Life and Pets

Here I am, again…

… here, in the “place” where I’m shuffling things around, deep in thought and emotion. I didn’t mean, “Here I am again, in my Blog…”, but that works, too.

I’m trying to make room, particularly for the new grooming table when it arrives.


Without intending to, I went on another voyage of discovery. This is a trip back through items I inherited from my stepmother’s workshop, and as an adjunct to that, a foray through many thoughts and at times, conflicting feelings. Some of the journey is fueled by scents that waft out of tool boxes and other containers; even though Myrtle has been gone for three years, I can remember the aromas of her home and jewellery-making stations, tools and equipment. A lot of the physical trappings are here with me, and I have yet to make very good use of even the BEST of the collection, which sparks some guilt and regret that I didn’t learn more jewellery making and lapidary by her side.

I was trying to sort things from a rolling tool chest that my clever stepmother designed and built all by herself. At first, I thought the task would be simple: I was going to consolidate everything into one smallish box, well labelled, and then part with the item of furniture. Will I regret getting rid of the rolling tool chest? I’d better ask family members first.

one of several drawers

one of several drawers

As I sorted, I chuckled to myself at the astounding collection. Myrtle, a child during the Great Depression, deliberately saved many things that the rest of us might view as garbage, and when a stepchild of any age has to go through it, one might not know what those things were saved FOR. This is especially because I didn’t learn very much about jewellery making. The scraps of emery cloth, sandpaper and carbon paper, specialized drill bits I “get”. Then Q-tips with no cotton ends, toothpicks of every issue you could imagine (round, flat, minty, bamboo), scraps of pantihose and other clothing, bits of putty and wax, incense and mystery substances are among the other things I’m finding. I discover that I am reluctant to throw out even the box lids and bottoms and pieces of cutlery drawer that these are sorted INTO, knowing they are vintage or even antique. Even one drawer liner is a vintage poster promoting a Calgary Stampede Queen from decades ago!

It is difficult to discard almost anything from the tool chest, so it won’t fit into a “smallish box”. I feel that sooner or later I will solve the mysteries, such as when I need, say, a miniscule screwdriver with a very specialized bit, for instance to fix a pair of eyeglasses. Or even a piece of jewellery! Twice in the last month I have cursed myself for having thrown away something; is it any wonder that I hoard things? Never mind… that is a huge debate, and there are many reasons to simplify and to get rid of extra “stuff”, knowing that you can replace what you need, including tools, screws, and the like. I am reluctant to discard the memories… and the scents.

Soon another cat will arrive for me to trim or shear short. I look forward to the appointment, but am worried that the barking at this place will upset the poor creature.

Now it’s afternoon, and “Dora”, no doubt named by children after Dora the Explorer, has arrived and gone home. I AM the “cat whisperer” this week, more by luck than by talent, as I have groomed two very patient kitties. I’ve been as creative as I know how.


Dora, angry at having Smokey nearby

a mat on Dora's back

a mat on Dora’s back

Dora composed

Dora composed

Love, Ann


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