Where has the time gone?

So, I'm sailing along minding my own business with my nice little life. I go to sign into my blog. And what do I find? It has been a month since my last blog. A month! Where did the time go? It doesn't seem like that long since my last blog. Upon reflection of my comings and goings during those 30 days to see exactly how I've accounted for my time, I've made a few observations.

First, I am on the tail end (hopefully) of a very LONG lesson in patience. My friend, Heather, always says that God gives you the same lesson over and over again until you learn it. Well, for me that would be patience. (My mother would be the first to agree with this statement.) This whole year so far has been an exercise in exercising patience, but the last four weeks have been the most intense and excruciating. I think I get it, in fact I know I get it. Now I'm ready to move on to another area that needs improvement. Please. Thanks, God, for listening.

Speaking of improvements, I'm in the midst of a semi-major home improvement project. In fact, I've become the Picasso of room painting, transforming my guest bedroom and study. Secretly, I have an itching to redo my bedroom, but we won't go there just yet. It is kinda therapeutic to be in an empty room with a paint brush and your thoughts. It gives you time to reflect and adjust your attitude if your attitude needs adjusting. Although, I suggest that you use caution when moving furniture, as objects can be heavier than they appear and can thus cause injury to your otherwise perfectly working joints and limbs. I'm just saying...

And my final thought would be that you never really know what you have until you lose it or almost lose it. I can apply this to so many levels of my life, but my most recent experience occurred just 10 days ago when I came downstairs one night to find a trail of blood through my kitchen and living room. I was panic-stricken to find my baby girl, Ginger, bleeding and in pain. After a frantic run to the emergency vet clinic and a sleepless night of waiting for her to calm down long enough to give the doctor a urine sample (nine hours of high drama for the vet assistants to be exact), Ginger was diagnosed with a kidney infection.

Now some may say that Ginger is just a cat, but to me she is a member of the family, a 15-year member. She is older than many of my nieces and nephews and has been with me through college, law school, the bar exam, friend and family deaths, both Bush administrations, countless boyfriends, true love, and probably a dozen moves. I can tell her anything. She knows all my secrets and loves me unconditionally.

My head tells me that, at 15 years old, she won't live forever. But my heart can't imagine not finding her on my bed each morning purring. My eyes tear up even thinking about it. So I can't and I won't. All is good right now. We are on the mend, even feeling well enough play like a kitten again. So today is a good day for I am thankful for modern veterinary medicine and speedy recoveries. And will even forgive that hair ball left for me on my pillow.

Ginger on the mend