We have this incredible cat. . . I know, I know, everyone probably thinks their cat is the best. We've had many cats, and they have all been special in their own way. However, Iggy—short for Ignatius Neptunia (she loves water) de Edinboro (where we live)—is the most intelligent, loving, considerate, expressive cat we've ever had.

If you can visualize this. . . we take her to our little summer hideaway for long weekends. She is not fond of the car but tolerates it. During our two-hour-plus trip, she will patiently sit on my husband's lap and look out the window. While it might be hard to imagine her never once trying to escape or hide; she does have one flaw. 

I’m sitting on our deck watching people go by. A light breeze dances across the lake. Clouds partially cover a blue sky. A man slowly backs his boat trailer toward the water. (It will take him four tries.) Our overly-spoiled cat, who wears a harness to sit outside, peeks over the edge of the deck hoping a mouse or a chipmunk will blindly walk by. Across from me on the deck, my husband quietly looks down at his phone reading news articles.

Life is good and I should be enjoying this moment of quiet. Yet my mind races off in fourteen directions reminding me I haven’t yet weeded the front flower bed or put fertilizer on bushes. Inside laundry awaits as do a few other projects. I need to post some items for sale (I have no idea when I will find time for that), and I have a long list of other really "important" to-do items waiting, not to mention—what’s for dinner?

Past issues of my newsletters contain links to things I have loved or explored. If you are looking for a link you lost or are just curious as to what intrigues me, here they are for your entertainment! 

These are books I recommended in my newsletter. Ready to find your next great read? Check these out. 

I am a recovering “fixer.” I know, I should stop.

I want to help people. I want to relieve their troubles. It hurts me to see others hurting. This is especially true if it's a loved one or friend. (Maybe you are a fixer too.)

In many cases, "fixing" is just a desire, it's not necessarily a real possibility. There's a difference between lending a helping hand and "fixing." 

It started last summer with the brake lines. My beloved voodoo blue Toyota FJ decided to spray fluid all over our driveway. I considered this an angel intervention since I could have been on the highway.

We've known for a while that the FJ's fifteen years on northern, heavily-salted winter roads had taken its toll, but I haven't been ready to let her go. We've shared too many adventures. I've come to appreciate how she cuts through deep snow, offering me peace of mind throughout our harsh winters. Plus, I rarely go anywhere that someone doesn't ask me about the FJ. She's a stand-out among all the other look-alike SUVs.

After the brake line fix, her backend smelled of the leaked fluid, and she continued to leave evidence of her incontinence on the driveway. At times, it got so bad I'd ask my husband to check her underside again. He did, even taking her back to the shop a time or two. They assured me her brakes were good, and the fluid would simply take time to disperse.