Conversations With Death

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This week 6 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.

 My subject is: all or nothing. 

It was submitted by: https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/

My only explanation is that I've been reading Discworld and Death is my favorite and my cats all did these things. 

                            _____________________

Death, the real Death and friend of Sir Terry Pratchett, stood beside me looking out the back window at the rising sun, both of us with hot mugs of peppermint mocha coffee warming our hands in the cool winter morning. This guy. We'd been hanging out regularly when he had some down time, and it was finally time to have a talk. THE talk. 

"listen, we have to talk about the cats thing"

THE CATS THING?

"Yes. Cats. Your obsession with cats"

I AM DEATH. I DO NOT OBSESS OVER CATS.

"Listen, I've read the books. I know what you told Ipslore the Red about cats being the only thing that makes life worth living. I've read them all."

"IF, SAY, I DID BELIEVE SUCH A THING, WHAT COULD POSSIBLY BE THE PROBLEM. YOU HAVE SO MANY?

"I knew it! I knew that's why you liked to visit here."

BUT NOT THE ONLY REASON. YOU DO MAKE A COFFEE TO DIE FOR.

"Always with the puns, you."

I DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN.

"Oh I think you do. You're, uh, eye flames or whatever flash a deeper blue when you're being coy.

I SPEND TOO MUCH TIME HERE. WHAT ABOUT THE CATS?

"Do you know what they did yesterday?"

OF COURSE I DON'T.

"That was a rhetorical....Anyway, they broke into my refrigerator and stole the good turkey!"

WHAT IS GOOD TURKEY?

"The really delicious, thick turkey for sandwiches that costs me too much money..."

SO DEFINITELY DELICIOUS TO CATS?

"Well, yes..."

AND YOU DO NOT SHARE?

"No, it's for me, duh."

HMMM. THEY MAY HAVE REASON TO THIEVE IT FROM THE REFRIGERATOR THEN, DONT YOU THINK?

"ok then how about the time they broke into the bathroom and ate toilet paper and threw it up everywhere?"

WHAT?

"They somehow got the door open to basically the outhouse and ate some toilet paper and threw it up all over the carpet."

WHY DO YOU HAVE PAPER FOR YOUR TOILET? DOES IT HELP IT TO WORK?

"It's for...nevermind. Nevermind. What about the time one of them peed on the stove?"

PERHAPS ALL THE BOXES FOR THEIR BUSINESS WERE OCCUPIED?

"But why the stove??"

WELL, IT IS THE CLOSEST TO THEIR BUSINESS ROOM IS IT NOT?

"Ok then. Ok. Ok. what about the time Seymour started throwing up while pooping in one of their 'business boxes' and ran out while still pooping all the way to the carpet to finish pooping and threw up at the same time all while making eye contact with me?!

IS MY LITTLE ORANGE BOY OKAY? IS HE SICK? HIS LIFE TIMER IS STILL RATHER FULL.

"...he's fine. You know how he is."

YES. HE IS DEFINITELY A LITTLE ON THE SICKLY SIDE. BUT SO ARE MANY OF THE OTHERS. FOR SOMEONE COMPLAINING ABOUT CATS, YOU HAVE TAKEN ON THE HARDEST TO CARE FOR.

"Yes, but I mean...can't you see they're little demons and not exactly the only thing that makes life worth living? They are stubborn and difficult and forces of destruction."

OH THEY CANNOT BE DEMONS. I KNOW DEMONS. DEMONS ARE NOT THIS DOCILE.

"Docile? These assholes? Are you kidding me?"

TRUST ME. YOU DO NOT WANT ACTUAL DEMONS. DEMONS, UNLIKE CATS, ARE ALL OR NOTHING. YOU EITHER BEND TO THEIR TOTAL EVIL OR YOU ARE CRUSHED INTO NOTHING.

I take a moment to glance his way. His eyes glow a serene blue. He's not in any way being facetious even though he just exactly described my horde. And as the cats come up in ones and twos to get some ear scritches and skeletal blood and show love the best they can to our guest and then to me so I'm not left out, I suppose they are pretty rad even though they are, in fact, demons. I had been thinking he was too easily fooled by their cuteness, but maybe I was being a little too harsh in my frustration. I'd certainly gotten highly skilled at cleaning carpets and upholstery, and you never know when that might come in handy...

I sat my mug on the counter and reached down to pick up a grey ball of fluff who nuzzled my neck and gave me a polite little meow. And if he could, I swear, Death would be purring himself.

