Reflected #11: Curious cats, helping neighbors, local news and Italian pasta
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I cover topics like personal development, relationships, sexuality, diversity, and uncommon lifestyles.
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I’m writing from my house in Ing. Maschwitz, where I’ve been living for almost two months with my partner, Cande, and her cat, Kali.
Curiosity killed the cat, says the proverb, and Kali has an insatiable curiosity that has put her in danger before. I knew it was a matter of time until she decided to wander outside the realms of our garden.
This weekend, Kali climbed on top of a chair and jumped the wall, high as my fridge, to the neighbor’s yard.
We clapped our hands to call our neighbor. Never got a reply. We began calling the cat with food. Kali replied with a bright new look on her face, then kept exploring. After some more wandering, she tried to climb back up the wall, with no luck. I noticed a hint of panic in her little cat face; I knew Cande had noticed as well. My partner’s maternal instinct was under pressure. I decided to intrude into the neighbor’s yard, four times as big as ours, and “rescue” Kali - even though she didn’t want to be rescued. We kept the cat locked inside for the rest of the day.
Talking about neighbors, this week was the second time I joined Cande and my neighbor in some outdoor chores like raking the leaves or cleaning the swimming pool. I don’t remember the last time I had a relationship with a neighbor. If it weren’t for Cande’s sociability, I would probably still be minding my own business and not talking to anyone else during my stay in Maschwitz.
My neighbor is an astrologist and feng-shui-ist. She grows vegetables, as well. Every now and then she gifts us plants or dry leaves for making tea. Since she knew I work in tech, I’ve been summoned whenever the internet connection is a bit lousy. Last week, I helped her with a bug in her smartphone. She also asked me to add the community radio station to the app I work for.
That is how I began listening to the local radio station. The news broadcast about how many streets were paved. Musical advertisements about local shops. I immediately thought of Claromecó’s radio station. Another small community, with its own unique reality, I feel I belong to.
I like small scopes. Sometimes I wonder about writing a newspaper about one street. There’s so much that can happen in just one street. Imagine a town. Imagine a city, imagine a country.
During the week, I met with a friend of mine for another round of our Writing Retreat, where we both help each other with our writing. She helped me keep narrowing down the side-project I mentioned in my previous post. I also exchanged some feedback with another friend over a call. At work, I also had some insights about projects I could pursue. Brainstorming 1-1 is a very, very powerful tool for making a project come true.
Overthinking prevented me from contacting the Intersex organizations and activists I made a note to reach out to in the previous post. However, I started working on an LGBTQI+ directory on Notion to share as an MVP as part of my side-project.
As I’ve mentioned before, one of my goals during my stay in Maschwitz is to grow some vegetables. This week, we acquired some plants like broccoli, mint, lettuce, parsley and ciboulette to start our small orchard. I’m excited to spend the next few days sowing and planting them in crates.
The guy at the florist told us “Congratulations” as if we had just adopted a baby. I’m just worried because they all look the same to me:
On Sunday, Cande wanted some fresh pasta to eat with her signature sauce, so we went out to buy some. An hour later, we were gathered around the table, ready to eat some sorrentinos brimming with mozzarella. We even opened a Coke to treat ourselves. It could have easily been an ad for a perfect family reunion on a Sunday. Except we were two. And Kali.
For the past few months, I’ve been thinking for the first time about the family I’d like to have. A family of my own, with traditions like Sunday pasta. When I told Cande about it, we agreed we’d both like an open house where people could come by - if it’s by motorbike, I’ll have special parking. We also agreed that I would need a private space to retire for a few hours when I feel like I had enough socialization, before going back into the open space.
Finally, my mom came to visit and we cooked pasta, again. She just had pasta for dinner the night before. After all, her grandparent (my great grandfather) was Italian, so we didn’t mind. Fun fact about me: I once had pizza for dinner 10 nights in a row, and I’d do it again.
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