Funny or Sad?

Men who are obviously afraid of intelligent women with power, who make such mysogynistic statements that you would think you'd been transported back to the fifties, yet bemoan the lack of "good" women in their lives?

I vote sad. Pathetically so.

Also pathetic: moi with a Jason inspired virus. Ick.

Today on Cat TV:


Mr. Cardinal tries to call his wife to the sunflower seed sale, but she's no where to be found.

Loki, Epicurea-Cat?

Loki sez: Deeee-lish!

Photo by JAZ

Current Stack O' Books

There must be some cure for this compulsive book buying. zing-ahhh...if there's a cure for this, I don't want it, I don't want it, if there's a remedy, I'll run from it...

Sorry...post night shift random song lyric.

Mirror Mirror by Gregory Maguire (author of Wicked). I haven't started this one yet, but thumbed through it. A retelling of Snow White in Italy.

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See. Jason just picked this up for me (enabler!) Story of two women in 19th century China and their letters in a female created language, nu shu. Haven't started it yet either.

The Children of Odin by Padraic Colum. Thor! Loki! Adventures! Loki actually listens when I read aloud to him, Thor doesn't give a hoot, he's got stuff to do.

The Children's Blizzard by David Laskin. About a sudden blizzard and severe cold front that swooped down within hours on the Dakotas in 1888. Very very interesting. It does get a bit long winded with the meteorolgy and the back story of all involved, but once the storm hits, the story is as hair raising as any novel.


Norse Gods! Viking Super Heroes!

Book of the Dead

I have a dead cat book. Big surprise? It contains pictures of all my cats who have gone on to the great beyond since I was approximately eleven years old.

A few days ago, I sorted through some old photographs and added Sutu the Amazing Scaredy Cat.

I'm weird. I know.

Loki Toes


Thor toes

John Walsh, where are you now?

Isaiah Washington is now in counseling for calling his co-worker the “F” word. I’m so glad. That was really wrong. It was immature, unprofessional, mean and hateful. Bad, Isaiah, very, very bad. Very wrong in private, extra wrong in the work place.

But some one tell me why, please, tell me.

Why has this story been relentlessly pursued by the press? Why are people being interviewed on major networks about this? Why is Washington being verbally flayed alive, people calling for him to be fired, if not outright run right out of Hollywood? Why is his meeting with members of the gay community national news?

Yet Bill O’Reilly attacks a child. Not even an adult, but a CHILD, stating that a child kidnapped at gunpoint at age eleven - stop right now and think about it, really, picture yourself at eleven, young, scrawny, skinny, just venturing out on your own in the big wide world -now add in the 300 pound stranger with a gun. Got it? Okay.

So Bill O’Reilly can state on national television that this little eleven year old boy, after being God knows what….no, no, no…….let’s just say it……after most likely being threatened and abused and sodomized for four years, this boy, this child is responsible for his captivity? That this child LIKED it??? He endured sodomy so he could……..play Nintendo???

Bill O’Reilly says this and America rises up …..to get more chips and beer?

Why is he not fighting for his job? Why is he not being forced into counseling? Why is he not forced to meet with members of Darkness to Light or the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children to apologize?

Where is John Walsh? Where is the outcry? Where is the outrage? Why is the press giving O’Reilly a free pass on this one, but attacking Isaiah Washington?

Why? Really? Why?

What!? a short story by Thor

Extra Day

I was put on call last night so I didn't have to work. I spent most of it dozing on the new giant sof-zilla (very comfy). So today, instead of being my "wasted" day, spent taking a short nap and doing mindless chores in an effort to just stay awake long enough to go to bed at night like a real person, is an extra day.

This morning, I was given my marching orders: finish my short story, write a brilliant essay for Skirt! and get a fantastic idea for my next novel, and if I have time, finish my current novel-in-progress (although its current progress very closely resembles the progress one makes along Highway 61 in the evening commute).

No pressure, huh?

I'm aiming for a good chunk of work on the short story (have already done a page and a half this morning, thank you very much). I can't write essays without ending up sounding like some preachy elementary school teacher, my essay writing career is 99% wishful thinking, so that is not going to happen. At least not today.

