Sunday, February 25, 2018

Rockets, Cats, and Ratty-Rats

We were really eager to see signs of the SpaceX launch of Falcon 9, Paz Mission. There was a slight marine layer Thursday morning, but we were up in time and looking northward, and... yeah, we saw nuthin'. We enjoyed the live feed, though.

In other news: It is still winter. We've had enough consecutive days of cold weather, that I have learned how to wear a coat, and bring it with me when I leave the house. I am wearing a fingerless glove. We make big pots of vegetable soup, and eat it with other hot, roasted, and hearty foods. We snuggle. The cats snuggle. The cats snuggle a lot. More rain is in our forecast, and I feel blissful about our winter days, which have come better late than never. And I try to reason with myself and not envy everyone in darling Portland, Oregon, where they've had lovely, fluffy heaps of snow! There is a distinct possibility I am not living in my ideal climate zone.

My pictures, straight from my phone, show definite Cairo, and flowers biases. It's only that he is so obliging and adorable, and the flowers are so abundant and fetching. The cat, and the garden are irresistible.

If I didn't allude to it enough last week, I can confirm, unequivocally, I am emotionally taxed. Is it the nature of the season, Geoff being gone 7 days a week, 16 hours a day? Is it the news? Oh, the news, and the trolls, the divisive, greedy, selfish, under-handed stuff that is tweeted, streamed, meme-d, and demeaning. I am loath to bring it all up, again. But, the truth is... I found (another) bottom, last night. I've been remarkably even-keeled, steady, moving things forward, and managing with some small amount of grace under pressure, but I lost all cool and composure at the end of the day, and was reduced to sobbing. Ironically, it was on the first night Geoff was home before 9pm, in weeks. And all I could do was cry, and mutter a random litany of frustrations and disappointments about the world, politics, fleas, paper-work, and dry skin. It's all related, I am sure. Oh, and the "fleas" are not from the cats. And yes, this sucks.

Gosh. So many pretty pictures, and so much in my life to feel deeply thankful for. Well, I am thankful, and I do see all the beauty, all the good, the many blessings, but oh geez did I need that cry, and probably another.

I wrote an entire paragraph of self-deprecating insight, humorously told, to convey my humility, while touching on the genuine insecurity that is the foundation of my wit and sarcasm... but I am making a bold attempt to be nicer to me, to see my good, and my still evolving self, in a warmer light. It's a shame, though, because I have a real gift for self-deprecating humor. I also compose and perform songs, on the spot, and have been told they're quite good.

Please, find beauty and enjoy winter, or summer, and be safe, and well, and cry, if that helps. I like to believe that we are all going to be ok.


Cindy said...

oh dear,Natalie. My name is Cindy and you heard from me a short time ago as "anonymous" because I am so lame when it comes to technology. But I had to try again after your most recent post because the mantra "this sucks" is how I wound up articulating the condition I was living in...up and down and sideways as I entered menopause. Beautiful life and family, sucky sucky fears, confidence level shot, feelings of helplessness on behalf of the world, but everybody else seemed ok. The real challenges are there on a good day anyway, but for awhile it seemed i was on a runaway train without having bought a ticket. Dont know if this applies to you, but hold on and keep true to your delightful self. I so enjoy reading you. i live in massachusetts and urge you to imagine the Berkshires and the brownstones and the autumn leaves as good medicine for an ailing spirit. TTFN

Alicia said...


Natalie, the Chickenblogger said...

Thank you, Cindy. I am glad you've introduced yourself, and thank you for sharing some of your experience and insight. You really made me feel... connected, understood. I can relate to what you've said, right down to "but everybody else seemed ok." Maybe the feelings and experience doesn't change, or evaporate, but there is such comfort in realizing that one is not alone, or 'the only one feeling this way.'

What a brilliant suggestion, too. Last night, wanting to ease into restful sleep, I let my mind wander to a drive we made from Southborough to Concord. Jennifer took us along back roads, through towns, and I tried to record all of it in my mind... the autumn leafed trees, and stone walls, the old homes with smoking chimneys and softly lit windows. I liked to imagine each pretty house was our destination for a Thanksgiving gathering, what it would be like to arrive and be welcomed, to walk around the gardens, lend a hand in the kitchen. Good medicine, recalling such beautiful places... thank you for reminding me.

Jenny said...

Hello! Checking in after months of not peeking into your world and I just wanted to tell you how much I LOVE your rat paintings! (All of your paintings are lovely, but the rats! They are soooo DEAR and sweet). This one you've posted here of the red caped rat and her corgi reminds me of Tasha Tudor. These are wonderful Natalie. You could sell them for sure!

Best to you and your ever-creative family.

Jenny (in Montana - used to blog a few years back and comment more) :)

Natalie, the Chickenblogger said...

Which was (is?) your blog? I miss so many old friends from the blogging days, back when...
I'm so glad you came by, and thank you for the ratty love. You see it just right... it's Tasha Tudor, and one of her corgis. I am so delighted that she's recognizable. Maria assured me that 'anyone who could illustrate "bogarts" living in towns with cats and corgis, could not be offended to be represented as a ratty-rat that happens to have a very teeny dog.'