Repair, Recycle (And Compost)

I’m mostly a dog person. I really really really like dogs. But right now I’m caring for and rustling my adorable cat “slob” Oliver (nods Audrey Hepburn and journo-comic John Oliver.)

Cat Oliver is happy, energetic and sociable.

But none of my dogs could climb bookcases, knock over lamps, dump make-up baskets, chew apart electrical cords, tear through the recycling box…as Oliver can. It’s like kid-proofing a house all over, and I’ve already done that, no mas with that.

A few weeks ago climbing Oliver knocked over the loved-it Chicago mug where I kept pens and pencils. Thought it out of reach but no. Smashed to pieces, could not be saved.

A few days ago more climbing Oliver swished to the floor a favorite candle holder. But this time I think I can repair it. Feels a little like Scott Fitzgerald’s famous cracked plate Esquire essay (though I without Fitzgerald’s writing talent). Will keep the fixed-up if now imperfect candle holder, and buy more candles. And the fixed-up, no matter if imperfect, or maybe because imperfect, is worth.

Oliver The Destroyer Cat also knocked off the shelf one of my little antique cordial glasses from New Orleans, a bit cracked now of course, but going to keep it. Imperfect now but still graceful.

Tonight washing up old cotton flannel sheets found in storage units. Could easily just toss out….but hater of waste, me, could not do. Just clean them there you go. (And, and, winter will get here, not so long from now, who knows when fresh cotton flannel sheets will seem something pretty good.)

Somehow with some divine intervention, maybe, the pothos plant I bought in (unbelievably) 2001 and which has moved a bit, still is alive, and still here.

I’ll get around to replacing the jade plants I bought at one of Austin’s sigh-worthy garden stores, but which I fatally did in on the balcony one too-hot Austin afternoon. And then take better care of the new ones.

Meanwhile the gorgeous red mums that I bought for my Father’s birthday will end up nourishing the forest trails at incomparable Allerton Park. My Dad would so like his love of gardening to keep going on in that good place.