Yeah, and after lunch, I'll get right on finishing that novel, I mean, I've got at least 20 pages done, it should be snap to sqeeze out two hundred more pages between loads of laundry, right?

But I've been fairly good in the whole writer wanna-be mode. My entry to the SC Fiction Project finally found a title and was sent out on time. I fluffed up an old bit and sent it in to Glimmer Train.

And I'm liking this new story so far, but I'm thinking it is going to end up more novella length than short story length. I'm so long winded! I wander, I roam, I explore the insides of people's minds. I'm such a Southern writer I make myself sick. I want to be short and slick and chock full of razor sharp insights. I want snazzy and fresh and hip. But instead, I border on Faulkner length, rambling on and on in search of a period. I get my copies back from critics and proof readers filled with red dots.

But I've also learned that I can only be what I am. I can only write how I write. I can learn my weaknesses and faults and be on guard against them, but I have to let the story unfold the way it will.


Thor sez: Excuse me, but will this extra time of yours involve providing lunch for us? Because we are starving half to death in case you hadn't noticed in your writerly fugue.

Blogging for Choice

As seen on Allison's blog.

I wish I could be clear-cut in my opinion on this issue. But I cannot. Again, there is no black and white with me, only shades of gray.

Personally, for me and me alone, I am against abortion. I wouldn't have one. It's my opinion that if I am mature enough to have sex, I'm mature enough to protect myself and take the consequences if birth control fails.

Professionally, I'm in the business of bringing babies into this world. I'm pretty pro-baby.

But realistically? It must be kept legal. Any one old enough to remember back alley "doctors" knows that making something illegal will not make it go away. It just becomes more dangerous for all involved. And that back alley, illegal doc isn't going to give you options that might make you change your mind.

And we must put more money and effort in to education and prevention. Just say no is not going to work for everyone. Women get pregnant for reasons other than being careless or stupid. They get pregnant because they are in abusive relationships, they are ashamed to admit they are having sex, they are uniformed about services available to them, they think having a baby will solve their unhappy home lives. There are as many reasons as there are women.

In a perfect world, we'd fund and educate abortion out of business. We'd put our collective money where our mouths are and get serious about social services that actually help people instead of crippling them. We would identify at risk kids in their first year of life and begin intervention so they don't grow up to repeat the cycle.

In a perfect world.


Thor sez: Oh, now you've done it. Why don't you just blog about atheism and higher taxes for the rich next?

Fair?

I awoke today to find a new screen saver:


Loki, first day home.

It's like buying chocolate for a dieter.

Well Duh!

The tease line: Are Girls Getting Meaner?

The video: Three girls beating up another girl, taped and broadcast on the internet.

The question should have been why do we not expect girls and boys to be getting meaner?

For at least the last five years, they have watched adults spew hatred at each other. They have watched "newscasts" that are nothing more than shouting matches. They've watched political campaigns that are nothing but all out war on the other side. They've watched "reality" television shows that promote and reward scheming and back-stabbing. They've made movies like "Saw", with no moral other than torture and murder is cool, number one. They listen to music that relegates women to the ranks of bitches and ho's. They watch "teen dramas" that are rampant with sex and meanness. They've watched athletes shooting up steroids, cheating and breaking laws and getting tsk-tsk'ed for it. They see the number one pundit in America saying that kidnapping at gunpoint and sexual abuse is their fault.

Their parents are at work. When at home their parents send them up to rooms filled with televisions and computers and are content that the kids are being quiet. Their parents accuse teachers of evil intent for ever reporting anything negative about their child. Parents expect their children to be perfect, but turn blind eyes to any problems the child might have, so the child is left to deal with it the best they can. Not my child, is their mantra.

And girls today are expected to just say no while Britney and Jessica bump and grind their nearly naked way to millions of dollars. T-shirts for four year olds have "sexy" printed on the front.

We give them a million conflicting messages and then are surprised when they act out violently?

And we have the gall to say how much we love and cherish our children. We are failing them all. They will not be our future because we aren't teaching them to care about anyone but themselves. They won't give us a future.



Thor sez: You done? Because it's time for you to explain how it's the vet's fault that I meow at night.

Why is this disgusting excuse for a human allowed to pollute the airwaves?

