Do It Right

In the 1950s a unique doll was created.  She had nondescript features, wispy hair with ragged bangs, and a tattered dress.  Her name was Poor Pitiful Pearl.

Celeste's predecessor was a foundling kitten named Pearl, after the doll, because she cried so piteously all the way home when I got her and her brother, Frank.

Just call me Pearl.  Don't get me wrong...I received wonderful, heartwarming phone calls from my Kids, even the one in Hawaii, and texts from family and friends.  Still, I spent most of the day indulging in a wash of self-pity.  Poor pitiful me.  "I can't do this.  I can't do that.  I miss,,,  I want... (ad nauseam)."  If you're going to do such a thing, do it right.  Finally, as these things do, the dark clouds in my mind parted and all the good times came flooding back and, believe me, there are plenty of those.

Ralph seems to be going through an emotional crisis of his own this morning.  He woke me way too early with gentle pats on my face, and he continues to pat me as I sit here, demanding attention in his own way.  I once had a cat, Victor, who would wake me by pulling my hair, sitting on my head, or licking my eyelashes.  Ralph's way is much better, but he's like a kid who keeps saying, "Mama-mama-mama," driving one to distraction.  Okay, he's on my lap now, seemingly content having gotten his way.

If I'm going to do anything today, it will be to count my many blessings, and I'm going to do it right.

Stay safe.  Be well.