"...I felt happy, almost indestructible in a way."

It was one of those great spring days, it was Sunday, and you knew summer would be coming soon. And I remember that morning Dorrie and I had gone for a walk in the park and come back to the apartment. We were just sort of sitting around and I put on a record of Louie Armstrong, which was music I grew up with, and it was very, very pretty, and I happened to glance over and I saw Dorrie sitting there. And I remember thinking to myself how terrific she was and how much I loved her. And I don't know, I guess it was a combination of everything just seemed to come together perfectly and I felt happy, almost indestructible in a way.

Sandy Bates in "Stardust Memories", written by Woody Allen

I read this the other day and it was painting this picture of Edward Hopper in my head. Not sure why. Maybe the sound from afar to which the dog is turning his head, is that same music of Louie Armstrong?

It's not the parties,
the New Year's Eves
or even the day you married,
but in a day like any other day,
out of the blue,
(more than coincidence,
with someone you love)
you feel happy,
unadulteratedly.

The Cat with Three Legs

Mimi belongs to the vet my cat seeing. She's a perfectly healthy cat, except her left hind leg were amputated.

Energetic and often vocal, she's more like a housekeeper in the vet, patrolling up and down, and meowing in a low tone to express her discontent of over-crowded dogs (or simply just to get attention).

Every time I see her, I feel lifted. I say to myself: if she can survive with three legs, I can survive with two, no matter what.

Remark: I got a lot of traffics coming from search words "cat with three legs". Some as specific as "Can a cat with three legs survive?" So, here's a bit more info about Mimi that may help:
Mimi was nine when she's badly injured and was brought to the vet. But her loveless owner didn't want to keep her because of the prolong medical expenses . So the vet decided to keep her their own. Eventually she got well and has no problem whatsoever in daily life. Now she is nineteen years old.

Look up there!

Gloom, Groan and Moan, I have better place to go.

The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living to The Metaphysical Possibility of Afterlife in the Mind of Someone Dying

On a casual day, not outrageously busy in the office, I popped into a blog and read this:

"In a hundred years I'll be dead. So will you. Before that time comes, I want to keep asking the question, "How do we make the world a more fun, meaningful, loving, creative place?"

– Hugh Macleod, gapingvoid.com, Post March 10, 2009

The first fourteen words have been lingering on my mind since.

Then the phone rang, I had a funeral to go.

Amid the noise, chanting and occasional deafening gong as the priest of Tao performing their rituals, the title of the iconic shark by Damien Hirst came to me: "The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living".

Most of us, most of the time, see Death like this: a distant relative who will come visiting me one day. But definitely not today. Not remotely tomorrow. With average luck, neither the day after. In the mean time, I won't of course bother to call him asking "how are you?", least about how I should live my daily life. That's about it.

What will be my reaction when I finally see him face to face? Terribly frighten? Maybe. Proud and having no regret? I hope so.

The answer may well depend on what I fill in the blanks after that fourteen words.

No revolution planned. Nothing extraordinary happened. But this brief thought of death did make me feel inspired. A sting in my butt. A kick to seize my remaining days, before the inevitable meeting with our common relative who annoyingly sent me this junk mail attached with a shark.

Few weeks passed, now my line of thought is this: In a hundred years I'll be dead. So will you. After that?