Musings about my social media

 My schedule is going to change drastically this week. Wednesday I start early walking (5:45) to start toward losing some of this COVID weight, and Friday is when I set foot on campus for the first time since March. 

This means I will not be writing this blog in the mornings; yet, morning is the best time to capture readers. I have decided that I will write in the afternoon or evening and post my links (Twitter, Facebook, Instagram) the next morning using Hootsuite. 

Speaking of, do I have any readers out there who have better luck with social media than I do? On one hand, I have 4400 followers on Twitter. On the other hand, I have about 25 readers a day on this blog. What do I need to be doing with this blog?

Oh, yes, apropos of nothing, here is the latest picture of Chloe:

A Little Bit About a Little Kitten

After yesterday's intense post, I've decided I need to write something fluffy. And purry. And zoomy.

So I'll take a brief moment to talk about my new kitten, Chloe.

We got Chloe a week ago, as in impulse cat adoption after Stinkerbelle died. She's a two-month-old kitten, at the time when their eyes aren't quite the color they'll be and they have little bellies still.

Chloe is a combination of sweetness and orneriness, like raspberry-jalapeno salsa (which I highly recommend). She will spend nights alternating between curling up against me and tearing up the bedroom she's held in quarantine in. Sometimes she thinks my hand is something to gently pat with her little paws and sometimes she thinks it's prey. 

I love this little kitten. Biologists suggest that we love cats because they remind us of babies. I would introduce them to Chloe because she's more like a toddler right now, one who draws with crayons on the wall and then asks for a hug with big brown eyes. 

Chloe makes my dread about going back into the classroom a bit easier to take. There is life, and there is love. 

A Perfect Moment

I think I have experienced a perfect moment.

My husband and I have just had coffee and breakfast, and we are both sprawled on the bed (fully clothed). I am typing this entry on my computer while Chloe the kitten tries to climb up my lap desk, and Richard the husband surfs on his phone. Outside, the dark sky and occasional thunder sets a cozy mood.

I have had very few perfect moments these past months. It's like the COVID virus has been a constant unwelcome guest. Even in our relatively sheltered county (until the students come back), cases have doubled in the past two weeks. In a month, I go back to teach with reduced class sizes; maybe that will save me from the virus. I fret about students who refuse to wear masks, because I feel pretty powerless to enforce the rule. I worry about the sheer numbers of partying students who won't practice social distancing.

I have been sleeping more lately, and that's the sign of depression looming. I monitor my thoughts and contradict thoughts that might send me spiraling.

So perfect moments are few and far between, but maybe that makes them all the sweeter.

Sorry for the absence -- the kitten has been monopolizing my time.

I'm sorry I haven't been here the past couple of days. I've been absolutely smitten with Chloe the kitten. It's been about 9 years since we've had a kitten in the house, and the other three cats are middle-aged to senior citizens (ages 9-13).

Chloe is a bundle of fearless zoom-zoom energy, with baby claws and teeth and a tendency to play with all of them out. She's a little purrbucket. She is an angelic con artist. In other words, she is a kitten. 

As you can see, she is a kitten. 

I've had to do a lot of babysitting with Chloe. She's been living in my room, as have I, keeping herself busy and in trouble while I've been keeping her out of trouble. She's met the other cats and they already hiss at each other, and I have to keep her out of fights where she's sorely mismatched.

I'm also getting class stuff done, because my classes are going to be seriously flipped. Each class will be split into three parts, and only 1/3 will be going to class at any given time. So more work is online, and the in-class sessions will be hands on.

I need to start writing again! I think it's been a week and a half since I've written. I'm rethinking my relationship to writing after writing my manifesto, and so far I have not been making time for it. I think it's time to write a short story rather then rewriting the novel until further notice.

Have a nice relaxing Sunday! 

Our New Kitten!

This is Chloe, the new member of our household, adopted from our local Humane Society. She's an 8-week-old tortoiseshell who has revealed a quirky personality thus far. She makes a variety of noises including squeaks and purr-chirps. She's in oral fixation mode, which means she chews on fingers and toes (and her teeth are SHARP!) 

She is currently living in my room because I want to introduce her to the other cats slowly and keep the other cats from eating her kitten food. The other cats have been a little hissy at her, but they're hissy at each other, so no surprise there. 

Her belly is one big orange striped patch, unusual for a tortoiseshell. She doesn't mind having her belly rubbed, but she hates being picked up. 

I'm looking forward to watching her grow up. I'm also looking forward to her not biting my fingers. 

melancholy

Things haven't been going well lately.

