An odd realization: this blog, as of today, is ten years old. I'm not sure I ever expected it to hit this mark, given that I've been pretty quiet the past couple of years, but it seems to be finding its footing again as a place I can show photos of what quilts I've been working on.

Much has changed in ten years. It's chronicled my shift from early 20s to early 30s. Births, deaths, and everything in between. Somewhere along the way my cats went from peppy youngsters to opinionated middle-aged brats. I'm totally okay with that. After all, Tenzing and I have learned to compromise.

['Compromise is the key to not killing your cat']

Sunday afternoon. I've done almost no sewing this week; I've been mentally drained out of proportion to my actual physical tiredness. Jeff and I took our first stab at geocaching yesterday with mixed results, but we intend to try again; today we caught a morning matinee of 'Sherlock Holmes' and then made a quick grocery run before heading home.

Jeff sleeps right now, having stayed up a good chunk of the night while the storms were rolling through. The cats, fed, are hunting for warm places to nap. A good Sunday, overall.

I am nearing the time of final assembly on Lost in Translation, which is now definitely Tim's quilt. I've decided to make a great, grand usage of the last of the fabric I've been using for the square centers; I'll post photos when I have them.

I'm finally getting around to reading Diesel Sweeties. The first panel of this cartoon begs to be an avatar for me.

/glares at Tenzing

/notes she's being ignored by the sleeping cat

Starlady nails it in one. They're on to me. Blast!

(photo is SFW)

I lay on the bed this afternoon, drowsy with sunshine and tea and salacious novel, and trawled fingers through Edmund's orange fur. As my hand crept over and around, to reach the white fur on his belly, the purring changed from lazy to nearly explosive, as if to say, oh yes, pet me right there...

Jeff and I watched this in mingled horror and amusement. Up to a certain point, it describes how I have been awakened almost every morning for seven years now. (Also explains why my first words every morning are usually some variation on "Dammit, Tenzing.")

Some days you know early on that you've lost your mind and it just isn't coming back. Some days you also know early on that you have beaten on too much code that week, and that it's time to walk away, unplug for a weekend, and not look back until Monday.Today is that day.

How do I know?

Slip out at the end of the day, purse strap over shoulder and CDs in hand, and look east; the hills, visible over Huntsville's skyline, are darkening fast. Look west, toward my commute, and the sun might've hung around for one last metaphorical cup of coffee but is more than likely on its way to say hello to the next time zone over.

He is a strange cat, difficult to predict, sometimes surprisingly intelligent, but often his intelligence is masked by his petulance. Tenzing is six, nearly seven; an age in which humans have begun to move toward full comprehension and conversational ability. I joke about my 'eternal toddlers' but there is truth in that statement, more truth than some people realize.While very much alike in appearance, Edmund and Tenzing are very different in temperament.

"I'll have a little from Column A and a little from Column B, please."

Short, cryptic, and marginally observational snippets from life in the past week: