Flamenco Frenzy. Kitty Carcinoma. Spider Showdown.
A look at life lately. How are you doing, by the way? No really, I wanna know.
The second thing I did when I moved to the US in 2007 was adopt a kitten.
(The first thing, in case you were wondering, was design a jewelry line. Ever the entrepreneur!)
I found her on Craigslist, the tiniest runt of the litter, and named her Ginger after the femme fatale on Gilligan’s Island.
Ginger turned 17 this spring and as her name would attest, is a spicy little thing.
For the last year and a half, Ginger has been growing a mass on her back right paw. I was in some denial about it, and then it got to the point where the mass was the size of a grape 🍇 (!) and couldn’t be ignored anymore.
She was walking with a limp.
She frequently tried to tear the mass off herself during grooming sessions.
She clearly wasn’t about it.
In true tortoiseshell fashion, Ginger doesn’t love the vet. Or car rides. Or attention from strangers. She’s a hard no to being touched by anyone that isn’t me or my man. I’m in awe of the non-negotiable boundaries that come so naturally to her. Cats are some of my greatest teachers.
Here’s a glimpse from the exam room. Bless the vet and vet tech for being so kind to our spicy girl. #tortitude
What she really likes though, is ear wax. Her favorite tasty treat! (Yeaaah, I don’t get it either.) So after the initial examination, my boyfriend donated his earwax to calm her down while the vet and I discussed next steps.
She has the mass removal surgery and when the biopsy results come back, this mass she’d been carrying around was a stage 2 carcinoma. She had cancer. Part of me is still unpacking this. The treatment cost a small fortune.
To prevent her stitches from coming undone, Ginger was quarantined in the bathroom for 14 days. Thanks to an open floor plan, there aren’t really many options for quarantining…
On Thursday, Ginger’s stitches came out.
Getting her to the vet involves wrapping her in a towel and lovingly shoving her into the cat carrier. As she yowls from the backseat, I’m on the freeway offramp yelling, “I’m doing this because I love you so much! After this we’ll never go to the vet again!”
Once the vet took a look at her paw and proclaimed she was good to go, I immediately tore off the cone of shame to let Ginger be free.
On the way home, I opened the pet carrier and she lounged on the leather seats the whole way home.
At one point, Taylor Swift is playing on the speakers and I hear a rhythmic sound over the music: Ginger purring.
It was the most peaceful moment we’ve had in weeks.
As I’m running late for the follow up vet appointment, I arrive home to discover a deadly black widow who’s taken up residence on my front door. I’ll spare you the visual. (You’re welcome.)
On the other side of the door I see my cat Max, patiently waiting. This black widow is right at threshold. Opening the door could mean this presumably pregnant black widow would get inside and be a risk to our safety. Spring is mating season, after all.
I’m not one for offing outdoor spiders. But the threat of allowing her in the house to risk her delivering a fatal bite to my precious furry baby? Hellllllll no.
It’s the cirrrrrrcle of life and it moves us all.
She seemed like a proverbial dragon to slay to save my babies.
(Except I wasn’t up for the job.) My neighbor Katy came to the rescue with a broom and the bottom of her shoe. BLESS! (RIP, spider)
When I was in Costa Rica for a VITA coach retreat a few summers ago, the spiders were huge and horrifying. (VERY well fed.) They kept me firmly on the path from the retreat center to my cabin, for fear of ending up with a giant spider in my mouth.
That warranted not one, but two GIFs.
My friend
believes society is scared of spiders the way that they are scared of women: we distrust their rhythms. We demonize them. And yet.Spiders are adept hunters. They spin their own habitat from silk. That’s a cool trick. Kinky mating rituals. And what other species do you know that has hydraulic legs? (Really wish I didn’t know that.)
I guess they can’t be that bad if they inspired Spiderman?
Oh god. Tobey McGuire as Spiderman. Never mind.
This weekend, I spent a lot of time with my sister wife and her daughter Maya, who call me Auntie Sarah.
Saturday night was spent in the bottom bunk bed, playing charades. Then we played sleepover and crawled under the covers, pretending to fall asleep. At a certain point, I fee this sense of euphoria, like a kitten purring inside my chest.
My inner child was beaming.
Recently my flamenco friends of Spanish Broom hosted an outdoor flamenco show and invited me up to dance during the fin de fiesta. If you’re not familiar with flamenco terminology, a fin de fiesta is like a flamenco jam session: the veritable exclamation mark at the end of a great show! Here’s a video clip:
In flamenco, we have a term called jaleo: the encouragement that artists call for each other during the dance. Some common jaleo include:
Ole — you’ve probably heard this one. It may have roots in the Arabic word for God, Allah. We see god in each other.
Agua — as in,🥵 need some water to cool down!
Eso es — that’s it
Anda — go
Vamos — let’s go
Toma que toma — take it
If you’re feeling brazen, make may day and try ‘em out in the comments section!
Talk about fuel. The jaleo from my friends gives me LIFE.
It breathes life into my dance.
Going to try something new this week!
Here’s a weekly round-up of some great reads that moved me lately.
“Both of them began as some of the most ignorable figures in American life: a suburban housewife and a suburban teen girl. They’re both white and pretty and well-behaved, overachievers and people-pleasers. They embody the “ideal” American girl and woman. They catered to an audience no one wants to take seriously, adolescent girls. This allowed them to be stealth bombs of feminism, a phrase I also used in my book Mary and Lou and Rhoda and Ted to describe the main character of Mary Richards on The Mary Tyler Moore Show, who fit a similar mold. Feminist messages go down easier wrapped in conventionally pretty, unassuming—and, of course, white—packaging.”
“Butket, who describes himself as “an introvert” who is now “an amateur public speaker and an entrepreneur” started his speech with a bang, by rambling off your run of the mill drunk uncle at a wedding platitudes about men being too feminine. What he said is what you would expect chat gpt to auto populate when you ask it “what would Jordan Peterson say at a commencement speech in 2014.” He enlists men to “be unapologetic in your masculinity" and "fight against the cultural emasculation of men." A guy telling other guys that they can be guys, how original.
But the address really took a turn when he singled out the female graduates. “I think it is you, the women, who have had the most diabolic lies told to you,” he said. “Some of you may go on to lead successful careers in the world, but I would venture to guess that the majority of you are most excited about your marriage and the children you will bring into this world.” A bold claim from a person whose own mother is a career physicist!”
Man or bear, by the numbers.
“We know God is not listening. At least I hope They aren’t. Despite cries of pleasure in their name. A tongue dragged across collar bone. A kiss pecked under breast. A hand grasping tender bottom. A hand dragged tenderly across privates. There are no confessionals for this and I wouldn’t ask for forgiveness anyway. Sometimes sin is worth it.”
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It’s such a pleasure to have you here at Sex and Style! I’m a Certified Sex Coach and Wardrobe Stylist that makes a safe space to explore and reclaim your desire. These posts are crafted with love and care, it would be an honor to be passed along to someone you love.
Poor darling Ginger! How is the angel now?
Love your dance video, such fun!