Sweetness and Light

D'Artagnan is what's called a cream tabby. To some, this means that he's a butterscotch & cream color rather than orange marmalade like the more well-known varieties. To me, it means he looks like Morris who laid out in the sun and got faded.

Cream tabbies, by nature, seem to be extremely mellow and D'Art is no exception. The day I got him, he was just a young buck - a teenager - perhaps 4-5 months old, which puts his birthday some time around the first of April, a fitting birthday for such a mischievously innocent creature. I specifically wanted a cat who *liked* other cats, as I wanted to get him a companion, and he was sharing a cage with a fellow shelter-kitty. Yes, he's adopted, but I haven't broken the news to him yet.

After only 20 minutes or so, I completed the paperwork. I asked if he had a name, and the lady said it was "Dar-TAN-EE-on". Cringing only slightly, I helped her correct the spelling (and pronunciation) of his name. A name made famous by Alexandre Dumas, the fourth Musketeer is often remembered as primarily a lover, not a fighter, and D'Art lives up to his name.

I stopped by work to show off my new-found companion, and he proceeded to stretch out full length on the reception desk and let fifty people rub his belly. Watch out - House Cat on Duty. Well, maybe not at THIS house. We were there for well over an hour, as this steady stream of people came through to OOOooOOo and Aaaahhh over him, petting him, touching him, and he didn't once get spooked.

He once got stuck in a tree, about 20 feet off the ground. Declawed, he didn't have a means of climbing DOWN and he refused to jump. I guess the towel I was holding out didn't look inviting enough Fortunately my ten year old neighbor-boy was currently sitting 30 feet up a tree reading a book, so he was a natural choice to send after my wayward son. He got into a fight with a possum once, and had to have an open gaping wound draining out of his chest for three weeks.

A couple of years ago, I had to leave him (and my other cat) for several weeks alone in the house with nothing but a food/water bowl and a litter box. A Category 4 Hurricane blew through town, knocking out electricity, trees, freeways, bridges, and much much more. For some odd reason, the woman who was watching him decided it was too much trouble to check on them regularly. (Something about a hurricane getting in the way?) With the airport closed, I couldn't fly home. Some cats will get pissy with you when you leave them alone too long - D'Art greeted me the same as always, with love and affection, purring, sitting next to me, and curling up against my legs like nothing unusual had happened. But he seemed a little afraid of letting me leave again.

A year later when I left the country for three weeks (this time intentionally), my roommate was watching over him, and I took each of his toes, and visualized the sun rising and setting on each one. I believe some animals have a higher form of intelligence than we give them credit for, but sometimes you have to speak to them in pictures - I wanted him to know that I would be gone for 21 days, and I felt like this was a way I could communicate that. For the 21st day, I visualized the sunrise/sunset again and kissed his face, pressing my nose again him Eskimo-style. When I returned, tired, weakened, sore, and ever so glad to be home, he hopped up on the bed and pressed his nose against mine in the same way - as if he'd been counting the days until my return.

It's been two years since that day, and he's still just as mellow and affectionate as he ever was.....as long as the sun isn't shining. When the sun is out, and it's 80 degrees, he's more like "Thanks for dinner - can I go out now???". I've seen him for all of about ten minutes in the last four days - ninety percent of which was him running to the food bowl and back again.

-BT

The Mutual Admiration Society

In everyone's life, there are people that you're kind of obligated to be nice to - because you work with them, because you're related to them, because you live with them. To some, I am one of those people.

I have several people in my life, both family and acquaintances, that I *really* like and admire. They are cool, fun, amazing people that have done some pretty unique things. I enjoy spending time with them, and hanging out.....but at times, I get the feeling that it isn't mutual. Not that they DIS-like me - they just don't think of me. For Christmas or other special occasions, usually yes, but when it comes to what to do on Saturday night, or who to call when they want to talk - it isn't me.

