Phoenix Rising and Rainy Sundays

phoe·nix

noun /ˈfēniks/  phoenixes, plural (in classical mythology) A unique bird that lived for five or six centuries in the Arabian desert, after this time burning itself on a funeral pyre and rising from the ashes with renewed youth to live through another cycle. A person or thing regarded as uniquely remarkable in some respect.

They have been yammering about rain, rain, rain for a while now and, of course, it has poured during the week.  Which I think is rather unfair of the weather angels, because I never get to be home when it is pouring.  Yesterday, Saturday, it was overcast but not a drop fell during the day.  Then last night, just about bedtime, a flash of light and boom!  A thunderous (you will pardon the quasi-pun) thunderclap which sent Bella Bella Smokey Noella to her new "safe spot" ... my bathtub.  These days when leaving for the office, I routinely make sure her pillows and "blankey" are in there.  Nothing says "I love you" like drying off the tub after your morning shower so that Her Highness has her safe place ready to scurry to when thunder booms.  But last night, blessed be, I was home and thoroughly enjoyed a marvelous thunderstorm.  Sigh, true bliss.  Being home in bed, pot of hot chocolate on my night-table, stack of decorating magazines next to me, cat snoring happily on my pillow (after being coaxed out of the tub and into bed with a handful of Seafood Medley Temptations snackies), not having to worry about work the next morning (it's the weekend, yay!), thunderbooming outside. That is a recipe for true bliss, at least for me.

 This morning I woke up and it's still pouring!  Got out of bed, made my morning cafe con leche, said morning prayers and have been writing ever since.  Turned the tv on for like a nanosecond and turned it off. The continual coverage of the Colorado shooting is horrifying.  They latch on to every new tragedy like a predator latches on to its prey.  Pushing their microphones into the victims' and their families' faces.  "How do you feel?" and "What does it feel like to get shot?"  Really?  You became a journalist to ask this type of question?  I smell a Pulitzer in your future ... not!  It's like the news media has turned into piranhas.  That's not journalism.  That's sensationalism.  Playing the same sound bite over and over again from different angles, and maybe with different people, but still, essentially the same sound bite, just desensitizes people to the tragedy of it all.  Sort of like people going to see those movies about dead people, "Faces of Death" or something like that.  It desensitizes you.  Like when that hideous woman was found not guilty of her little girl's death last year and one of the people I work with remarked "Damn!  I want her lawyer if I'm ever in jail for murder!"  What the heck kind of remark is that?  So, I turned off the tv and continued with my writing.  All I can do is pray for the victims, their families, pray for their healing, overcoming this horrible thing.

I have been on an odd journey this past year.  The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that it is time for a change.  I do not want to live like this the rest of my days.  Our time is limited, we just don't know how limited it is.  But I don't want to one day wake up and realize my time here is done and all I've done is work Monday through Friday.  I want to follow my bliss and my bliss is writing, painting, working from home.  Success is preparation meeting opportunity.  I heard that on an Oprah interview, I think she was interviewing David Copperfield.  Absolutely loved it.  So, I am preparing.  This week they let go several employees at my firm.  People that had been there for years and years.  Deja vu.  That is how it started at my former firm and this firm is way smaller.  It's scary, knowing someone holds your livelihood in the palm of their hand and they may be smiling at you, but behind that smile lurks the knowledge that you are going to be let go the next day.

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I often think about my formerly secure life.  When I knew someone had my back.  I wrote once that it felt like someone took my world, shook it to its very core, smashed it to bits and I have been trying to put the pieces back ever since.  Friendships you once thought would be with you forever, people you would once have called when needing to have someone there, just to listen, fade away.  Nothing says I love you like repeatedly getting a friend's voice mail.  It takes forever, but eventually you finally get the message and realize friendship mutates, changes and sometimes you just have to let it go. In putting together a new life,  incorporating just a few pieces from my old one, I found support and love from those not even remotely related to me, people that were not in my life until a relatively few years ago.  Friendships are born and Fairy GodMothers make their entrance.  I have been blessed with three.

I fought building a new life for a very long time.  The other day, after a particularly bumpy week,  I called a friend and got their voice mail, yet again, left a message.  (A few days later I got a text from her saying "Have I told you that I love you?" and I texted back "Yes, you have.  Hearing the computer voice on your voice mail message gives me the warm fuzzies."  Life is short, people, a sense of humor is imperative. We all have busy lives and give people different priorities.)  Then I called another friend (and Most Magical Faboo Fleaing Fairy GodMother, Estefania of the Macedonian Fairy GodMother Tribe) who was at a restaurant having dinner with her daughter and actually picked up the phone and told her daughter "I'm going outside for a few minutes to talk with my friend," something that touched my heart.  I was important enough to her that she took time from hanging out with her daughter to talk to me. The next day I had a wonderful, creatively stimulating, conversation with my Most Magical Wondrous Fabulous FairyGodmother, She of the Whimbles, someone who has a very busy, creative life.  We've never actually met, but she and her husband have become dear and trusted friends. This weekend emails have flown back and forth between my cocoon and my Talley peeps.  Today I spoke with another Fairy GodMother, She of the Beautiful Sleigh Bed and Delish Jamaican Patties. And it hit me, I have already let go, I have built a new world, a new life and it is sweet.  You can rise from the ashes after all.

Until next time, be safe, be grateful, be loved.

