Mourning Cats

 Last Saturday we rose @ 5 a.m. to drive into Boston and then the outlets at Wrentham. Moths had gotten into my sweaters and I wanted to replace some of the worst, which I did. Otherwise it was nothing glamorous – tights, sox, hair supplies, cosmetics, chocolates, gym shorts, that kind of thing. We were home by 3:30. Woody put the gardens to bed as winter has finally arrived. It’s in the low 40s most days and freezing or near it at night. We had some rain and one night, a thatching of snow that vanished by midday. The rain is very welcome after the long drought. Yesterday while my alma mater Michigan was trouncing Florida, we took the tree down. All that activity was pleasing to the cats until Woody carried the tree out. We always put them into the woods to rot and in the meantime, provide a home for little animals. Willow and Xena were the most upset as they played with the unbreakable ornaments on the bottom third of the tree, slaying a few every night, slept under it some nights and played ambush from behind it. They have not yet adjusted to its absence – but today I will put down their occasional tunnel and that will in part make up for the gone tree. I have gotten back to work with the holidays gone. Basically after the 26^th, I am done with all that work. I start wrapping in early December and it goes on and on. I cook, I bake, I do the preparations for our Solstice Party, etc. I like to celebrate but enough is enough. I’ve written six poems since Sunday. I am contemplating a story and also something I haven’t yet decided if it will be a story or a very short memoir. Both are still taking shape in my mind. I am reading poetry manuscripts for my June juried workshop. I’ll continue into January. I also have a short contest to judge this weekend and should send in the results on Monday. In January, I’ll be judging three contests. I am reading Edith Pearlman’s short stories and enjoying them. I’m also trying to get control of my office, a great mess. I attack it on and off. New Year’s Eve we stayed home. Dale and Stephen had given us a fine bottle of Veuve Clicquot French champagne. We had rib eye steaks [there’s half of them left over for tonight], baked potatoes and a salad and for dessert, pan forte, a small slice each. I watched the new Sherlock; Woody watched it for awhile and then retired on the early side. We ignored the holiday. It felt good. Over the years we went to parties and gave them but except for twice in all those decades, every party was a disappointment and the ones we gave, also. People tend to expect something extraordinary on New Year’s Eve, which it never is. In the early days of First Night, I enjoyed it, but it got too big and too crowded and we stopped going. We could never seem to get in to the events we actually anticipated. I have lost much strength and stamina since my knees went and then after the two operations so close together. I am walking some either with Woody or with Dale, who is recovering from a triple bypass. Woody set up the old rowing machine for me yesterday and I have begun to use it, modestly at first. I am beginning to try to get at least some of the stamina and strength I had. I have a heavy schedule this coming year, so I had better get into good shape.