Category Archives: Life

She was indeed a beautiful girl, our Bonny Lass

By Life

On Halloween, we said our tearful goodbyes to our sweet Bonny Lass.

We knew when we adopted her that she had cancer, and a recurring one. She had a life expectancy of two more years. She’d had one surgery so far, and went through four with us. The last one, she didn’t recover as quickly from, and we decided that was it, plus the cancer was growing underneath the muscle, a much more invasive surgery.

We adopted her and her bonded pal, Hamish, in February 2019, after Ken finished chemo but before surgery to clean out the rest of his tumors. We’d seen the cats on the shelter’s website, but didn’t know about Bonny’s cancer until we met her. It seemed like a sign. She needed a loving home to live out the rest of her days, and that was something we could give her.

She was never a lap cat, our sweet bonny girl, but she loved being next to you and getting scritchies. Sometimes she made biscuits with all four paws, she was so happy. If you stopped, after a few moments you’d feel a gentle touch on your arm, and look over to see her sea-glass-green eyes wide and questioning. Excuse me, I’d like more scritchies, please. And we could never deny her.

She lasted seven months longer than the expected two years, and we were grateful for every day. Even when the horrible tumor was so large it made me sick, she didn’t seem to care. She ran back and forth at meal times in anticipation of food, jumped up on chairs and my desk, and in her few months thought the back of my reclining writing chair was the best place to perch.

Then on Halloween night, she didn’t eat her supper, and when I went to check on her, she was breathing heavily.

I always promise my cats that when they’re too tired or too much in pain to go on, to tell me. That I didn’t want to say goodbye, but I would because that was what they needed, and they’d always, always live in my heart.

She had that look in her sea-glass-green eyes.

And so we let her go, and she’s now free of cancer and frolicking and making happy biscuits with all four paws. No matter how much it hurts—saying goodbye to her, missing her her peeps and purrs—that makes me smile through my tears.

Bonny Lass
Feb 2011 – Oct 31, 2021

Thank You. Really.

By Life

I know this is belated, but I’m finally at a point where I can pull myself together and say it:

Thank you.

No, really, thank you.

Thank you for your words of comfort. Thank you for the cards, calls, texts, emails, and Facebook comments. Believe me, I read every one, often more than once, even though I didn’t have the time or energy to respond.

Thank you from the depths of my heart. Even a quick note helped, even just a heart or a hug. I felt as though there was a web of love around me, holding me up, reminding me of the best of the world—even when there’s darkness to navigate through, love is the light that illuminates the way.

Keep that light shining, y’all. When I needed it, you were there for me. Goodness knows the world needs it.

Loss, love, grief, hugs

By Life

My life is strange right now.

Things changed quickly, but yet not.

My sister Debi had been in care since her aneurysm in 2010. She’d been having other health problems, and was in the hospital various times over the past year. The last few times, I was ready for The Call. In April, there it was. My heart aches from missing her, from not doing better for her, but her life was pretty shitty and I’m glad she’s free. She loved butterflies and the color blue, and always asked me for a Styx shirt, and I have a blue butterfly Styx shirt sitting in my office that I never got to give her.

My mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in late November last year. She wanted to make it to her youngest granddaughter’s wedding in late June. She wasn’t able to, but she saw pictures. She opted for hospice, and was in an amazingly wonderful hospice house for a couple of days. The last thing I said to her was that we all loved her, we knew she loved us, and we would miss her terribly, but we wanted her to be at peace when she was ready.

I got that call at 1 a.m. Saturday. I was still up, talking to my niece Baylee. I knew what they were going to tell me, but I still automatically asked first how the woman on the phone was. I’m still…I don’t know. Not numb. Just largely calm. I imagine I’ll fall apart at some point. Right now, my mom’s sheets are in the washer, I’ve cleaned out her office, Ken’s going through her paperwork, etc. And I’ve even been getting some work done.

My family, already small, just got smaller.

But it also got bigger.

My oldest niece, Megan, has three kids. I’d only met the oldest as a baby. She’s seven now, and has two brothers. They’re staying at my sister Donna’s place for a few days, and I got to meet the kids. By the end of the evening, I was snuggled under a blanket with them, reading to them. Their hugs are the best.

I just don’t get any more hugs from Debi or Mom.

I can’t tell Debi I learned the Welsh word for butterfly (pili-pala). I can’t ask Mom for details about a scrapbook of photos I haven’t yet scanned.

They know they were loved, though, and will always be missed.

