The male muse is an unaccountably rare thing in art.
Where does that leave female artists looking for inspiration?
~ Kate Christensen
Well, I’m a female artist currently working in close proximity to my male muse who is apparently lost in thoughts inspired by his whiteboard-muse. Inspiration comes in many forms.
Gotta respect the process.
Here are two cat butts
their feline heads gone missing.
Marcel gets between the camera and the bunnies.
Marcel just came in to check up on me and my novel.
He offered encouragement,
along with a gentle reminder that it’s getting close to his dinnertime.
“Why, yes. I did just lick sweaty post-run salt off you while you napped.
Is that a problem?”
But if you really want to learn about life, get a cat.
The way I think people should relate to animals is with a cat.
Because the world is his.
~ James Cromwell
Marcel looking past me on March 4, 2016
As I create this post, I’m perched on the edge of my chair so as to not interrupt Marcel’s nap. I briefly left the room and returned to find him curled up on the seat. The world truly does belong to him.
We moved into our home twenty years ago this weekend. We bought the house from the original owners and, in addition to the roof and walls, we also purchased a few furnishings from them. We still have one of the large braided rugs (the other three rugs have gone to the big loom in the sky), and it is way past due for retirement.
Over the years, six dogs, five cats, and four humans have walked on this rug (and that’s not counting the orginal owners’ years of use). I don’t even want to imagine what’s trapped between the braids. I very much want a new rug and have spent a huge amount of time searching stores and online for something decent that we can afford. I’ve already returned two (we also need to replace a tired wool rug in the living room) after the dye came off on our hands.
I realize that my rug search qualifies as a small-potatoes-problem, but that doesn’t stop me from wishing I could summon a Rug Fairy.
Yesterday I moved my writing desk from the living room into my weight room / standing desk room / ginormous whiteboard room. The animals are all a bit confused by the change, and are taking turns hanging out with me. Zoey and Emma were just underneath the desk where Zoey quivered in fright because of thunder while Emma slept on my feet.
This is Marcel from earlier in the day. Right after this photo was taken, he noticed his tail and started chasing it. Confession: I have yet to look away from a cat chasing his tail. I’m dialed into those feline hijinks for the duration, and will watch as long as the cat continues to act the fool.
The change in venue feels good for my writerly brain and psyche, but so far, the animal distractions are more than I bargained for.
In the last ten months, every house in our neighborhood got a new roof following a hailstorm last summer. In fact, roofers were working on a neighbor’s house minutes ago when the sky turned dark and another hailstorm blew in.
As Marcel watched, hail drifted up against the sliding glass door within minutes.
Here’s a view out the front window.
I’m very worried this storm just ruined all the new roofs. Again. I hope I’m wrong because otherwise there’s a whole lotta shingles headed for the landfill and a whole lotta hammering in our futures.