oddly
my dreams have aged to elderly
where potential and possibility have withered autumn brittle into the surfaces I’ve collected
the faces reaching into me are all familiar, even the strangers
that fill each scenario, handing me objects of forgotten purpose
pulled from an archive of life time
We populate an impressionist pastiche of when and where until no 

my body’s changed, I don’t work here anymore, we’re not friends, I graduated years ago, you’re long dead, you hate me now

I am today, slumbering along in yesterday fiction or
slip down in grateful bliss and take my place
in the gently puzzling allegory, leading the circle of compromised past

.

Now I remember. What I’ve really been doing on this blog, instead of posting tantalizing glimpses of my spectacularly mundane existence, is scouring the blog software’s site for plugins, widgets and themes, and then adding/subtracting them to/from this site. Eventually it’s come to my attention that the twenty or so people currently subscribed to this site (having actually taken the trouble of registering) would like to maybe see something new on here besides a different-colored background every 3 hours. Okay, I’m a geek at heart, even if I was a writer first. I’ll get better, honest.

What else, hmm. Crocheting stuff, which I’m going to start taking pictures of, as well as the kittens before they become cats. Vile winter sinus issues that don’t merit a lengthy description. Oh, also, I do have the podcasting equipment that I purchased ostensibly for my husband’s use, so just maybe I’ll be posting audio files sometime this winter. You’d think talking into a microphone would be easier than typing. I’ve tried, and it’s not. You’d be surprised how difficult it is to be coherent and interesting for over 30 consecutive seconds. Anyway, blogging is a great way to find out how dull and witless you really are, in case that sort of self-knowledge appeals to you. Remember, sex may be wasted on the young, but someone will always find you boring.

Until next time, thanks for reading,
Dawn

The furry face in question is of the Ragdoll breed. These cats are described by their breeders as feline “couch potatoes”, “puppy-cats”, and homebodies in the extreme, therefore particularly suited to a strictly indoor existence. This, unfortunately, is not the case with most types of domestic cat, with their cunningly disguised but ever-lurking streak of wildness, constantly seeking an opportunity to escape to the jungle that lies outside the kitchen door. Alas, our jungle is of the concrete variety, a stone’s throw from a thoroughly high-traffic thoroughfare, with decorative but impractical fencing around our back yard. For the sake of a long and healthy life, then, we’ve agreed that any pet we choose to bring into our home will be resigned to never tasting of the tempting and (relatively) exotic elements of the Michigan outdoors. Hence the choice of the most domestic of domestic catdom, the Ragdoll.

Here I must make a confession. From my perspective, with the usual apologies to George Orwell, all cats are very beautiful, but some cats are more beautiful than others. Ragdolls, with their striking, deeply pigmented blue eyes and long, rabbit-soft fur, eminently satisfy my aesthetic palate. The breed gets its unusual appellation from the cat’s tendency to go limp, ostensibly with submissive delight in human contact, when lifted from the ground. It’s a strange trait to breed animals for, but there you are. This tendency does not appeal to me in particular. However, the highly sociable and markedly affectionate nature of the breed seems to me an investment of sorts in a fundamental kind of future happiness that gives, of its very nature, much more than the simple care and feeding it will receive as its due. You can say that of any pet, I imagine. But my understanding of cats in general dreads the nervous effects of perpetual confinement upon these born hunters-and-prowlers, and yet our current living accomodations demand nothing less. The Ragdoll, therefore, seems to be the ideal choice. And, apparently, I could use a little extra unconditional love just now.

So that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. We are to visit the photogenic one’s cattery home this afternoon, to see if the breed lives up to its press. Assuming we come away with either a kitten or the promise of one in the near future, expect pics of our new family member (and yes, I know cats are not people! Why should I want to diminish them with such a fatuous delusion?) to be prominently displayed in these pages.

• a frustrated writer
• a frustrated webgeek
• recently laid-off
• a chronic crocheter and gatherer of wool
• a World of Warcraft addict
• happily married (yay!)
• a culture vulture
• a cancer survivor
• a lover of funny things
• middle-aged and far too sedentary
• such a hermit by nature, how’d I ever manage to meet so many great people???