Debi Lynn Dermatis Bruno, February 9, 1957 to April 13, 2021

Joan Marilyn Loewen Dermatis, March 6, 1932 to July 3, 2021

 

Three Adults, Six Cats, One Hotel Room. What Could Go Wrong?

By Life,

aka Real Ice Storms Are Not Like the Movie

At 11 p.m. Friday night, February 12, we lost power.

In bed, I listened to ice sliding and branches breaking and crashing to the ground. Saturday morning, we discovered our maple tree had split and part of it had fallen over my car—over and around, but not on, so thankfully there was no damage. Ken hacked that part of the tree up so we could get out and made sure nothing else had fallen dangerously.

By midafternoon, we were pretty cold, I was worried about the cats, and PGE’s estimate for power on at that point was Tuesday night (I think). So we packed up three people and six cats into my car and slowly, carefully crawled over the ice- and snow-covered freeway to Vancouver and a hotel. (The rules say two cats, but we decided that meant two cats per person. Sshhh!)

The cats did great, really. I think they liked having us in sight all the time. Clara, Hamish, and Bonny Lass were the bravest; Floyd the most nervous—but he dislikes feet and panics at loud noises, so the fact that he came out on the second day and played zoomies with Hallows at midnight each night was wonderful. (The Lodger did not appreciate it the first night when they were sleeping and Hallows parkoured off their pillow.) Although we panicked one day because we couldn’t find him, until Ken realized there was a sag in the box spring that peeped when he poked it.

There was a second ice storm Monday night and Ken and I went home Tuesday to pick up a few things and make sure nothing else was damaged. Another part of the maple had fallen on the enormous temporary (ha!) ugly yellow storage tent (think pop-up carport, only with walls), denting some of the metal supports inside and punching a small hole in the roof. Now there’s a nice blue tarp over it, just charming.

I was fine staying in the hotel: I had heat, power, Internet, my husband, and my cats, as well as a small fridge and microwave. I could be comfortable and eat warm (although not necessarily healthy) food. But the Lodger was antsy (they’re basically a Hobbit and needed their hole to recharge) and Ken wanted to Solve the Problem, so Wednesday he rented a generator, he and the Lodger set it up, and he came back to the hotel to take me and the cats home.

Not long after I got home that afternoon, the smoke detector in my office began explaining in a calm female voice that she had detected carbon monoxide and mildly suggested I remove myself.

(If you’ve watched Red Dwarf, the announcement was at about the same urgency as Holly announcing an emergency.) Long story short, having the generator in the garage, even with the door open (and a breezeway between the garage and the house), sent carbon monoxide into the house. We opened all the windows (just after the house had finally warmed up!), moved the cats downstairs with us, and the Lodger and Ken moved the generator to the driveway and covered it with our SCA (modern) day shade and then chained the Lodger’s car to it so nobody could steal it.

Then Ken went off to try and buy a generator while the Lodger and I sat bundled up and covered in the garden room until the warnings stopped. Ken failed to find a generator to buy but brought us dinner, so that was a fair trade. The next day, he drove two+ hours north into WA to buy one, brought it back, and swapped the two over. The new one was big enough to also power the hot water heater, hurrah! It’s called the Predator 9000, which I must say in a WWE voice, “PREDatorrr nine thousand…thousand…thousand…”

That afternoon he helped the neighbor’s tree guy with chopping down more of our maple (some of which had ended up on the neighbor’s roof). That evening he and I drove back to WA to return the rented generator (yeah, about a five-hour trip, but I’m always happy to hang out with my beloved, and he’d done the drive enough on his own so this way I could help).

Power came back on Friday night, February 19, a few hours’ shy of a week of it being out. Internet finally came back Sunday night. My heart went out to people with small kids, sick or caring for the sick, and/or didn’t have money for a hotel. Thankfully, our community had members who made extra food, welcomed people to come charge their devices or take showers, took others in, etc., and that makes my heart glad. People also took pizzas and burgers to the line workers (I believe there were about 3000 in the entire Portland area, some of whom came from other states), which was awesome.

So that was our adventure for a bit over a week. There’s more, about downed limbs and several fence sections down, but that’s for another day. I wrote most nights, and was able to start a copyediting job even without Internet (I could double-check things on my phone or iPad). And now we own a generator for the next emergency, may it not be for many years!

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Goose, 8/1/02–5/5/20

By Life

On Tuesday, we said goodbye to our beloved elder cat Goose.

All cats have personalities, and I don’t use this word lightly, but Goose…Goose was unique.