In some ways, this isolation is my own doing. I move around a lot. I left the state for five years. I'm terrible about returning phone calls or listening to my voice mail. I do have friends that I hang out with regularly, but I'm really wanting to expand my circle of friends - and even my current friends tend to hang out with me one-on-one, so I'm not meeting anyone new through them. It seems like most of the people I know live thousands of miles away, so I spend too much time in front of a monitor instead of sharing time with people in real life.

So I've started trying to break out a bit - asking people to do things, going to more events out of my comfort zone, and find ways to be more active. I need to initiate a little more with some of these folks, and see if this feeling of rejection is intentional or one of benign neglect. Several people have mentioned things they'd LIKE to do with me - we just never do. Maybe I need to put those "we should do lunch" folks to the test.

I can't change how other people feel.....but I can at least change how I participate in this play. And maybe I'll find out we *do* belong to the mutual admiration society. Or I'll find someone who does.

--BT

Tal Vez

My day started much earlier than usual - 5am, and the cats were looking at me like I was interrupting their beauty sleep. Every morning this week, I have searched for reasons why I *shouldn't* call in sick. I'm not sick - just tired, actually, but I don't get the chance to catch up on my sleep. And every morning this week, I've arrived to find an email from my boss, saying he's out again today. If I didn't like the guy so much, I'd have to hate him for that. Lucky bastard. :) Of course, HE doesn't think so - he's fighting the mutant lung fungi from hell. My main co-worker has also called in sick, but at least for today, I have a replacement for him. Thank god.

So there I am, trying to learn a few things from one of the gurus in my department - things that would be a tad helpful since I'm going to be filling in for him for a couple of days. Three impromptu meetings and three bottles of water later, I've still barely had a chance to say Good Morning, and he's leaving in an hour (40 minutes, he corrected me). Ah yes.

Now this is not the only training I've had - I spent well over 40 hours learning what he does, and I do keep a hand in it now and then.....but it's been a good six months since I've touched on the fundamentals, and he's leaving in a hour. Or 40 minutes. (It actually turned out to *be* an hour, but then he was running late - Ooops!)

I now have five projects I'm working on, and/or heading up, and I thought I had a momentary lull. Two projects are rolling along pretty much without me. One is my pet project and can move at whatever pace I need. The fourth is my primary job, which I turned over to someone else for the day, and the fifth......well, that's why I was trying to soak up some rays from the expert this morning. Then something broke, and my mind went blank. I *know* what to do, I had almost everything taken care of. Then I got to one step and felt the grey matter begin to crystallize into slush.

It wasn't long after that, that I realized I'd been there over nine and a half hours, and hadn't taken lunch. Oh, don't get me wrong - I didn't go ten hours without FOOD. I just went ten hours non-stop without stopping to breathe.

As busy as I was, I still sat there on lunch and went - Did I actually *DO* anything today? Tal Vez (Perhaps.)

Slough

I've always liked this word - it's magic to me. To shed or cast off the past, and start fresh. It's a fascinating form of rejuvenation. Like a snake shedding its skin, we slough off the parts of our lives that we have outgrown, slipping off the clothing that doesn't fit anymore.

I'm at that point it seems- where one cycle ends and another begins, moving back to the first home I purchased nearly a decade ago. And oddly enough, I'm back working for a new version of the company I worked for back then. But it only looks the same. I've changed, and my life has changed in a myriad of ways.

And now I start the physical renewal process called remodeling. New paint, new carpet, updating things here and there, adjusting, meddling, tampering with the little pieces of reality that form the four walls of my sanctuary. I've been in limbo for over a year.....living with my brother, my things in storage, my life on hold. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting....

I feel like I can hardly catch my breath, that I can't get enough air, now that the waiting is almost over. My stuff is en route. I have the carpet picked out. I know what I want to do, and I want it done *yesterday*. I'm ready. Ready to take action. Ready to be done with it all. Ready to start fresh.

But I can't.....I still have endings to finish, things to do, pieces of deadwood from my life to be sloughed off.

Maybe tomorrow.

