Seek and ye shall find….

I’ve just spent some time meandering about the site meter statistics. It always surprises me when I get a random hit from someone doing a search on the Google search engine. Louden Wainwright III has pulled in the most hits, followed closely by “Platzgraff” dishes. But “Newest Diets 2001”? (From my entry that had the phrase: too many cats, too many special diets.) And “Gorey Lithograph”? I do have a Gorey lithograph (it’s one of my prized possessions) but I don’t believe I’ve ever mentioned it in my diary, and the Google search for it doesn’t actually turn up my site when I run it, even though it’s in my site meter history.

Go figure.

Kitten from Hell continues to hold down her baby food. The Professor has off work today (unlike some of us). He has been issued instructions via post-it on his computer screen to continue feeding her a couple of spoonfuls every four hours. That should mean that the jar will be nearly empty when I return home this afternoon. If she’s still doing well, we’ll advance to kibbles. And if she can handle that I might break down and give her a teeny amount of left over turkey tonight. I hate for the other two o-beasts to get treats while she gets left out. Even if she is hell-on-paws.

Thanksgiving dinner last night with The Sisters was less painful than usual. Sister the Elder had a particularly foul smelling vanilla candle burning in her house, and it took about an hour for my nose to shut down so I couldn’t smell it any more. An extra glass of wine helped that process along, no doubt. Sister the Younger and her soon to be ex- have finally announced the split to his parents, so the Big Secret is finally officially out. Just in time, if you ask me, since the divorce will be final on January 2nd.

I watch the interactions between my sisters and The Prof with a somewhat jaded eye. Both sisters are perfectly cordial to him, but I have to wonder what gets said behind my back. The Prof, for his part, is getting more relaxed around the both of them, which I see as a mixed blessing. It means that tensions are down, but it also means that he guards his mouth less closely and some of that acerbic wit is starting to come out. He is who he is – it isn’t my intent to change him. But if he ever starts laying it on around the Sisters as thickly as he is capable of, relations may cool down again.

And again I find myself wondering where this relationship with him is headed. Another Diarist’s recent announcement that her longtime live-in finally proposed marriage (you know who you are, Jade! And congratulations!) makes me ask what I want. I told The Prof when we first got involved (very rapidly on the heels of the break-up of my marriage) that I had no intentions of ever marrying again. Most days I still feel that way. Sometimes, though, I miss the feeling of committment, even if I don’t feel like I can commit.

I worry about the age difference between us. Were we younger, fifteen years would be a bigger deal. The difference between 20 and 35 is vast. At our current ages, it is a workable difference that adds to the relationship more than it detracts. The difference between 30 and 45 is more a conversation started than it is a division between us. But I look to the future. What would a fifty-five year old man want with a 70 year old girlfriend?

And I worry about other things.