Life sure throws a lot of curveballs--the kind of stuff that keeps us on our toes.

The sweet kitty I told you about last week died, and I had to sit back and wonder why. It was thriving and fat and happy, and it's hard for me to accept that some things just happen. I admire the woman who cared for kitty, and remind myself that in ten days of life, kitty had more love and affection than some people do for an entire lifetime. Now kitty has heavenly love, the kind that we all should look forward to, where there is no hurt, no pain, no sadness. Where there is abundant joy, camaraderie, and never-ending peace.

It's unfortunate we can't experience that here on earth.

Last week, I told about loss of life and the ensuing sadness that accompanies it.

Today, I have a different story...

On Monday, I went out our back door to get pit bull Zeb out of the muddy garden. We never use that door. I heard a strange noise, and when I looked in the window well, I saw two baby kittens. I ran to get my husband, and told him I was sure one was dead, but the other was making all kinds of noise. He got them out and confirmed my suspicions about one, and said the other was so cold, he didn't think it would survive.

We brought the baby inside--it's eyes weren't open yet and it was about 4 inches long. We warmed it up and I got on the phone, trying to figure out what to do. I finally called one of our veterinarians, and her staff was willing to nurture the kitten. I drove 50+ miles to deliver the little ball of fur. I had to give this poor thing the best chance at life possible.

When I arrived, they told me the kitty was only 3 days old had a 50/50 chance of surviving. They checked it out and put it in the incubator. I left with hope and prayed the kitten would live.

I take one of my dogs into the vet three times a week for laser therapy treatment (fascinating technology, by the way!) When I went on Wednesday, I was anxious about the kitty. We were greeted with smiles--it was still alive.

Kitty is thriving and doing well. It is very active and was saved from a life as a feral cat.

And how fitting for our Easter celebration, that we celebrate life!

Last Wednesday I had to take one of my dogs to the vet. A man came running in and said he parked his truck on the side of the building. A couple of people ran out with a big purple stretcher and brought a big black lab inside.

The dog had been hit by a car.

I watched one of the technicians run around and gather supplies while the doctor carefully examined the dog. I could hear labored breathing, and looked in the room. The dog's eyes were closed, and he didn't appear to have any serious wounds. He looked like he was merely asleep.

His owner kneeled on the floor beside him, crying, asking the vet to do anything she could to save him. My heart broke.

The dog's injuries were too severe, and he didn't make it.

I couldn't help but think about the tenuous string that keeps us on earth. We take so much for granted, believing our life will go on. We don't think to love those around us every day. We miss some great opportunities, don't we?

When I'm busy, I forget to take a moment to hug my dogs, my husband, my parents. I worry about is the work I think has to get done, when I should be worrying about loving those around me.

For they too could be gone.

My muse has been waking me up every morning at 3 o'clock. I love the way she works!

I have good feelings about a couple of projects I'm working on, and my subconscious mind never stops. It's always churning and percolating, so I have to follow it. I'm just glad it's not the middle of winter and freezing cold, so I'll get out of bed to work.

For example, on Friday I was presented with an opportunity to apply for some great work. The application process was a one-page letter, no more. So I wrestled with the idea a bit on Friday, and Saturday morning at 3 o'clock, I woke up with an idea. I got up, and in fifteen minutes had the letter written. I went back to bed, and a few hours later went back to the letter, made a few changes and sent it off.

We'll see what the result is! Even if it is a rejection, I feel good about it.

I know my muse wants me to succeed, and is helping me, even if it's at terrible hours.

Besides, who said success is easy?

Perseverance equals pain equals success.

That is my reality right now. On a weak day last January, I told a friend I'd run a half marathon with her in April. I should have looked outside at the blizzard when I made that promise. Sure, I cross train like crazy in the winter, but it's not the same as pounding the ground, one foot in front of the other.

When the weather finally started to warm up and clear up, I decided I had to have an unconventional training plan. I went for an eight mile run. Sure, I made it, but it was painful. And the only run I took that week. Last week it was a nine miler--again the only run for the week. I should have gone ten this week, but I am unrealistic when it comes to distance and thought I ran farther than I did. When I measured the distance, I was disappointed to see I only went 7.2 miles.

I tried to run this morning, but halfway up the hill, it started to snow. And snow around here can turn into a blizzard in a matter of seconds, so I ran the rest of the way up the hill as fast as I could and turned back for home. 1.4 miles.

How am I going to make it 13.1 miles training like this? Perseverance equals pain equals success. I will keep running farther and farther until I hit 13 miles on April 10, the week before the race. It is a race where I will be a winner, only because I persevered and ended up n pain.

Writing feels like this some days. It is painful to pound the keyboard day after day, hoping to make it as a writer.

Perseverance equals pain equals success. It's just the way it is.

I love it when new ideas start coming together to make a congruent whole!

It's amazing what happens when you hit on something that feels right. It has motility and is simmering in the subconscious mind at all times.

I've been churning around a plot for a few weeks, and it feels good. It feels like what I need to write. The excitement is there, the what if's are being asked and answered. I'm in the right place at the right time, connected to my inner thoughts.

The process of actually writing isn't this simple, but if I can keep the excitement cranked up at a high level, the words should fall out pretty easily. It's happened before, and it will happen again. Of course there will be days of struggle, but those are the days that remind me I'm only human. And I cherish those days because it makes the end result all the more wonderful.

Write on, friends!

Where did February go?

It seems like time passes faster and faster, the more I have on my plate. But I look at it as a good thing because my plate could be empty.

I'm currently doing research for a new novel--a creation from the mind of my husband. He has a fantastic imagination, of which I'm jealous. He often tells me I have no imagination, although I know it's not true. He just sees more in life than I do.

I thought about why that might be, and came to the realization that he takes time to notice things a little more deeply. He let's his mind wander in the wonder, while I skim past and don't put much thought into the event. He does the writerly thing and asks "what if", even though he isn't a writer.

I need to remember that slowing down and asking "what if" will put me in a new dimension of ideas. It might increase the heap on my plate, but it may also make my plate larger and able to accommodate more.

It's worth a try!