Lydia exploding from her carrier at the shelter

On Wednesday my husband and I visited a shelter run by Toronto Animal Services to look at the kittens available for adoption.

The closest, the South Region centre, was difficult to reach due to blockades set up for the Indy races which were happening that weekend. After circling the centre for close to half an hour, we approached some service people who let us walk across the track, dodging giant beer trucks, trucks with construction and other dubious materials.

We eventually made it of course.

We’d checked online to see what was available, and to me this little kitten looked like the cutest thing ever, and in person she turned out to be even sweeter, climbing on my shoulder, nuzzling and licking my ear. How could I not fall in love? Continue reading »

I’m still struggling to get into a routine. How do proper writers do this?

Last week my available working hours were reduced due to recovery time required by my surgery. However, I did send out a short story submission, and submitted three poems to another literary magazine.

Friday I felt most productive. Partially inspired by a dream,⁽¹⁾ I woke up early and wrote. I managed 1100 words before I even thought of coffee. I’m immensely and unreasonably proud of this.

I wrote a little more during coffee (another 400 words), and I’m continuing to work on it and shape it into something proper. So far, I like it.

For the pseudo long weekend myself, my husband and another friend made the trek up north to my parents’ cabin, Wild Wood, in the North Kawarthas Friday night. I thought I’d get more done there, but mostly we read, drank, and generally hung out in the heat. Bit of a swim in the lake.

I had a good time, and came away from it with plenty of mosquito bites, but I didn’t write a word while I was there.

Today’s my birthday. Celebrations won’t be as frivolous as last year, we’re on a smaller budget now, but it’s been a good day. I haven’t yet decided where we’ll be going for dinner, but I’m guessing it will be somewhere Italian.⁽²⁾

I’m proud that I’ve committed myself to doing something that I love, but I don’t feel like I’m getting enough done. I’m still learning what it means to be self-employed, still working on what it means to be a grownup, and making it up as I go along.

Footnotes:

1. A high tech toilet, of all things. It doesn’t feature heavily in the story, but it kind of inspired it. [↩]
2. We live in the Corso Italia neighbourhood in Toronto. [↩]