Good old American, conservative right wing, pro-family, Children Are Our Future, anti-crime values there, Billy Boy.

I guess counting all the money you've made wallowing in your filth makes it easier to look yourself in the eye in your mirror each morning.

And now, for your veiwing pleasure..

Jason once read a quote to me about how people with cameras and cats take too many damn pictures of their cats.

I plead guilty.

And since it is cold and rainy and my knees feel like ground glass and acid and since I've been far too serious of late, may I present:

Thor, Post Sneeze:








I missed the actual sneeze because, DAMN you gotta be fast and I really can't walk around with the camera to my face 24/7. I took the camera because at the time, Thor was sleeping in one of those twisted pretzel cat poses with his tongue hanging out. But he woke up and sneezed.

That's it. I'm either going to work on my short story now or curl up with the heating pad, I haven't decided yet.

Dang, my kittens are smart!

Don't you agree?

So, at last Barack Obama has sort of, kind of, tossed his hat in the ring. I really like him. I like what he says in his books. I like that he can articulate the thought processes of his decisions. He doesn't just say what his advisors told him would be the most popular thing to say.

It's going to be an interesting year. Closet racists may project their feelings on to other candidates, but I think Obama's race is only important to the media (and history). He has that unknown something, a touch of charisma that supercedes any racial differences. Black, white, Hispanic, whatever, they all love him. And it is, I think, because we Americans love the underdog. The done-good kid. The guy who used his smarts and talent to achieve, not Daddy's money or connections.

I only hope he can hold on to what makes him appealing and not allow himself to get processed and packaged too much along this journey to the White House.

And as for his lack of experience, well, in today's political climate, that is part of what makes him appealing, the average American is sick of slick, polished, been on the Hill forever candidates. We want fresh, we want new, we want positive energy.

Besides, some governors, with no national or foreign experience, did just fine as President.

Remember Fifth Grade?

Do you? See, I've been reading a lot around the old internet and hearing some in person about ideas.

That our War on Terror is really a war on the ideals of the radical Muslims who want to convert the world by force.

They should ask the Catholic church how well that works.

Or perhaps the people who think that dropping bombs and sending tanks and guns to fight ideas is the way to go should look back to some basic American history lessons.

When the Great British Empire learned all about ideals in the late 1700's. Hmmm?

See, you don't fight the private thoughts and beliefs of men with guns.

You target and isolate the dangerous while offering a better ideal and letting people come to you willingly.

That's what these ya-hoos grabbing at their dicks and grunting out slogans on both sides don't get. You cannot convert at gun point.

Would you die for your country? For your beliefs?

So will they.

And what most Americans fail to grasp is this - just because another's beliefs seem stupid or wrong to YOU, does not make them so. Their belief in Islam is just as strong and right to them as your belief in Christianity.

The challenge is to win the next generation. We've got to appeal to the young, those tired of war. We've got to spoil them with M3P players and internet access and video games. Levi jeans and baseball caps. Free education and opportunity to have something.

We've got to appeal to women who, once they have some power and control over their lives, will no longer be forced to watch their sons go off to war. They will begin to have hopes and dreams for those sons.

And none of that will be found at the end of a gun.

But how shall we accomplish this?

I dunno, I'm just a looney leftie liberal sitting around with my head in la-la-land, trying to think up a way to reach out to those uncorrupted by hatred.


Loki sez: I know! We'll drop a billion blue puff balls on them and everyone will have sooooo much fun playing that they'll forget to hate each other!


Thor sez: That is the dumbest idea I've ever heard. We'll drop a billion pictures of me and the massive release of endorphins caused by gazing upon my incomparable cuteness will render hatred powerless.

Can the media restrain itself?

Basic decency. That's all it is. The media has lost sight of the fact that the world does not need to know everything about victims of crime.

When the two missing boys were found in Missouri, I was relieved and happy for the positive outcome where there usually isn't one.

I was much happier watching images of children smiling, holding hands with their mothers than what we usually see in these cases.

The man who took the boys has been charged with kidnapping. Other charges are pending, say the news reports.

We don't need to know.

Like in the Elizabeth Smart case. I was horrified when the press, knowing that practically every-one in the country knew her name and face, publicized the sexual charges brought against her kidnapper.

