Relative Something

*this* John W. Hays’ take on things and experiences

Posts Tagged ‘cats

Noticing Moments

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Illness has slowly been making its way through some of the staff at work, and I’ve heard tell of it visiting some of my family. Somewhere between the two, after the weekend of visitors, I brushed too close to a source. My body responded with all the classic symptoms.

It’s an almost indistinguishable cross between a cold and allergies. After an impressive run of relatively good health, experiencing an affliction such as this helps me to realize how many things there are about living every day that I take for granted.

Certainly, I now have a new level of respect for how pleasant it is to have a clear and healthy sinus cavity on a daily basis.

As I stepped toward our spiral staircase from up in the loft, I noticed how impressive it is to be able to stride unhesitatingly over the edge of the floor and float down the massive pine steps. It doesn’t seem like that big a deal usually, but yesterday I found myself hyper-aware of what a marvel it is to have that ability.

With tired, stinging eyes, my drive home from work yesterday was an extra challenge of not driving distracted. Well, not only distracted, but actually asleep. When I arrived safely home, my mind was drawn to one specific goal. I wanted to lay down on our bed, pull the cover over my body, and close my eyes for a nap.

My nose has suffered a days’ worth of abuse from tissues wiping the constant flow and my eyes stung. I didn’t want to be touched. I just wanted to completely give in to the urge to sleep. Pequenita couldn’t resist. I think she spends her whole day dreaming of the moment when I will come home and lie down on that bed with her.

She purred and kneaded her way up my body, arriving at my head. My arms were snuggled deep below the covers and my irritated eyes were frozen shut in resistance to the sting. So she head butted me right in the nose. It was the absolute worst intrusion to the comfort I was so desperately seeking.

I didn’t react. I just wanted to forget the insult and enter dreamland. So she did it again, harder.

I noticed how cute it can seem sometimes when she does that head-butting action. How dear it is that she seeks my attention with such fervor. And I noticed how different it comes across when I feel miserable and my nose is particularly sensitive.

Why is it that this kind of illness triggers an obscure mental focus? I noticed my slippers of many years. I don’t know why I find it so hard to part with my house slippers. Even though these long ago developed a crack in the sole that lets wetness in –noticeable when making brief excursions through puddles in the garage or on the deck or driveway (obviously, venturing out of the house)– they still function perfectly well in every other regard.

I haven’t given a thought to replacing them. How could I? These are the ones. There are no others to be had.

Until I finally do. Then the new pair become “the ones,” for the next decade and a half.

Just some things I noticed.

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Written by johnwhays

April 20, 2017 at 6:00 am

Trying Not

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I’m trying not to succumb to the outrage. Outrage may well be deserved, but it doesn’t serve me well. I have to choose a different path. I strive to avoid getting my feathers stuck in the tar of controversial opposing opinions, but maybe venting about some of the insanity will bring about an inspiration to counter the inherent despair.

Does any of this make sense?

How did Wells Fargo bank get away with years of creating bogus accounts without customers’ consent?

How did the Sugar Association get away with paying off Harvard scientists?

How do political campaigns succeed by only focusing on the perceived bad things about other candidates without providing any substance of their own in ads?

How did we get to a point where there are only two unpopular primary candidates for President of the United States?

How do people feel comfortable publicly supporting a candidate who demonstrates such contemptible characteristics?

Why do people allow religious ideology to lead them down a path of choosing to injure and kill others?

What if creative people like Lennon & McCartney were able to write songs about peace and love for all of the world to hear?

What if that made all the difference?

All you need is love.

Love is all you need.

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Pequenita consoling me while I distract myself with word games… That’s love.

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Written by johnwhays

September 21, 2016 at 6:00 am

Pequenita

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Words on Images

Words on Images

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Written by johnwhays

September 1, 2016 at 6:00 am

Tough Life

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IMG_iP1488eBoy does she have it tough. I’m feeling envious of Pequenita’s luxurious life of napping whenever and wherever she wants.

My activity level has been too busy to get a full night’s sleep lately, let alone fit in a nap. Our weather stayed dry yesterday, so I was able to finish mowing the lawn when I got home from work.

That involved leaving the day-job early, cruising home without delay, and then changing clothes and getting out on the tractor to pick up where I left off on Monday night. It took a bit longer than usual to finish because the grass had grown extra long and thick since the last cutting.

The task was overdue.

While mowing south along the fence line of the back pasture, I spotted a couple of turkey hens and a busy brood of youngsters forging a path that led right toward where I was headed. They made an initial correction away from me into thicker grass that obscured them from view just as I was trying to catch a picture of them.

Eventually, I knew they would have to pop out for a second when they got to our trail, so I kept my phone camera pointed at the little window of path visible from my vantage point. They looked hilarious, but were too far away and their coloring too subdued for the picture to do them justice.

It is such a treat for me to see wild turkeys roaming around here. It makes the place seem a little more rustic, especially considering the alternative of one domestic feline who mostly lays around in the lap of luxury on beds and blankets, resting up so she will have energy to take another nap in the not very distant future.

It’s a tough life she leads, but she handles it oh so stoically.

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Written by johnwhays

July 27, 2016 at 6:00 am

Melting

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Melting

Words on Images

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Written by johnwhays

July 11, 2016 at 6:00 am

Afternoon

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Afternoon

Words on Images

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Written by johnwhays

May 4, 2016 at 6:00 am

Overwhelmingly Loved

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I am living a charmed life lately. Really. It’s a bit overwhelming. How do you adequately thank someone for loving you?

IMG_iP1204ePequenita has been dishing out so much affection for me that I am almost feeling smothered by her. At the same time, who can resist the charm of a cat who repeatedly seeks a perch somewhere on top of you?

She can be so insistent for attention when I get home from work that I have to pick her up to protect my legs from becoming her scratching post. If I make the mistake of choosing to lay down with her for a few minutes at that hour of the day, I usually become the victim of an unplanned nap.

She oftentimes finds a suitable spot on my legs and joins me for a snooze.

My lovely wife has been spoiling me with extra special attention by choosing healthy options for my goal of eating a reduced sugar diet, and tweaking her bread recipes to incorporate more diverse grains with extra substance. Lately I have a thing for millet in bread, along with a fondness for wheat berry and sunflower nuts, in addition to the usual whole grains.

DSCN4668eYesterday, Cyndie nailed it with a couple of excellent loaves, hot out of the oven at dinner time, while she was simultaneously whipping up some fresh homemade pasta to serve as a base under her delectable leftover beef bourguignon that was recently pulled from the freezer.

It certainly feels like being loved, to be fed like that.

My mom gave Cyndie some special training on how to make the bread I grew up with. Talk about love!

Last night, while looking at the beautiful loaves she created, I suddenly noticed an insight about how my father must have felt about the bread mom baked for him throughout their life together. Mom told us stories about how she first learned to bake bread when they were newlyweds stationed in a fire lookout tower in Glacier National Park.

By the time I was born, over 10-years later, she had definitely mastered the craft. Her homemade bread was a staple in our kitchen. Dad was a stern scolder when we didn’t cut straight slices. We toasted it and fried it, and I recall Dad used a slice to soak up the juice on the meat platter when the menu involved steak.

My parents weren’t very demonstrative of their love, but looking back, those years of homemade bread reveal a pretty good version of it.

Now I am blessed with the same. It is overwhelmingly lovely.

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Written by johnwhays

April 20, 2016 at 6:00 am