Eclipse fever.

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I’m so excited about the total solar eclipse on August 21st. I don’t know why I am so excited, but it might have something to do with the fact that the eclipse is happening, no matter who says what in a press briefing or in a tweet or in a Bullet Journal. It is science and it is happening.

I even put a sticker on my car.

Oregon eclipse love.

Oregon eclipse love.

If you won’t be near the path of totality, never fear! The eclipse will be live-streamed via NASA’s Eclipse Megacast. (I hope it lives up to that name.)

Fragility in fur.

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Zen, August 2017.

Zen, August 2017.

Born and forged in hothouse Alabama, Zen is a creature of heat. Throughout this week’s heat wave, she has sought out the warmest parts of our home. Like the corner of the eaves which — despite sounding like a place of great magical power in a children’s book series — is an infernal pocket of breath-sucking dryness. When not upstairs, Zen lounged on her heating pad during our 100°+ days.

I caught her once or twice splayed out on the wood floors, cooling herself off, but then she’d heft herself up and trek upstairs.

Stairs don't faze Zen, not even at 20. #tortitude

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This morning, the heat has let up a bit. Zen has found a patch of sunshine. In photos like this one, I can pretend I don’t see the gauntness that has partially deflated her football shape. Zen has always loved the heat, but now she needs it because she doesn’t have the padding that used to keep her warm. Kneeling before her, half-dappled in sunlight, I bury my face in her fur. She hooks one paw over my forearm and kneads, purring, while my fingertips graze the tiny ridges of her vertebrae. Maybe soon, I think, but not yet.

Not yet.

In the corner of the bookstore.

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I love going to Powell’s, especially for the moment when I’ve found a few books and I curl up in a corner somewhere to pore over my choices, to turn them over in my hands and see how they feel as orbiting objects in my small universe. This time it was a well-loved used copy of Truman Capote’s “In Cold Blood” and a well-liked used copy of Arundhati Roy’s “The God of Small Things”.

I don’t remember reading “In Cold Blood” although I find it impossible to have existed this long as a reader and writer without doing so. I definitely haven’t read “The God of Small Things” before now, but became curious after my mom sent me a sampling of Roy’s prose in a text message:

”The sky was thick with TV. If you wore special glasses you could see them spinning through the sky among the bats and homing birds—blondes, wars, famines, football, food shows, coups d’état, hairstyles stiff with hair spray. Designer pectorals. Gliding towards Ayemenem like skydivers. Making patterns in the sky. Wheels. Windmills. Flowers blooming and unblooming.”

Impossible to resist, as impossible as the corner of Powell’s in the Blue Room, near the local ‘zines, where all that potential and possibility rests on its haunches, ready to launch.

Powell’s Bookstore, Portland, Oregon

This week.

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Life

That was quite a week, wasn’t it? Someone’s been busy. All I did was go to work, get a haircut, and try not to lose my damned mind over every New York Times app notification. Even my trusty Lamy 2000 fell apart.

At least Zen has had a great week. In between “spa treatments” (read: subcutaneous fluids) she’s been hand-fed baby food and otherwise fussed over pretty much non-stop.

Work

For every task I completed, I added three more to my to-do list. And next week begins with catalog upgrades, which means downtime, which means falling even further behind. January: snowed under on both metaphorical and literal levels.

Media

I started reading again! Currently I’m alternating between Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me and Jen Sincero’s You Are a Badass.

FunkyPlaid and I watched an episode of Daredevil, but were too bored to continue. We moved on to Black Mirror, which is terrific but probably not the best thing to be watching at the moment.

Aurally, it’s mostly movie soundtracks and Jelly Roll Morton for me.

On the Internet

Ink o’ the Week

Noodler’s Ottoman Azure: deep sapphire blue with plenty of shading for capturing the nuances of melancholy.

Featured photo: the sign we put up in our yard.

This week.

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Life

If my life could be summed up in one emoji this week, it’d be 💩. I have been on hyper-vigilant poop watch for Zen, fretting over her lack of bowel movements, convinced that she would land back in the hospital. But Friday was a breakthrough day for Zen’s health, and as I write this she is back to her old, weird, snuggly, cantankerous, deeply loved self.

I do not have illusions about what all of this means in the long term; I realize that an elderly cat with chronic kidney disease has already gone through most of her nine lives. But for now, it is a reprieve, and in a darkened world it shines even brighter.

As for the rest … well, you read the news so you already know the “alternative facts”.

Work

As the snow piled up, so did my task list. Both melted a bit this week: RescueTime says I was 71% productive. It wasn’t a gratifying workweek, but I kept moving forward.

Media

It has been so long since I picked up a book that I may have forgotten how to read. Kind of ridiculous for someone who works in a library, but that’s how distracted and dismayed I have been.

TV is much easier to consume. FunkyPlaid and I finished watching Luke Cage and I’m already looking forward to the next season. We then watched Season 4 of Sherlock. Ugh, how disappointing! I don’t know what I wanted out of the last season but it wasn’t that.

I enjoyed two new albums, Violent Femmes’ We Can Do Anything and Austra’s Future Politics. Got a favorite Spotify playlist? Link it in the comments.

On the Internet

Stuck on a shop window in Northeast Portland.

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Ink o’ the Week

Noodler’s Apache Sunset: Red, orange, and yellow crackling flames of a fire on a chilly January night.