That is wrong. I know it is part of the public record. But basic decency requires that it not be printed in the papers, not be beamed via satellite to every home in America and abroad.

Especially in the case of a child.

The same with these boys. They have been through enough with just being kidnapped and the older one with having been held for so long. If there is anything more, let it be between them and their parents. Let the courts deal with it. We, the public, don't need the details.

Let them heal in peace and have some dignity.

Sleepy Saturday

Yawn! I slept all day and still feel like I could go back to bed and sleep until morning.


Thor sez: I know what you mean.

But I was good yesterday. I sent in my SC Fiction Project entry. I sent a submission to Glimmer Train. I about threw up because I could not find where I saved the short story I'm working on. Then found it and worked on it some more.

Jason bought me a book on Norse Mythology and I've been reading stories of Thor and Loki to Thor and Loki. He was so pleased that I liked the book. Until I told him I was really just scouting for new kitten names.

Yes, I have kitten fever. Bad. It's a good thing it is "off season" for kittens at the SPCA right now or we'd be knee deep in them.

Shades of King

Don't be hanging around my back door on a dark night.

I buried Miss Kitty beside the back porch because by the time I bought this house, she was old, fat and arthritic and that is as far as she ever went. She loved to curl up on the soft grass and watch the birds and squirrels from afar. So, I buried her there, then planted the Miss Kitty Memorial Garden (in reality, a Carolina Jasmine on the fence and a couple of day lillies). I begged for one of my mom's closely horded original Charleston bricks to make a little sunken head stone for her.

And that was that.

Except it wasn't.

Our poor little teeny tiny Conan baby was soon laid to rest beside her. My mom felt so bad, she gave me another Charleston brick.

Then two weeks ago, Sutu joined them.

And today, Daisy the guinea pig was laid to rest amongst the felines.

I didn't dare press my luck by requesting two more Charleston bricks, so I improvised head stones by bashing some decorative bricks my brother left in the shed. It looks pretty good out there.

Getting a little creepy, but it looks good.


Loki sez: I miss my Sutu buddy.

Shell Games

I hate this. Really, I do. Everytime I run across it or pass one of those places that will "advance" money on your held check, it makes me sick.

Early evening, my house. The phone rings. It's perky credit company lady calling to confirm my loan amount and go over the terms with me. Again.

She very very perkily gushes about the twelve month interest free aspect of the loan, reminding me that I only have to make the minimum monthly payment for the loan to continue to be interest free.

What's that minimum, I ask.

"Sixty dollars," she replied.

Pause. "Hmmm," I say, "that won't get it paid off in a year."

(Note to readers: I already KNOW this, I know how much I borrowed, I know how much the monthly payment will be in order to pay it off in a year and I fully intend to do so.)

Perky credit card lady, now faltering a wee bit, agrees.

I was tempted to ask what the interest rate will sky rocket to after the year is up and the balance is not paid off, but I really didn't have the heart for it.

Because it makes me sad and angry. This is a scam that is used on really poor people every day. Poor person has ten dollars left in the bank and baby gets sick, if poor person has insurance, there is still the co-pay for the visit and then the medicine. So they go to a check advance place, get some money, which they then can't pay back because all their ordinary bills are due, so the nice check advance people offer to lend them some more, and some more and some more until they are in over their heads.

Same with this, lure them in with no interest, give them a minimum payment that won't pay it off and maybe they fully intend to pay it off in a year, like myself, but then, there is a flat tire or a trip to the doctor and well, just this once, we'll make the minimum and catch up next month. But then next month, the radiater hose on the car bursts.

And companies like these prey on the marginally poor, inticing them, playing on their needs, offering them one thing when in reality, it is quite another that they are buying. And the working poor have no choice. They do not have the back up funds to contend with any one of a hundred things that come up that for you and I are minor inconveniences but for them are financial emergencies.

And I'm not talking about buying a room full of furniture with limited funds. I'm talking about simply trying to get the necessities of life: shelter, food, medical care, clothes. I'm talking about trying to keep an old hunk of junk car running on spit and prayers because without it, you can't get to your job. I'm talking about buying medicine and then figuring out how to pay the entire electric bill.