On the day she adopted him, his former guardian had visited the Spruce Goose, hence his name. He was a bottle baby, and he never stopped being a kitten. His greatest joy was rubbing his face against yours, just as a kitten rubs his face against his mother’s, or smushing his nose against your neck (or trying to shove it in your ear or up your nose) while he kneaded and purred.

When my friend, his former guardian, said that she had to give him up, at age 15, I said there was no way I will allow this cat to go to a shelter. I contacted local friends to see if any of them could take him, but no one could. So it fell to us to take him in.

Little did we know how Goose would change our lives.

It took a while to integrate him with our other cats at the time, Clara and Max.  They were friends and not entirely happy with a new arrival, especially since Clara is deaf and didn’t understand this new obsessive snuggler.

Because Goose was a snuggler. His happiest place was in your arms so he could commence with the face rubbing. I had to buy a baby sling to hold him while I worked at a standing desk, because otherwise I had to hold him in one arm and try to work with only one hand.

He would crawl under the covers and stick his face out and snuggle against you, but his favorite thing was to curl up on the pillow next to you, noses touching. He would snuggle with Ken when we went to bed, and I would wake up with him snuggling with me.

Recently, he has been losing weight, and we’d been monitoring his kidney disease as well as his heart murmur for some time. We took him Monday to the vet, and his kidney failure was worse, so she sent us home with a bag full of fluids and needles and appetite stimulants and anti-nausea meds, etc. But it became clear that he was having more and more trouble walking, and although he snuggled with us that night, we knew.

I tell all my cats when they get older that I promise if they tell me they’re done, I will respect that and end their suffering. Tuesday afternoon, I lay on the bed with Goose, and he wasn’t really interested in face snuggles, but he kept turning his head to look at me, and I understood what he was saying.

I cradled him in my arms, the way he loved to be held, as we said goodbye and watched the light go out of his eyes.

Despite three other wonderful, magical cats in the house, everything feels quieter and emptier. My heart aches.

“And then he was gone,
and all the colors and the light of the day
crumbled and went out.”
(Tanith Lee)

From the Mixed-Up Files of Ms. Dayle A. Dermatis

By Life,

I’ve searched long and hard, high and low, for an organization system that works for me: One that incorporates my current/daily To Do list and one that reminds me of appointments/deadlines for the week and on that also gives me a place to put “do later” kinds of lists. One that incorporates my work life (which includes writing, publishing, marketing, and freelance work) and my personal life (home, errands, appointments, travel, you know). One that I can carry with me or otherwise have access to all the time.

I’ve tried lists, spreadsheets, day planners. Sometimes something works for a while and then doesn’t, which is perfectly normal, really. I’ve gone back and forth between things.

The longest-running has been two GoogleDocs pages, one for Today and one for Work to Do. These kind of morphed, but that’s essentially what they’ve been, with Today also including the next few days, plus a “later” list, yet Work to Do became the place I put the previous “today” lists (as “done” lists, plus any journaling I did) as well as another “later” list. Along with those, a Google Calendar for work and iCal (shared with Ken) for personal (which also included work travel).

It was just getting too unwieldly.

I’ve been reading about Bullet Journaling for a while now (I guess it became a thing about four years ago?) and even bought a gridded notebook to try it out. For months and months, I did nothing, even though the concept of Bullet Journaling made so much sense to me: a Today page, a This Week page, Monthly pages, pages for breaking down individual projects into steps (the steps that then can be moved to Today or This Week as needed), pages for Lists…. Finally I set up the first couple pages, using Post-It tabs for everyday things (writing time, supper) so I didn’t have to rewrite them.

And then…nothing.

I realized I hate my handwriting and I hate having to handwrite things other than jotting quick notes, plus since the advent of computers, my hand cramps if I write too long. (Hah! Tell that to the teenager who was writing pages and pages every day!) I still loved the idea of Bullet Journaling, just not the physical process.

Finally I twigged on the brilliant idea of searching online for “bullet journaling apps.” Presto whammo!

I decided on OneNote, since I already had it on my computer. Setting it up took longer than I would have liked, because whatever Microsoft account I used to have under my current email address, the password was lost in the mists of time. (To retrieve it, they wanted a shitton of information, including the zip code at which I was living when I set it up. Bahahaha!) So I set up a new account for work, and after a few hours of fiddling and researching and pounding my head on the desk, I got it to create a new Notebook and sync and all that jazz.

