will work for keys

About once a month I volunteer at the local C.G. Jung Society Library. In exchange for my time here, I get a key. That key allows me to get in to the library anytime the building is open. The library is only open three hours a week on Saturdays, so the key is quite handy. If I am writing a paper and need a copy of a particular book, I can always drive over here and have the book I need in about 15 minutes. Considering the books I often need are rather obscure, it is quite helpful to have access to the books in this library.

The library itself is a lovely little space in an an old school building, which is now the Good Shepherd Center. There are a few hundred books and almost all of them are relevant to Jungian psychology (I can see The Idiot's Guide to Dream Interpretation from where I sit, so there are some exceptions).

Today I spent my time shelving books and tidying. I actually tidied quite a lot and am concerned that they won't be able to find anything now, but I couldn't help myself! Stop by if you ever find youself in Wallingford on a Saturday afternoon.

finger woes

Since my right hand is currently soaking in Epsom's salt, I shall keep this post brief. Suffice to say, I have a minor issue with my ring finger. I went to the doctor and ended up getting a tetanus shot as well. Ouch! The nurse did give me candy for being a good sport about it. I didn't feel like a good sport, but she said, "At least I didn't have to chase you with the needle!"

oh, deer

Today while looking out the window of my internship site, I saw a deer walking down the middle of the street. I was completely enthralled and walked along, watching the cars carefully drive around her, though without paying her much attention. They were probably more taken with the city girl who was watching the deer so intently. Concerned she might be hit by a car, I actually muttered, "Oh, dear" under my breath. :)

She was beautiful, graceful, and seemed right at home on this two-laned Port Townsend road. It seems that they wander around PT just as squirrels do in Ballard. Well, the deer don't climb trees and jump from the roof to the telephone pole, but you get the idea. They also chomp on the flowers in the yards and many PTers don't take as kindly to them as me. I suppose that I look at it a bit differently, though. I figure that she is probably wondering why they built all these houses on her property, actually. I felt downright lucky to glimpse her today.

cats

Lately I have had several cat losses in my life. Emily and Marty lost Ed rather unexpectedly. He was getting on in years and had health problems, but I don't know that any of us knew it had come to that until it happened. The other day I went to visit a neighbor and discovered that Oreo's tumor had grown back and it had taken over his tiny body and it was time to go. He was just nine, so that was an especially difficult blow. Another neighbor's Sebastian has been quite ill for over a month and the docs can't quite pinpoint what is going on. I'm not sure what is going on in the cat world, but it makes me appreciate my sweet Isabelle all the more. She's just nine and a half herself and luckily has never had so much as a cold. I look at her, curled up amongst the folds in my quilt and think how lucky I am that this sweet creature has embraced a life with me. It's not like she could go anywhere, but she certainly could choose to sleep elsewhere or to remain aloof, as many cats do. Instead, she is glued to me (rarely on my lap, but never far from my side). She knows my moods, often before I do and responds with affection, distraction or just plain old companionship. It may sound silly, but it is one of the rarest forms of unconditional love on earth. Animals are just like that, though. I have always known that. The picture is of Michael and me at about nine years old. He was a sweet Siamese cat that we had. Loud, but sweet. I'll try to get a picture of Isabelle up here soon, too. My little black snuggly beautiful kitty cat. What a sap, but I can't help it! :)

i love my pen

This evening I left work and had a weird feeling that something was missing. It was my fountain pen. I squirmed about on the bus, searching every pocket of my bag, my coat pockets, back through the bag...the poor woman beside me. I called a colleague who was working late and asked her to check my desk — twice — and another colleague's office. No dice. I was devastated. Might I have lost it on the stairs leaving the office? At the bus stop? I began to cry, right there on the bus. Not characteristic of me, but I realized in that moment how much I love that pen. The woman next to me, who had overheard the phone calls, offered her condolences. I thought, how could I have possibly lost my wonderful pen. I carry it around so much, I often refer to myself as Bob Dole.

A few minutes later I remembered that under my coat was a blazer with a pocket and I found it tucked inside. I was so happy, I nearly kissed it. The photo here is stock photography, but it will give you an idea of what it looks like. The pen itself is small and fits in my hand rather easily. It also has a case which is similar to a cigar case, with a swivel top on it. The nib is perfect and writes only intelligent, poignant thoughts. Everyone in this world should be so lucky to be in possession of the perfect pen. I hope you find yours.