Squirrels in sombreros and notebook paper letters

I only have a limited amount of time before it’s May 6, thus making this week’s squirrel installment late to the Cinco de Mayo party (but fashionably late, I’m sure you’ll agree):

This poncho is keeping my paws cozy.

I snapped this picture during a walk on Thursday, which also featured this living-and-breathing baby squirrel*:

I wish I had a poncho to hide under.
Maybe that lady will just think I’m part of the tree.

Looking at this squirrel now, he doesn’t seem very remarkable. But, he was quite small and having a lot of trouble climbing the tree, so I’m pretty sure he was just a kid in need of some parental supervision (I made surely Lily got to say hi to this squirrel, but I tried to redirect her attention from the street where one of his siblings was definitely not living or breathing … Her little soul floating away to squirrel heaven — a place I imagine to be filled with trees, acorns and scores of eager, but dimwitted beagle mixes ready to be mocked for their rodent-hunting ineptitude).

On a non-squirrel-related news, I got a letter in the mail from my sister Laura the other day. It was handwritten on a sheet of notebook paper and made me feel nostalgic for the pages and pages and pages of letter writing and journaling I used to do on notebook paper. The gliding of a pen across a crinkling piece of paper just feels less sterile and calculated than clicking away on a keyboard. Maybe because there’s less revising … so the soul of your writing is purer.

It wasn’t a long letter, but it was lovely. And I especially enjoyed this part and thought I’d share (hope you don’t mind Laura!):

“I look forward to our vacation, to the momentary blips of greatness, to the wind blowing through my hair making me feel fresh and clean and ageless. To the sand squishing through my toes, which always makes me feel perpetually about 7. To being surrounded by the faces I love most on this planet. And maybe I’m looking forward to the juicy gloriousness of not cooking and cleaning all week, at least not alone.”

My sister is such a poet. Even her texts and e-mails are filled with rhythm and heart. She inspires me to be more thoughtful in my day-to-day writing — to approach my corresponding with the world as if I’m sitting down at an old desk with a pen and a piece of paper and no white out.

Of course, if I took this more romantic writing route in the environment I work in now, well — my novel would’ve long since become covered in spilled chocolate milk or water color pictures of “Blueberry Cat” (Lily’s latest muse) or random pen scribble.

So for now, I’ll be practical.

*I had no intention of this blog becoming so squirrel-centric. I guess it really is true that you never know where your story will take you.