On Friday the 13th, Friendship and Saying Good-Byes You Never Wanted To Say

Yesterday was a Friday the 13th, capping off what was a very odd, slightly off-kilter week.  I returned to work on Monday, having been on vacation for nine(!) whole days, which included the 4th of July holiday (fireworks, hot dogs, potato salad and apple pie, oh my!), the longest time I have taken in over two years, was wonderful.  I had time to visit with friends I hadn't seen in a very long time, hang out at home painting, sketching, reading, spoiled my cat silly, no traffic hassles, it was, in a word, blissful.  I got the chance to reconnect (for lack of a better word) with my artistic side, painting to my heart's content. Had forgotten how truly satisfying it is to swoosh paint around on a canvas and then hang your creation on a wall.

Returned to work, happy to see everyone, fell back into my usual work-week routine.  Looked forward to Friday the 13th.  Since everyone is always so flipped out about them, I make it a point to make them extra nice.  This one, not so much.  Yesterday morning (the 13th) I woke up to a text from a very dear, very old friend, saying her grandson (in his 20s) had passed away.  Funeral on Saturday (today).  I knew his daddy when he was a little boy.  My friend had three children, two boys and one girl.  They came over my family's home often, we had barbecues, played chess, checkers and just had a good time hanging out.  I still see those two little boys running around on our lawn, eating burgers, having fun, while their sister tried on every single piece of jewelry I had. They grew up, married, had babies of their own.  We have always kept in touch.  She called me one day to say her youngest boy had died.  He had been murdered.  About two years later, her oldest died, also the victim of violence.  Throughout all this, she retained her calm, her faith rock solid.  She read, beautifully, at my Dad's funeral Mass.  Time passed, but still we always have stayed in touch.  I know she found solace in having her sons' children near her.  Last year one of her grandsons was killed, and this week his twin also fell victim to violence.  I have no clue what I can do, what I can say to her to make it better.  Don't think there is such a thing.  The pain of losing a loved one, even when they have been sick for a long time, is unfathomable.  I can't even imagine losing someone suddenly, out of left field.  Losing a child.  How do you come back from that.

Another friend texted to say she is having surgery, a small health issue became complicated, surgery was needed, to please keep her in my prayers.  Always is.  She has a lovely family, whenever the news gets a bit overwhelming and it seems like the world is going to hell, I think of her and her family and know that, yeah, the world may seem like a madhouse, but there are still families out there with solid values, real families, who love, respect, trust each other, actually like each other.  Because sometimes you love a family member, but not necessarily do you like them.  Her family reminds me a lot of what my parents, grandparents and I had.  We actually liked each other and enjoyed spending time together.  My friend's family is the kind of family who has dinner together and goes to church, on family vacations, they live what we used to call normal lives, but now seem to be the exception to the rule.  Later in the day, she texted me saying her cousin's husband who had been battling cardiac issues, finally had a heart transplant earlier this year, and seemed to be rallying, had passed away.  And I am heartbroken.

I never met her cousin's family, but I feel like I know them because they are part of my friend.  And if you are part of someone I love, then you are part of me, no matter how far or how near you may be.  There are people in my life I am no longer in touch with, but I do love them, always have, always will, simply because they are part of someone long-gone, but still very much loved and missed.  There are friends I love dearly, even though I see them once in a blue moon, but still they are a part of my life, always have been, always will be. There are friends that have been with me through thick and thin, friends that have shared their babies with me, we have gone for years without seeing each other, then one day a knock at the door and there's her oldest child all grown up and hugging her feels like coming home.  Years later holding her firstborn in my arms, I feel my heart breaking and expanding all at the same time.

Friendship is seeing children you love as your own grow up, become amazing adults.  You remember them as babies, remember one of them teaching her little sister how to sneak out of the playpen, remember them running through the house buck-naked yelling "Aaaaaahhhhh!" like a heathen and standing in their crib, all grumpy in the morning, giving you dirty looks and saying "Cheche!" demanding their milk.  You remember the morning they rushed into your house to find a freshly-cut Christmas tree, filling the house with its delicious scent, and they stood stock-still, their eyes filled with wonder.  Remember when one of them doused herself from head to toe in all your perfumes and you had to march her (over her very loud protests!) into the shower because, frankly, she reeked.  No matter how loudly she wailed "Nooooo, I don't stiiiiinnnkkkk!"  Your heart broke the first time she got her heart broken, you wanted to find and seriously damage the heartless cad.  And now, now these little girls, well, they're all grown-up and you can talk for hours with them, marveling at what amazing people they have become.  Friendship is a treasure  A friend is not an acquaintance, a friend is someone you trust.  Sometimes with your life.  My friendship is not lightly given.  I refer to my friends as my friemily, yes, as a matter of fact, I did invent that word!  They are my tribe.  I feel as at home with them as I feel in my own nest.  There is a little house in my old neighborhood where many a cup of Cuban coffe has been consumed, conversations shared, tears and laughter.  I do not visit often, but going there is like going home.  A visit there refreshes my soul.


This morning I woke up with every intention of going to the funeral of my friend's grandson.  But my panic issues are still, well, issues.  Lately "snargles" have been looming, hovering at the very edge of my soul, they tend to kick in when I am feeling happy.  So I guess, in an odd way, they are a good thing because they start to threaten when I am feeling good, happy.  I still grapple at times with the fear that if I admit I am happy, it will be taken away.  Being in crowded places sets them off big-time.  I know the church must have been overflowing and did not want to risk creating a scene at my friend's church.  I am sure she would not appreciate my running out of the church, gasping for breath, crying.  Panic attacks are sheer hell.  So, instead, I will go visit her another weekend, taking a homemade carrot cake or a batch of freshly-baked brownies and we will sit and talk and remember.  I would give anything to be back in the barbecue days, seeing those two little boys running around like little maniacs, yelling at the top of their lungs.  Innocent and free.  I had just left my teens then, barely 20.  It seems like another world.  Actually, it was.

