Twelve years as of last Sunday. It was a simple enough day. We chilled, we worked on things around the house, we played with LEGO’s. School seems to have worked its way into a nice enough routine. No more emergencies, at least so far. The Boy is even back into the swing of things after a nasty bout of Hand, Foot, and Mouth that took him down for the better part of a week. Still, he repeatedly told us that he “wykes his bumpy hands.”
A couple of days ago we found kittens. Out in the woods in the front of the house. Tiny little things, stalking up along the edge of the driveway. Well, two were but the other had already climbed up a tree. She eventually was retrieved. We figured that the mother must be out there somewhere as well so we fed them the best we could and called it a night.
The next day two of them returned. We realized that something probably happened to the mother, and something seems to have happened to the third. The other two looked rather rough once we got a good look at them. Obviously hungry, and covered in fleas. We set to work.
They seemed much improved. We asked around and we found a taker for one of them. The Beast has been crying ever since. Still, the one remaining seems rather fond of us, I’m kind of hoping she sticks around. I could use a black lap cat again.
Eleven years, married. Three involved/dating/engaged before that, and a couple as merely good friends.
A friend was other the other night and we were talking about how the missus and she had been discussing my memory. And told her about the first time I met the would-be wife. We were at the pizza place where the LARP crowd met for the Wednesday gatherings. I was with my girlfriend at the time and took a step back. I bumped into somebody, who also was taking a step back from her group of friends. We turned and that was it. Blonde, blue eyes, mouse ears. We blinked, she said something about how we had enough similarities in appearances we could be kin. Which is really weird in hindsight, but knowing now how… oblivious she can be I think it rather nice that she seemed to notice me in someway.
Fast forward and here we are. We went to the mountains for a couple of days. Black Mountain, to be exact. It was nice. We stayed in an old bed & breakfast. The hallways were always so much colder so I surmise the place was haunted. There was a cat, who was eating a chipmunk as we were leaving, so clearly we were next. And the first night I had a nightmare that actually woke the wife and prompted her to wake me. Not something that usually happens. But it has on a few occasions. Might be where the Beast gets it.
Also, the change in seasons plus the wonky pressures of going up the mountain had me extra messed up. We went up further and drove a bit on the Blue Ridge Parkway and hit the Folk Art Center that’s up there. While it was all incredibly lovely, it also really shows the ego that goes into changing the simple reference from ‘craft’ to ‘art’. Generally a mark-up in the price of, oh I don’t exactly know four or five hundred percent. Nice, and nicely done, but damn.
It was at the FAC that the floor suddenly lurched. The wife said it didn’t, seemed sure of this. And she seemed even more sure the second time it happened. I found this rather odd.
But enough of that, we are back and I’ve not felt wobbly since that one time. It’s been a great eleven years, and I’m eager the next as well.