And hi to the 49 of you who checked my blog already today. You make me feel extra special.
I’m in a bit of a food coma and have cuddled with about five million cats today, all but two and a half of which did not belong to me. The half is for Truman, who (still) may or may not be staying with us; regardless, he lives with us now. Truman Fact of the Day: his purr button definitely works. This kitten purrs at the drop of a hat! Second fact: he is very sharp and pointy.
For you on this Thanksgiving, I have two things. First: a poem that we considered but did not read at our wedding. I have always found truth and inspiration in it. Second: a picture of us, last Thanksgiving, on the first of what I hope becomes a regular tradition – a pre-Thanksgiving walk in the woods.
I hope you all had a day that was what you hoped it would be.
“Perhaps you’ll tire of me,” muses
my love, although she’s like a great city
to me, or a park that finds new
ways to wear each flounce of light
and investiture of weather.
Soil doesn’t tire of rain, I think,
but I know what she fears: plans warp,
planes explode, topsoil gets peeled away
by floods. And worse than what we can’t
control is what we could; those drab
scuttled marriages we shed so
gratefully may auger we’re on our owns
for good reason. “Hi, honey,” chirps Dread
when I come through the door; “you’re home.”
Experience is a great teacher
of the value of experience,
its claustrophobic prudence,
its gloomy name-the-disasters-
in-advance charisma. Listen,
my wary one, it’s far too late
to unlove each other. Instead let’s cook
something elaborate and not
invite anyone to share it but eat it
all up very very slowly.
(If you are wondering why I appear to be pointing my finger in this picture, it is because my finger was gravely injured, and wrapped up in a serious bandaid contraption? How did I injure it? Well, I’m sure you recall my mention of Pear and Fingernail Pie. Lesson of the day: use caution while peeling pears.)
P.S. I wasn’t going to talk about things I am grateful for, because the list is long and more important for me than it is for you. But! You guys! While I was writing this, grumpy One-Eyed Jake started WASHING TRUMAN’S FACE! I am thankful for cats who love each other and are adorable.
P.P.S. It was short-lived. Now they are fighting and Jake is hissing and growling a lot. Moral of the story (and the poem, IMHO)? Enjoy it while you have it.