This is how Elliot saw me last night, wearing my light gray baggy pants and lighter gray baggy shirt, hand stitching some feathers to an owl. He said, "you look like a kung-fu master!"
And my ego got a little jolt...was he talking about my creative skills?
Nope. It was my ninja fashion sense for loose garments.
Last week, on a chilly Sunday morning, I walked into the living room in my big comfy robe with a cup of coffee. Elliot felt inspired to comment, "That's CLASSIC! You look like a professor. With that robe! Drinking coffee!"
I said, "Ummm, Elliot, I'm wearing a robe because it's cold this morning." To which he responded,
"Do people even wear those things anymore?"
Colder mornings are also arriving with new challenges unrelated to fashion. Like staring the car and hearing the desperate cries of a cat meowing loudly from the engine.
At the frantic "meeeeeeyowwwww!" I turned off the ignition and the meowing stopped. This meant two things: either the cat was able to make an escape, or worse...........
The worse was what I was imagining. Elliot and I called for our Annie cat, over and over, searching the yard with a prayer in our hearts. We also have five neighborhood cats who frequently visit. I sent a text to Richard, hoping that he would once again be my knight in shining armor and come home to open the hood of the car.
While I waited for his response, I told Elliot that we must think good thoughts. I reminded him that positive intention is a power you can use to help you through all of life's challenges. We prayed for Annie to be safe, then walked into the back yard and called. And called.
Wondering what all the fuss was about, our little black kitty popped out of her hiding place under the deck, pleased by our attention and in perfect condition.
Relieved, yet still needing to do the grocery shopping, I walked back to the driveway and told Elliot that I was still unable to drive the car. Could there be a mangled, dead cat wedged inside a fan belt?
He responded like some kid who just naturally grew up without my permission.
"Well, open the hood. I'll look inside."
At that moment, Richard called. I started bubbling and wubbling and whining about how much I did not want to open the hood, because the sight of an injured fur baby was going to turn me into a weak puddle, a mass of shaky, weepy, overwrought uselessness. I am a total wimp when it comes to injured and deceased pets. He said,
"Woman, open that HOOD. It is YOUR responsibility not to be afraid. Do not act afraid, do not put that irrational fear into our SON. Open the damn hood. There's probably nothing inside."
So, with shaky hands, I opened the hood. And Elliot peeked underneath.
The engine was clear.
We celebrated with doughnuts. I later asked Elliot why he wasn't afraid to look in the engine. He said, "well I was a little afraid to see a bloody, dead cat. But we had to do it anyway."