I've learned something new in the last week. Kittens are actually capable of morphing from angels to demons right in front of one's eyes. Its quite the phenomena. When I brought my new little delight home last week, he was so stinking cute. For about 5 minutes. And suddenly that little halo was replaced by two little horns that snuck through the soft baby fur.
4AM is apparently a great time to play. I must have missed that memo somewhere along the lines. I also missed the memo that elbows, laptops and cellphone make excellent chew toys. Particularly at 4AM. I didn't know that elbows were really that interesting. But when Mommy is sleeping and you want attention... they're easily accessible, so I'm learning. As are toes, noses, fingers, calves... I think you get the point.
The latest fashion is gnarled hands from excessive claw marks. Its really sexy. You should try it sometime. Its also best done at 4AM. Hair makes a great replacement for mommy cat. The soft texture must be reminiscent of mommy's belly, because little kitty tries to nurse on my head every time he gets tired. Which includes kneading his little claws in my scalp. Particularly at 4AM. Or... right now. That works too. When I move him from my head, he doesn't get the hint. The kneading just moves from my head to my neck. Which isn't any more comfortable, in case you were wondering.
Little Oliver (as he has been named) does have one thing going for him though... He's entirely too cute. While he may be a monster 97% of the time that he's conscious, his cute little baby kitten face combined with his little baby kitten meow makes him irresistible. Plus, when he does get tired (which doesn't happen often enough), he turns into a snuggle monkey and purrs like Jesus is coming back tomorrow and he needs to get all of those purrs out posthaste. This is also when the kneading claws come into play, but its almost forgivable because of all the cuteness. I have felt like I've had a small child in the house for the last week, dealt with excessive hissing from Bella, but its been worth it.
But mind you, I'm saying its worth it because it is not 4AM and playtime right now...
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Kittens and Big, Nasty Angelfaces
Today, I did something very stupid. I allowed myself to get suckered into taking a stray kitten. One thing to know about me: I am a softie. To the enth degree. Mix that with my complex of trying to save the world, one child and kitten at a time.... I'm totally screwed.
This little delight showed up across the street from my parents house and was happened upon by neighbors. My youngest sister finds out, and the first thing she does? Go ahead and guess... She calls me. Her big old softie sister. Who can't say no to small children and animals. Especially poor helpless little kittens who were obviously dumped outside by their previous owners. Naturally, my soft heart melted into a rather large pool of butter, leaving me virtually helpless in resisting.
The little kitten found its way into my house today, much to the chagrin of Bella. Momma's sweet little angel face is non too happy about sharing her castle with another animal. After I finally coaxed her out from behind the living room curtains, there was an excessive amount of hissing and batting at her beloved mommy. Naturally, I just laughed. The poor cat was in shock that I would be so cruel as to bring another animal home that she would have to share me with. How could I think of doing such a thing? Clearly, it is unacceptable. To say that Bella is mad at me is an understatement. That found her locked in the bathroom for a while. I think she may have calmed down, but I'm sure that won't last too long. Especially after the baby has her vet appointment tomorrow and I can release her into the rest of my apartment, instead of being locked in my bedroom as she is now.
So, the nameless kitty is sure to upset the peace and harmony in my home for a while. All thanks to my big ol' softie heart. I'm really hoping not to regret this...
This little delight showed up across the street from my parents house and was happened upon by neighbors. My youngest sister finds out, and the first thing she does? Go ahead and guess... She calls me. Her big old softie sister. Who can't say no to small children and animals. Especially poor helpless little kittens who were obviously dumped outside by their previous owners. Naturally, my soft heart melted into a rather large pool of butter, leaving me virtually helpless in resisting.
The little kitten found its way into my house today, much to the chagrin of Bella. Momma's sweet little angel face is non too happy about sharing her castle with another animal. After I finally coaxed her out from behind the living room curtains, there was an excessive amount of hissing and batting at her beloved mommy. Naturally, I just laughed. The poor cat was in shock that I would be so cruel as to bring another animal home that she would have to share me with. How could I think of doing such a thing? Clearly, it is unacceptable. To say that Bella is mad at me is an understatement. That found her locked in the bathroom for a while. I think she may have calmed down, but I'm sure that won't last too long. Especially after the baby has her vet appointment tomorrow and I can release her into the rest of my apartment, instead of being locked in my bedroom as she is now.
So, the nameless kitty is sure to upset the peace and harmony in my home for a while. All thanks to my big ol' softie heart. I'm really hoping not to regret this...
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Return of the Lost
I find it incredible how certain elements in life stay with us forever. Its as if they are built directly into our DNA, so close to who we are that we will never be separated from them. As if God combined ourselves with these things, never to be fully parted, or life itself would feel dim, glum in a sense that is inexplicable.