It's disgusting to take advantage of people's hardship and make a profit off it. But I suppose that is the American Way these days, get what you can for yourself and to hell with anyone else.

Thor sez: That's mean!

Po' po' Pitiful Me

I will readily admit it. I suffer from poor person's syndrome. It most commonly manifests as a fear of luxury. A "good enough" or "make do" attitude when it comes to having to spend money on anything other than shelter, food or other necessities.

Even my shameless spoiling of the kittens is a symptom - I am trying to make sure that they never suffer the pangs of longing as I did as a child and young adult.

Spending money actually makes me sick with fear. What if there is an emergency? What if I need this for something important? What if I fall down and break my leg and can't work?

So my secret private resolution this year was to do what I'd been avoiding for about ten years.

Furniture.

And the po' people gods were smiling on me as I lounged on the microfiber luxury-liner sofa of my dreams. The sales lady informed me that the store was having a tax free day and Wells Fargo was offering interest free financing for a year.

And so yesterday, I breathlessly awaited delivery, saying goodbye to my cat-clawed-old-cat-pee-accident-smelling-I-used-to-smoke loveseat and the futon that I bought after sleeping on the floor for a year after my hasty departure from my marriage.

Now, instead of this:


There is this:


And instead of this:


This:

(Yes, I know that picture is crooked, tell the person who hung it)


Ah, doesn't it make you dream of movies and popcorn, snuggled under a blanket on a cold dreary night?

Tuesday!

The end of my work week! Insert happy dance here. But today I shall not be napping, but rather pulling an all-dayer (only to pass out in my supper plate most likely).

Tomorrow I shall hopefully reveal the reason for my sleeplessness (no, it is NOT another kitten!).

So today, you will have to make do with kitten pictures. When I arrived home this morning, I found two freshly frisky kittens, enjoying the cold snap with a good old fashioned romp up and down the cat tree.


Attack of the Killer Kitten!


Dueling kittens.

Meme Monday

What does the front of your fridge look like?



Cat pictures! What a shocker!

All Kitten Saturday

Thor gets some lap time.











Loki strikes a pose.

Random Bits of Friday

I love how Blogger makes me sign in as "old blogger" rather than "new blogger". That the wording fails to have the intended pyschological effect on me (oh no I don't have THE NEWEST thing!!) makes me laugh every time I sign in.

I wonder if the water meter reader guy ever gets tired of pumping water out of my water meter hole. (high water table)

Why does it freak Thor out when I meow?

Why did it take my health insurance provider eleven months, two weeks, several days, three phone calls from me, unknown number of phone calls from my employer and several letters to change my name?

I hate that I have my SC Fiction Project submission ready to go except for one small detail - no title for the work. I suck at titles.


Why does Thor sleep on the toilet?









Why am I sitting here wasting time when I'm supposed to be doing errands and laundry?

Creativity or Mental Illness?

For a few weeks now, I've been kicking around the idea of a short story based on the Beatles song, "Eleanor Rigby". Loosely based. It's been pinging around deep in my subconscious, spurred on, no doubt, by my continuous playing (since the day after Christmas) of The Beatles Love cd.

Yesterday afternoon, Eleanor, Father McKenzie and a few other people who decided they needed to be included, rose up from the depths to tell me in detail what their stories were.

Those are the days that find me sitting on the couch, staring blankly out the window, Jason constantly asking if I'm all right.

No, there are people talking to me in my head. They are shouting over each other and elbowing each other aside to get my attention. Some are lying to me, some are just trying to be listened to for once.

So, I listen. With a pad of paper on my lap and a pen in hand, I scribble down bits of what they tell me.

And when I think I can see the whole of all their parts, I will sit at the desk, stare at a blank Word Document screen for a moment, then begin to tell you the story they told me.

I only hope I can do it justice.


Thor sez: Does this mean you're going to forget to feed us again?

Photo by JAZ

Sheepish

You'd think I'd be too old for this. No, wait, not too old, too respectable, too dignified.

Alas, I am not.

Whilst browsing amongst the overpriced horrors of "distressed" furniture in a local home furnishings store, we wandered to the bedding section.

NO!! For Pete's sake, go wash your dirty mind.

