If I had to describe the general mood of 2009 with one word, it would be “difficult.”  I experienced a lot of physical and emotional pain, but those tend to bring about changes, which frequently evolve into welcomed gifts.

The most prominent difference of the year was that I began to travel – something I had rarely done in the past.  Nothing exotic or especially adventurous, but I finally stepped out of my comfort zone, and onto a number of airplanes.  The first day of 2009 brought word that my mother-in-law had died in her sleep.  It was not unexpected as she was in her early 90s and miserably unhappy being alive.  She was a woman who never missed an opportunity to complain about her discontented life;  an affluent life where she wanted for nothing, and abhorred everything.  And everyone, who was not a white, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant, Republican.  She especially despised the mixed breed recovering-Catholic liberal that her only child had married.  Two days after her death, I couldn’t stop crying.  Seriously.  While I didn’t especially feel sorrow at her loss, I did feel a visceral sadness that she had lived such a disconsolate existence for 90+ years … in her mind.  I found myself looking back over my own life, and wondered if I was headed in the same direction.  Intellectually, I could reason that I’d had a number of rewarding accomplishments and experiences throughout my life, but over the previous few years I had been spending most of my days inhabiting uninspire-dom.  I had no new projects or ideas to stimulate my intellect or sense of fun, which had been absent for quite a long time.  I needed to do something out-of-the-ordinary … I needed to break from my staid self.

A few weeks earlier, a number of friends from an online forum started to make plans to gather in New York City to attend a concert together;  but I had dismissed the notion of my attending.  I didn’t want to spend the money for four short days … NYC in January sounded cold … I didn’t really know any of these people – we were congenial online and in emails, but something about traveling thousands of miles to spend time with people known only by their online personas seemed …well,  irresponsible.

I had so much fun … why did I wait so long to return to living!  No real surprises with the people – there wasn’t a serial murderer in the bunch – mostly just regular people.  They arrived in NYC from other parts of the U.S., from Canada, and Europe;  both male and female;  all ages from a teenage girl with her father to other middle-agers like myself.  I spent the days exploring mid-Manhattan by foot, with camera in hand.  The city was experiencing a cold spell, and what had once sounded so uncomfortable to me, actually seemed to warm my usual weariness.  The nights were spent socializing with my friends – the first night over dinner and drinks at the Hard Rock Cafe in Times Square; the next night we shared a quick dinner before the concert.  After the performance we gathered together at a pub near the venue to wrap up our conversations, and exchange good-byes.

From this solitary decision, one I had initially felt to be irresponsible, I have derived so much contentment.  I have continued to maintain friendships with some of the people I had met;  some visited with me and my family during summer visits to southern California.  And, I traveled to a few additional concerts in the summer (see previous blog entry) – back to NYC, and also to the metro Washington DC area.

I have also rekindled a love of music … something that had once been a passion of mine, but had faded away with my youth.  Expect future blog musings on this topic alone.

Finally, in the fall, a new friend of a different kind emerged … a fuzzy one.  After my beloved Max died in September,  life felt so incomplete not having a cat padding about the house.  My husband said that he wanted to wait before looking for another,  and initially, I agreed … but had every intention of scanning rescue groups’ websites.  After a few dead-end inquiries, I saw the photo of a kitten available through Cats at The Studios, in the San Fernando Valley.  The face.  A calico whose eyes, I swear, flashed “Come and get me!  We can have fun together!”  I contacted the organization and the calico’s foster mother, who confirmed that this was a very sweet kitten, but she also cautioned that she was exceptionally active.  We made arrangements to meet at a pet store in her neighborhood for the group’s regular weekend adoption event.  Now, the San Fernando Valley is at the northern end of Los Angeles County, and I reside in the southern-most region – an hour drive, if the traffic gods cooperate.  Little Lia was a tiny precious purring bundle, who promptly snuggled into my neck and fell asleep.  I considered taking another kitten so she’d have a companion, but when I attempted to hold that one to my chest, Lia awoke, climbed on top of her litter-mate, and sat on her face as if to say “Kiss my butt, girlfriend … this is MY human … find your own!”  Lia was loaded into a carrier in my car and we made the trek down to the other end of the county … a slow-moving crawl through the Sepulveda Pass and past LAX.  Lia would frequently come up to the front of the carrier to make a chirping sound which reminded me of a child asking “Are we there yet?” during a long road trip.

She’s been a member of the family ever since, and her foster mother was correct … Lia rarely slows down.   Her energy is unceasing, and with it comes an assortment of kitty vocalizations, and one canine … a bark.  Lia lets loose with a well defined “WOOF” when she is most angry (generally directed at the ceiling fan in my room).  Apparently her foster mother had a dog that Lia was fond of.  It is impossible to remain in any kind of a somber mood if she is in the room;  her antics are impossible to ignore.

2009 turned out to be my year of the friend.

In the words of one of my aforementioned international friends … It’s all good.