If I ran the zoo

“Can I get a cat?” scrolling through the Craigslist feed, Anna looks up at her father. Switches her glance to me. Investigative journalism, smart. Interrogation, even wiser. She was feeling us out.

I adamantly said no. For 23 years I’ve been running a zoo. Every animal imaginable, small and sweet, has been a member of the family.

First it was Leo. For Emily. A rather cute guinea pig bought in Brooklyn. We took the subway there, from Manhattan. It was quite an adventure for a girl raised in the country.

A menagerie followed. I erected a wall at rats and snakes. I never gave in to Emily’s barrage of pleas and tears, which calmed my fears, but never her willingness to ask. The toughest I have ever been.

I once bought a pod of praying mantis to eat the “bad” bugs in the garden. My long days spent in the backyard had paid off. I was fortunate to witness their hatch. Whoever was the first one out, well, he was lucky. The charge afterwards was furious, each climbing over the brother. And sister. I believe I read they eat each other. I didn’t stay for lunch.

By August there were a few mature mantis stationed in the yard. I felt their eyes wherever I walked. It began to feel quite anxious in my other wise peaceful garden.

One summer evening, a mantis had climbed up to Luke’s bedroom window. I asked if he would like to invite him in, give Mr. Mantis a staycation in a bug cage. Luke agreed.

“Mom!” rang out. He was a frenzied mess. He couldn’t sleep. Those eyes. Now he knew how I felt, ever cautious, playing in my garden. Mantis can fly. And eat Hummingbirds. Oh my!

Anna had been struggling. Teenagitis was the worst for her. So it was to be, my husband agreed to another cat. We came back home with two.

Up next, how to choose a pet name.


Summer 2017

Toby is no more. We surmise, deceased.

Chester has runaway. More than once. We divorced. By mutual agreement he was adopted by our neighbor down the street.

And Louie? Louie is picking up these bad vibes from our faces. Sad news to be lived for days.

So, my Cat Life stories have come to a close. Rather quickly, I must add. Short notice these rambunctious brothers gave. Those two scraggly-wags had no manners.

(There may be a few memorial stories. But then, may they rest in peace. And me too.)

More than ordinary

all this blue-sits indoors-meaning to hide-the brighter doors…lift your eyes-another soul resides-smiles, says hi.

Norm’s Doors 2.0

Ascend (a photo challenge)


I would love to know what squirrels think, when they see a person walk by, who suddenly stops when they hear their chatter above; stop, dig, reach in, snap, stare and stare and stare. Move along… For any length of time, no doubt, that squirrel is surveying an escape route. But you must question why the squirrel said anything to begin with, if he did not want company?

Not to worry, I did not ascend that tree.


Looking for the ordinary. Well, in this case, you may not be equally satisfied, seeking the ordinary. Go for the extraordinary!!

Never buy a bottle of wine solely based on the admiration of the label or purchase cheese because it is on sale. There is really no reason to give this simple advice other than to save you from being disappointed.

I passed up the kung fu girl riesling (cute but…) and at the same moment, yearned precious time to make fresh mozzarella. Yes, i took a class. Yes, i have made it twice. The first time, the cheese did not melt adequately on the pizza, so the second time i made mozzarella, i made caprese. The cheese was damn delicious combined with basil, garden-fresh tomatoes, ripe and juicy!!

There is no moral of the story, per se, other than you should eat life and pour out your love…

Silently whispering

I have been hard pressed- trying to be my best. And in the process, lost all rest. 

Broken, storms erect a wall. Weak, utterly confused. Silent. The drums ever louder, marching to the beats, painful echoes I repeat. What is heard?

Look up! vultures. Masses circle, tease desires. Grotesque in cue. Addressed invitations to the vile.

Quiet! Please be still, my heart. Stop and play with me?

No, sings the chorus. Feeling satisfaction, cloaked with power.  Cuts deep. Power turns me on my head. Destroys what life remains, up ahead. Drains the blood.


The world drives me insane. I attempt to love it back. Erect it, place it back in orbit. Black. Not one person hears. Silently whispering. We fade.

Being Vulnerable

Is it better to get hurt and live or die and never be hurt? Ah! the joys of being an infp!

Some how, and please don’t ask me how, i stumbled onto this “who am i” path. Again. It’s not terribly wrong to want to understand, until this happens. You realize

#3. You find yourself thinking of the worst possible outcome that has a 0.00001% chance of actually happening.


or # 4. You go through moods of acting like a bossy, insensitive jerk, then minutes later, hate yourself and regret saying the hurtful things.

yep! So now I will have to go and hide, because after all…

#6. You have an endless supply of poetry, writing, and artwork that is probably REALLY, REALLY good, but you’re too afraid to ever share it with anyone.

And, sure i have shared plenty. I wouldn’t ever say it is really, really good. Maybe its mediocre at best. But damn, i have to get out of this shell. Some time. Now to find where i put those keys…

#10. Just because you don’t wanna party every night, doesn’t mean you’re not a lot of fun!

But I do!!! I just am afraid. Of you!

All above scenarios were found at personality growth. Now to go back into my grave. 👻👽🤕

Insert my daughters as the infj’s that they are and me, being the infp, and you will understand our relationships. A good reason my daughters think i’m a hurricane, tsunami, blizzard or whatever other storm exists. 🙀

Glad you stopped by. Thanks for reading. Luckily for me, you don’t really know who i am. ✌🏼J✍️