Since then, I’ve been having a blast setting it up. It has everything a Bullet Journal has, but electronically, and I can add pictures and arrows and whatnot (I haven’t, but I’ve added tables for calendars and a daily schedule, because oddly it doesn’t have any calendaring function, its only real downside). It syncs to all my devices. It’s, like, a miracle.

Much of what I’ve been doing is transfering notes, reminders, To DOs, and other ephemera into appropriate places in OneNote. Some of them aren’t organized at all yet; all I wanted to do was get them in there. To give you an idea of how scattered I was, here are places I had information to move:

  • GoogleDocs (the above-mentioned pages)
  • about 20 open Text files on my computer desktop (none of them saved)
  • about 10 Stickies on my computer desktop
  • various scribbled notes on my desk (I know I haven’t found all of them yet)
  • a ton of notes in the Notes app on my phone. Some kind of organized (one for TV and movies to watch, but not in any order; one for groceries I always buy when I go to Atlanta), others not so much (as in, a note from when I was hanging out with someone and in the course of the time together, that person recommended a TV show, a website, and a recipe for coconut milk in the InstantPot)
  • more open website pages and tabs than I want to admit to
  • more open website pages on my phone that I just realized were there, argh (still to do)
  • an old app we tried called Things, which was never as intiutive as I wanted it to be (still to do)
  • files all over my computer desktop (still to do)

I did the initial setup work over an afternoon, but since then I’m just spending a little time each day: organizing the TV and movies to watch (including where they’re located—streaming apps and DVDs and cable, argh!), adding notes from one source, etc.

And that pretty purple gridded notebook? It’s now going to be used for X Effect charts.

How do you keep organized? What are your favorite apps/tips? Is it “normal” or are you straight out of From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler?

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5 Things Make a Blog Post

By Life
  • I’ve been diagnosed with golf elbow. It’s like tennis elbow, except on the opposite side of the elbow. I have exercises and I’m going to PT, and I’m going to make an acupuncture appointment as well (which might help my tight jaw too). Yippie!
  • The mouse situation has increased. Remember when we discovered Bonny Lass the Mighty Hunter had killed a mouse in my office? Well, then we had one running around the garden room (aka our lodger’s living room), but then it decamped to our living room because that room is cat free. We finally did catch one (we assume the same one) in a humane trap in the garden room. We’ll see what the future holds, rodent-wise….
  • Speaking of furry creatures that are not our cats, we definitely have a skunk in our back garden or using our garden as a path. We have a sensor light outside the garden room door, and awhile back Ken swore he saw a skunk set off the light, then slip through the wrought iron gate to our breezeway (which leads to the driveway). Last night, the sensor light went on, and there was an utterly adorable skunk nosing about. It finally wandered through the gate. Goose was verrrry interested. And the next night? TWO skunks pootling their way in the opposite direction up into the back garden.
  • I’ve been reading a lot of good fiction and watching a lot of good TV. Between Netflix, Amazon, and the library, we really are in a golden age of fiction. Too many to recommend, since all of you probably have different tastes. Explore!
  • I’m closing in on finishing a novel! Very exciting! (At least for me.) I’ll be posting a teaser on for my Patrons soon.

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Holiday Reading

By Life, , ,

During the holiday season, as I decorate and make Grinch kebabs and Chex mix and sing holiday songs at the top of my lungs, I also have the tradition of reading certain books. Almost always, The Dark is Rising by Susan Cooper is one of them—if not the entire series. Some years I go to comfort books, often YA such as Narnia or A Wrinkle in Time, or to mythic fiction, such as books written by Pamela Dean and Terri Windling.

This year, I decided to finally read the entire Harry Potter series. Most of which I haven’t read before.

I imagine you’re shocked. I’ve seen all the movies, but I’ve read only a book and a half so far. In fact, I bought The Philosopher’s Stone when I lived in Wales, and the cover notes that it won the Triple Smarties Gold Award. (Smarties are roughly the British equivalent of M&Ms. No idea why they give book prizes.) Kinda before the whole mania happened. (And Philospher’s Stone is the only title as far as I’m concerned, because I don’t think Americans are too stupid to deal with it.)

Aaaanyway, back then I read it, and got halfway through The Chamber of Secrets before I…kept setting the book down and forgetting to pick it up again. This happened several times. It wasn’t a conscious action. Finally I figured out that there was a scene that annoyed me: Dumbledore asks Harry what’s going on and tells Harry that he can trust him, and Harry lies and says nothing’s wrong. Because if he told Dumbledore, the plot and book would end. Some friends have noted that Harry doesn’t trust adults because of his past, and I get that, but that’s not in the text. So my subconscious has always gone “Eh” and I’ve put the book down.