I wish I could give the children of my friend's cousin their Dad back.  Losing my Dad when I was 41 was hell, I can't even imagine losing him while still a child.  When I dream with my parents, part of me knows it is a dream and part of me does not want to wake up.  It has been 15 years since my Dad and 18 years since my Mom.  Still feels like yesterday and on days like today, oh, how I wish they were still here to talk with.

My Fabulous Fleaing Fairy GodMother and I talked on the phone early this morning, hearing her voice always puts a smile on my face. Our visits are like Christmas because there are always fabulous finds to exchange, news to catch up on, photos to take (although invariably I will forget my camera), intelligent verbosities abound.  Then J., one of my friends who lives in Tallahassee called.  I have two friends in Talley, love them both dearly.  We keep in touch via email, photos and phone calls.  And, somehow, whenever I am particularly blue or just off-kilter a bit, when the snargles loom, one or the other, or sometimes both, will call.  And the world seems a lot better after one of our phone visits.  After talking with my Talley friend, I checked my email and there was an email from my most Fabulous Magical Fairy GodMother, She Who Dwells in Atlanta In a Most Enchanted Castle. I have a fabulous set of Fairy GodMothers, they are three marvelous, brilliant, creative, brave, funny, true souls.  Just thinking of them makes me smile. Later I called a friend who lives nearby to ask if I could take pictures of her roosters for some illustrations I have been asked to do.  I read through my journal, finding a quote from J., who upon losing a dear friend wrote "I don't understand why God took such a super nice person home at such an early age, but I trust God to never be early, never be late and never hurt His children."  That always reminds of the saying that goes something like "We only see bits and pieces, God sees the whole picture."  Which always makes me feel better, because it tells me that what is happening may not make sense to me, but somehow, somewhere it does, or it will and the end result will be grand.  The blues lifted and now I am raring to create.  My friemily always makes me smile, inspires me and gives me hope for the world.  Sometimes the smallest gesture can make a huge difference in someone's day, life.  Watching Deepak Chopra and Oprah the other day, one of them said that whatever gesture, whatever words, you choose to make or say, every action you take affects a myriad of people.  You just don't necessarily know who or how, but there is an effect.  I really have to remember that.  I try to keep my words kind.  Try to help those I can, be they two-legged, or four.  Once I got into a bit of an argument with someone who made a rude remark about my feeding two homeless cats that hang around where I live.  They said I was feeding "vermin."  That bothered me.  I snapped at them, saying as long as I am able I will not let anyone, any creature, go hungry or thirsty.  I will offer shelter, food and water, it is the least one can do.  If you can ease another's suffering, why not?  It is the right thing to do, at least that is what I believe. Do the right thing is something I really try to live by. That is why I try to always open the door when the Jehovah's Witnesses knock on my door.  I may not agree with some of their tenets, but my sister is part of them and I dislike the idea of her knocking on strangers' doors and people being unkind to her.  She tells me they are trained to deal with that type of situation, still I do not like the idea of someone being rude to her.  So I open the door, listen to them and offer them water and a chance to rest.  After all, aren't we all our brother's keeper?  How can I say I am a Christian and slam the door in someone's face just because they do not subscribe to my particular beliefs?  Well, actually, I try to avoid saying I am a Christian because that label is so misused these days.  Same as I don't like it when people tell me they think of me as "religious."  Really dislike that term.  I am me.  Period.  I am not "religious."  But my faith in God is unshakeable.  I can be the most irreverent person ever, trust me.  Just ask any priest who has known me for any length of time. Please do not pigeonhole me.  For some things I am a liberal, for others a major conservative.  Oh, dear, I have rambled.

There are good-byes one doesn't want to say, but is forced to.  We know our time is limited, we just don't know what our limit is.  Life is too short to waste even one precious second being bitter or angry, those emotions accomplish nothing.  They say that butterflies are the symbol for transition, so for my friends who have lost loved ones this week, this butterfly is for you.  Wishing your loved ones a blessed transition into a beautiful, new world, free of pain.  A world where they are happy and safe, where they wait for us to join them.  I like to imagine my parents sitting on a bench by the seashore, watching a sunset, happy, knowing loved ones and dear friends are close by and one day I will come walking around the corner, home once more.

 

And for Pete's sake, if you are reading this, turn off the computer and go call someone, tell them you love them, hug a relative, a friend, a pet!  Create something, carpe diem!  As for me, I am off to sketch, have a brand-spanking new set of watercolor pencils and watercolor pad and they are calling my name, loudly.  It's the weekend, no bedtime!  Woo to the hoo!

Until next time, be well, be blessed, be loved.

On Color and Thrifting - Memorial Day Weekend 2012

Good grief!  Could have sworn I had posted this right after Memorial Day!  Oopsies!

