Life is change, adjustments, and learning to be OK with them. When the change is entirely voluntary, you feel guilty getting cross about it. Such was the case last night after a long day of being clawed and bitten in play. How do you train a kitten not to act like a kitten? You allow some of it, and whip out a spray bottle of water for the particularly rambunctious times. When you see that the kitten has found a circuit that he likes to run in a room, and anything that’s in the way be damned…you adjust.
I felt like a really bad mother last night. In the light of a new morning, with 2 cups of coffee working their magic and a kitten sleeping on my foot as I type, I see more clearly. Plus, kittens are hilariously springy, bouncing back from adversity in a manner that humans can only hope for. He may not understand why I get cross, but he’s still passing out on top of me in the evenings while I wind down with TV. No permanent damage.
“Haha, you can’t stay mad at me, I’m cute!”
Sunday I woke up with tasks in mind and more than a little energy to complete them. I worked Saturday, and it dragged, so I was determined to get a couple of things accomplished on Sunday. There are waffles in the freezer now, fresh bread in the cupboard, and cookies for the week. The garden got some much-needed attention, and afterward, I treated myself to a bath and mani-pedi. When I let myself relax and tend to things I enjoy, the ripple effects are awesome.
The garden…oh, the garden. I have so much to learn. I hate thinning seedlings, and the result showed itself rather mightily this June. I let the garden go for most of the month of June, not doing anything other than watering, and the result was crowded, leggy tomatoes and peppers (offering the fear that only half of them will actually bear fruit) and crazy long potato stalks. I transplanted half the peppers into their own pots, and was forced to pull quite a few tomatoes. Making that decision when the plants are bigger is a little easier; you’re better able to eyeball who’s got a chance and who would only be sucking life out of the stronger stuff by sticking around. Still, it feels like throwing away food.
I staked all the tomatoes and the basil. and as I look at what I’m growing, it’s nice, and an improvement over last year, but all I want is more. More pots, more soil, more room. There are three fresh packets of seeds that haven’t made it into the soil yet, and there’s still stuff missing that we’d like to be growing, both for medicinal purposes or teas. With a kitten in the house, starting stuff inside may be plain illogical, so I’ll journal what we have, what we want, and make plans instead.
Such is the life of a shorter growing season. It’s the only thing I miss about Florida, and I couldn’t make decent use of it when we lived there anyway. With a west-facing porch, you could practically hear the plants gasping from the heat of the sun in the afternoons. Here, I’m rearranging stuff more, again, so the full sun plants actually get some in the mornings when the daystar cuts in through the canopy. But the days here are mid-80s with 50% humidity. To walk outside and not feel suffocated…it’s an exquisite relief that I’m still drinking in.
A couple of blog posts rang true this morning. Nourishing Days talks about the balance of effort with reward. Shannon Hayes talks about radical homemaking from a debt perspective, how it’s a personal choice whether to seek the quest in a debt-free model or take on a mortgage and all that entails. That too is a balancing act that must be looked at with a long eye. I’ll be rereading both of those posts this week, as I begin a true budget and lay out what that’s going to entail. How we must stop treating ourselves to dinners out (and in my case, Starbucks), how carefully we’re going to need to study purchases to determine if they are needs or wants, so that we can chip away at the tax debt and move forward. I plain don’t make enough right now for that scenario to bear fruit, but I think with some changes and hard work, it’s possible.