Last year, I very painfully decided to resign from my post as a dance teacher at a studio I had spent 13 years at, 9 of which were dedicated to instruction. I began teaching at the ripe age of 17, still in my last year of high school. I had such an intense love, an exuberant passion for my art that sharing it with others seemed to be the only logical next step.
I was given the opportunity to not only teach at the studio that I was trained at, but several others as well. I saturated any opportunity I could to be involved. After 9 years on the job, I knew it was time to move on from my home studio. I had no other teaching position lined up, and thought that my time as a dancer may have come to a close. Many, many tears were shed after the finalization of my determination. Part of my soul felt empty at the proposition of leaving such an important part of my life behind, yet I knew that I had to move on from the position I had held at the studio for so long.
An entire year has passed since. The few chances I had to teach in those 12 months were cherished. I believe that the kids thought I was straight from the state hospital, because my level of excitement was so intense as to be easily determined psychotic. I really do turn mad when I get passionate. Its nearly a problem.
When the juncture arose for a position at a new studio, I jumped at it. Having missed so terribly participation in what had been a defining part of my life, I knew that I must return to it. The following week I began instructing ballet classes yet again. My body is remembering (slowly) how to move again, aided along with a class that I was able to take myself. Lots of aches and pains ensued, but I am returning to my second love in this world: immersing myself in my art and being an instrument of change in others lives through what I do. It has been a blessing to get back what I thought I may have lost. The experience was akin to being unexpectedly returned a precious item that the beholder thought lost forever.
I am also being reminded that teaching isn't easy. That my personality may conflict with my students, and that they will drive me crazy more often than not. However, I am reminded as well that most things in life that are worth it are not easy. And that crazy part of me is willing to put myself through frustrations for the love of what I do. Crazy, perhaps, but to me, it is well worth it.
God really does have a way of returning things to us. Maybe not all the time, and maybe he doesn't return to us things we wish He would. However, when He has placed a call on our lives, there is no getting away from it. We will ache, we will slowly wither away, until we remember our passion, and return willingly. God does take us away from our loves sometimes, perhaps just to remind us of what they mean, why we do what we do. That acceptance back into our calling is then welcomed, desired, longed for so strongly that we leap at any chance we can to return. This then morphs into an affirmation of what we were created to do, what our purpose is in life.
Nothing is ever taken away for good if God has bound you to it. Its rather incredible.
Last year, I very painfully decided to resign from my post as a dance teacher at a studio I had spent 13 years at, 9 of which were dedicated to instruction. I began teaching at the ripe age of 17, still in my last year of high school. I had such an intense love, an exuberant passion for my art that sharing it with others seemed to be the only logical next step.
I was given the opportunity to not only teach at the studio that I was trained at, but several others as well. I saturated any opportunity I could to be involved. After 9 years on the job, I knew it was time to move on from my home studio. I had no other teaching position lined up, and thought that my time as a dancer may have come to a close. Many, many tears were shed after the finalization of my determination. Part of my soul felt empty at the proposition of leaving such an important part of my life behind, yet I knew that I had to move on from the position I had held at the studio for so long.
An entire year has passed since. The few chances I had to teach in those 12 months were cherished. I believe that the kids thought I was straight from the state hospital, because my level of excitement was so intense as to be easily determined psychotic. I really do turn mad when I get passionate. Its nearly a problem.
When the juncture arose for a position at a new studio, I jumped at it. Having missed so terribly participation in what had been a defining part of my life, I knew that I must return to it. The following week I began instructing ballet classes yet again. My body is remembering (slowly) how to move again, aided along with a class that I was able to take myself. Lots of aches and pains ensued, but I am returning to my second love in this world: immersing myself in my art and being an instrument of change in others lives through what I do. It has been a blessing to get back what I thought I may have lost. The experience was akin to being unexpectedly returned a precious item that the beholder thought lost forever.
I am also being reminded that teaching isn't easy. That my personality may conflict with my students, and that they will drive me crazy more often than not. However, I am reminded as well that most things in life that are worth it are not easy. And that crazy part of me is willing to put myself through frustrations for the love of what I do. Crazy, perhaps, but to me, it is well worth it.
God really does have a way of returning things to us. Maybe not all the time, and maybe he doesn't return to us things we wish He would. However, when He has placed a call on our lives, there is no getting away from it. We will ache, we will slowly wither away, until we remember our passion, and return willingly. God does take us away from our loves sometimes, perhaps just to remind us of what they mean, why we do what we do. That acceptance back into our calling is then welcomed, desired, longed for so strongly that we leap at any chance we can to return. This then morphs into an affirmation of what we were created to do, what our purpose is in life.
Nothing is ever taken away for good if God has bound you to it. Its rather incredible.
