 | Blogs > ladykitty22 > The Cat's Eye > STORE CLOSED. GONE FEISING. |
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All human beings should try to learn before they die what they are running from, and to, and why. -- James Thurber I realize I’ve been silent for…jeez, must be two weeks now. In my world, that’s reason to check my pulse: a kitty who hasn’t posted anything for two weeks might well be roadkill. I’ve been working like a maniac lately. When the alarm rings at six AM, I toss a cat or two off the bed, brew a cup of tea, and start winding up the day’s winch. Head down, I’m writing project workbooks, scanning through scribbled notes, taking calls, making calls, working deals, feet tapping reels under the desk. Fluffing my feathers, peacock-style, there is strutting and a certain amount of bluffing required to achieve my goals. Nostrils flared, I’m sniffing for tasks, collating them, assigning them, escalating them, checking them. My life right now is about tasks. What’s real, what’s a roadblock. What’s cake and what’s fairy-dust. By four PM most days, my arms are aching from keyboarding. By the time I let my hair down, my brain is fried. At sunset, I spend time staring. I can still manage to look out my window and marvel at the brush of purple flowers nodding their heads in the wind. I am still conscious enough to admire the wine country summer; the Italian pines, the hedges that sprout, red-tipped, towards the sun. There is a small bell hanging outside my window; according to the legend of its Navajo maker, when it chimes, it speaks of opportunities coming. I enjoy its pure, hard sound. However, at the end of the day, I find that my head is pitifully empty, disconsolate, a classroom with all its pupils gone. All that's left is a manic adding machine that is prancing by itself; a device from the Beast's castle, come alive, maniacally spewing perfectly-balanced sums, ticking off numbers of tasks completed and correctly classified. Frequently, it won’t stop; sometimes I imagine myself taking a baseball bat and smashing it to bits just to achieve silence. Work, we might say, is going well. It’s a manic, 21st-century definition of “well” – but well it is. My job may be fine, but that's not the issue; it's my head that I worry about. Numb from calculating, my brain has lost most of the English language. I can't string two sentences together to save my life; instead, I resort to watching images, digesting colors. Not only are the word-elves silent, I heavily suspect that they moved out. My idea-bin is empty. I have taken to visiting blogs -- to interact with your ideas, to touch your creations, to find a magic bean to make the word-elves come back. And, for all that, a tired Kitty is still jubilant these days. Can’t tell you exactly why; he’d have to shoot me: but let's infer that there’s a fella in the world who has brought a spark to Kitty’s eye and a certain swish to her groove. He knows who he is; there's no need to go telling tales. There’s a quiet comfort here that makes Kitty hope she’s come up trumps. It’s not something you talk about, being a lady and all (though I do think it’s why the word-elves moved out....their jealousy manifests in their snitty silence...). Then, there’s that third part: I’m dancing again. Kitty kicked some ass this week in dance class. She's been working those leg muscles. We are also feising this weekend, joining 600 other dancers and a dozen musicians. Liz and I dance the Mother-Daughter two-hand on Friday night, followed by solo competitions and a Saturday night ceili. Will we win? Don’t give a shit. Will we have fun? Guaranteed. Even if it’s nothing more than the Seige of Ennis with forty of my closest friends -- barefoot, giggling, glasses of wine and stumbling our sevens and threes -- we will have a rare oul time. Silence. Jubilance. Dancing. I cannot imagine three more wonderful things to have in your life. It’s summer. I’m still working that separate-boxes thing, and I really do need those word-elves back. If you see them, tell them Kitty needs to see their little behinds home. Vite, vite. No excuses. In the meantime, it's time to close the store for a bit. Time to savor the summer. Kitty’s gone Feising. I’ll be back when I’m back. |
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7/26/2007 8:26 pm |
 Kitty's got her groove back. She's dancing too.... What are word elves? I'm not sure but I like her rich vocabulary.Like keys on a ring we have our own purpose, yet we are as one.
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7/26/2007 9:31 pm |
Kitty's got her groove back. She's dancing too.... What are word elves? I'm not sure but I like her rich vocabulary.See you in the Fall. LadyK
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7/31/2007 2:58 am |
Yup, time to shut up the chiringuito. See you when I'm looking at you. Bye.
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8/16/2007 9:30 am |
Love your expresion ofthe word elves--mine I think are imps--they often just pop out!  Ah, yes dancing--good for the soul....looking forward to dance classes again... Thank you for your kind comments on my blog--I still need to post the windmill pictures... Cheerily Wishing you happiness Misty
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8/16/2007 8:15 pm |
Love your expresion ofthe word elves--mine I think are imps--they often just pop out! Ah, yes dancing--good for the soul....looking forward to dance classes again... Thank you for your kind comments on my blog--I still need to post the windmill pictures... Cheerily A favorite quote: "The secret o' life is in opening up your heart It's OK to feel afraid Don't let that stand in your way 'Cause anyone knows that love is all we brought And since we're only here for a while We might as well show some style.... (James Taylor, Secret O' Life)? LadyK
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11/27/2007 1:12 am |
Good, fun, story - Thanks Anslatetra istha, Iendfra inderfa -- Elvish for Translate this, friend finder
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12/1/2007 10:00 pm |
In my small southern town businesses would close half a day Wednesday and open half a day Saturday so everybody could go fishing. I remember a sign in the barber shop that said gone fishing, but it's probably a Normal Rockwell painting. I kinda resent Norman Rockwell for that. Anslatetra istha, Iendfra inderfa -- Elvish for Translate this, friend finder
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12/10/2007 3:18 pm |
In my small southern town businesses would close half a day Wednesday and open half a day Saturday so everybody could go fishing. I remember a sign in the barber shop that said gone fishing, but it's probably a Normal Rockwell painting. I kinda resent Norman Rockwell for that. I recently moved from Northern California back to my home sod in Michigan. I get to type these words as I overlook my wonderful perspective; a dock in the Thornapple River, ready for fishing. Feising is dancing; fishing is much the same. Hope to chat some day. LadyK
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12/10/2007 5:12 pm |
Dear Seeking, I recently moved from Northern California back to my home sod in Michigan. I get to type these words as I overlook my wonderful perspective; a dock in the Thornapple River, ready for fishing. Feising is dancing; fishing is much the same. Hope to chat some day. LadyK Anslatetra istha, Iendfra inderfa -- Elvish for Translate this, friend finder
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12/13/2007 3:45 pm |
Thanks for the word, it was new to me. I did look it up, and since Gone fishing was kind of on the table too, took the opportunity to reminisce. Tis true blue Thornapple / Little Satilla Americana either way, and long live it. I toast your fish from my river perch (no pun intended). LadyK
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