Here goes.  A few weeks ago, I went to my nearby Bed Bath & Beyond for some Yankee candles in Fresh Cut Roses (love, love, love).  They were just setting up a towel display with a new line of towels and the colors, the colors were just so juicy, I have not been able to get them out of my mind.  Tangerine, fuchsia, lime green, lemon yellow!  Happy, sunny, cheery color!  For some reason, I have been craving color lately.  Particularly deep orange, hot pink and lime green.  I have two favorite purses, one is orange and the other one is a delicious shade called raspberry.  A few days ago while grocery shopping, I saw hangers (in sets of 10) in those same shades, I came home with one set of each.  It took me a while, but I changed out my (new) plain white hangers for the colorful ones. Then I decided they needed ribbons, I went to sleep at 3 in the morning, got up four hours later to go to work, woke up to this amazingly colorful, happy closet.  Liked it so much, the closet doors have remained open ever since:

 



              
Days passed, but those towels kept calling my name.  Loudly.  Memorial Day weekend, I had an early breakfast with my Most Magical Fabulous Fleaing Fairy GodMother ("MMFFFGM").  Any time spent with her is a Silver Lining.  Over coffee, orange juice and blueberry pancakes, we got caught up with each other and then off we went thrifting. Second Silver Lining.  Oh, I do love that blog! The Silver Pen, by Hollye Jacobs, love, love, love!  Took us forever and a day to find the thrift store we had visited once before, but at loooong last, arrival and success!  Scored half a dozen plain white salad plates and four plain white dinner plates, ha!  Plus three brand-new taupe suede decorative pillows and one delicious deep garnet velvet one (which Smokey Noelle promptly claimed when I returned home), matching perfectly to the pleated silk one I got for my birthday last month, Silver Lining, Silver Lining, Silver Lining! For some reason, I was drawn to the costume jewelry case where I spied the most faboo pair of pale yellow silk printed with butterflies and flowers pumps with sky-high stiletto heels.  In pristine condition, I don't think they have ever been worn.  Well!  I had to snag those for my closet, not that I will ever wear them (way too large, size 6 1/2 and I no longer do stilettos), but they are oh-so-girly, how could I resist and at $10???  And don't they look just perfect in my newly-colorful closet?  I think Mother Nature would wear these shoes to a Spring Dance and dance the night away in them, possibly doing the rhumba, or the cha-cha-cha ... or both!

I do love white, ivory, taupe, lovely neutrals all, they are liberally used throughout my home, but I also need, I crave, color, lots of juicy, wild, bright color, it makes my heart sing.  After our thrifting expedition, my MMFFFGM and I parted ways, she headed to her nest, I to mine.  Driving home, however, took me past my Bed, Bath and Beyond store.  I swear to you, no lie, I distinctly heard those towels calling, no, yelling my name.  I went in and claimed my prize, came home with the most delicious raspberry, lime and tangerine towels ever ... and a matching little bathroom rug!  As my dear friend, K., in Talley says "Woo to the hoo!"  Got home and played house.  Here are my juicy raspberry and tangerine beauties:

 

And here is my wee bathroom sink all decked out in juicy lime and tangerine.  Be honest, don't you wish you could find a pair of shoes like my little purple-haired beauty is wearing?  Now I am ready for summer!  Until next time, be safe, be happy, be colorful and keep the faith!

Return to the Cozy Cocoon

The last time I posted I had just lost my two little girls.  Did not want to write, did not want to post.  The Cozy Cocoon had lost its two angels and I was ... deflated.  A very dear, good friend kept emailing me, calling, saying I needed a new love.  I refused.  The idea of different furry footsteps was just not bearable.  Days went by, the holidays were approaching, they just didn't feel right.  My friend kept emailing me about little ones needing a home.  All sweet, all wonderful, but none captured my heart.  Then the week before Christmas, she emailed me about a little cat who had been at her vet's since February. Her parents had left her there while they went on vacation and, sadly, they lost their lives.  She had been waiting for someone to take her home ever since.  Only no one would take her because she was 10 years old and, as in children, people want babies, not older pets.  Which I think is truly awful, because everyone deserves a home, no matter how old they are.  At least in my book.  I emailed my friend and said, I felt bad for the little one, but no thanks.  But that little face just stuck in my mind, my heart.  I didn't like coming home to an empty house.  I missed their furry welcomes, turning over at night and bumping into a warm body butting their head against my hand, asking for a midnight snack.  I missed my girls, oh, so very much.  Christmas was almost here, the thought of that little girl spending a long holiday weekend alone, in her little kennel, waiting for someone to take her home and love her, well, it just broke my heart.

So ... the day before Christmas Eve, December 23, she came home with me.  I had called the vet and arranged to meet her, to see if we would get along, but 1/2 way there I decided she was coming home with me.  I stopped at one of those chain stores for pets, bought everything new because after my beloved Cata's transition I had gotten rid of everything feline.  The vet's assistants were all so happy she was getting a chance to be adopted, they brought her out to meet me, cautioning me she was not a "lap cat," and had a most defined personality, meaning she could be a bit cranky, hmmm, remind you of anyone?  They brought out this rotund tabby with huge eyes and put her on my lap, saying she probably would not warm up to me right away.  Well, I spoke to her, she butted her head against my hand and started to purr!  Right then and there, we bonded.  The vet's assistants were wonderful.  They were so happy for her.  They really were attached to her, even had me sign a form stating that if I decided I did not want her, I would take her back to them.  But she was mine, the little chubster stole my heart from the second I laid eyes on her.  They asked if I was going to give her a new name and I said no, she was used to Smokey, Smokey she would stay, only I was going to add Noelle since she was coming home at Christmas.  They truly were lovely, gave me a big bag of food, saying "Oh, she really likes her food!"  And so, Miss Smokey Noelle came home.

