Peas please…
I’m standing at the bathroom sink, my slippers off, as I just got out of the shower. I hear a swish… and see a dirty gray/white paw sweep under the door. It hooked a slipper and yank it back into the hallway.
So I reached under and took it back (stupid ass that I am, not thinking of getting clawed).
As suspected, she reached under and grabbed it again. This time I opened the door enthusiastically (of COURSE my intention was to scare the bejeezus out of her). Trixie flew a foot into the air then ran like a bat outta hell right out the kitty door.
My cat is now 9 months old. My last cat was 14 when she passed a few years ago, so I’m a little out of practice. When it comes to feline activity, I’m more used to lounging at the foot of the bed than leaping after fireflies at sunset.
Trixie is something else — she’s reckless and carefree and filthy. I have never seen a dirtier cat. 
She’s teaching me a little about life. I guess that was the point of her coming into my life when she did. I think the universe has a way of putting people (or pets in this case, or even situations) in your life at just the right time. You may not know WHY they’re there right away, but if you pay attention, eventually you’ll see.
I totally understand that we may not LIKE IT when we discover the reasons, either. Sometimes we just have lessons to learn, like patience or tolerance or in this case, how to let go a little and enjoy the simple things like chasing lightning bugs and stop fretting about making the beds or cleaning the kitchen floor.
Which, if you stop by, you will NOT look at because I’m living the life my cat wants me to and I’m not cleaning it until markets are finished.
In the meantime, the first true sign of summer is here and I’m LOVING the peas. I wait for this all winter and spring and while I probably jump the gun a little and pick them early, I can’t help myself. Thomas and I took a ride out to the pea patch one Sunday afternoon and I FORCED him to pick peas.
Riiiight…. I’m sure any parent in the audience (or any adult who has ever been a child for that matter) can imagine the face I got when I said, ‘if you want peas for dinner I suggest you get out of that cart and start picking them.”
So yeah, we picked peas. And I was forbidden to eat ANY of the peas that The Boy picked, and he actually followed through with the threat. (That’s my boy!) He cleaned and cooked his peas separately and I wasn’t allowed to share.
Of course, when I informed him that since I had made the rest of dinner he couldn’t have any of it, well, he changed his tune.
As for the peas, simple is best in my opinion. These were sugar snaps, but I do the same thing with shell peas. Toss them in a small saute pan with a tiny bit of butter and some salt (pepper is added after the fact because SOME PEOPLE are sensitive), let them saute for about 5 minutes and voila! Done.
For myself, I will sprinkle on a bit of chopped tarragon or basil. I think the sweet licorice-y flavor complements the peas nicely. The Boy, however, doesn’t like grass on his food.
*sigh*
Picking Peas to Please
“You wanna eat? You’ll pick peas and LIKE IT!”
“How’d you pick so many??? I only have 4! ”
Decades of practice, my boy.