Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Pat sent me the following pictures in an e-mail forward.
Gotta love this new art form. (Unless you are a member of PETA. In that case you are likely not amused.)
Feral Will (you remember him, the wild cat who lives with us) entered the bedroom this morning as I was staring mindlessly at a wall while suffering from lack of caffeine. I began to pet him. Usually he avoids sinking the world's largest fangs into the soft meaty part of my hand that early in the morning. When he's affectionate, well, he's affectionate.
Feral has the most beautiful glossy black fur. As I stroked the softness I decided it was almost the texture of black velvet. (This was before I looked down at the sheets and realized he'd left a deposit of it behind...but I digress.)
Can you guess where I'm headed with this? Think bullfighters, Elvis....anyone, anyone?
If I actually am dumb enough to follow through with my black velvet cat painting I will take pictures.