Fantasy Vacation

BC, my fantasy vacation involved sun, sand, and a drink with a little umbrella in it.  The ultimate fantasy also included me with lots of athletic opportunities in which I could indulge in easy and skillfully.  I wasn’t really aware that my fantasy had changed until Friday.

Friday’s NY Times’ Escapes section featured vacations to practice yoga and the hang out with monks.  Yes, a weekend of strenuous strength, stretching, and soul searching with yoga sounds fantastic.  But it’s the weekend with the monks that is my new fantasy.

And here’s the scary part:  it’s the only fantasy vacation I’ve had in my life that for the first time, I’m not sure I would return from it.  What an amazing way to spend a weekend:  No speaking.  No technology.  No interaction.  No nothing but spiritual contemplation and growth.  Heck, hard physical work and simple living sounds like a dream right now. 

And yes, I know that makes me sound like a horrible mother.  But getting up at 5:20 to go to the first set of prayers sounds like sleeping in.  No one demanding of me, no expectations of success or failure except for my soul.  Just sleep, quiet, contemplation, slowness and eventual spiritual joy.  SIGN ME THE F**K UP!

Honestly, I have never thought that I’d go on vacation to Hawaii or Paris or Key West or any of those places and quit my regular life to live there afterwards.  But a monastery/nunnery/quiet secluded place, now that’s where I’d be in trouble going away to. 

Cat Thrills

It’s been one exciting weekend in the cat household.  Saturday, during lunch, Patches was barking at our driveway.  Dave looked out and said “Oh, we’ve got a visiting cat.”  I stood up and said “That’s no visitor!  That’s Simba!!!” 

While Dave rushed out to get her, I realized she’d been out for over an hour or an hour and a half.  And by her fluffed up black fur and her huge wide eyes, we’d apparently messed up on what she had expected to be the kitty adventure drill.  (By the way, her head is resting on my left hand while I type this.  Not really convenient)  The drill involves seeing her escape, chasing after her with a remonstrative “SIMBA!” and rescuing her, bring her back into the house while she displays signs of adventured-ness.  It does not involve actually allowing her to have an adventure outside, because that is too scary. 

And also....excuse me a moment.  Tap tap tap….is this thing on??  BLAINE!  BLAINE?  ARE YOU OUT THERE???  YOUR CAT IS PEEING ON ALL OF OUR STUFF.  I know she’s our cat now.  BUT SHE’S STILL YOUR CAT WHILE SHE’S PEEING EVERYWHERE!

Yeah.  That’s been a lot of fun.  (Simba has moved up to my wrist now after I tossed her off the desk and she jumped back on it.  It’s actually much better)  But Simba, really, we need to talk.  We took your step brother to the vet and were told he was starting to have kidney disease because he’s peeing everywhere and his kidney something or other tests are slightly off, but not too off to really be sick.  But now we know as we saw you brazenly walk up to the laundry and my gym bag and pee on it, that you’re most likely responsible for the pee-age now.   We saw you do it!!!  Yes, we know that you believe it’s ok because Duncan does it.  But Duncan, well, Duncan is a little slow for a kitty.  He has brain damage and his paw is bent.  He’s old.  Yes, we know you were abandoned and rescued, too, but you’re small and lithe.  And you can make it to the litter box.  And no one is allowed to pee wherever they’d like.  The rules are not different here.  You have to use the litter box, too.  You do.  I know you love hanging out on my arm while I type.  But you need to only pee in the box.  No more excuses or we’re going to have to start some behavior modification.  And not just us, but you, too.  We really don’t want to do that. 

7:22:48 AM