Autumn update
Thursday, September 13th, 2007 04:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
joyfinderheroHalfpast September, or nearly.
Outside my bedroom window three brilliant red leaves flash like warnings in an otherwise verdant forest. Nothing shriveled yet, and no more downed leaves than left by any passing windstorm ... but still. Like the 60-degree morning, a sign that Autumn is approaching.
When I left New Jersey a month ago it was high summer, and in Florida the weather was the classic summer weather of my Connecticut childhood -- 90-degree days, 83-degree nights, mild daily thunderstorms overhead, actual rain every third day or so. Now that I've been back in New Jersey a week it feels like Fall snuck up when I wasn't looking.
MinervaCat continues serene and patient. During the three-week absence of both her Owned Human (me) and That @#$! Dog (Tammerlin) she moved back into the house, snoozing on couch and ottoman and chair arm, eating at leisure in the corner of the kitchen floor, lazing stretching out in the sun, sleeping at the feet of whatever human is handy at 3 am. When I arrived home Wednesday night, she greeted me warmly but without great enthusiasm ... and then followed me into my bedroom, where she took a whiff of the dog crate and looked me in the eye as much to say "You think I'm sleeping in here with that thing!?" And indeed, though she cuddled often during the evening, when it came time for bed she slept somewhere else.
Friday morning I went and picked up the dog. MinervaCat heard the scrabble of nails on the floor and moved at once back into the second floor, from which she emerges to go straight out the door. But this time, whenever the dog is Out, or Locked in her Crate, the Cat moves speedily back into possession.
All weekend this has looked like a permanent stalemate, the stairs being a demilitarized zone to rival Korea.
But this afternoon I heard canine whining from the front hall. Tammerlin stared up at Minerva, who looked down from halfway up the stairs. They were just looking, with no more than the whine of the dog's frustration, until I showed up -- then the dog barked and the cat lazily stalked away up the stairs.
Next time I'll leave them alone. Perhaps they'll arrive at detente, at least.
My restlessness continues. Finishing one semester at Cherry Hill and in the same breath starting the next, neither class has quite the amount of discussion I feel like reading, not quite enough to sink my teeth into, write a cogent or profound response to. I've homework for the new class that I haven't done yet, but because it's private -- e-mail to the prof only, don't post for the whole class to read -- somehow it feels different. How quickly I've acclimated to doing all my work in public, after a whole two courses in that style.
Cherry Hill has just formally announced a Chaplaincy program, so this first survey course is merely the harbinger of things to come. In many ways chaplaincy is work I've been preparing for all my life, so I'm thrilled and eager. And perhaps a bit overwhelmed. We're starting with talking about chaplaincy in prison -- and my three experiences of bailing people out of county jail were well past intimidating enough for me. Am I really up for this?
Outside my bedroom window three brilliant red leaves flash like warnings in an otherwise verdant forest. Nothing shriveled yet, and no more downed leaves than left by any passing windstorm ... but still. Like the 60-degree morning, a sign that Autumn is approaching.
When I left New Jersey a month ago it was high summer, and in Florida the weather was the classic summer weather of my Connecticut childhood -- 90-degree days, 83-degree nights, mild daily thunderstorms overhead, actual rain every third day or so. Now that I've been back in New Jersey a week it feels like Fall snuck up when I wasn't looking.
MinervaCat continues serene and patient. During the three-week absence of both her Owned Human (me) and That @#$! Dog (Tammerlin) she moved back into the house, snoozing on couch and ottoman and chair arm, eating at leisure in the corner of the kitchen floor, lazing stretching out in the sun, sleeping at the feet of whatever human is handy at 3 am. When I arrived home Wednesday night, she greeted me warmly but without great enthusiasm ... and then followed me into my bedroom, where she took a whiff of the dog crate and looked me in the eye as much to say "You think I'm sleeping in here with that thing!?" And indeed, though she cuddled often during the evening, when it came time for bed she slept somewhere else.
Friday morning I went and picked up the dog. MinervaCat heard the scrabble of nails on the floor and moved at once back into the second floor, from which she emerges to go straight out the door. But this time, whenever the dog is Out, or Locked in her Crate, the Cat moves speedily back into possession.
All weekend this has looked like a permanent stalemate, the stairs being a demilitarized zone to rival Korea.
But this afternoon I heard canine whining from the front hall. Tammerlin stared up at Minerva, who looked down from halfway up the stairs. They were just looking, with no more than the whine of the dog's frustration, until I showed up -- then the dog barked and the cat lazily stalked away up the stairs.
Next time I'll leave them alone. Perhaps they'll arrive at detente, at least.
My restlessness continues. Finishing one semester at Cherry Hill and in the same breath starting the next, neither class has quite the amount of discussion I feel like reading, not quite enough to sink my teeth into, write a cogent or profound response to. I've homework for the new class that I haven't done yet, but because it's private -- e-mail to the prof only, don't post for the whole class to read -- somehow it feels different. How quickly I've acclimated to doing all my work in public, after a whole two courses in that style.
Cherry Hill has just formally announced a Chaplaincy program, so this first survey course is merely the harbinger of things to come. In many ways chaplaincy is work I've been preparing for all my life, so I'm thrilled and eager. And perhaps a bit overwhelmed. We're starting with talking about chaplaincy in prison -- and my three experiences of bailing people out of county jail were well past intimidating enough for me. Am I really up for this?
