rediscovery…again

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Today was Day One of my personal 31 Days of Yoga. Soups (the cat) and I started the day with messy meditation and the great feeling that comes with pushing oneself. It wasn’t a major workout, but it felt good.

Moving my business and changing its format was stressful, and the whole process took me out of a yoga practice that I was rediscovering last spring and summer. A horrible excuse, I know…

It seems over the past 25 years that I’m always rediscovering yoga. It’s okay; yoga is patient. I’m grateful. So December, with all its busy-ness, will be a great time to bring yoga back into my daily life again. I encourage you to seek it out. I’m determined once-and-for-all to find my permanent practice.

where did the time go? (or 15 reasons to ignore your blog)

I’ve been busy:

1. Goofing off with Pooka.
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2. Getting to know Soups…
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3. …while missing Cleo terribly.
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4. Back to school and all its expenses, er, new experiences
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5. Listening to great music
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6. Getting the BENCH going
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7. Meeting with artists and craftsmen
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8. And talking friends into making things (Thank you, Lisa!)
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9. Making stuff myself
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10. Doing some hair and finding an organic haircare line that lives up to the hype
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Neuma is fabulous!

11. Hanging with these goofballs…
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12.Spending time with friends…
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13. …and this handsome guy
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14. Drinking too much caffeine
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15. And celebrating love…
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…in all its forms!

cleo

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Cleo,

I love you. You were an amazing companion. We met in my 20s, you were there through my 30s, and you saw me into my 40s. I loved you the first moment we met.

The past few weeks without you were (luckily) full of getting the BENCH set up and the kids back in school and meeting with artists to get the shop organized, so I had things to focus on. Still, when I have calm moments, I think about you. Sometimes I forget, think I see you out of the corner of my eye, and then I remember and weep a bit. You are so missed.

Soups is doing his best to love on me. He even started talking, something he never did while you were alive. He sleeps most of the night right next to me, so you don’t need to worry. He’s a great cuddler, too, as is Tony, so I’m not lonely. I promise. The first few days without you, Soups searched for you, looking at me as if asking, “Where did that other cat go?”

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The BENCH is coming together. I hung the painting I did of you there, so you’re always around reminding me that I’m loved. I’m proud of how the shop is turning out, too. Slowly it is becoming exactly what I knew it could be: warm, welcoming, beautiful. It’ll get there.

The kids are back in school. They have really fantastic teachers this year. I started volunteering in Pooka’s class helping with art and discussion. I love it, as you know. She’s doing a piece about you for Dias de los Muertos. You’re on her mind a lot. Sometimes we talk about you. We both cry a little, but we know you were hurting and we can’t regret the decision to let you go.

It’s been so busy these past few weeks. I haven’t written much, but that will change as I get a better routine. Sometimes I sit on the big red sofa at the BENCH and talk to your painting. It would probably be better if I just wrote things out again, though.

Well, I hope to get a dream visit soon, Cleo, but until then know that you are always in my heart.

~ Me

after a bad week…

I’m determined not to start this blog on a sour note, but it hasn’t been the best week. Because of my newly found determination to commit to writing (mostly) about the¬†positive (the “better” part of this site), I am going to publish what helped me through That Which Cannot Be Discussed (yet).

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First off, cats.

Cleo (nearest the window) is a very old tortoise-shell calico cat that has seen Pooka and me through some rough times. She is a constant in my daughter’s life and is even her designated companion animal. She’s loud, bossy and often gets her way.

Soups – a.k.a. Monster – is Pooka’s transitional companion animal since Cleo is getting older and a bit cranky. He is the goofiest baby ever! He loves to hug your neck, kiss your face and then claw the f*$% out of you.

They’re pretty close to perfect.

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Then we have these goofballs.

They are quirky and weird and too-smart-for-their-own-good and pretty much best friends. They will torment each other, but are fiercely loyal. There have been moments this week when Boy has said, “Hey! I’m the only one allowed to be mean to Rhiannon!”

Oh. Excuse me.

And Pooka will come up to us after a tense moment and say, “Sebastian and I both thought that up, so I guess I should be in trouble, too.”

Good girl.

Don’t get me wrong; one will just as easily throw the other under the bus if wronged. That’s just human nature with siblings, right? They might be step-siblings, but they are closer than most blood relatives. Just now Boy was yelling down the hallway, “Rhiannon! Come on! What are you doing? I thought we were going to start playing now!” Her response? “Geez, Bastian! I needed to pee!”

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Pooka.

She makes everything better. She is honest and loving and kind and smart and beautiful, and my world was grey and fuzzy before she appeared. Life before her doesn’t count except for the stories I can share to make it all better for her.guy

The Husband Guy.

I think I make him most frustrated when I don’t let him help me. He’s that man you wish for – the one who knows how strong you are but wants to open all doors, wipe away all tears and fix everything¬†all the while reassuring you that he understands you don’t need him to do all that. He is exactly what I need for the rest of this life and all the lives I might have after.

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Wishes.

We all need them. Dreams. Goals. Plans. When the shit keeps hitting the fan, sometimes it’s the hope that something even greater is out there that makes it easier to clean up said shit.

So, here I go, towel and bleach in hand, knowing that everything will be okay.