December 31, 2002
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It’s new year’s eve, as if you didn’t know.
Weird is rubbing up against my ankles. He’s a big ol’ black cat. He’s been really happy to see me this trip. He follows me around, and keeps inviting me to go outside and do cat things. He’s been letting me train him to be OK with being held. I’ll pick him up and pet him for a few minutes and then put him back down before he starts getting fidgety and pissed off. He’s semi-feral, so he gets really pissed off sometimes.
I’m sitting at my parents’ kitchen table. It’s a big round piece of plywood painted a dark green and placed atop the nicest set of legs you’d find in a junky antique shop. It’s not elegant, but it’s just perfect. My parents are not poor, by any means, and they could buy any fancy table they wanted. They want this table because my mom made it. It’s not much younger than I am. Maybe it’s a sibling.
Speaking of siblings, my brother married into a large family a few years ago. He lives across town, 45 minutes of straight-arrow driving down I-10. He’s done really well for himself. We all went there for Xmas, and he showed me his woodworking shop, which would make Norm Abram jealous. He’s a very meticulous craftsman; his job is fixing the huge diesel engines that power boats and pumps and generators. He was telling me the stories of going to China and Saudi Arabia and assorted other exotic locales, to fix boats. He was all set to go to Saudi just after 9/11, but, ahem, opted out of that trip.
My sister is a speech pathologist. She recommends children for special education programs. She’s been married a long time, and even has a kid who just entered college. She doesn’t have a wood shop, but she has a big house that they built. She’s also made a good life for herself.
I used to think of myself as the youngest, but now I think the table will be the youngest. When the inevitable comparison comes, I think it’ll be the table that hasn’t accomplished much, not me. The table has done a lot, but it hasn’t accomplished anything.
And maybe that’s not so bad. The table will teach me not to strive for comparison.
Comments (4)
Maybe the cat is just training you to hold him properly.
I like your thoughts on the table. I have a chair in my house that is actually an older sibling, and has teeth marks from my teething stages on its wooden arms to prove it!
You do OK, Homer. Maybe in another life you and Weird can really get into cat things. Sounds fun. Anyhow, Happy New Year.
Accomplishment and success are relative. Comparison between individual souls doesn’t do much good either, I don’t think. And the table accomplishes much–it serves it’s function, right?
Pet Weird for me.
Comparing yourself to others serves no purpose. You are you…and a pretty good you at that! I think you should get a pet….you have a lot of patience and love to share with a deserving animal.