Winter retreat

We had a long weekend recently, and I used it as an excuse to schedule one of my weekend getaways. These are pretty easy to organize now - I just look for an Airbnb within driving distance of the city. They need to have a kitchen and accept dogs, and then I'm all set.  It doesn't really matter where I go, because there are always parks nearby far hiking. And since too many restaurants are a disappointment, I self-catered the trip. I've realized that I'm really just paying for the excuse to ignore all my household chores.

At the last minute, I learned that Shenandoah National Park was closed due to a recent storm.  I found a state park with a long trail following a river, which make it beautiful in spite of the lack of green and warmth. The dog had a great time as well. She does not understand the purpose stepping stones, and we had to ford of number of tributaries, but swimming in near-freezing water didn't seem to faze her.

I spent half my time reading and half my time reflecting. I've done enough retreats now that I'm just doing tune-ups, checking on whether I'm still living my life the way I want to. The rest of the time I can spend enjoying my Victorian detective fiction and whiskey.

R.I.P., Molly

Molly the Cat came to live with me two years ago, after spending most of her life on my parent's Ohio farm. She was a great farm cat, catching mice, avoiding being eaten by hawks, and making a cozy home in the shop. My parents named her Molydenum, but called her Moly for short.

Her retirement home, aka my house, was a place she loved even more. She happily slept in a bed directly under a heater vent, and won over even my non-cat-loving roommates. She mellowed in her old age, which made children love her. The could pick her up, carry her around, and basically pet her forever, and she reveled in it. In fact, she has a fan club spanning the globe, and was not infrequently the subject of fan mail portraits colored in markers.

She loved all people, was afraid of nothing except hawks, and hated all dogs with a passion. She filled a cat-shaped hole in my life, but she was in her late teens and I knew her time was coming to and end.

On Sunday night I let her out for a quick tour of the backyard, but she found a hole in the fence and never came back. I very much suspect that she curled up in a cozy place under a neighbor's shed and never woke up. She had a good life, and she will be missed.