A saga about Moses…(the cat)

I am learning something about myself, about my Lord Jesus, my God, my Spirit and my connection with Him; and it all pertains to Moses, my cat. I prayed yesterday and this is what I realized. She disappeared a few months ago and I haven’t given up looking for her though others made up their minds she was either dead or just gone. I prayed to St Francis,to ANY Angel who would hear, to Raphael,for crying out loud!, for her return. Spending sleepless nights, callings, searching night and day. I have over a hundred animals collectively and when 1 isn’t there I won’t rest until I find it. I understand in my tiny human way how the Lord feels when one of His Lambs disappears from Him. You don’t even have to head count, you just know when one is missing and which one it is. He waits and searches them out. I call, I wait silently, I put out food, I watch; as my Father, he whispers, he watches , he waits. I know where she is. After months of hiding she has been seen. My Father, never lost sight of me. I see her and she see me we stand there looking at each other, I’m so close but too far to touch her, she hesitates and then turns to hide once more in the safety of the darkness of the woods. I stand there heart sick and tearful that she didn’t come but know she saw me and knows I’m there still. I understand my Fathers hurt with this one cat, who I love as all my others, no more no less just differently and at times more intently. Like my Father, who loves all of His his children- some need more attention than others , some more patience – but all are loved equally but differently. I understand on such a tiny scale my Fathers hurt when one of his runs and hides. I see his patience; waiting for us to just return to Him. I feel his heart break, as mine is that she isn’t safe at home in my arms, just like when we aren’t safe in His. On such a small small scale, I have learned that a soft gentle presence is the assurance we all need in our heart. I can’t even fathom my one lost cat trying to find her way back to the familiar love and comfort of home, compared to a world full of lost lambs searching in the dark for that small light to guide them Home. So I pray, in His time and my learning, that his Will be done- that she will return home to the Love she knows is here. Like my Father, I will never give up. But I will let go, because, in all Faith, I can. 

She knows I am but a whisper away, and so is my Father. Thank you, my Spirit, for putting this thought and prayer on my heart as a salve to mend the tear. 

Margaret A Trotman


August 30, 2016

Well- we caught a cute little possum – who thoroughly enjoyed it’s smelly Pâté meal– I did however find a licked clean cat food can on 4x4plyboard that’s laying a good +20′ from the traps- this definitely would have drawn Moses away from them… I’m trying to get more creative with placement and scent trails as I can’t put them near or at where I’m actually seeing her on private property. Last night was a closer encounter than most – she actually sensed us and came forward even though she freaked in the end- but she caught a scent and sight of both of us- there was recognition.

The time table is a crunch with rain setting in and a tropical storm coming- she will not come out in bad weather or may completely lose her scent home – I’m reminded of when Hobbes got out for a good while- I set the trap and caught and released every one of my other cats and a few possums before he got hungry and took the bait- that’s the key – my biggest challenge is Moses has an endless supply of food– even placed near the trap so there’s no reason for her to get IN the trap- she isn’t hungry- it’s a delicate situation. But I’m not losing faith or hope. 

**Moses come home**

Praying — 
(Foto: Moses Feb11,2016 heater hogging)


Finally my first writing 

So- I’m finally writing in this blog that been blank for all these years— it’s been a dry spell – to tell the truth Ibhad no idea HOW to begin this ride- it’s a bit scary to put yourself out there- so- here I go.

Ta da!  I did it! I broke the block!

Home Plate is always 17 inches wide

Saving this- one of the best pieces I’ve read I a while.


Home Plate is always 17 inches wide

17 inches of home plate

I can’t take credit for the inspiration or the original information of this post. It was shared with me via my Facebook feed but thought it was perfect for my pre-season baseball theme this week. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

As a parent and ardent sports fan, the message of John Scolinos is something I needed to hear and share. Thank you, Elijah Stiner, for sharing this story!

Worth the read… For everyone especially parents and coaches
In Nashville, Tennessee, during the first week of January, 1996, more than 4,000 baseball coaches descended upon the Opryland Hotel for the 52nd annual ABCA convention.

While I waited in line to register with the hotel staff, I heard other more veteran coaches rumbling about the lineup of speakers scheduled to present during the weekend…

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How we used to die; how we die now

Beautifully written- and how it should be- I know mama passed in hospital as we were getting her room ready- but her surroundings were much like home- surrounded by pictures, her music, her tv shows, cards flowers, comforter. Me in and out all day and night. Me reading to her. She listened in her partial awakensess to conversations and singing. But she waited until I left to go, just like her. She didn’t want to be a bother, and this was very private to her.

Monthly Mandazi Muchies

Yummy Tanzanian Beignets!!


So anyone who knows me on some level knows that I have a deep affinity for food. I love looking at it, talking about it, making it, and of course eating it. I knew that coming to live in the village would present an interesting challenge. I still wanted to be creative with my food, but I am somewhat limited in selection and tools. But hamna shida, this is a challenge I’m eager to take on.

One of the first foods I was introduced to here is called mandazi. Mandazi is basically the Tanzanian donut. It’s fluffy, slightly sweet and delectably fried in sunflower or vegetable oil. It’s also called the “Swahili bun” and is mainly eaten by people who live around the African Great Lakes, so Tanzania, Uganda and Kenya. The great thing about mandazi is that it can be eaten with many things. I personally like to eat…

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How to Poop After Knee Surgery: A Practical Guide to Post-Surgical Bowel Movement

This is one of the funniest pieces I’ve read in a long long time. Made my day . I sent to my best friend who in fact is about to HAVE knee surgery soon- thought it would help her out-
You know, a kind of pre-op tutorial.

Life After Knee Surgery

One thing that’s interesting about writing a blog is that I can check my blog’s “stats.”  One of the stats that is recorded is a list of search terms that people have used to find my site. That means every time somebody types something into Google and then visits my site after it pops up in their search results, my blog’s stats keep a record of what search term was used to find it. These search terms range from mundane (“acl surgery”) to mildly amusing (“billy ripken fuck face”) to hilarious (“pictures of men on the toilet”). I don’t know exactly why somebody was looking for pictures of men on the toilet, and I don’t really want to know, but I got some site traffic and a hearty laugh out of it, so whatever. I hope that goofy pervert found something to his liking.

I have this picture to thank…

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