                         ____________________

Here are the other posts for today. Please enjoy:

Baking In A Tornado https://www.bakinginatornado.com/2020/11/going-and-gone-secret-subject-swap.html

Wandering Web Designer https://wanderingwebdesigner.com/blog

A ‘lil HooHaa https://hoohaa.com/

The Crazy Mama Llama https://crazymamallama.blogspot.com

Part-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.com/2020/11/secret-subject-swap-family-traditions.html

Take It Easy, Beezy

Today’s post is a writing challenge. This is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once and all the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.

My words are: duvet, handle, sky, trampoline, and project. They were submitted by: https://followmehome.shellybean.com

This is probably not the kind of story that comes to mind when you see this list of words, but I already had the idea for it and wanted to get it written, so here we are. the words fit perfectly.

___________________________________

It started innocently enough with me waking up to my cat sitting on my chest on top of the duvet. She was bent over close enough that I could smell her ocean-whitefish breath and staring me down like I’d just stolen the last hairball treat in her stash. The whole scene kind of creeped me out a bit. Who likes being watched while they sleep? Sometimes I snore, though, so I figured she had heard me and wondered if I was possibly dying, and I just happened to catch her at the moment she’d leaned in to check. She’d been with me long enough to know my quirks, but cats can kind of be sensitive about those things, so I gave her a few pets and reassuring words, then rolled over and promptly fell back asleep.

In the light of morning with all traces of darkness fading from the sky, it was nothing more than a hazy feeling of weirdness that I soon forgot as the chorin’ for the day wore me down and kept me busy.

But then it happened again the next night.

And the next.

And, well, for a whole week every single night I woke up with her green eyes shining down on me haloed by the glare from my Frankenstein night light. I was more than a little creeped out, but I figured she was going through something hormonal and would take her to the vet if she acted out of the norm in any other way.

On night 8, she was quietly meowing in a rhythmic tune while she stared. Like she was chanting… A few nights later, she was moving her paws in circular patterns in the air in rhythm with her little chant. I hated to do it, but it was time to put her out of the room while I slept. So I tried. Didn’t work.

Didn’t work the next night either. Or the next when I actually put her in the kennel I used to take her to the vet and closed her in the guest bathroom.

I wasn’t sleeping. At least not at night. I fell asleep in a team meeting about a new community project at work and got a write up. I fell asleep in the car on the way home one night and almost wrecked the car. I was falling asleep on the toilet, in the elevator, and every time I was still for longer than a moment. I couldn’t handle it. I felt like I used to as a kid when I’d fall on the trampoline at my aunt’s house and all my cousins would keep jumping closer and closer to me so I couldn’t get up. I’d panic and flail and beg them to quit while they laughed and bounced me harder. It was like all the air had been knocked out of me and left me spinning.

It was time for the vet.

Okay, it was probably beyond time for the vet, but that’s where I drew the line. I made the appointment in a sleep-deprived fog, don’t remember the drive there, and stumbled my way through the motions of the sign in wondering just how I was going to explain what was going on. Obviously, I left out the parts about about chanting and paw movements. Who’d believe that? But I at least went through the waking up with her in my face every night and that something just felt…off. The vet had more questions, but I hadn’t changed anything up, no changes to her schedule, same food, same litter, and there were no other symptoms. She got her answers, did the standard checkup, and said everything looked fine and to call if anything changed. Ha. Everything had changed already. Everything was weird and different and fucking scary. I wanted answers for myself. I left feeling defeated and drowning in a web of confusion. She wasn't just any cat, and if something was wrong, I needed to know.

That night, it was more of the same. I didn’t even bother with the kennel or putting her out of the room anymore. What was the point? She’d end up in my face no matter what doing her creepy little stalker thing. It was just part of the routine now. It wasn’t until a couple days later that I felt something more in the room. I wrote it off as sleep paralysis at first. I hadn’t been sleeping well. I was exhausted. Sleep paralysis made sense. I woke up several nights in a row feeling absolutely terrified but unable to see anything at all. I could feel this swirl of anger and resentment pressed into me like a weight keeping me from moving. It was so intense one night I nearly choked, unable to lift my chest enough to get a good breath in.

As the nights wore on, that weight felt more and more real. I thought I could see a shimmering outline of a figure in the corner a couple times, but it was never solid, and I could have sworn I could smell something rotten. I convinced myself I was losing my mind and withdrew from everyone. I took a year’s worth of vacation time from work claiming I had to go in for surgery and basically isolated myself so no one would have to bear witness to my descent into madness.

I kept holding on to the fact that none of this was happening during the day. It kept me hoping that I wasn’t making any of it up or hallucinating it. I wasn’t seeing it all the time or anywhere I happened to be. It was just my room, my bed really, in the wee hours of the morning. Maybe I could figure it out…or maybe I could have if I wasn’t so fucking exhausted.