In the days that followed, I fell even more in love with her.  She has been my little heart healer and, yes, she most certainly has a most defined personality.  I was glad I had three days off to spend with her.  The first morning she was nowhere to be found, nearly killed myself hanging upside down from my bed trying to see if she was under there.  Which, of course, she was, but nowhere I could reach her.  Deciding that breaking my neck was not an option, I hauled myself back up, got an ice pack from the freezer and took two Advil tablets, figuring she would come out when she was good and ready.  Eventually she sauntered out to the living room, plunked herself next to me and we watched NCIS in companionable silence.  In the days that followed I discovered she prefers salmon to tuna (no fool, she), loves chasing feathery toys and does NOT like having her tummy rubbed, prefers her head scratched instead.  It took her a while, but the day she finally flopped over on her back and gave me belly, well, she just gave me the warm fuzzies, because when a cat does that it means they really trust you.  She purrs like a little machine and loves sleeping late.  In fact, she loves snoozing and is a champion napper, see the very first photo.  That's her on the sofa.  Is quite an accomplished thief, having stolen an entire grilled cheese sandwich in 2 seconds when I turned my back and makes little smacky noises when eating something particularly tasty.

My Little Grilled Cheese Thief Wishing For Another Sandwich to Appear

She has a tendency to fall asleep while grooming herself, see below:

Thunderstorms send her under the bed or behind the toilet.  Not even her favorite Temptations snacks, the salmon flavor, will entice her to leave her hideout until the storm has passed.  She loves poking into any door left slightly ajar and empty brown paper bags are a favorite snoozing spot.  If I type too long on my computer, she will walk right over the keyboard, much as she is trying to do as I write this.  I call her my Little Heart Healer, she has brought joy into the Cocoon again.  I wrote to the same friend that emailed her photo to me, saying my girls' leaving made the way for Smokey Noelle to come home with me.  Full circle, they left me, but at the same time they opened the door for her to come home.  They had their time with me, now it's Smokey's time to once more have a home.  Slowly the Cozy Cocoon has come full circle and it is, once more, home.  These past few months, it's been five months and four days since she came home, have been a journey for both of us.  We have both been blessed to be sharing this journey.  Somewhere I know there are two little feline girls looking down with love, happy that Smokey Noelle and I have found each other.  They are with their siblings and with all my loved ones that have gone on before me and I know they are happy Smokey and I have each other.

It has taken a while, but I feel happy.  As I like to say, I am blessed, I am blessed, I am blessed.  I have my friemily, my job with a pretty darn nifty boss and some truly lovely co-workers, my wee cocoon.  My truly marvelous Fairy GodMothers who continue to inspire, love and guide me.  Life is a most marvelous, mystifying, puzzling, joyous gift.  As the saying goes, that is why they call it The Present.  I have discovered some marvelous blogs, one being the Silver Linings blog, what an inspiration that lady is.  The other is Frances Schultz' blog.  They are truly wonderful.  My beloved Whimbles, full of whimsy and love, always make my day a little brighter, a little sweeter.  Conversations with my Most Marvelous Fairy GodMothers always make my heart sing.  And I have my Little Heart Healer who works her magic every day, even when she wakes me up by gnawing on my hand, demanding breakfast.  Life is, indeed, sweet.

Until my next post, be safe, be happy, find that silver lining, I promise you, it most definitely is there.

Last Post

 

The Cozy Cocoon is closing its door.

This year has been a year of upheaval for me.  Full of changes and adjustments, loss and discovery.  I lost a job I was very happy with.  Was blessed with a new one with a great boss I knew from another job a long, long time ago.  It was a rough adjustment and I am still learning.  Sometimes I think it is an impossible task, learning all these new procedures.  Others I just breeze through and think I can do this for a long time.  Others I just want to throw in the towel and go home.  But I muddle through.  It is one of the most stressful jobs I have ever had.  But I think that is just Life.  Ups and downs, joys and sorrows.  Faith and humor and a lot of prayer.  One constant has been my cozy cocoon and two little girls waiting for me at the end of the day.  Welcoming me home with purrs and meows, demanding to be fed, cuddled and given snackies.  In that order.  No matter what, rain or shine, they were there.

My little Rosie girl got sick in early November and the day before Thanksgiving she made her transition.  I held her close while our vet administered the injection and she was gone. I figured, it was a long weekend, so I would have time to be with Cata, her twin, giving her time to adjust to Rosie's absence.  It was not the happiest of Thanksgivings at the Cocoon.  Cata, kept looking for Rosie, she poked her head into every closet, every cabinet, that first night, meowing and looking at me as if asking for her sister.  The first few nights without Rosie, she slept on top of me, butting her head against me as if asking where had her sister gone.  By the end of Thanksgiving weekend, she had taken up post at the living room window and started not wanting to eat.  Just sat there, looking out, something she had never done before.  Her favorite place having been on top of the sofa pillows, next to her sister or curled up next to her love, Philipe Gaston, a marvelous antique marionette I got this summer from my lovely Fairy GodMother Martha and her husband.  I knew that I was losing her.

Last Tuesday I went to the vet to pick up my Rosie's ashes.  Cata had continued to decline, eating barely anything, just sitting at the window, looking out.  She only left her post to do her business or drink water and back she would go.  I would leave the blinds pulled up enough so she could look out while at work.  She was like a little sentinel standing guard.  While at the vet, I made the appointment for Cata and Thursday, the 8th, she made her transition.  She had a very bad night and I just knew it was time.  My vet, bless him, is a very kind man.  She was so, so tired, did not protest, just let me cuddle her as he administered the injection.  I kept whispering to her how much she was loved, that she was such a good, good baby.  Told her to please not fight with her siblings.  She sighed once and then she was gone.  I came home and cleared all their stuff out.  Did not want to come home and find it there, with no kits to welcome me home.  My boss, bless her, was so kind, telling me to take the day off, but I needed to be at work.  Coming home that first night was ... odd.  There has always been a set of furry paws waiting for me and for the first time in my life, there was no little furry body waiting.

I am always surprised and very much touched by the kindness of those around me.  It helps to have kindred souls around, who understand.  I am focusing on looking at the silver lining, I had them for a long time.  They were happy and healthy and loved and spoiled.  They are no longer in pain.  I really believe they are in a wonderful place, full of nooks and crannies to explore, where there are plenty of snackies and always a lap to cuddle on.  I believe they are with the rest of my loved ones, human, furry, feathered.  When I first moved into the Cozy Cocoon there were eight.  They were the heartbeat of the Cocoon and with Cata's passing, the Cocoon is no more.  So, I am moving on.

Earlier this year, Most Magical Wondrous Fairy GodMother Martha picked out one of her beautiful works of art for me, Transformation.  She deemed it fitting, seeing as to how this year has been so full of changes for me.  This Friday it arrived at my office.  Perfect timing.  Martha and her husband are two of the many blessings in my life.  Their friendship truly heals my heart.  Earlier this year, in the summer, they lost their beloved kitty. Then came a very stressful move into a new home. It has been a tumultous year all around.  Their friendship is one of my anchors.

There are many blessings in my life, my furry heartbeats were one of them.  My friemily is another, my job, my life.  I am not a fan of change, frankly I have had my fill of it over the years, but trying to fight it is like trying to eat soup with a fork, it just doesn't work.  We can only face it head on and make the best of it and always, always remember and focus on the good.  So, the Cocoon is going away.  Time to build a new world.  For the first time in my life I am responsible only for myself, I think this may be the Father's way of telling me, okay, time for you to take that leap of faith, get your ducks in a row and make that change you've been yammering about for a very long time.  Like I said, time to build a new world.  So, for now there will be no furry feetsies welcoming me at the end of the day.  But eventually, somewhere down the road, there will be furry feet welcoming me home.  Until then, I will be building my new nest and waiting for my new furry loves to be put in my path.  All in good time.

On Fairy GodMothers, Cupcakes and Saying Goodbye



Yesterday I was lucky enough to spend the day with my Most Fabulous Magical Fleaing Fairy GodMother, Estefania, a/k/a Her Most Serene Highness Queen of the Macedonian Faeries, that title being a tad long, I call her Miss S.  She moved into a new nest recently and I had been promising to visit, but something always came up or, if truth be told, I backed out because I just could not bring myself to leave the Cocoon on the weekend.  Now, I have been particularly blessed in the Fairy GodMother department.  I have three, once I had four, but that is a story for another day.  The three in my life now are Miss M., Miss R. and Miss S. and they are wonderful.  They feed my heart, my brain and my soul.  Sometimes my tummy, Jamaican patties come to my mind.  Best of all, they encourage and inspire me, make me see that one must treat one's dreams like treasures, guarding them safe within one's heart, while at the same time working towards making those dreams come true.  They put up with my hermit crab moods and always make me feel safe and loved "as is."

So, anyway, woke up and after a bit of to and fro, off I went.  Upon reaching Miss S.'s new nest, I was greeted with hugs, really good coffee and a delicious warm and toasty bagel.  Then I got the Grand Tour.  Oh, it is a lovely nest.  Full of her fleaing and garage sale treasures.  It is a warm, peaceful, welcoming, happy place.  Just like her.  We sat and chatted for a bit and then we were off to meet Miss B. at what is affectionately known as "the pub" for lunch.  Miss S. went off to get her nails done, Miss B. and I would wait for her at the pub.  There was a slight change in Glitterina's plan, however, when, upon parking, she spied a beautiful little gem of a store Miss S. had spoken about, a few doors down from the pub.  It's called "Hey, Cupcake!" and it is just like visiting a dear friend's home.  Decorated in Romantic Homes/shabby chic style, full of beautiful, comfortable, whimsical delights and best of all the yummiest cupcakes EVER.  With glittery frosting, really!  I was enchanted. The owner's name is Stacey, she reminded me so much of my beautiful Mom.  I asked her to pick out 1/2 a dozen cupcakes for me and chatted with her, until a red-faced, sweating bullets, Miss B. popped through the door asking "Where did you go?  Why don't you answer your cell?"  I had been sitting in air-conditioned comfort on a cushy-comfy sofa while poor Miss B. tromped about looking for me in what felt like 100 plus heat.  Bad,  bad Glitterina!

