Taking the Blog Private for a While

My mind is a blank today.
Everywhere I turn, there's a reminder of Skunk.
We raised him from a barely weaned kitten.
Six years is a long time to spend with a cat.
A long time, yet not long enough.

“You were never just a cat — you were family.”

I'm still in shock from losing Skunk.
I still expect to hear him squeaking at me.
He was a very vocal cat.

An unexpectedly large part of grief is fury. — C. S. Lewis

This isn't a post I wanted to write.

I've cried so much my eyes are swollen, and I have a busting headache.

Badger and I really thought we'd take Skunk to the emergency veterinarian, they'd fix him, and we'd bring him back home.

Until We Meet Again At The Rainbow Bridge

Taking it one slow breath at a time

The goats survived the night, and it didn't look as if anything touched that electric fence overnight.
I was getting the mail this morning and heard this absolutely horrible scream-yelp.
Lady found the electric fence.
In her defense, Heron put that fence right in her pee spot.

Not what I expected today, but I am not mad about it

You wake up and think it's just another Thursday.

You go to town, get your groceries, just like you do every Thursday.

But when you get home, Heron is getting ready to go somewhere.

"The older I get, the more I believe that the greatest kindness is acceptance."

The days that run together are the ones you forget first.
These late summer days all feel the same.
I’m just going to pull out a few things from today.
It doesn't matter what order, just whatever pops into my head.

The best summers melt away as quickly as an ice cream cone in the sun

The long, warm days of summer are about gone now.
There are still 63 days until fall, but Raven's kids start back to school August 3rd, our county starts back August 7th, and Gealach starts back August 11th.
More than the calendar, that’s what tells me summer’s done.
We’re down to just three days left in July.

Current status: scampering

It's been pretty quiet around here lately.
There are two things I want to remember from today.

There’s beauty in doing nothing—and Sunday proves it

I could put the whole day into one simple sentence: it was slow, lazy, and not much happened.

What can one say about a stay-at-home Sunday?

Cowboy heads to church morning and night, and the rest of us stay at home.

“I'm Not Sure What I Made, but It Smells Delicious.”

I woke up to heavy rain and got soaked while feeding my little stray.
By the time we headed into town, though, the skies had cleared.

We left at 11:30 a.m. and got back at 1:30 p.m.
We only stopped at Walmart and the thrift store today.
Cowboy, as Badger said, clearly wasn't feeling well.
Those long shifts are getting harder on him now.

quiet summer moments

We had a very quiet morning with Heron.
He finished “Yellowstone” and moved on to one of the prequels.
I can't remember which one, but by this afternoon he'd already finished that, too.

Pizza is always a good idea.

Cowboy goes to both services on Sundays and hardly ever misses a one.

With my social anxiety and Badger’s autism, big events wear us out because we can’t control how loud it gets, how crowded it gets, or who wants a handshake or a hug.
We do better with casual outings like museums or restaurants, because they’re not as loud, not as crowded, and we can leave when we’ve had enough.

Done? Just Kidding. There's More

Badger survived the night on my bedroom floor, and I didn’t fall out of bed and try to squish her this time.

Badger woke up and hit the ground running.
She cleaned up the kitchen, which was on my list to do today, but she beat me to it.