Interestingly, the scene didn’t bother me as much in the movie, but then I’m more trapped when watching a movie, and it wasn’t enough to make me throw up my hands and leave.

So I’ll power through, and continue on. Honestly? I’m really looking forward to it!

What do you like to read during the holidays? Any traditions?

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Scary boxes

By Life

I’ve had a box of office stuff in my writing office since we moved in. I knew it wasn’t crucial stuff, so it sort of sat in front of the antique wardrobe, getting shoved around as we needed to get to the window to put in or take out the AC, etc. The other day, I finally threw up my hands and took everything out of it. We’ve put a small bookcase in the wardrobe (eventually I’d like to have removable shelves that run the whole width), so I figured I could off-load stuff into there.

What I found was rather…interesting. Including…

  • An astonishing number of Post-It notes (various sizes, colors, etc.). I know I have a problem when it comes to office supplies, but seriously, I thought I’d unpacked all of these. Turns out, not even close.
  • A calculator. (Got one of those on my phone. Into the Goodwill box it goes.)
  • Amanda Palmer’s The Art of Asking. I thought I’d lost it. Hurrah!
  • Barbara Hambly’s Darwath Trilogy. Horrifyingly, I hadn’t noticed they were missing. Someone must have returned them after we packed the rest of the books to move.
  • An acorn front door knocker. I…can’t explain why it was in here. (Also, I’m not sure what to do with it. I don’t want to put it on the front door because then people will use it rather than the doorbell, and we can’t hear a knocker in the back of the house or upstairs. Hm…maybe on the door to my writing room?)
  • The hooks, etc., from the peg board we had in the kitchen of our last house.
  • The cardboard backdrop to our Narnia bookends. I confess I forgot about our Narnia bookends, because they still must be packed away somewhere. As the lodger and I are currently rewatching The Magicians, my need to find the Narnia bookends has now become a consuming flame in my soul.
  • A plastic envelope of magnets, decorative postcards, and other ephemera. I don’t even gave the energy to go through all that yet.

This is making me nervous about some of the other boxes we haven’t yet gone through….

What’s the strangest mix of items you’ve found in a box after you’ve moved?

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Farewell, sweet Max

By Life

When we adopted Max last year, we knew he had renal disease. He was estimated to be about six years old, and we’d had previous cats with renal disease who lived to ripe old ages, so we weren’t terribly concerned. Then our vet noticed a heart murmur. Again, we’d had a cat with renal disease and a heart murmur.

But a little over a month ago, when I took him to a feline cardiologist, we got bad news: it was full-on heart disease, and his left ventricle was quite enlarged. (In some ways, maybe not a surprise—we knew had had a big heart.) The problem with heart disease and renal disease is that the treatments contradict each other. Unless it was a dire emergency, we couldn’t even have him anaesthetized (which meant no teeth cleaning, despite his stinky breath).

Around the same time, he got more finicky about food, eating less and less until, despite being excited about the prospect of food, he’d just sit in front of the bowls. Last week, I took him to the vet, who said perhaps it was the renal supplement (which is a powder mixed with his food), plus the renal diet, which is particularly bland. He chowed down on a different food at the vet, so we picked some of that up.

We were out of town for five days (helping my mom move into her temporary condo), and came home Monday to realize Max was in bad shape. Because our cat sitter had said he was still turning his nose up at food (although she’d tempted him successfully with some tuna, bless her, because she was worried, too), I’d already made another appointment for him.

Yesterday, they did blood tests, and the news was shattering. His renal levels, which were only slightly elevated in December, were now through the roof. Giving him fluids would put him into heart failure. There was only one option.

I brought him home, cuddled him as best I could with him feeling the way he did. He napped a little with his head resting on my hand. He purred a tiny bit. I told him how handsome he was, how sweet he was. I praised him for always coming to see what was wrong when Clara miaowed, for being his deaf friend’s protector (even when she clearly could hold her own). I thanked him for his purrs, for making biscuits on my belly.

Ken came home, and we took our darling boy back to the vet, and we said goodbye.

Farewell, sweet Maximus Cattius, Maxamillion Purrs, you of the giant heed and the tiny peeps and the magnificent ruff and proud fluffy pennant of a tail. I know the gods have ushered you on your way, and you’re playing and purring and have probably found another companion to protect. You’re in our hearts forever and ever.