:
My brother was also in town for Easter weekend. Hopefully he’ll be back for a longer visit sometime in May.
On The Blog:
To preserve my sanity during my move, I took a vacation from everything but work. Therefore, I didn’t post here for almost three weeks, the longest silence in the history of this blog. And you know what? Nobody died and you’re still reading! Thank you all! I did share about what I’ll miss about my old home, and this week, thoughts on being home at last.
At the Memphis Type History blog, I wrote a piece about Sam Cooper of Sam Cooper Boulevard fame. He was an interesting and accomplished man. I interviewed both Cooper’s daughter and former Memphis mayor Dick Hackett for the story, and felt like a legit journalist. Memphians, I welcome your local history questions! I’m hoping for lots of inspiration now that I live in an actual historic district. (Seriously, how cool is that?)
Posts I Loved:
♥ Leanne Penny: Prayer Is Hard, Chili Is Easier.
♥ Abby at Accidental Devotional: How to Be Counter-Cultural. (It’s not what you think.)
♥ The brilliant Hannah Brencher: Death of a Game Player. (Also, from her If You Find This E-mail blog: Orbits.)
♥ The fabulous Alison Gary: Smug. GET IT, GIRL.
♥ Allison Vesterfelt at Storyline with a revolutionary relationship thought: Don’t Try To Be Humble. Just Try to Be Yourself. (This post made me cry.)
♥ Two excellent posts on singleness: You’re Not Going That Way at Just a Trace, and Success at Little Did She Know. I’d like to hand out copies of Cara’s post to anyone who wonders why I struggle so hard with feelings of failure.
6 Comments + Posted in: what i'm into
Hope begins in the dark; the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. – Anne Lamott
Looking at pictures from last summer makes me a little uncomfortable. Underneath my smiles, I can see the soul restlessness and itchiness that started to take hold around this time last year. Suddenly, I wanted things – some easy to articulate, some not – with such intensity that the lack of them sometimes made me feel like I was coming out of my skin. I had a growing awareness that the life I’d lived up to that point couldn’t cut it anymore. The era of quiet contemplation, safety, and solitude was over. I was ready to usher in a new era of excitement and adventure. To get messy and take risks. To be swept away by the unexpected. I was the very personification of a John Green quote. But I wasn’t living in a John Green book, and I didn’t get the plot I was looking for.
By the time fall set in, a few things had changed for the better. But the adrenaline of the summer had altered me, and I knew I was just getting started. I was more and more sure of one thing: I had to move. I wasn’t going to get anything I wanted sitting out in the suburbs. From then on, a part of my consciousness was always pointed toward Midtown, and when I listed my house in February, it pretty much took over. And you know the rest of the story.
I’ve lived in my new Midtown home for about ten days, and friends, life inside the loop is good. So far, it’s everything I hoped for and more. The first stretch was rough: my movers arrived 3.5 hours late and finished moving me around midnight; then, despite careful labeling, I couldn’t find even the most basic things. Including food. But after a real shower and a night in my own bed, I woke up that Saturday morning with a deep sense of peace and lightness I’d honestly forgotten existed. For at least a year, something in my soul had been thrashing around all the time, like a bird throwing itself against the bars of its cage. While I slept well for the first time in my new home, the door opened and the bird flew free. As soon as I opened my eyes, I knew the weight in my chest that had become my normal was gone. Gone. Just like that.
Around 4:00 on my moving afternoon, I was alone at the old house, beginning my long wait for the movers, while my mom went out to get drinks. I noticed an older lady pacing in front of the house, briefly wondered what that was about, then returned to my business. There was a knock at the door. When I opened it, the lady was on the other side. She said, “Hi, I’m Linda. I just bought your house.”
I’ve mentioned before that I thought my buyers were probably going to rent out my house. I have nothing against renters – I planned to rent myself before all this happened. I just wanted someone to personally love the house the way I had, and it seemed doubtful that anyone would. A landlord seemed far more likely to blaze through, rip out my beloved plants, and paint the whole place builder beige. A renter seemed more likely to go, “Eh, this isn’t mine anyway.” I’d accepted this, but it made me sad. It was the only thing I lacked peace about in the move… and then Linda showed up in search of some important mail. I liked her immediately. In one short conversation, I got answers to all the things that hadn’t added up about the sale. I found out she would be living there herself, was very excited about it, that she planned to sew in my sewing room and loves plants. She looked right at me and said, “I don’t want you to worry about your plants.” In that moment, she was God showing up in the flesh, unmistakably holding out His hands and saying, Go in peace. It was the tying up of the last loose end, and the second moment of this year when I knew God loved me, because it was such an obvious and unnecessary blessing.
Right now, everything about my new life is exciting and magical. I’m prancing around and singing the joys of city life like Tracy Turnblad, and my first trip to the Cash Saver felt like going to Disney World. My new home is exactly right for me, and I’m not discouraged by the challenges of downsizing and having a more open floor plan. To people who move a lot or make huge life changes as a matter of course, I probably seem like a crazy person. So you moved across town. Big deal. But this is much bigger than a simple move across town. This is my declaration, my claiming of who and what I am right now, not who I was or who I once hoped to be. This is about a home I chose for myself, free of ghosts. This is about knowing I’m in the right place at the right time, and as a result, feeling actual hope for my near future. In a long half-decade of disappointment, this is the first really big thing that’s gone right. My spiritual eyes have grown accustomed to the dark. Now I’m blinking, disoriented, and don’t quite trust that I’ll be allowed to stay long in the light. But while it lasts, I’m going to enjoy it for all it’s worth.
12 Comments + Posted in: changes, hope, moving