Spontaneity Be Damned

When did I get a life?

Normally I start thinking about plans for the weekend around Wednesday or Thursday, yet for some reason I have plans for nearly every weekend between now and the end of summer. I'm remodeling my condo, moving, going camping, then there's the Mariners (3 games), Harry Potter (the book), Harry Potter (the movie), birthday parties times three, probably river rafting with my cousins from Africa on their way to Venezuela, wine-tasting, motorcycling. I've got three groups of people I'm going out with fairly regularly, plus individual friends.

Not to mention this is THE summer of sequel movies - SpiderMan 3 just came out, Fantastic 4 - Rise of the Silver Surfer, Transformers, Live Free or Die Hard, Shrek 3, Pirates Of The Caribbean 3 , Rush Hour 3, and of course - Harry Potter.

In some ways, it's very cool and in others - it's tiring just *thinking* about it. But unlike my life of a couple of years ago, my plans are not centered around surviving funerals, surgery, hurricanes & other natural disasters. I'll take it!

--BT

I Wish I Had Cancer

That's what Richard said to me one day, and he meant it.

Richard was an odd duck that I worked with back in Texas. The year was 1994. He was a few years older than me, maybe 30-35 years. He grew up in a rural area, east of Dallas, had travelled around the world, and just recently had come home to live. Or die, as the case may be.

He'd never married, but came close once. His fiancee had been killed in an auto accident a few months before their wedding. It was an event he would live to fully grieve twice in his life.

His father had been an Over The Road (OTR) driver for many years, and loved the open road. He wanted Richard to follow in his footsteps, and made him promise to try it for two years. He did, and hated every minute of it. But out of love for his family, and respect for his father, he gave it the full two years, to the day.

For a while, he was a customs agent, working along the border. Now THAT was a job he loved - there's a certain amount of power & authority that came with it that made him feel good. He described, with a bit of glee, some incidents where he got the upper hand with people who came through - he could search, confiscate and destroy property with abandon, without the legal constraints that hinder the police. No search warrant needed!

Something happened - he never said what - and a group of them were forced to 'retire', and change their names. He thought about it for a while, and chose a new identity. The day he showed up in court for the name change, he made a spur of the moment decision, and chose the Judge's last name instead for his new life.

One day he was on an airplane, sitting next to a priest. They got to chatting, and the Priest invited him to Hawaii to work in his mission - room & board provided, plus a small stipend for living expenses. Poverty to be sure, but Hawaii nonetheless! He lived there for about four years, enjoying the island life, the sunshine, the breezes and the people. It was there he met the young woman who changed his life.

She gave him AIDS.

Back then, AIDS was a death sentence. It had really only been around about ten years, and there wasn't much that was known about controlling it, living with it. His family was there for him, taking care of him, being with him through the final days, in many ways but one.

AIDS had a reputation of being 'the Gay Disease', and getting it (especially in homophobic Texas) held a certain stigma, and embarrassment that other diseases didn't have. His family was ashamed of him. He might as well have had leprosy, and been banished to a leper colony for all the support and understanding he received at home. The man who sacrificed two years of his life to live his father's dream was suddenly the family's nightmare.

At first, he told the people at work that he had cancer. My brother had died of cancer, and my mother was going through it, so I knew that was a lie. From the lesions he had, I'd already guessed the truth the day he decided to confess. We accepted him, and supported him as he went through his trials, and for a while - we were his family.

When we talked about regrets, choices in life, and the left-turns that come along, he grieved for his lost love. You can't live your life on what ifs, but sometimes you have to wonder - would he be dying today if she had lived?

"I wish I had cancer", he said. "I've lived a full life, and don't want to ask for more....but I wish I could give my family a respectable death." That really struck me - that even at this late date, he felt like his family's love was conditional. He left email for all of us the day he quit, little pieces of humor, shared stories and inside jokes.

My wish is that everyone who dies of an insidious disease - whether it be AIDS or cancer, morbid obesity or diabetes - has lived their life to the fullest, knows unconditional love, and feels sure that their death is a respectable one.

