pretty great

Many of the people I know are doctors and lawyers, bankers, professors, writers, successful businessmen. They live in big houses and drive fancy cars. They travel to interesting, exciting places I've never been.  I admire and respect them; their years of hard work have paid off.

While I am not the type to envy their life and the things I don't have, I sometimes find myself comparing my life in a critical way. I find myself making excuses for who I am and what I do: I'm just a tutor at the school. I majored in Sociology (insert my own eye-roll here). My house is old and small and we live in Payson ( head hung low). I can't afford to travel right now, but maybe someday.

I have no idea why I do this, but today I realized I have to stop. I like my life the way it is. My life is pretty great...

I like being a tutor at the school. I like working part time, being off with my kids and I love not being in charge. I like working with kids who need extra help because I love to see them progress. I make very little in terms of money, but the rewards I receive are many.

I loved studying Sociology. As much as I joke about how worthless it has been, it hasn't been worthless at all. Understanding how people function in groups? Priceless. If I ever have the desire and the resources to go to graduate school, all lined up at once, with no thought about the practicality of my choice, I might choose to study it all over again.

My house is old and small. It's in an old, some-say 'ghetto' neighborhood in a quirky little red-neck town. It often smells strange, like rotting wood and medicine, but it is comfortable and colorful and 'happy' as my kids' friends call it. I often think if we had more money we would buy a different house. One brand new, with lots of rooms and bathrooms to spare. But if I'm honest, we could have bought that house to begin with, but didn't, because I think that house is boring and bland. I like my house because it is a never-ending project, with things to paint and fix and build and improve. What would I do with a brand new house?

While I do hope to travel someday, I have to admit, I don't really like to travel. I blame it on a lack of money or time, or claim I need to be home with the kids, but truly, I like to be home because home is where I like to be. Fixing my house, improving my yard, enjoying my kids while they're here.

I like my life. It's simple but rich. I'm not important or wealthy or exciting at all, but I'm happy, because I am living the life I choose.

I will make excuses no more.

queen of the house

I am not a cat lover. Or a dog lover. In fact, I really don't enjoy any animal small enough to put its genitals on me. This may sound absurd, but I grew up with horses - fifteen hand, thousand pound horses. They didn't come in the house, I changed clothes to ride them, and there was absolutely no way they could pee on me. Cats, on the other hand, can and did pee on my sleeping bag, and claw and bite without provocation; the only dog I remember once ate all my crayons then puked them up in my toy box.

This is why I was "allergic" to cats until a few years ago when the kids found a kitty hiding in our back yard. After Max named her and told the neighbors she was ours, I consented to let her live in the shed where she would keep the mice and birds away. That lasted a few days until other cats began eating her food. We then moved her to the garage where she had food and water and a nice place to sleep. A few weeks later we installed a cat door so she could go in and out as she pleased.

Come Fall, the cat sat outside the window while I taught piano, meowing regularly and clawing the screen. Inevitably my students stated the obvious, "I think your cat wants to come inside." "Yes," I replied, "but she isn't allowed in the house." "Why?" they asked. "Because. I'm mean." "Oh," they said. But, as it turns out, I am not as mean as I seem. The first truly cold day ended the "outdoor" cat arrangement and cleared the path for Gigi Harriette Quincompoix, Queen of the House.

It wasn't an easy transition. It took weeks to accept that the cat loved me best. (Why?!) But gradually she won me over. I eventually became desensitized to finding cat hair in my house (Yuck!) and at some point allowed her to sit on my lap. Now I cannot imagine our home without her. She has taught Abi to empathize, sympathize and love unconditionally and has served as a younger sibling to Max. To me she has shown unwavering devotion and Dave she allows to believe he's the boss.

So I find her today with a swollen right jaw and my heart is filled with fear. Ridiculous, I think. So stupid! She is just a cat. But this cat is a part of our lives and to lose her will break all our hearts.

I really hope she's okay...