The Winds of Change

I realize that my last post was eons ago. 8 months ago in fact. I need to get better at this blogging thing. Time ticks away, sometimes it seems fast, sometimes it seems slow, but it keeps ticking.

The most life changing thing that happened was the “W” asked me to marry him (that was last August). It was a very romantic proposal. He took me to the Falls in Sioux Falls. Yes, there is an actual Falls in Sioux Falls. They were getting ready for their weekend laser show. Beautiful music flowed through the park with the background voices of falling water. The sun was setting giving the sky a beautiful orange glow. He took me over the bridge and to a nice spot away from everyone. He got down on one knee and took out the ring. I was so excited and happy that I think I interrupted his carefully thought out speech. I bent down and kissed him and said yes before he even got the question out. It was the loveliest moment of my life to date. The mood was perfect. We were on a island where only each other mattered. As I looked lovingly into his eyes and he into mine, our island vanishes due to a teenage kid in a golf cart telling us we had to move because that’s where the lasers are going to shine. *Sigh*, so much for savoring the romance. We left the park with the biggest smiles and love coming from us like rainbows and all the mushy stuff.

It’s been 7 months since that day. The wedding planning is going swimmingly and the only big thing we have left to do is find an officiant. I find that it is very easy to plan a wedding when there is a small budget. “W” and I believe that at 28, we’re a little old to be asking our parents’ to pay for our wedding and we’re splitting the cost between us. So far, we have been very good about staying on budget.

Now that we’re getting married, we have to live together. This means I have to start packing up things and make space for me in his house. No small feat, but I am winning small battles and will win the war. This also means that it’s time to sell the house. It will be going on the market next week and hopefully I’ll find a buyer soon. The listing price is less then I hoped, but I should break even if not make a little money. As long as I don’t have to pay, I’ll be happy.

I am ready to move on and start a new phase in life. I am almost done school and am starting to think about finding a job and a whole bunch of other adult things. I am eager as ever.

Another big change that happened just recently was that I lost my Cricket. Cricket was the most unique cat a person could have met. The summer after 8^th grade my mom took me to the local ASPCA. The previous year, we had lost both our big tom cats and she promised that come summer we could get a small, female kitty that would stay inside. The minute I got off the bus on the last day of school I asked if we could go the next day. (I probably demanded, but I’m a little fuzzy on that part). Off to the shelter we went. There were lots of cats but not many kittens. I remember looking around when this little grey paw reaches out and snags my shirt. I look and there are two kittens, one black and one silver tabby. I open the cage and play a bit with the tabby that was very personable. As I try to play with the black kitten, the tabby climbs up my arm and lays itself over my shoulder, purring like a diesel engine. I turn to my mom and say “I think I found the one”. The big issue, it’s a boy and his name is Crocket. Neither of us could resist though and we brought Crocket home as well as a lovely 2 year old Abyssinian mix. A week later we’re at the vet for the kitten check-up and the vet says “The first thing we have to do is an administrative sex change.” My mom and I just stare at each other, confused. Turns out, Crocket is a girl. The shelter misidentified her. Crocket was not a girl’s name but we’d been calling it that for a week. So I made a vowel change deciding Cricket was close enough. Cricket was my girl. She was loving and feisty all at the same time. In her old age, she was the quintessential cranky old lady. Cricket would have been 15 years old this coming April. Not bad for a shelter cat. I told her she had to live forever, but she didn’t listen. Just like the independent cat she was.

That’s it for this post. I will try to be more regular with writing. Perhaps a tidbit here and there supplemented with a few stories. Right now, a crock-pot chicken with fingerling potatoes is calling my name.