Going Home

I was lucky enough to stay with my parents for a week. Their home is the antithesis of Las Vegas. It’s a pleasure to sit outside and hold the neighbor cat on your lap. ❤

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Welcome to the Family, Marsh Cat!

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Two years ago I met and fell in love with this beauty.  He’s a gorgeous, skinny, fearful-yet-friendly rag doll cat whom the girls named Marsh. Because he’s fluffy, like a marshmallow, but he’s also a boy, and Marsh is a manly name, they explained.

We also call him Mystery Cat. Murder Cat. Mom’s Boyfriend. Mr. E. Murder Paws. Baby. I call all of our animals “Baby.” Rush, the hateful turtle, secretly likes to be called that, but if she tells you, she’ll kill you.

My husband is allergic to cats, so I fed and loved on Marsh outside. For two years.

He started out skinny and afraid, but as you can see, he’s fluffed up considerably. My trusting beauty.

Last week Luke was gone for work, so I took Marsh to be examined, vaccinated, neutered, and microchipped. He stayed inside to recuperate, and then he ran free to the outdoors that he desperately craved. The house was sanitized so my sweet husband could, you know, breathe and stuff. I was afraid Marsh would be wary of coming back, but he still shows up like clockwork, three times a day, for food and snuggles.

Anyway, he is my love. He is literally the reason I got up  in the morning during this last difficult summer. His loud, Siamese-style meow wouldn’t be ignored.

Welcome to the family, Marsh Cat! Do any of you have pets who wandered into your life and chose you as their human? If so, I’d love to hear about it!

Miss Murder Asks For Help…And It’s AWESOME.

It’s perfectly fine to ask for help…unless you’re me, that is. Or, I suspect, you. If your mother, spouse, friend, or sibling needed help, wouldn’t you leap to give it? Wouldn’t you stretch out your hand instantly? And sometimes you don’t know they need help unless they ask. Why don’t they just ASK?

Because it’s hard. Because we live in this crazy society where we feel like we have to do everything, and do it perfectly, and do it alone.

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On the front porch with Marsh at 3 AM

This isn’t how societies work. This isn’t how the human animal works. Once we lived in villages and helping each other meant surviving. We didn’t hunt, gather, or parent alone. What suddenly makes us think that we have somehow evolved to do that now, especially when things are more complicated than ever?

We’re weary. We’re taught that busy is better. I know very few people who actually enjoy their lives, and many simply try to survive it.

This is me on a typical day: Get three kiddos to school. Arrange/attend appointments. Keep up with friends, “maintain a presence,” volunteer for my church and community. I try to write/read/blurb/clean/feed the pets/feed the family/feed my soul. And it isn’t working.

The house has fallen. Six hours of volunteering for church a week leaves me exhausted. My writing is stalling and I feel like an imposter who can’t do anything very well.

Help.

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Baking Banana Bread at 4:00 AM

I tried to ask it. If only people would do more around the house, or follow through their commitments at work, or listen to me when I say no the first time instead of trying to wear me down to a yes. But I’m not good at asking for help. It means I’m not pulling my weight. It means I’m not doing my best, and that means I need to try harder.

Then I ran across an awesome deal on housecleaning. You heard me. Housecleaning.

How many times have you thought, “If I were rich, I’d pay someone to clean my house!” I thought that, too. It would be a glorious thing.  But it’s something only rich, busy people do. Not people with stay-at-home careers, like me.

Except it is. My husband thought it was a great idea and encouraged me to try it. We hired them to come, and they came today.

It. Was. Awesome.

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My super shiny kitchen! I just made banana bread there a few hours ago!

Picture this: I had just gotten over either the flu or a diabetic thing, I can’t be sure. But I was weak. Thanks to anxiety about life, I had only slept an hour and a half the night before, from 5:30 am until 7:00 am. (Note exhibit A and B, with the cat and banana bread, all at weird hours of the night.) All three kids had been home for spring break, satelliting around me like drunk fireflies. I’m on a tight writing deadline. I’m pretty rachet.

So I open the door and there are three smiling women. They ask me to prioritize what I’d like them to work on. They are impossibly kind to my children. They are very patient with my son.

They are my backup. They’ve got me, boo.

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The microwave is so shiny that I’m not even ashamed when the door falls off!

These women have my back. They start on the bathrooms and I tackle the kids’ rooms. They move to the kitchen while I knock out the laundry. Four people working in tandem is a beautiful thing. And when the dust (quite literally) clears, I have my home back. I’m happy, they’re happy, and I feel a huge sense of relief.

It felt good. I feel like I gained some emotional balance. I think I’ll have them back every six months or so for a good deep clean that feels like it touched my soul as well as my walls. It took two hours for this, and that was all. Two hours. I spent more time than that on the front porch last night, petting cats and looking at Pinterest like a goon.

It was worth it.

“Help” isn’t a long word, but it’s certainly a difficult one to say. But, oh, am I glad I said it. My husband didn’t laugh. My friends didn’t laugh. My mother didn’t point at the dirty laundry and tsk. They were supportive, and it turns out the only one judging me harshly was myself.

Have a lovely day, my friends!

Things of Peace and Beauty

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Most of you know that my anxiety is through the roof. I make a conscious effort to bring peace and beauty into my home, so I have things to calm me. Like my indoor jungle.

 

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Sitting next to a warm bunny.

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A sweet bowl for my kitty ring.

img_5336-1Marsh the Mystery Cat snoozing outside. Small things, all, but things of joy. They’re tiny islands of beauty in a stormy sea, and every time I see these things I smile.

What are some of your favorite things? Would you share them with me? I’d love to hear.

You Guys! I’m Back!

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“What?” You ask. “Were you even gone?”

Well, I was. Due to computery things and my lack of knowledge about computery things, I was literally two days away from losing my blog and domain name, etc etc etc. But I figured it out and A Broken Laptop is still mine. I can’t tell you how relieved I am.

(Hint: I’m pretty relieved.)

I realize that my blog brings me joy. It’s a place where I can slow down and enjoy those I love. I was loathe to lose it.

I’m at my parent’s house for a few days, and I love it. I picked peaches from the tree and made a cobbler. I put together two quilt tops. I played with their cats. They make my eyes swell shut but I can’t resist their sweetness.

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On Wednesday from 4:30 -5:30, I’ll be talking about writing at the Ferron Library. If you’d like to stop by, that would be a fantastic thing. It’s always so fun to do that.

I’m happy to be back here, and happy to be back home. ❤

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These Cats Should Be More Miserable Than This.

These cats belong to my friends and fellow writers, who shall remain nameless to protect the guilty. I have laughed and laaaaaaughed at these pictures of their cats until I couldn’t laugh no more. BEHOLD!

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His human swears he likes it.

 

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This sweet stray was matted everywhere, and nicely shaved from neck to super furry bottom.

 I die a little inside when I see these pictures. And I’m grateful for their owners to love them enough to force some indignity on them in order to let them medically heal. But you guys. This is funny. FUNNY.