Pfffftttt! – Spit! – Ouch!

Day 9 – This is being some kind of transparent here. I wouldn’t normally be talking about this because this is something I don’t talk about, but I have to set the scene. If I don’t tell you what I was doing, this won’t go right. So please don’t think that I’m being self-righteous or zealous or anything like that. What I was doing I take very seriously and is very private to me. There was only one other purrson in the room with me and she is the culprit. You will see what I mean in a minute. But I just wanted to get that out on the table here. Thank you.

So last night I was praying on the floor in my bedroom. I had a candle lit a little ways in front of me and Morgan The Maine Coon, The Most Curious of All The Cats We Have Ever Had, was laying on the floor about three feet away from it, totally mesmerized by it’s flame. I can’t blame her there. Fire totally captivates me as well. Scares me to death on a grand scale, but is one of the most beautiful of nature’s elements. The flame had burned down quite a bit – the candle was a little finicky as it was and I figured it was going to sputter out pretty soon on its own.

Suddenly, I felt a movement in front of me. Oh, I guess I should tell you I was pretty deep in prayer (this is the part where you aren’t supposed to do any judging) and my eyes were closed, so I wasn’t aware of anything going on around me. Hence the feeling of movement in front of me. It was sufficient enough for me to open my eyes and see Morgan receding back to where she had been laying but now she was sitting. I heard a sizzling “pfffffft” and then a “ssssssss” Maoooooow” and put two and two together rather quickly when her head reared back from her paw. Apparently, Miss Inquisitive had decided to put out the candle herself. As she did that, her paw had also swiped up the hot candle liquid and that burned the hair and possibly the pad of her foot as it began to form around her shape. She bit back as she had been bitten and made contact with her mouf and that created yet another pain source. All in the span of about five seconds. Poor baby! I knew better than to approach her because she is so danged independent with her owies, so I let her tug and pull at the cooling wax and figure out how best to get that beast off of her. I eventually bent my way over towards her to see what I could see, but she had done a pretty good job, plus, her paw is white, so there wasn’t much I could see at best.

In the meantime, I had slowly moved the candle over to my left side, out of sight. Once she had licked her wounds, she came over in great stealth, creeping up on the Burn Monster, seeking a way to find out how she could Kill It. She extended the Burned Paw, almost as though she wanted It to see what It had Done To Her. Then she swatted the side of the candle a couple of times and walked off. Take that YOU.

I checked her paw later and she didn’t seem any worse for wear. As for praying on the floor with a candle with Morgan near by, I don’t think that will happen again. At least not in that combination. Amen.

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My Childhood Bedroom

I had several bedrooms as a child, but my very favorite was the one that overlooked the field in front of our house. This particular house was the house, the last house I would live in before I left home. There were many rooms in this house that served as my bedroom, but the one that started as my room and ended as my room, was indeed my heart’s treasure.

My childhood room was built as an extension to the house at some point, or at least it seemed like it to me. I am directionally challenged, so I can only describe my room as I am standing facing toward the field, my north.  Out that large window I could see the hillside of lilacs over to the left, the driveway leading down to the mailbox and our bus stop and the road leading away from home. The field in front of the house was where we played softball in the summer, picked wild blackberries in the small creek in the late spring, messed with the frogs and toads in the pond hidden within the blackberry bushes – all to the right of that window. I could sit on the sill of the window and daydream for quite a while before my butt got tired and I had to get down.  The best part of the window was that there was an old oak tree standing sentry to the right at the corner of the house. It was taller than the house, but since the house was kind of built on a slant and the tree was too, it was hard to say just how tall the tree really was. But what was so cool about that tree was that when it was windy or raining, the acorns and leaves on the branches would brush against the house and on top of the house, which hapened to have a tin roof. It would be thundering in my room like my own drum corp. I just loved it.

The second window was to my east and faced out to the wooden deck that encircled the back of the house. I could see a bunch of junky stuff that Dad had ‘stored’ out in that part of the ‘out in the back’. There were a lot of placees that were ‘out in the back’ wth a lot of junk ‘stored.’ That was not a favorite window by any means. In the summer I would open up the windows and let in the fresh air until it  would get too hot and then we used an air conditioner to cool the house. I don’t remember my room gettig all that cool. The sun never beat into the room that much – I didn’t see it come up or go down, but in Mariposa, summers are hot and dry. I don’t think my room was all that big but it was just the right size for me.

My childhoold room was a lot of colors because my mom liked to paint the house a lot. I think it was yellow, pink, white, lavendar, blue. Not all at once, but at different times. I think the last color was a light blue. I was, am, an avid reader, so I spent a great deal of time in my room on my bed reading. I remember specifically being on my bed throughout one summer pouring through Gone with the Wind, cussing under my breath at Rhett and crying my eyes out as I chomped through rosy red apples in the heat of the balmy afternoons. I grew up with Marmy and her girls in Little Women, turning my small closet into a small prayer chapel as closely as I could to the one like Amy had. I had stacks and stacks of books in my room, even though I had a bookcase and nightstands full of them, as well.

My childhood room housed sleepovers with school friends, witnessed fights and resolutions between my little sister, heard my secrets and fears, even became the canvas for all the David Cassidy posters I plastered all over the walls and doors for years. My childhood room saw a child of nine grow into a young woman of 18. On one horrible day, my childhood room was ravaged of the personal contents, drawers torn open and clothes haphazardly thrown about; hangers tossed empty on the closet floor; cherished books, photos, and toys left to the wayside without a second thought. My childhood was over and I was leaving home, very angry and in a hurry. I didn’t even turn to say good-bye…to my childhood room.