A couple nights before I had to go back to work I woke up with that same presence and Maude Lebowski (my cat) doing her little thing, but this time, it felt more defined, and the smell was very real. The dread and fear were there, but that weight of anger wasn’t suffocating me. The figure was solid but shrouded in darkness. I couldn’t see features, but it didn’t much matter. As soon as I heard the laugh, I shut my eyes so tight I couldn’t see a fucking thing anyway. Tonight I could move and took full advantage of snatching the covers right over my head. If I can’t see it, it can’t get me. Funny how that kid logic sticks with you when the shit hits the fan.

“Human known as Claire Ramona LaFleur, I have a message for you.”

What in the wide world of fuck? I thought. A message. A message? From who? Or what? What the hell was going on?
I know I whimpered out some kind of mumbled, garbled version of “message?” But it understood fully what I meant and replied in its deep, gravelly voice, “Maude Lebowski has requested that you purchase her the food you used to buy because, and I quote, ‘that new shit is crusty, and I’m not here for it anymore.’”

“What?”

“This is your feline companion Maude, yes?” It pointed.

“uh…yessssss…”

“Maude has summoned me and traded exactly one of her 9 lives in order for me to request that you buy her, and, again, I quote, ‘that good shit.’”

“my cat summoned a….what?”

“Demon. You can call me Beezy though I do think we both hope this night is the end of all this mess.”

“Okay, Beezy. Beezy, Ok. Let me get this straight. Maude has been torturing me for two months with the nightly wakeups and the weird ritual shit and what I can only assume was your presence for at least the last couple weeks. And she did all this because she wants Taste of the Wild not Blue Buffalo? AND it took 2 months to accomplish it?”

“Yes. That is exactly the deal. Also, it took so long because I can’t understand cats very well, and she can’t speak my name or do the symbols very well. It took a lot of tries and a lot of frustration for the two of us to get it together. But she made good on her deal, so I had to complete my end of the bargain no matter how long I took. Here’s the thing though: I’m thoroughly amused now that I can see the look on your face and your reactions, but hear me—I’m done. I want no more of this insanity. Please for the love of everything evil, buy your cat the fucking food she wants.”

And with that, it was gone.

I got myself dressed and made coffee, so I could wait in the parking lot for the nearest pet store to open. I wasn’t going to take any chances on Beezy coming back. Besides, who could sleep in that room smelling so strongly of sulfur and death? 

So that's the story about how I met Beezelbub. As they say, the truth is stranger than fiction.

Oh, and I buy Taste of the Wild every time now no questions asked. I perfectly understand what that says about my cat owning me. But until your cat summons a literal demon into your bedroom, you have no room to criticize.

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Links to the other “Use Your Words” posts:

Baking In A Tornado  https://www.bakinginatornado.com/2019/03/you-can-do-it-use-your-words.html

The Blogging 911 https://theblogging911.com/blog/

Cognitive Script  https://cognitivescript.blogspot.com/2019/03/that-rascally-rabbit-strikes-again.html 

Southern Belle Charm https://www.southernbellecharm.com

The Bergham Chronicles https://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com/

On the Border https://dlt-lifeontheranch.blogspot.com/2019/03/almost-home.html

The Crazy Mama Llama: https://www.thecrazymamallama.com/

Part-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.com/2019/03/use-your-words-beige.html

Follow Me Home https://followmehome.shellybean.com

Days Like This

The water trickles slowly into the bright green, Mario-inspired mug bringing with it a waft of steam and a sweetly bitter smell that makes her mouth water at the thought of the creamy warmth that will soon blanket her taste buds. She’s too eager to take the first sip to let every single drop find its home before she takes the almost-too-hot-to-touch mug from its place. It slips into her hand like a familiar lover’s. She lets the heat get so, so close to unbearable before she sets it down again. She adds a couple spoonfuls of Splenda from the vintage yellow canister on the counter and stirs in the extra extra creamy creamer changing the dark brown to a smooth caramely color.

Perfection.

She travels with the mug, then, back to the couch setting it carefully on the table before she takes her

his hair is actually much longer now

place tucked safely into the corner on the left side. The boy giggles from the red chair on the far side of the room, the chair he always sits in when he’s playing his games and living the carefree life that children should. She watches him for a moment and smiles that smile that mothers have when the love feels like it might burst from every pore, surely it must radiate from her like a disco ball shining in his presence. He looks up at her then, his laughter still fresh on his lips, and asks, “what?”

“Nothing,” she says.

He shrugs his shoulders and goes back to his game while she reaches forward for the coffee that will now be just right or so she hopes. The first sip is like sunbeams on her tongue, warm and full of life. She sits back then, mug in hand, and blows a little on the still warm liquid before inhaling the aroma of the banana and caramel undertones in the coffee. The second sip hits her taste buds and is even better than the first.

