Recipe for An Almost Perfect Sunday

Ingredients

• a dollop of stay-in weather
• interspersed bits of work
• wafts of laundry detergent mixed with cooking chicken
• a dependable recipe for a delicious supper
• one good book
• great heaps of kitten purring, tussling, lap sitting
• communication with old friends

Directions

Begin with a slow waking. A fresh pot of strong black tea, reading of the New York Times and Facebook, followed by two hours of compositions and laundry.

Toss ingredients for white bean chicken chili into the crockpot. Check the laundry and the cats.

Eat breakfast: two perfectly poached eggs on strong dry toast.

Read compositions for another two hours.

Cover the sofa with an Indian spread, cuddle with the kittens, and finish Ann Patchett's This Is the Story of a Happy Marriage. Remember stories of her as a Girl Scout under the tutelage of a dear older friend, re-visit Mills Bookstore in my mind, note with amusement the odd connections of neighborhoods, schools, and Sewanee.

Select another book from the Tennessee R.E.A.D.S. website (Poppy Z. Brite's Soul Kitchen).

Return to work with tea, supper, and kittens.

Look forward to another restful slumber.

What's Missing

A walk around the lake or in the woods, sunshine, saturated color. I shall await another day.

Fraidy Kittens: Day 4

Two Giant Steps Forward, One Small step Back

I. Morning.

We all rise together, stretch, visit our respective lavatories, and gather in the living room, on the floor, on the kitty throw. Clio surrenders herself to my hand, face, hair, reclines across one hand, pushing into the other, purring. Little Clue, stands at the corner of the throw, curious, cautious, but finally sneaks over, sniffs from my head to toes and back and lets herself enjoy a moment of stroking, before realizing she's still a fraidy cat.

II. Repetition

Of the above several times over the day, along with reading, grooming, enjoying the light.

III. Late Afternoon

Someone left a little package under the sheets and towel thrown carelessly in a corner of the bedroom, ready for the wash. Happily, my brother's gift of pet Febreze arrived earlier. I have tested it, and it is good. One kitty is bad, and I think I know who, right, Clue?

Fraidy Kittens: Day 3

A Tale of "She Said, She Said"

Crash.

"Not me!" says Clue.

Scampering.

Odd scratching.

"She did it!" says Clue.

"Who, me?" says Cleo.

"I told you!" says Clue.

"So much for cleanliness," says the human.

Fraidy Kittens: Day 2

After a night spent on (me) and under (them) the couch, we emerged this morning, all of us, ready to greet the day.

The food bowl refilled, the litter box cleaned, I took off for the grocery. When I returned, Cleo (Clio?) met me, having spread herself out on the couch for a little grooming.

On three different occasions during the day, both scampered and clattered up and down the stairs, into my bedroom, and all around the living and dining rooms. One even came into the study twice while I was working, but never lingered long enough for a photo op.

My friend Betsy McCutchen had two cats, Ellie and Lovey, who -- when anyone came to visit -- used to hide in the "scary closet." Cleo (Clio?) and Clue have the "scary couch," where they sleep in a small slump.

Day 2: a success by any measure.

Fraidy Kittens

Cleo and Clue, Day 1

Rainy Day Amusements

Rain today, too much for me and my camera.  Off and on, it pelted the roof, bringing black walnuts down with it in an explosive cannonade.  Inside, I worked online, and read (for work), and worked online some more.  In between bouts, though, like a wine connoisseur, I cleansed my palate: no words, just kittens and a mama cat, being kittens and their mama.

Watching them, I slide down memory to my first cat, a marmalade, and all those since.  Such pleasure in something seemingly inconsequential: the biggest of the litter leaping about, the little white several paces behind, the creamy one patting his mother so she'll turn to the side and offer a nipple (my own cat pats me like that when I am about to fall asleep, only she wants petting), the last one falling asleep with its head in the hole of a cat play toy. 



I dare you to watch and not smile, even if you're a dog person.