Finally at the pub, we noshed (I particularly recommend their mushroom cheeseburger and fries, oh, and their wings, their wings, oh my!), chatted, ate cupcakes.  I had two.  In my defense, they are two-bites size, perfect little dollops of delicious yumminess.  We took some photos to email to friends as actual proof that yes, I really did leave my lair on a weekend, no less, and then it was off to Harry Potter.  In 3D!  Oh, my.  I am afraid I will never settle for anything less at the movies.  It was wonderful, like being INSIDE the movie, actually quite dizzying at times, remind me to never open an account at Gringott's.  I do not want to spoil the movie for anyone, suffice it to say I absolutely LOVED it.  Although it was a bittersweet experience, the kids are all grown up now.  But it was wonderful.  Ron and Hermione finally smooch (the entire theater cheered), ditto Harry and Ginny (another cheer!) and Neville, at long last, declares his love for Luna (even more cheers!).  Snape, well!  Snape is a huge surprise.  And there is a white dragon in the movie whose main scene is sheer, pure, undiluted magic.  That's all I'm saying.  After the movie, we took some photos (more proof), there were hugs and promises to visit again soon and then I headed home.

Driving home I pondered when did I become so insular, unwilling to leave my nest?  Mind you, I have always been a homebody, but long ago and far away, in what now seems like a different life, different world actually, I enjoyed socializing, going out with friends, going to the movies, out to dinner, shopping.  Then, gradually, that changed to the point where I actually resent leaving my nest on weekends.  I am okay driving to work during the week, mainly because if I don't work, I don't get paid and if I don't get paid, well, you get the idea.  I do, actually, like my job, my boss (a rare and wonderful thing).  But when it comes to socializing, it is a major battle within myself to actually do it.  The odd thing is I know I have to push my comfort zone, broaden it.  I also know once I actually go, I enjoy it.  So, then, why is it so difficult for me to actually do this?  I don't know.  There is a whole world out there, begging to be explored, full of friends, laughter, joy and adventures.  It also seems to be a big, scary world, full of strangers.  Then, again, we are all strangers, aren't we?  Until we meet and (sometimes) become friends.  All of my friemily were strangers to me at one point.  This is something I have to remind myself of when I start getting into a hermit crab mood.

Got home, changed into my comfiest pajamas and checked my email.  I was saddened to learn the feline baby of two very dear friends passed away.  The beautiful Lumen.  She had been ill for a bit, we thought she was rallying.  Her spirit was strong, but her little body just gave out.  I am heartbroken for my friends.  It is always so sad when one of our furry (or feathered) babies leaves us.  They are such blessings in our lives, giving us pure, sweet unconditional love.  My two girls picked up on my mood and have been sticking to me like glue.  Where would we be without our furry, feathered progeny?  Always there for us, comforting, welcoming us home with purrs and quivering whiskers, barks and wagging tails.  In the case of our feathered babies, squawks and flapping of wings.  Another friend also recently lost her furry babies.  We are blessed, blessed, blessed by the time we have them in our lives, be it years or months, sometimes days.  I know all of mine hold a special place in my heart.  They have been there for me through thick and thin.  In my most difficult moments, they have comforted me.

I wish I could drive over to my friends' home with an offering of brownies and hugs, but they live in another state.  I tried sending brownies by mail once, but by the time they got to the homes of two friends, they had turned into brownie-scented doorstops.  Next time I used FedEx.  But today, today I will bake for my neighbors, my coworkers and nearby friends.  There will be pound cake and white chocolate chip/macadamia cookies.  Their scent will fill my nest, mingling with the sweet perfume of my ever-present rose-scented Yankee candle, which I light promptly upon arriving home from work and first thing when I wake up on weekends and days I am home.  My two girls are snoozing curled up next to me as I type this.  Through my window I see a beautiful, bright blue sky with puffy white clouds floating by.  Earlier today when I walked out to my teeny tiny porch to water my plumbagos and ferns, I was happy to see a little yellow butterfly fluttering happily along the ferns.  I love butterflies, they are such beautiful, delicate creatures full of joy, hope.  Delicate, yet resilient.  I know somewhere in Heaven there is a little cat napping on a silken pillow and when she wakes up, she will scamper out to a beautiful garden where other little furry friends wait for her and they will chase butterflies to their hearts' content.  I know my DivaBoy is in that garden, along with my other furry loves, and their friends including Neo, Roz and Misty.  Tonight the moon will be full again and the stars will shine.  I know they were shining extra-brightly last night, welcoming sweet Lumen home.  We are comforted by memories of time shared and are grateful for those memories.  As the saying on one of my favorite websites goes "All is well, we are loved."  We take them into our hearts, knowing it is temporary, but welcoming the chance, the ability to love and, oh, how they love us  back.  When they leave us, sometimes we are lucky enough to be chosen by new loves, always remembering the ones that were there before.

So, hug your friends, hug your children, be they human, furry, feathered, two legged or four legged, just hug them, let those around you know they are loved.  Hugs are a wonderful, wonderful gift.  Get out there, see the movie, meet a stranger, make a friend, have a cheeseburger or a cupcake (or both!), appreciate your life, your world.  Open your heart, widen that comfort zone, difficult as that may be.  As for me, I am off to bake and maybe paint a chair or two.

Until next post, be safe.  Be grateful.  Be blessed.

CELEBRATE!

This weekend would have been my parent's 56th wedding anniversary.  Somehow, I know they are in Heaven celebrating with champagne and chocolate cake (my Mom's favorite).  I always loved their anniversary because it tied in with the 4th of July, so we'd have the anniversary fete and then continue right on into the 4th, ending with fireworks!  It was always a happy occasion, with friends, family and my Dad lording over the barbecue.  The menu was always a combination of traditional Cuban (roast pork, black beans, rice and yuca with mojo ... my Dad made the BEST mojo) and American (barbecued ribs, hot dogs, hamburgers, corn on the cob, potato salad and apple pie).  The last few years of my Mom's life, we always made sure to have an over-the-top celebration, we'd made it to another year, reason, indeed, to celebrate.  The 4th always brings back sweet memories for me.  I am grateful for each and every single one.

