Thursday, November 26, 2015


I've never been especially religious, but it's hard not to look at some of what I've went through in the last year or so in anything other than spiritual terms. If a cat has nine lives, then I must be a cat. There's nothing in my rational computer science vocabulary to express the feeling of good fortune beyond measure that I probably haven't deserved. It's really as simple as that.

So, on a day that Americans are supposed to reflect on their good fortune, it's hard not to feel blessed to have genius-rock-star siblings like I have, and four little healthy Chihuahuas to keep me from getting bored. My own little studio apartment with wheels. A few bucks in the bank. The other day I saw something out of the corner of my eye stuck to my left arm. It turned out to be muscles. Apparently I don't look at myself in the mirror. Three months of lifting weights, and I not only made up for the lost muscle mass on my left side because of the neck injury, but I have more muscle mass on my upper body at 48 than I did at 28.

If I were a cat, I'd be on about my fifth life, and I have a new mantra for my latest incarnation:

We must all choose good pain or bad, and I'm choosing good pain. Zoey chooses pancakes.

Happy Thanksgiving

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