January’s nearly gone and I’m racing toward the finish line with two projects. Which means I have little time to spend here. I write throughout the day, trying to keep my butt in the chair although I am easily distractible. I’ve been spending my evenings unwinding with my dd’s family, enjoying the new baby, and then it’s back home where I putter for an hour or two making things in my art room. Then straight to bed.
Last night was really cold, so my cat who loves being outdoors, joined me in bed. She’s a lovey. Or rather loves to bite. Little nibbles that grow harder the more you pet her. She was a feral cat I adopted a while back. I think I told you the story about her before. I’d fed her over the fence for weeks because she was too wary to come closer. Then one night, during that huge full moon on Friday the 13th, something about that moon hadn’t occurred in hundreds of years… Anyway, I was out there at 2 AM watching that pretty moon in the middle of my driveway when I felt something furry moving in figure eights around my ankles. Scared the crap out of me. Ever since, she’d been mine and stayed close to my back door. She chose me. I call her my familiar. And I named her Pumpkin because she’s the spitting image of my very first cat, Pepita (I love Mexican spiced pumpkin seeds).
And there I thought this was going to be quick.