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.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
If you read my animal posts, you won't be at all disturbed by my new favorite picture from the latest e-mail forward. Those of you who have PETA on speed dial may want to stop reading NOW.
As for the picture, do I need to say anymore? Some sicko thinks a lot like me. And maybe all creatures great and small should be concerned.
Feral Will, not ever having been burritoed, but I think he might be sometime soon, has the best tail in the world. His black velvety glossy softness invites attention, but the tail commands it. Freckles has a spindly, whiplike cat tail. Feral's is a bottle brush. So when he's not trying to kill me, and is cuddly, I pet him and admire his glossy black fur and his whomping tail. I've corrupted a 14-year-old who hangs out over here every once in awhile. At first she gave me the look reserved for crazy people when I waxed eloquent about Feral's tail. Ha. Now she can't keep her hands off of him.
Heh. Heh. Heh. I know she'd help me get him into a burrito costume.
Jenny, I'll take a picture. And try to get Lily lounging in the bay window, too.