Everyone says you get used to the absence, but you never really do.  At least I haven't.  Still miss their joyful presence, the conversations which ranged from the inane to the deepest of subjects.  Miss them, period.  But at the same time, I am grateful for having had them at all.  Some people never get that chance.  And, all in all, we were in each others' lives for decades and we squeezed every drop of joy from Life we could.  Still, I would have liked a few decades more.  Even when we had our disagreements, I was always happy to come home.  It was the high point of my day.  Coming home.  Still is.  My home is my refuge, my cocoon, my joy.

I was starting to get into one of my summer funks, something I decided to AVOID AT ALL COSTS starting this year.  I have promised myself I will enjoy summer, get out in the sun, garden, barbecue (or at least mooch off my neighbors who barbecue almost every weekend), remember what I loved about summer when I was little.  The smell of a freshly-mown lawn, eating ice cream in a cone, gardening, walking barefoot on grass (while blissfully ignoring my grandmother's admonitions to PUT ON MY SHOES), plant lots and lots of annuals to lure butterflies and fireflies.  Enjoy the season, humidity, hurricane worries and all.  Still the summer funks were lurking close, when a friend (who I swear is psychic) sent me an email that closed with this line "Don't be sad because it's over, smile because it happened."  I thought, hmmm, what a great way to look at the world.  Even when we are going through a major bump, to look for the joy, or to remember it.  Wasn't it Tasha Tudor, that wise, wise woman, who said "Take joy!"  Sometimes remembering joy can and does exist helps to bring you back from the brink.  To center one's world. I know it has for me.  When my Dad was dying and he was going through one more futile test procedure, I stood in a doorway someone had left open, it led to the hospital's rooftop and the sun was just streaming in.  I remember standing in that light, basking in it.  Knowing that soon he would be a part of it.  I was angry at losing him, so soon after losing my Mom.  But he missed her, his heart really was not in coming back from the edge this time around.  I was being selfish in holding on.  Knew it was time to let go.  He was gone a few days later.  That was years ago, still feels like it was yesterday.  Trite, but true.


Anyone who knows me will tell you I do not like change.  Detest it.  Had enough of it to last me a lifetime.  But it is inevitable.  Without change we would become stagnant.  I have learned change is good, it blows through, turning your world topsy-turvy, forcing light into dark corners, forcing one to grow.  This year in particular (and we are only halfway through it) has brought many changes for me.  Amazingly enough I am enjoying the results of those changes.  My friends have been my rocks through the adjustment period.  My steadfast lights through stormy seas.  I have, somehow, wound up in a new job I really enjoy with a brilliant, funny, amazing boss I actually like and respect.  I have been really lucky in the boss category.  I am still in my cocoon and am tweaking it a bit (my cure for all ills, redecorate, even if it only means buying a new pretty pillow) and every night when I get home, I am greeted by my two furry loves who immediately demand cuddles and snackies.  I water my plants, talk a bit with my neighbors and all is well in my universe.  I emailed a friend of mine this week saying I actually feel happy.  Which we all know is a very fragile thing.  We need to take care of it, nurture it, protect it.  Refuse to let the "dementors" (yep, I'm a Harry Potter fan) ruin our "happy."  Because if we allow that to happen, they win and this is to be avoided at all costs.  There are those who thrive on destroying other people's happiness.  Choosing to live in a brooding, dark cloud, always concentrating on the negative areas of their lives, seeing what they have lost, instead of what they have, sometimes right in front of their eyes, seeing what could have been, instead of what is and could be.  Yep, you got it, I'm one of those annoying "glass half full" people.  It is what gets me through some of Life's rough spots.  Remembering past joys has allowed me to get through some of Life's curve balls.  Because I know that, yeah, it may be dark out there, but somewhere there is Light and, eventually, if I hold on long enough that Light will once more reach me and enfold me in its loving warmth.  Light, faith, warmth, the Universe, friendship, joy, laughter, love, God.

Oh, dear, didn't mean to get all Zen.  What I really want to say is get out there and celebrate.  Celebrate waking up in the morning, with a good cup of coffee (and in my case, LOTS of half and half).  Celebrate having loved ones around.  Be they human or furry (both if you are really lucky).  Celebrate having had loving parents who allowed your imagination to fly.  If you did not have that particular blessing, then celebrate still being here, free to make your own choices and create your happiness.  Celebrate the chance to let your imagination fly.  Take wing.  Because, sooner or later, we must realize we are responsible for our choices, our own joy.  Heck, celebrate getting up and having a job to go to in the morning.  Celebrate orchids blooming and rain falling on ferns.  Celebrate getting one more day to live, to breathe, to be.  Celebrate seeing two little girls you love as your own grow up.  Seeing one marry for love and become a mom.  Celebrate holding her baby in your arms, until they fall asleep, but still you refuse to give that precious bundle up, even though you know it means being on mega-doses of Advil for the next three days.  Celebrate late-night conversations with the other one, who always makes you laugh and who continually amazes you at the bright woman she has grown to be.  Celebrate friendship and laughter and tears.  Celebrate life and if fireworks come along with your celebration, even better!


This is Glitterina signing off ... I have a dessert to make for my neighbors' 4th of July barbecue tomorrow.  A safe, happy and celebratory 4th to all.