She flips the television on looking for something to fill the silence but not in the mood for a record that would only distract her like music tends to do. Her favorite tunes would consume her instead of provide background noise which is not what she needs at the moment unfortunately. Looney Tunes will work, she decides. The boy sends her a thumbs up of approval. It’s the new show not the old classics. Fun, humorous, but also easy to ignore. It’s still somehow familiar though and just adds to the ease of the day.

With the remote settled back into its place on the coffee table, she grabs her fuzzy throw—the gray one covered in black bats—to cover her legs. The cats know that blanket all too well and are snuggling together on it in groups of 3 as soon as she gets it in place. The added warmth and the vibrations from their purring is more than welcome as she takes another sip of her coffee and watches them for a moment lovingly bathing one another like furry best friends do.

She stays like that lingering in the semi-quiet moments. There is so much left to do this day. The house is clean, the animals are full and sleepy, the laundry is in the wash, the boy is done with schoolwork, but her day is far from over as the mug of coffee may suggest. It’s time to get to work on her own schoolwork, her blogs, her letters. It’s somewhat of a never-ending cycle, but she takes joy in being busy, in the words that flow from her fingertips to the white screen filling it up one after the other in academic pursuits, deep conversations, stories that beg to be told, and reflective essays.

As much as she sarcastically jokes about domesticated bliss, there’s comfort in these routines and the way she can sink into life like it’s a big comfy, purring, fuzzy couch and enjoy the little moments that make the day something unique.

__________________________________________________________________

I'm not sure why I decided to write about myself in 3rd person, but it felt right. I actually started this as a first person narrative, but it felt off. So, here we are. This was another installment of Sunday Confessions with More Than Cheese and Beer. The prompt this week was comfort. Thanks for joining me in my comforting routines every Sunday. Be sure to check out the MTCAB blog for the other linkups!!

Sunday Confessions: Celebrate

This week's confessions topic with More than Cheese and Beer is "celebrate."

Everywhere I look in my life there are reasons to celebrate. 

From the beauty of the scenery around me here in this small, quiet town

to my rockin' son to my pets and my record collection, I find fulfillment. There’s a reason why the people with the dirtiest, hardest jobs, the ones down on their luck, even the homeless can smile through it all or be thankful over the smallest gestures of kindness. We’ve learned the importance of celebrating the little things in life. Since I can’t afford to fill any voids in my life with material possessions that help me escape any emptiness I feel, sunsets take on new meaning. Each one may look the same to others, but when my everyday life is a struggle, those cloud shapes and splashes of color take on a beauty that leaves me breathless and fulfilled and at peace.

When I’ve had a long week, walking outside to quacking ducks that love the sound of my voice and respond to it by waddling up to my feet and loudly professing their adoration makes me celebrate the work I put into raising them from downy babies that loved to tread water in my sink to fully grown adults.

 Celebration is listening to my sweet old dog and my adoring niece snore in sync during their daily nap hugged up together like "best friends" as I fall asleep beside them victorious in squeezing in an extra hour of sleep.

The first cherry tomatoes of the season growing rounder and fuller then finally turning a bright red is reason to celebrate especially after that first one is picked and popped in my mouth right in the garden rows, delicious juices threatening to spill from my lips because I can't contain my grin.

I can celebrate a hard life lived in spite of obstacles by delicately slipping one of my dad's old records or one I have added to the collection myself from its cover, place it slowly on the player, and carefully and lovingly lowering the needle in place. The cracks and pops feel the hollows of the room just before the songs kick on and it is everything.

When times are their hardest, the gorgeous views around me, the love of my many, many (17 in all) pets, the sound of crickets at night, the evenings spent playing air guitar and sharing tunes with my child can all be reasons to celebrate my life when the obvious reasons seem to elude me. I've learned to stop obsessing about where I should be and celebrate where I am right now in the moment. It truly is the little things in life that bring me peace...every day I find new reasons to keep living and to do it with a smile on my face and a fullness in my spirit. It's that tenacity that will keep me going and working and striving to better myself despite every time I have been knocked down. I may be financially poor and struggling, but I have a life that begs to be celebrated and I will gladly give in. I am rich despite my financial woes. I am strong in the face of the adversities that have threatened so often even from childhood to hold me back, and that will always be reason to celebrate.

celebrate these with me: 

vinyl decorated walls

feline friendships

tall pines

overgrown, blue streams

ancient and majestic oaks

shadowy  farm buildings

lazy streams hidden in the forest

still-as-glass ponds

dirt road walks

country sights

Silos in fading light

Lydia's silliness

Strummer's obsession

Dog love

cat snuggles

epic halloween costumes

warm sunsets

pen pal flash art