Dramatic snoozing...

30 July 2026: Another day about which, boringly and depressingly, I feel compelled to say that so much is bad and sad and hard. Grateful for the light that shines through, including from this silly, dramatic bundle of chaos and love.

Sunday snapshots...

26 July 2026: Some images from today that make me happy. 

(BabyCat lives here, too, and is always worth looking at--I just didn't catch her posing when I had my phone out.)

Home makes me happy.

Cat-napping...

24 July 2026: Tomorrow morning, this little one, my parents' cat Annie, will join me for the long ride to West Virginia. Praying that she adjusts well to life with Veronica and Jo (and me). She's a real sweet and just the perfect amount of weird.

Sunday morning tableau

19 July 2026: 

This lovely little tableau sort of stopped me in my tracks when I got out of the shower this morning. 

The open window.

The new curtains--that just delight me--blowing in the breeze.

Jo's beloved Gray Mousie.

Jo herself, waiting for me to throw it.

On the bedside table, the little plush Jesus that Jane got me months ago because when she sent a pic to the group chat, I said it was "cute." (It is.) She finally had a chance to give it to me last week.

Took a moment, breathed it in and thought,  "My home...and I am so lucky."

Three boxes...

17 July 2026: 

Kind of made her choose...we are back to just two. (The newest, the one she's sitting in above, is now in the recycling bin.)

For the historical record (ha!), I also want to note that the air quality is so bad from the wildfire smoke that my eyes burned on my walk. The smoke smell also gets in the house, even with all the windows closed. Apocalyptic vibes, indeed.

Sundays with Henry, Veronica, and Jo...

5 July 2026: 

"When Min, a Maltese kitten, joined the household, her wild freaks delighted him and he played with her by the hour, pausing to shake his head in his Journal: 'What sort of philosophers are we, who know nothing of the origin and destiny of cats?'" (Walls 283).

Still working my way through Walls' biography of Thoreau, seeing connections--both profound and silly--on every page. 

Work Cited

Walls, Laura Dassow. Henry David Thoreau: A Life. The U of Chicago P, 2017.

Porch reading...

21 June 2026: Didn't expect Father's Day to hit me the way it has; I'm okay, but it's...hard, especially because of everything going on with my mom. 

Earlier today, I fought off some weepiness by going outside to read on the porch. (Would be weird to sit on the porch in broad daylight and cry.)

Sitting there with my big old Thoreau bio, I realized that wasn't a bad tribute to my dad, who would take his books out to the deck to read, often with Sugie or Snow with him. My girls stayed inside, but one of them wasn't happy about it. 

Knicks, Revolution, and Lil Soups...

14 June 2026: Checking in with the girls?

Jo had Knicks Fever last night, just like me.

Veronica, earlier this afternoon, about five minutes after I freed her from the office, where I had trapped her to apply Revolution. (Yes, another "Revolution on Cats" day.) From freak-out mode to staring at me from the coffee table in five minutes...

Not pictured, the Lil Soups they will both enjoy later this evening, a belated birthday treat for BabyCat.

Internal timeline cleanse...

2 June 2026: So much on my mind, but it does my heart and head good to catch these glimpses of my girls, peacefully oblivious. 

Quiet, rainy, May day...

21 May 2026: After a very early heat wave, a few days of cool rain are setting in. We need the rain, so I am grateful (mostly). 

I ran errands most of the morning and got some work done on campus. I was home by a bit after noon. 

It's been a quiet since then--getting a bit of work done, talking with Tara (stuff with my mom is...hard), and keeping an eye on Jo (who is having another bad stomach day), and reading for fun. Reading two books at once (soon to be three), which I realize is an unintentional tribute to my dad.  

(Jo's okay now...just crashing big time on the couch. I said to her, "I am sorry you aren't feeling great, but it's been nice to be here with you today.")

Jo and the Redbud...

12 April 2026: Got home from PA, opened the windows, and found Jo framed by the redbud tree, a little tradition we're developing.

Lil ball of paper...

30 March 2026: When I walked down the driveway to bring the recycling bin back to the garage, I saw a scrap of a piece of paper was left behind. I crumpled it up to throw it out, but the very gesture of crumpling up paper makes me think of Jo, whose favorite kind of toy remains balls of paper. 

I rolled it around in my hand, thinking, "She might really like this one..." Something about the littler size...

I put it in my pocket and headed to work, deciding to think about it. Not every piece of scrap paper makes the cut, after all. 

All day long when I reached into my pocket, I would feel it and think about Jo waiting at home.

Got home around 6:00, called her over, showed it to her, and watched her focus on it. (Shades of the way Wesley used to lock in on a toy when I held it up.)

I tossed it. She chirped and jumped off to chase it.

All evening long, she's been batting it around and bringing it to me. 

Just a minute ago, I picked it up and she ran to her favorite spot for me to throw them. (LOL at the Bob's Burgers' caption.)

She's just so silly, weird, pure, and fun. 

Incorrigible...

26 March 2026: Got herself locked in the pantry for 12 hours yesterday. Today? Jumped right back in and had to be coaxed out. Also worth noting that she's framed by about $100 worth of "sensitive stomach" food that she has to have...even though she's a trashcat. 

Hopelessly devoted to Jo...

19 March 2026: In another rough period, anxious about a loved one's health, but I think I am doing a bit better this evening. 

My evidence?

Well, I did find myself dancing in the kitchen with Jo to this number, on my mind since the Hit Parade episode I mentioned in this post. This little cat remains very good for my soul, as does her big sister.

When you look up...

5 March 2026: ...and this little face is looking back you? That makes a work-from-home day even better.

Three years...

4 January 2025: Hard to believe Jo March came home three years ago today. She is still so playful (and bad), fun, sweet, and cuddly. She has been such a blessing ever since. She and Veronica keep me grounded and bring me happiness when I need it. 

Just like that day three years ago, she remains hard to photograph at times--unless she's planning a pounce or feeling really sleepy. The photo below is evidence of the latter. 

2026...

1 January 2026: Very quiet New Year's Day, but I can't complain about that. Spending lots of time with my girl.

I can complain about the word Merriam-Webster gave me, though. I keep joking that it better only be in reference to how my enemies are feeling.

Wrapping "helper"...

20 December 2025: 

This very good girl...

19 December 2025: Evenings are still hard, I guess. I stayed on campus until nearly 6:30. There's plenty to do--still feel so far behind--so it was easier to stay there and work than come home and feel sad and alone. 

But when I did get home? Someone was very glad to see me. Made me smile. 

Fall 2025 Grading: Done!

14 December 2025: A bit ago, I hit "submit" on the final set of grades for this semester. 

 

As if on cue, by the way, Jo jumped up right after I submitted and collapsed into a little nap (which ended kind of quickly, allowing me to type this). When she did so, I thought, "Yeah, this will do." No chair-dancing this year. Usually there's some sense of happiness associated with this moment, but this time, I'll settle for relief and a bit of comfort and love.