A malaise so aggressive and universal, that the Norwegians created an entire word for it.
Two and a half years since my last post. Not that things haven’t been happening since then, obviously still in a pandemic and late-stage capitalist hellscape.
Christmas 2022 came and went, and now we are in the full throes of Romjul. I’m working from home on the three days this week the office isn’t closed, which has been interesting when your fellow house-dweller is completely off and doesn’t abide by a schedule. As if I didn’t need more affirmations that building a routine is the only way my executive-dysfunctional brain can have any hope of functioning.
I had forgotten that the Year I Bought all The Wrapping Paper Crap was in 2009, and Charlie and I finally looked at each other and said, “This is it. We are getting rid of most of this shit.” We consolidated all the bows, used up most of the tags, and pitched all the flimsy paper and too-thin ribbon that tangles on the roll as soon as you try to use it. Fingers crossed that next year, we’ll plow through even more of it so we can move forward, not weighed down with my Christmas impulse-purchase.
I am not sure when the last time occurred that I ate a vegetable (maybe last week?), but I haven’t actually had a Zebra Cake in over a month. I can hear every cell in my body screaming for both salad and water.
I see a lot of posts on Twitter of people looking to home rescue animals, and I don’t pay them too much mind. First, because Roxie was an only child through-and-through, and also, I can’t drive to Delaware, or Georgia, or Texas to go get a cat.
But Flo’s owner’s granddaughter was looking for a new home for Flo when her grandmother (Liz) was moving into assisted living. Liz lived in Mansfield, which is a very doable drive.
Something about the post, about seeing Flo’s first photo, just spoke to me. And I launched headlong into seeing if Flo could be our next pet.
She came over as a test run to see if she fit in, and other than being generally skittish (who wouldn’t be?), she fit in just fine.
Since July, she’d been in Liz’s home by herself, all alone, with kindly neighbors coming in to feed her and clean her litterbox. Flo is very sweet, very quiet, and we are just giving her time to get acclimated to us and our routine. It’s going to take her time to get used to being around people every day, but we are hopeful.
To mitigate the trauma of knowing that Roxie’s time with me was not long, I began the hunt for ways to honor her after she was gone. I picked out her urn, and set about figuring out what piece by Close by Me Jewelry I would want of her (I found Close by Me when K had Bear’s cremains set into a ring).
So, when I got Rox’s ashes back from A Gentle Farewell, I sent them off to Gina to make into the hexagon pendant. The hexagon is the most interesting shape (to me), and pays homage to Medina being the Bee City, and where Rox spent the second half of her life.
Normally, Gina would send whatever ashes weren’t used in the jewelry back. But I asked her if she would scatter the remaining ashes on the beach out in California. Rox never got to go to the beach (and probably would have lost her mind if we tried to take her), but I also know that she loved to bake herself to death in the sunshine. For me, is something fitting of part of her enjoying the warmth of a California sunny day.
I’m still wishing that I could just have her here – she doesn’t have to be alive; I just want to be able to pet her, and tell her I love her. It’s not the same as having Rox here, but it’s comforting to have part of her realness with me all the time.