Be Your Own Trophy...

In mid July, my friend Winter posted the following comment on FaceBook and it has been stuck in my head since.


"...thinks it's sad that there are some women who would rather be somebody else's trophy than their own."

My comment to this was that this was seriously sad, but that being your own trophy can be very lonely.

Especially in this city that I love, New Orleans. Most of the available men are just looking for a one night stand and the thought of actually having a woman as a friend is absurd to them. Let alone a woman who has a mind of her own, that's totally frightening to them.

I once asked a lovely man who came into the bookshop regularly to see me, if we could have coffee next time he was in the area. Sadly, I have not heard from him or seen him since. Apparently in "man language" having coffee means having his children...

I have pondered why believing in yourself frightens people, and this what I came up with:

• Most people need to be in control of everything



• Most people believe they are right about everything

Well, "Most People" I'm here to tell you to get over yourself. I took a class many years ago and it taught me two important things:

1. The only person or thing you have control of is yourself.


2. The power of the 3. In life, you only have 3 options for everything that happens: you can accept it, change it, or leave it.
   

Notice that "control everything" is not listed. Since the only person or thing you do control - is yourself, the change option is changing something in yourself. Nobody knows everything, that would be far too exhausting. But 3 options for everthing, how simple is that.

You can apply them to everything...believe me I've tried. If you stick to this, life is pretty good. Of course sometimes your memory fades and you forget the power of 3, but you'll be back. This is part of being your own trophy, showing people that you don't fall apart at adversity. You use the one thing you can control (yourself) to resolve your issues.

Who knows what may happen from day to day. But I will always be happy knowing I control my life, I am in charge of how I act in a relationship or not, and I will not stifle my beliefs and ideas for anyone. And I will treat people as I want to be treated.

Most importantly, I will always be My Own Trophy!

Singing to the Furkids

Yesterday a friend posted a sweet video on FaceBook of a man singing a pile of puppies to sleep. I commented on it that I've always sung to my cats, especially when it time to go to sleep or go to the vet. I guess this truly makes me the crazy cat lady. Or, does this exemplify the sweetness of life. Where nothing is more important at that moment, than having a sweet loving connection with with a being who is part of your family.

There are the people in the camp that would argue that these are just animals...these people don't have pets and never have. These people don't understand how someone could spend hundreds, maybe thousands of dollars on vet bills for an animal... So sad.

But to us, the animal lovers – these beings are our children, our family. Or as my niece is wont to say, our furkids. These furkids are there for us no matter what may happen in our day, with love and caring.

It's funny, even I can get short with my cats, when they meow at me constantly. But when it comes right down to it - they are telling me, “Get over here, you need to get some attention and relax.” It's not the opposite as most people think, that they want attention. They know when you need to take your mind off something and they're providing this outlet.

My cats hate the car, when they get in the car they know they're going to the vet and they talk and yowl until you think you'll go mad. So I sing to them and they're quiet. But when I evacuated for Hurricane Katrina, they went in their cages and never made a sound in the car. They knew that we had to go and they were okay with that fact.

I was the crazy cat lady, with four great kitties...Hissy, Maurie, Gino, and Smudge'. These cats were my family since 1998. From the same litter, siblings. Born of the parents, crazy Celeste and raucous Clancy, two strays that I fed regularly. The kittens were born under the house I lived in on Jefferson Avenue, right before Hurricane Georges.

Then last July the ex...made the permanent move to Seattle and took two. The female, Smudge', was a daddy's girl, no surprise...she really had no use for me. But not wanting her to be alone, Gino went with her. It is heart breaking, since the three boys were like the three amigos, the three musketeers... They always slept in a big pile. My pile o' kitties.

Smudge', the lone girl was almost always on her own. If anyone was with her, it was Gino. We called them the bookends, their coloring is so similar. I miss Gino and the other two boys do as well. The first night Gino was gone, Hissy and Maurie were up ALL night, searching the place and meowing constantly. They look less and less as days go by. I didn't say his name in front of them for a few months. I still don't really say his name aloud, it just makes me sad.

Still singing though...

The Golden Road - Word Painting

Oh, that I could paint a picture of peace and tranquility, it would be here. But instead I will paint with the tools I have. With my pen, imagination, and paper I will weave a story of incredible peace and tranquility and life.

Basking in the warm golden glow of the day, I slowly amble along a road of immense beauty and serenity. I’ve never been here before, but I know I want to live here. In a house tucked in the trees, surrounded by a beautifully wild and vibrant flower garden. A garden that helps we fill every room with the color, beauty and fragrance of nature. In the quiet of the morning I hear the sounds of nature waking up to a new and wonderful day. Blue Jays raucously calling to each other a warning that hawks are about. Squirrels hissing as any creature nears their stores of food. The crunch of oak leaves beneath your feet. And the musty smell of nature doing what comes naturally.

Sometimes, as I stroll down this road I can smell the ocean that is in the not too far distance. The fresh smell of cool moisture stirred into the sky. It calls me with the crash of the waves on the sand. Urging me to feel the cold wetness rushing over my feet and watch the sea birds looking for lunch. I’ll spend hours watching the children chasing the waves in and out, back and forth, wet and dry. Laughing as they build sandcastles, monuments to their youth. Monuments they hope will last forever, but are erased by the incoming waves. Leaving the beach strewn with the feathers used as flags and the driftwood used for the drawbridge, but the laughter continues. The sweet and joyful ring of laughter over the next new experience to come their way, chasing seagulls, digging for sand crabs, playing jump rope with seaweed.

Basking in the warm golden glow of the day, I slowly amble along a road of immense beauty and serenity. I find the cozy little home in my minds eye and stroll the slate stepping stones through my garden. Bending and appreciating each and every flower, it’s shape, color and incredible fragrance. The sound of the Hummingbirds whizzing from flower to flower and the buzzing bees in hasty pursuit of pollen enough for they’re queen. In the dampness of the garden, the small green tree frogs serenade in their low croak. A serenade of distinct beauty, calling the she-frogs from hiding to join in the dance of life and love.

Inside this cozy home the gleaming hardwood floors are covered with rugs in the deep colors of nature, the deep green of ancient trees, the intense blue of the ocean, the deep velvety maroon of a rose in full bloom. The sweet and exotic smell of fresh flowers fills the air, along with the warm comforting sound and smell of a wood fire. The overstuffed couch between the floor to ceiling bookshelves is so inviting, but the rocking chair in front of the fire has the loudest plea for attendance. The most vocal of your pet felines calls to you in his scratchy catcall, sounding like a disc jockey spinning discs, is filling its seat. So I sit there with the cat in my lap and become mesmerized by the sounds around me, the cat purring, the wood of the rocking chair creaking, the snap and hiss of the fire.

Oh, that I could paint a picture of peace and tranquility…

Can you hear the beauty of it all? Someday I may only have memories of these beautiful sounds of nature. Will these short paragraphs bring it all back to me?