But, see, there were these sheep. Big, furry, stuffed sheep. And mattresses. Soft, clean, pillow top mattresses.

So, I sort of arranged some sheep in positions that may make it appear as if said sheep are simulating fornication.

Then on the way out, I opened all the December Skirt! magazines to my photo.

I won't be going back anytime soon, I don't reckon.


Loki sez: I'm shocked!

Mysteries within Puzzles within Enigmas

A kind person (Audra) sent Jason a copy of the Rainbow Bridge story. For those who aren't familiar, it is a wonderful little story about all our pets who have gone on who will be waiting for us on the Rainbow Bridge. It is beautiful.

Yesterday evening, I started wondering about that and tried to figure out just exactly how many furbags would be clogging up the bridge until I got there. I stopped counting at ten.

I've had multiple cats in my household since I was eight and we lived in Japan with Siamese brothers, Scotch and Bourbon (not kidding, I didn't name them).

Cats, for those who live with them, are endlessly fascinating. From the first cave girl who pointed at a Saber Tooth kitten and said, "I want Fluffy!", mankind has loved, worshipped, hated and demonized cats. And after a few millineums, we still haven't gotten them completely tame. Even the most pampered of pampered cats will chitter and swish its tail if it sees a bird outside its window.

They run hot and cold. They love us. Now go away. No, I love you. But you can't pet me now. You may pet me later. Feed me now. No, I don't like that food. I want the other food. The one we are out of and you have to drive 20 miles to get.

And we jump through their hoops like the well trained monkeys with opposible thumbs that we are. And we love and adore them even more for their crumbs of affection.

But we don't really understand them. What is going on in their minds when they turn those big eyes with the ever changing pupils our way and do that slow blink stare. They seem like they know something. Good or bad, we don't know and they won't tell.

And I'm not really a crazy cat lady, but damn it all to hell, you can't tell me that Loki isn't thinking when he purposely carries his puff ball to a specific spot, sets it where he wants, backs off, then 'attacks' it from some angle.

And the mystery of White Cat, my wandering vagrant cat. Who showed up out of the blue a while back, claimed by the people two doors down. Yes, she wanders the neighborhood, but tell me, why, why is it that I never see her unless I've thought that I haven't seen her in a while? The moment I begin to worry about her out alone in this rough neighborhood, she shows up.

Just last night, I was looking at the pictures Jason managed to snap of her. I was mulling over blog ideas. Then this morning, I walk in the front door, to the kitchen and what do I see out my kitchen window?



Now, I know what you are thinking. It only seems like she shows up after I've thought about her because the coincidence makes it stand out in my mind. But that isn't it. Literally, the last five or six times I have seen her has only been the day after I've thought that I hadn't seen her in a while.

So how does she know?









She's not telling.















(I'm sure dogs are just as interesting, but having never owned one, I can't say and I'm not saying cats are better - it's just what I know.)

Resolutions

I hate New Year's resolutions. It always seems like we do it just because everyone else does it and we don't want to not be part of the crowd. How many things do you suppose we do just because we think we are expected to do them? What do you think would happen to society if we all just stopped?

Anyway...as I was saying. I think I'm starting to change my mind about resolutions. I think having an idea of what direction you'd like to take your life in might not be that bad of a thing.

Once, one of the docs I rarely see said to me, "I never recognize you because everytime I see you, you look completely different."

And ever so witty moi replied, "Well, I am a complex and constantly evolving woman, how can I stay the same?"

I meant it as a smart ass remark, but now I'm thinking about it in a new light.

Last year was sort of blah. Not bad. Just blah. I struggled more than usual with my bouts of depression and just in general felt....flat.

I think it was because I had no big change, no goal, no nothing. I just cruised through last year like it was the same as the year before.

So, this year, I need a new direction. I need a new goal to focus on.

Therefore, my resolution is: If the agent who is looking at my sample chapters now declines to represent me, I will not continue to query agents. I will instead focus this year on short fiction or novella length fiction and look to start getting my short work published, hopefully in some literary journals. I'll also work on my non-fiction writing for publication also. It's time to go back to square one and start over again in a slightly different direction.

That is my new and hopefully exciting plan for this year. Let's see if it lasts until February!


Thor sez: My resolution is to continue being unbearably cute!