Saturday, January 13, 2007

The Ides of January

In the continuing scintillating and thrilling week of PeaceBang, I wrote a sermon, wrote about 100 e-mails, thought two or three deep thoughts and about six thousand useless ones, planned some church programming, had a half dozen nice meetings, cared about a lot of people, outright worried about a few more, cracked the Bible and prayed exactly once in the past week, and pinched a nerve in my neck.

The cat is still breathing "harshly," per the vet today, and she is still on prednisone. She will be staying on prednisone for the forseeable future. She eats better. She is now mad at me for being the Mean Lady Who Makes Her Eat Pills. She runs from me. I don't need this. I tell her that if we lived on a farm, she'd be put in a gunnesack with a few heavy stones and tossed in the lake. So don't push it, I tell her. This has been a loooong ten days and if you're not cute, you're just an expensive problem right now. She gets quivery tail at me. We make up and kiss. She does Le Grande Flop against my side and tucks herself even more tightly against me, hooking her pristine white paws around my arm. There is a tiny, almost imperceptible rattle underneath her purring. I hold my own breath and listen, listen. Stop it, I think. Please stop it. Whatever you are.

It rains, it suns, it's cold, then it's balmy. I have sudden attacks of histamines and want to scratch out my eyes. I take Claritin.

I read about Bush and despair, I read about the theatre, I read celebrity gossip. I read a bit of this and a bit of that. I get an "A" on my big class. I show Mom my report card, because I never outgrow that. Mom is jubilant, as a mother should be. She got here yesterday.

We talk at the kitchen table. We talk about aging, we talk about our bodies. We talk about family, about our new babies. We talk about being women with big appetites, and trade recipes. We hash over politics and community issues. We talk about dating and relationships. We take naps. We clean up the dinner dishes. We shop for a new electric kettle for me, as I tripped and broke mine.

The Christmas tree is down. I wrestled it into its box for another year the other day, grateful not to have pulled anything in my lower back. The storage room looks like the inside of some mad genius's mind. It is the cat's favorite hiding place, a jumble of Christmas Easter Harvest Memory Lane Air Conditioning Units Old Curtain Rods.

I turn 41 years old tomorrow.

I am now officially "in my forties." It sounds ridiculous, just as giggle-worthy as the moment last night when Melissa and her husband had to leave dinner to get the babysitter home at a reasonable hour. Mel and I have been good friends since the third grade. We used to babysit together. One time at the Andersons on Weed Street when we were in 8th grade, we went outside for a cigarette and locked ourselves out of the house. I got a window open and we climbed in by boosting and pulling each other up. Only after we got inside did we realize that only one of us needed to be boosted up, and the other one could have just gone and opened the door.

Time moves on, little girls grow up, and God moves in the land like a cloud moving across the sky.
An ancestor spirit stops by my home to see two women who look and sound like mirror images of each other deep in conversation. The spirit pulls up a chair. It feels nostalgic for this.

The Ides of January.

12 Comments:

Blogger Gillian said...

Sugar and Roxy send continuing good-kitty thoughts to Erm. Sugar, who could be Erm's near-twin, also sends tail-strokes via the Stripe'd Tail of Power. Sugar loves loves loves the malt-flavored hairball goop I give her periodically, and if I had to get a pill into her, that's what I'd use. May you find something effectively enticing for your beloved Stripe'd One.

18:55  
Blogger jean said...

I sympathize with the histamine reaction. I've been getting the itchy eyes, too. If Ermengarde was a husband, I'd say the complaining was a sign of recovery. Since I don't have a cat, I can't be sure. Congratulations on your "A" and on your mother. She sounds like a sweetheart.

19:24  
Blogger jean said...

I sympathize with the histamine reaction. I've been getting the itchy eyes, too. If Ermengarde was a husband, I'd say the complaining was a sign of recovery. Since I don't have a cat, I can't be sure. Congratulations on your "A" and on your mother. She sounds like a sweetheart.

19:24  
Anonymous anniesmom said...

Today's entry is one reason why I keep coming back to peak into your life. Thank you, PeaceBang.

May tomorrow be all you could wish for. Happy Birthday!

21:47  
Blogger dmtrip said...

The cat news sounds encouraging, the fact that she is mad at you shows she is getting better! I have one 16 years old and prepare myself often for the "inevitable" and remember how many good years we've had (and how many fights, with scars on my hands to prove it) Turning 41 isn't so bad- you sound "reasonably" stable- and still have your mom to pal around with. That's good. Happy Birthday!

22:09  
Blogger Psalmist said...

Ah...happy birthday, PB! Still praying for you and Ermengarde.

22:28  
Blogger Mama G said...

Happy birthday, PB! I can relate to your post. I turn 40 myself later this month. It has been causing some turmoil in my own head. What's a girl to do?

BTW, I have returned to the UU Blogosphere after taking the fall semester off. I am catching up. I hope your kitty is on the mend. I'm glad to read you again. :-)

10:40  
Anonymous John Plummer said...

May you have a wonderful birthday, and a great year ahead!

13:21  
Blogger Caroline Divine said...

I remember 41... waaaay back... You're young, darlin'. The forties are fabulous. They will only get better. Happy birthday to you and feline love to the Striped One. dmtrip is right, if she's mad it's good!

21:54  
Blogger T-man-Sam_former Visigoth and musical Goddess said...

Pussshaaaww!!!!
41... Your still a "yung'un"

It is a number! and think how absolutely wonderful you are and all your great qualities...(*most gained thru wisdom and experience..))So let "the Youth"/ our-youth be served by Paris and Britney..
I will take, 41 year old small town pastors with something to say anyyday!

In your 41st year... Take pride in "A woman of my age" and go go ..go kik some ass..or use it as a rant!! and continue making this a better blog/world to live in!

Happy Birthday... and Drink a scotch for me in 4 days!!!

Terry in O-town

00:13  
Blogger LaReinaCobre said...

Happy Birthday!

00:59  
Anonymous jinnis said...

Happy Birthday, PB!

I hope your darling furry friend continues to improve and that you have a wonderful vacation. Please bring back pictures of the volcanos!

cheers

15:05  

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