These were the babies a year ago, and they’ve had a good year. They still love each other very much, and entertain each other, but they look so unalike that I wonder if the shelter lied when they told us they were litter mates so that we would take both. The girl is bold and affectionate and “ridiculously playful,” as my daughter described her. The boy is more skittish though affectionate in his own way. Less playful than his sister and the fluffiest, most long-haired cat I have ever seen. Keeping his coat is a part-time job. I do not think cats should have such long coats, and he seems to agree with me.
One of the most difficult relationships of my life is over. It was a work relationship, and it vexed me in many ways for a long, long time. Honestly there were times I sort of fantasized about it being over, but being well-schooled in living in the day I religiously (and I use that word with thought) tried to make the best of it, day after day. I didn’t expect it to ever be over much like I don’t expect my work place to ever move. And I tried and tried and tried and tried and tried to learn from it, and no doubt I did learn from it. I’m still in shock. It defined me in many ways because I was so often in opposition to it, leaning against it, suffering from it. And the lesson I still struggle to learn is how the suffering was my choice.