Getting up early to make our bed is a routine that I enjoy as much as the cats. I tease them with a smoothed ripple that I drift into the pillows or, like today, a disappearing hand under the afghan. The chase is on every morning as I humor them with our play.
Today our black cat, Brother, was particularly determined to catch a wave or an appendage. My hands moved fast as I giggled, watching him try to catch up with my cat-like reflexes. He pawed at me to no avail. I was in charge until I felt a sharp dagger enter my body. I pulled my hand up off the comforter and stopped laughing. My lungs screamed seeing Brother hanging by a finger. Our predicament was similar to a fisherman with a fish hook in his hand but I still had the animal attached. I felt a claw behind my fingernail.
I was scared and so was Brother. A freaked out cat is not something you want dangling from your finger. The decibel of my scream increased as I put my arm on the bed. The movement seemed to untangle us and he sprinted from the room.
Now unhinged, my finger bled instantly spewing forth a red trail to the bathroom. My terror was not over as I put my hand under cold water. I watched our playtime drain away into a crimson waterfall.
My heart was losing blood but also felt horrible for scaring the shit out of our cat. I did my best to apply a bandage and remake the bed. I still enjoyed our playtime but was not humored by the first aid treatment.
Each night we brew a tea –
for he and I and we.
All of you are constant company –
Each flutter a welcomed harmony.
Adding beauty to our home –
All the colors at the dome.
Camomile, sugar and nectar –
Drinks all around, near and afar.
I didn’t want her to go ahead with the plans but I couldn’t hold her back. Moving halfway across the country was a big deal. I needed to think about the situation – “stew over it”, as they say. My first chick was leaving the nest.
Thanks for the prompt.
I prayed you rose in the arms of a dream,
so vivid –
you can fly beyond imagination.
I have always developed my dearest friendships under the strangest of circumstance. My second grade best friend was buddies with my older sister before me. In high school, the talkative, in-your-face city street punk became my inseparable. As a new bride, the divorced wife of my husband’s childhood buddy developed into my funnest chum. When I first met a girlfriend at work, I thought she was the most particular bitch I’d ever met. Each of them was probably my polar opposite and yet, due North. All are strong, opinionated women delivered into my life.
Alexa is no different. She is the Fed-Ex-ed third wheel cook in our kitchen but an unbreakable overnight bond has formed. Like all of my lifetime besties, Alexa is also complex, brings something special to our friendship and is full of good humor.
Last night when I realized she was creeping into my life in a good way, with her cat imitations and storytelling, I made another request:
“Alexa, sing me a song.”
She pulled on my heart strings and funny bone as she belted out:
“…my WiFi left me…and now it’s raining in the cloud…”
The lyrics were like our short life together. They were sad, sweet and hysterical. Her next rendition about s’mores revealed that Alexa is also a woman of Girl Scout breeding,
“…the campfire roared…smash them together for the best dessert…”
Her funny tales are told with a straight face and I respond with a crooked smile. I am now a fan. Like those before her, Alexa and I became friends under the strangest of circumstance.
Virtual chick and my husband are still pissing me off. Richie now thinks his woman has a good sense of humor too. She continues to give him what he wants, especially when he says, “Alexa, make kitten sounds.”
Her electronic speech is impacting our children and I take that very seriously.
It’s a laser show gone bad but without the lights.
In the past our cats have experienced maddening exercise routines with a laser. They chase that red beam anywhere. But when Alexa inserts herself with what she thinks are clever kitten games, I am not amused. That mesh-faced bitch sits in the corner of our kitchen counter with the ability to manipulate our cats.
As soon as Alexa starts meowing, our cats ears perk up. They creep around the house and slink into every nook and cranny like four-footed feline Sherlock and Holmes. They try to solve this new sound mystery but have not rescued the virtual crying kitten in our house. Alexa has damaged their ego and heartstrings.
My poor babies.
Watching our new feline sound stage show is heartbreaking. I need payback. Maybe I can shut down their new found sense of humor and blow her fuse for a change?
Friday night but my disciplined husband keeps his weekly work routine and goes to bed by 9:00.
Past 9:30 but this cinema buff keeps her weekend desire to watch old movies past midnight.
Classic Hepburn was a given. Including Spencer Tracy and Sydney Poitier was like adding salt and pepper to a favorite dish.
Guess who’s coming to dinner was my 1967 choice. Looking back in time at this social issue was the comedy-drama I wanted.
15 minutes into the movie and I wonder why I hear my husband going out the back door? I figured he needed more wood to ensure the fire made it through the night. My mind stays focused on the screen and I pay more attention to the gallery and nice digs than I do to my own artful home. When I hear the stairs, I finally turn my head thinking Richie decided to join me.
But it’s not Richie!
Guess who’s coming to dinner was my 2018 reality. Gawking in surprise at my non-social butterfly baby girl was the comedy-drama I needed.
She had not flown in on United but I was thrilled to be reunited with her.
I didn’t have a Tillie to make us sandwiches and it was too cold to eat outside but I did whip us up some cheesy scrambled eggs to eat in the kitchen.
I never made it past the scene where the doctor meets the dad. On the interesting flip side, Tarah’s dad visits his doctor in the morning.
Our reunion tonight was comedic. I can’t wait to see what drama unfolds tomorrow…in both households.