It may be too much to expect, but it's never too much to ask.

--BT

The Sound Of Dolphins

Have you ever heard the sound dolphins make when they are chattering? Keep that in mind.

Three of us were talking today in the cube farm. One of my co-workers was describing the insane relationship her daughter was just getting out of....one where she discovered her husband was cheating on her, and the husband of the other woman called *her* wanting to discuss it. It reminded me of a boyfriend I had years ago.

He really was a great boyfriend, at least until....well, I'm getting ahead of myself. Very comfortable to be around, sexy, passionate, intelligent. I'd known three of his ex-girlfriends, met his kids, his niece, been to his house, hung out with him at events. Called him at work all the time, spent numerous evenings together. He knew most of my friends, hung out with my roommate. Things were going quite well.

So you can imagine my surprise when I discovered ON VALENTINE'S DAY that my boyfriend of eight months was *married*.

Upon hearing this, the other co-worker, Mel, clamped her hand over her mouth, and made this 'omigodomigodomigod' kind of squeal in a cross between shock & horror! One of the guys (who hadn't been involved in the convo) IM'd me "What was that? It sounded like dolphins!"

Now we know what the dolphins are saying......and why they laugh at us. :)

--BT

In The Beginning...

Life doesn't always make sense or go in straight lines.

I've been online since 1988. Not continuously, although at times it feels like it. (I *do* sleep on occasion). I first logged onto Blogspot two years ago to comment on my cousin's blog, "Bronx To Timbuktu" . It's the story of their life in Africa, and while I come back regularly to read their (and others) blogs, it wasn't until today that I decided to start my own. Not sure what took me so long - I'm usually fairly prolific when it comes to writing. In fact, one board I'm on, my posts alone account for five percent of the total traffic.....and there are thousands of members there.

Unicorns and Strangers Things comes from the early days - when I first logged on a BBS, before the Internet existed for public consumption. Back then, women online were a rarity and there were more than a few boards where I was one of only two or three females who had EVER logged on. The first time I logged onto a board, I didn't know anyone, and the sysop insisted that all new users fill out a little questionnaire with info like:

Real Name
Address
Phone #
Birth date

Nothing personal, y'know. Being a rather private person, I decided to answer the questions.....just not with MY information. So I gave him my grandmother's name......and birth date (including the year, which I believe was 1885). My phone# was 1-900-976-DEAD. I forget what address I gave him. He of course recognized that the info was bogus, and (at first) wouldn't give me access to the full board - only to email people.

So, now what? I'd never been on a BBS before. I certainly didn't know anyone. Who was I going to email? For most people, the answer probably would have been "nobody". Instead, I scanned through the list, and picked a random stranger whose handle I liked, and started messing with the guy. For the first few months (yes, months *lol*), I played guessing games with him - making him try to guess who I was, and emailing whatever odd thoughts crossed my mind. One of those posts was entitled "Unicorns & Stranger Things", and it stuck.

Of course, the answer of who I was, was impossible to guess since he truly was a random stranger.....but we eventually became friends. And it turned out he was also friends with the sysop......who then decided I was cool, and gave me access anyway. Me and my dead grandmother. Ha!

When someone asks me today where I expect to be in five years, I still have no idea how to answer that question - because I know there's no way I could have imagined TODAY from where I was five years ago, or five years before that. Five years ago, I had just bought a house in Florida. The five hurricanes, the flood, the trip to Brazil, the surgery that changed my life were nowhere on the horizon yet.

Tomorrow I take the second half of my motorcycle class and hope to pass. Next week, I think I have a date with a guy I really like. Later this year? Who knows - Beverly Hills or Brazil may be on the horizon for reconstructive surgery. I don't even know what's going to happen tomorrow, much less five years from now.

Who I am, it seems, it still impossible to guess. But this time it's you who is the random stranger, and perhaps we, too, will eventually become friends.

--BT