I think I'm feeling the emotional toll of losing two cats (the long-time cat Snowy and baby kitten Belvedere) in a week. Strangely enough, Belvedere is the hardest to get over, even though he was only five days old; he had a purity about him with his little milk mustache and his snuffling my hand. 

There's not much good to balance that unless you count the fact that I'm still writing. I don't want to go to work today; I just want to sleep.

Of course I'm going to go to work. That's top priority; in Maslow's Hierarchy of needs (a psychological construct), physiological needs (food, clothing, and shelter) are the foundation that needs to be satisfied before we fulfill any other needs:

And physiological needs cost money, which one gets by working. 

In a deep depression (which I am not in), I have to remind myself of this basic fact because the inertia and hopelessness weigh me down into immobility. In a hypomanic state (which I am also not in), I have trouble concentrating on the need to go into work. In either case, the larger than life emotions of bipolar overwhelm the logic of everyday life. So constructs like Maslow's Hierarchy keep me focused on the facts of life.

So right now I'm sleepy and sad. It's an easy day at work today, as I get to watch other people run a poverty simulation. Then there's the weekend, and time to recharge.

requiem for Belvedere, a five-day-old kitten

Belvedere (aka Belly Cat) died this morning after declining for the past day. We don't know why he died; as he had been rejected by his mother, he might have had a defect incompatible with life. I don't know.

In his five days on this earth, he traveled to work and back with me and resided by my bed at night so I could feed him every two hours (my husband took the evening shift so I could pre-nap). He squeaked and rumbled and squirmed, a delightful little creature.

As the days passed, though, he squirmed less. Last night he quit urinating, and I knew he wouldn't make it to go to the vet the next day. 

I was right. When I awoke this morning, he was limp and not moving. No heartbeat. 

We did the best we could, buddy. I'm so sorry.

Happy 56th birthday to me

Today I'm 56 years old.

This is not me. This is Belvedere the kitten, who's 4 days old

For you younger people out there -- time just chugs along and you hardly notice it until you get to one of those milestone years -- 40, 50, 55. You're too fixated on things like careers and children to wake up and think, "wow, I'm getting older." 

The grey hairs, the wrinkles, the thickening of the body come gradually, until you look in the mirror and see someone who looks older than you remember being. 

You don't even notice that the cultural touchstones -- the music stars, the memes and jokes -- flow and change around you, and you wake up one morning to find that the younger people around you don't get your jokes anymore. 

But you've survived so much!  Everyday events that would panic you before -- a flat tire, sleeping through the alarm -- you now handle with aplomb. Your fears that you can't handle crises have been proven wrong time after time. 

And you have stories to tell. Middle age (late middle-age?) is a great time to start writing. Or find friends who like to tell stories and swap them. 

When you're older, you have the perspective of years, and that is your gift to the world.

Belly cat and updates

Update:

 Belvedere the kitten (Belly for short) is still alive in his fourth day, slurping down syringefuls of milk and sleeping in happy milky drunkenness. He's absolutely tiny:

I'm not quite getting enough sleep given his every two hour feeding schedule, but this too will pass.

Meanwhile, I've gotten a few more rejections from agents and I just don't know what to do about "this doesn't really grab me" comments. Still haven't heard from DAW and it's officially been six months.

I wrote another short story I'm thinking of posting here but, since my stories are the least read of anything I post (TL; DR?) I don't know if I will.

Waiting for another idea to come my way.

 In other words, I'd feel down except for the kitten. Kittens somehow exude happy chemicals. 

I'm Mom to a Baby Kitten!

Life can change at a moment's notice. One moment the waters are perfectly calm, then a hasty decision can create turbulence that roils the waters for weeks, or even years, to come.

We've taken on a foster kitten.

Belvedere (Belly Cat for short) is a newborn orange-and-white kitten whose mother rejected him at birth. We don't know why; he might have a defect or she might have had too many mouths to feed.

We're feeding him by syringe every 2 hours, which means we're waking up for dinner time every two hours. He's pooped once and peed several times, so the plumbing works. Right now he's calm, but when he screams, he sounds like a squeaky toy. 

The other cats will have nothing to do with him. Girlie gave him a good sniff and then hissed at him (because newborn kittens are threatening). 

I hope Belly survives. I hope he's not too burdened not having a mommy. I hope he grows up to be a cuddly cat. We're doing our best.

My brain is slow today

I can't think of anything to say today. But here's a kitten: