I am posting this picture for two reasons:

First, Sophie's back paws always remind me of bunny feet—Thumper's, specifically. (I think it's just because they're so darn big and awkward.) Since the bunny season comes to a tumult today, I offer them to you.

Second, she does the cutest thing with her back paws that would melt the iciest heart. It's rare to see her do it on a surface other than our laps…but when she's content (which is often—we don't make life very difficult for her), she elongates her body in carefree bliss and crosses her back paws, curving her little cat toes in and out (continuously) as if she truly is happy from her head down to her toes. It sort of reminds of Bill Cosby expressing his love of pudding.



Happy Easter!

So, I'm an appointed SME for several different projects at work. Apart from being trapped in what seems like nonstop meetings, this means that I am a regularly consulted resource: my mind is pulled in several directions several times a day. This tends to make me a bit daffy by late afternoon.

I have little moments of pure brilliance throughout the day, but they're not easy to hold. If I am not careful, they jump right out of my hand when I am not looking. Those little bits of wisdom are lost to me forever as soon as someone diverts my attention with another question and the stupor settles over my mind again. Such a waste.

That's where the Post-it Notes come in. During those brief moments of clarity, I write myself a note and stick it to my desk: genius. I joke to my coworkers that I am single-handedly keeping 3M in business.

For this system to work, I do have to go through the notes every now and then to make sense of the randomness. It is during this time that I discover notes that were written during my mind's transition to the stupor…they don't make a whole lot of sense. Warning! Thought not complete! (Honestly, alarms should sound.) My favorites are the squares with only my name or a simple yes/no.

It was at the end of a trying day today when I walked back from my last meeting. I trudged back to my buried desk and stared at the overwhelming insanity. I groaned and began mumbling a sad little soliloquy. The desk needed attention, but I didn't want to stay to organize. I just wanted to go home and decompress! "I don't know…should I just go home?" I chewed my lip and whined in indecision.

Then, out of nowhere, I noticed a Post-it Note poking out beneath some papers. Clearly this was a note written during one of those transitions. I had written "Do it." With that bit of advice, I grabbed my coat and headed for the parking garage.

See what I mean? Pure brilliance.

Supposedly, most cats are solitary beings—they are not pack animals like dogs. Animal behaviorists have speculated if a cat has the capacity to bond with a human or if they only depend on humans to satisfy their physical needs. The debates lasts because no one can really answer that but a cat.

I've been around cats nearly all of my life, and before Sophie I would attest to the solitary behavior. They would come around to snuggle with me when they wanted something, otherwise they were content to disappear and ignore me completely. They held grudges, and sometimes they were downright catty. I still loved cats even though they could take me or leave me—and I even kind of understood the mood swings, particularly during those teenage years. I had a dog to love me unconditionally, so I didn't need that kind of devotion from a cat. I didn't need those heart-melting eyes staring at me like I am the best thing in the whole world.

Oh yes, I would have agreed that cats were frigid animals who lowered their standards to let us pet them now and then.

I was quite smitten with Bandit when my aunts adopted their long-haired tabby. Brenda started telling me about a breed of cat who look a lot like Bandit but a whole lot bigger (she was a wisp of a thing): the Maine coon. I started to research the breed…in no time, I was hooked.

They were said to be affectionate, gentle giants with kitten-like playfulness that lasts into adulthood. Sophie is a dog in cat's clothes, just what I was looking for. Nick likes to rub that bit in when I am frustrated up to my eyeballs with the fuzzy thing doing her best to trip me, winding through my legs as soon as I walk through the door. She stands on her back paws with her front paws on my leg to beg me to stop and love her, and i just cannot resist that vulnerable "You're my everything" look she has in her eyes.

So was the case when the picture above was taken. It was one of the first truly beautiful Saturdays of the year, so Nick and I took advantage of Mother Nature's gift with a hike. We came home, showered, redressed, and drove to a friend's house where we spent several hours. When I walked into the living room after, it was a full-on Sophie assault. If she had been a dog, she would have knocked me over in her excitement to have us home.

We found ourselves nodding all the way through the breed characteristics in the video below when we saw it on TV—though when they talk about size, they're only talking about males (females have smaller frames, but still bigger than other breeds). Sophie would probably need help rolling over if she weighed 25 pounds. We find ourselves very lucky to have a dog who poops in a box.

And now: the rest of the story.
(Thank you for letting me borrow your line, Paul.)

Quick recap of the last bit of nonsense:
We get grumpy. We do fun things to not be grumpy. A concert is a fun thing that we did. I don't have fun when I don't sleep. We scheduled vacation for the day after the concert (to sleep for fun). But really, our wasted day off promised loads of un-fun. Nick: "Let's go to Chicago!" Not to get ahead of the story, but that was pretty fun.

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It's amazing that I can actually be concise when I try, isn't it?

The first trip I ever took with Nick was to Chicago. There are three very prominent memories from that trip, and sadly they're probably not the ones Nick was hoping we would take away.

1. It was cold…as in record-breaking cold…as in the coldest cold snap of the entire winter. We walked from Starbucks to Starbucks on the way back to our hotel so our faces wouldn't harden and shatter in the bitter wind. I don't think we've ever attempted going anywhere during February since, come to think of it.


2. We were so ill. The bathroom was never unoccupied, we'll say it that way. I think it was a mixture of the extreme temperature changes we put our bodies through going in and out of the cold as we did and the massive amounts of rich Starbucks coffee drinks we used to bring heat back into our bodies. Totally the romantic weekend he planned.


3. Nick was dejected that he couldn't get tickets to see BB King who was performing at the House of Blues. He beat himself up for weeks leading up to the trip because he thought he should have researched the trip sooner. Actually, I remember that I thought he was so frustrated that he wouldn't be able to enjoy the trip at all.

Nick told me that Chicago was on me this time. You see, Nick does nearly all the vacation activity planning. He wishes I would take over more, but the thing is that we approach vacation differently. I see it as a time to do nothing. He sees it as a time to do everything that we can't do at home. Vacations exhaust me, and isn't that just the most counterproductive thing you've ever heard? Well anyway, I the weekend in the palm of my had, and I planned exactly two activities and two things only. I immediately slotted Saturday to the Planetarium because we've been wanting to go. And with a little help from Google…

…I discovered that BB King was in town again, and tickets were still available. (I figure that catching his performance was only six years in the making.) BB King is velvet to my ears. His voice sounds like it could have come from an old recording—still as clear and soulful as ever—but it was his personality that I fell in love with. His stage presence felt like a companionable conversation with an old friend, the kind of conversation that keeps the smile plastered on your face long after talking has ceased.



So, I started writing this post two days ago, but my social agenda got in the way—hey, it happens. Since this current bout of insomnia still hasn't let up (in day three), I decided to finish this up instead of staring at the dark ceiling any longer. In reviewing pictures to share here, it seems that most of the photos I took over the weekend are in portrait orientation instead of landscape; it's usually the other way around. I am always enthralled with the ball buildings in Chicago. I'm used to looking up and seeing sky instead of the latticework of masonry and steel…tall photos for tall buildings, I guess!



It seems so simple, but viewing the world as if I am framing a photo makes everything so much more special—just like blogging makes little moments of my life more memorable because I am sensitive to the stories as they unravel. The stress of life simply melts away as Nick and I walk together down the city streets. We watch the parents and children, the lovers and friends, and it's clear that life is pretty wonderful.

Nick and I both have a tendency to bring work worries home. We don't take the stress out on each other per se, but I cannot deny the taciturn coexistence that settles over the evening every now and then. Since work is so heavy during the week, we try to have fun once the weight lifts for the weekend. We schedule a few weekend getaways every year to enjoy life with each other—we went to Chicago last weekend.

We typically visit Chicago every year but missed the trip last year for some reason. (I think the problem was that we stayed in Schaumburg and got all snagged up in IKEA…I don't think we had much of a budget left to hit The Magnificent Mile!) I love going to Chicago for a couple days, but I'm always ready to come home. I can't live with that level of frenzy around the clock!

This year's trip was inspired by Elton John tickets. I think you probably know by now that I am a huge Elton John fan. Levon gives me chills every time I hear "He was born a pauper to a pawn on a Christmas Day…" It holds a certain Cat's in the Cradle-esqueness for me…the reminder to pay attention to the important things before it's too late. Anyway, Nick brought it to my attention as soon as the tour stop in Madison was announced…despite the fact that he's rather indifferent to Sir Elton's music. That's love, folks.

He even took some video with his phone:



Since the concert was a Thursday night and I'm old (read: I need much more sleep to function), I scheduled vacation for the next day. I wanted the day off solely to sleep in, but the rest of the vacation day was going to be a bit of a waste…so why not go to Chicago for the weekend instead? Why not indeed.

Do you think I can link out to much more in this post? I think that's a sign of the ADD taking over, so I'll have to continue this story another day. For now, I can tell you that I absolutely loved seeing Elton John again…and I will go to his concerts as often as I can. I am so awed by his talent. If there was just one thing I would go back and change in my life, it would be that I give more of my young life to learning how to make music. Since I cannot go back, I deeply, deeply appreciate those who can.



Is it ever too late to learn?