Divine reasons and naked mouse catching ...

Unexpected financial developments yesterday morning in Rena's life have altered plans for the store, Enchanted. It's amazing how much can change in the span of a couple of hours. She's having to relocate the store to the downstairs area of the building in front of the space where Paul and I will be setting up our Reiki "clinic" and limit days she will be open. At this time I will not be going into partnership with her, though I still could if I wanted. Instead, I will just be helping to set it up and decorate the space for her.

In all honesty, I'm only mildly, passingly disappointed ... and that's more from not being able to decorate a larger area and store front windows. Silly, but that's the part I was truly looking forward to more than anything. What I immediately realized when we spoke yesterday afternoon was that it's Divine intervention and I'm willing to let that be without protest. Whatever Divine reasons are behind this change in plan I'm certain it's for my benefit. Maybe there were hidden things I didn't see or know. Maybe it would have been too time consuming and taken away from setting up the Reiki clinic. Maybe other thing just need to happen first and the store will come later. I don't know and it doesn't matter. I'm okay with however it's supposed to play out. I'm content with knowing Rena will not be closing the store completely and that Paul and I will have our space.

In reality, my deep, dark ulterior motive for getting involved with the store was to secure that space for the Reiki clinic. As things go, Vinita (owner of Djo-Go-Oh) will be taking over the upstairs store space and she has agreed to follow through with our original plans/agreements for the Reiki space and that's all I need to know. This afternoon I'm going to write up a contract clearly defining the verbal arrangement we made last night, get it signed by all parties involved and then have it notarized. It will be legal and binding without paying a lawyer. It should keep things as they need to be for Paul and I to start our Reiki business and see what it becomes without worry over the physical space. Our efforts can be concentrated to promoting and getting a clientèle established. Second only to my art/business, this Reiki clinic is important to me and I want to see it happen, see it grow, be witness to the help and healing it will be for people, and for it to bring something positive to the community. That's my hope, that's my plan, and that's what I'm working toward.

Speaking of art, the portraits are coming along. Phil took longer than I had hoped on getting the photos for me for his wife/grandson portrait, which in turn set me being under the deadline gun to get it completed before the end of the month. He'll need time to have it framed, and that shaves another few days off my painting time. I'm afraid I'm going to have to paint like a mad woman to get it finished. Ah well, it will be worth the effort if she's pleased ... and most likely as not she will be.

At an un-Godly hour this morning, 4:18 am to be exact, I was awakened by the sound of mad scurrying cat paws across the kitchen floor, bedroom carpet, under the head of the bed, under my nightstand, back under the bed, across the bedroom carpet again, then all around the treadmill on the far side of the bedroom. Though Creepy was definitely in bliss, with bleary-eyed dread I was all too aware of the cause of this orange fuzz-ball frenzy ... a field mouse. yee-hah.

I live "in the country" so the occasional mouse in the house is to be expected. Like ants at a picnic, it's an inevitable event at some point in country living. When I was a kid I raised mice and I loved them. Field mice are just as cute, but far more prone to bite if scared and cornered. They also don't live in a nice cedar chip lined cage and eat mouse food. Nope, field mice will live in your walls, eat your insulation and wiring, and get into anything in a kitchen cabinet they can. So yeah, I know they are part of my country living but I still don't like 'em in the house.

One would think that owning a cat would be like having a built-in mouse trap. Ummm, no. My Creepy is a professional napper, awesome snuggler, exceptional shedding machine, and all around eating champion ... but she is no mouser. She is amazingly inept for such a quick cat. I've see her snatch her toys (when I toss them for her to chase) right out of the air with incredible accuracy and lightening speed. I've seen her run through the house like a demon - hence the nick-name Red Rocket. But mouse catching is an ability that completely eludes her.

Must be like the automatic maternal instinct I'm supposed to (but don't) have because I'm female. Obviously, not all cats have fine tuned mouser abilities just because they are feline. But we have developed a method of compensating for our deficiencies and work as a team. She herds, I catch. With all the six or so mice that have breached our sanctuary walls over the past seven years Creepy has let me know it's inside, it's general location, and stands guard while I shove furniture around and trap the little vermin. Sadly, Creepy is so good at standing guard that she doesn't seem to quite realize when the show is over and the mouse has been exited stage left into the woods. She lingers and lurks for a long time in the last known mouse place and waits, apparently unknowingly, for nothing. If I didn't unconditionally love the ol' fuzz ball so much I'd be kind of embarrassed for her. Instead, I tell stories about her. *hee hee*

So, anyway, at the pre-butt-crack of dawn I'm rudely awakened by The Great Thursday Morning Mouse Hunt In The Bedroom. I seriously debated letting Creepy just have at for awhile, but the scuttling around noise wasn't conducive to my falling back to sleep. Like it or not I knew I had to take matters into my own hands.

I got up, turned on the overhead light, went to the kitchen to get a jar and lid, then back into the bedroom to trap the mouse. Creepy, as I said, was sniffing and poking her paws around the treadmill, but my first place to check was the tennis shoes I keep beside it. No mouse. I looked under the treadmill (it folds up for storage) and didn't see anything. Okay, re-evaluate. From previous incursions in the bedroom the second place I looked was in the corner beside a small two-drawer table/stand beside the chair. Bingo. Mouse between wall and table.

I placed the open jar at one end and used a curtain rod (I washed the curtains and haven't put them back up yet - handy!) to nudge the mouse into the jar. I popped the lid on and headed for the back door. Creepy, of course, is now all focused and intent on the spot where the jar had been. I flipped on the outside light, slipped on my outside muck-around shoes, jar/mouse in hand and went out. I turned the little guy/girl? loose in the ivy on the bank behind the house and watched as he scurried up into the safety of the woods, telling him good night/morning and asking that he please find another place of residence.

It was at that moment I realized I was standing there in the driveway at 4:30 am, stark naked save my shoes, talking to a mouse.

Sometimes my life is rather interesting.

Namaste, y'all ...