Sunday Stealing

90, part 1


1. What was the highlight of your week? Time spent with my nephew. First his 8th grade graduation (Tuesday), then our trips to the animal shelter to adopt Connie (Friday).

2. Whose car were you in last? It belonged to the cab company.

3. When is the next time you will kiss someone? Your guess is as good as mine.

4. What color shirt are you wearing? Hunter green.

5. How long is your hair? It's short, but it's a bit unkempt. I'm getting my locks shorn this coming Saturday.

6. Are you good looking? I haven't frightened anyone.

7. Last movie you watched? Chef. It was completely charming. If it's playing near you, go see it.

8. Who were you with? I slipped in and out of the theater by myself. It's one of the benefits of having it less than 5 minutes away.

9. Last thing you ate? I'm right now eating Edy's Slow Churned Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream.

10. Last thing you drank? Lemon lime soda.

11. When was the last time you had your heart broken? When my cat Charlotte died last month. She was a very good girl.

12. Who came over last? The mailman.

13. Are you happy right now? I'm OK.

14. What did you say last? "NO!" My cat Reynaldo is in a mood and wants to tear up the dining room again.

15. Where is your phone? My cell is charging in the kitchen. My landline is on the end table.

16. What color are your eyes? Green

17. Are you left-handed? No

18. Spell your name without vowels: Th Gl Hrslf

19. Do you have any pets? Three cats: Joey, Reynaldo and Connie.

20. Favorite Vacation? I'd love to spend a week at a destination spa.

21. What do you dislike currently? Manufactured drama. Life tosses enough curves our way, we don't need to create upheaval.

22. What are you listening to? The TV is on

23. If you could have one thing right now what would it be? Mark Harmon

24. What is your favorite scent? Cinnamon

25. Who makes you happiest? I'm sure Mr. Harmon could, given half a chance

26. What were you doing at midnight last night? Sleeping, Unfortunately not with Mark Harmon.

27. When is your birthday? November 22

28. Who has the same phone as you? Many people. Many cheap people. It's not a very good phone.

29. Last time you went swimming in a pool? Christmas Eve in Key West. This is the pool. It was adorable.

Arrived with Rey, left with Joey

This morning at church we had a flower exchange. We each bring a flower and place it in one of the vases before we enter the sanctuary. They're cut and placed in baskets and then brought in for the minister to bless. Then children walk among the pews, distributing the flowers. It's designed so that we won't leave with the one we brought. It symbolizes our respect for the planet and our appreciation of our congregation's diversity.

I brought a bright yellow gerbera daisy, purchased yesterday at the florist. I received a rather wilted something-or-other from someone's garden.

At first I was disappointed. Then I listened to our intern minister as he told us to look at the blossom we received. Really look at it. I could see how pretty it had once been (probably yesterday). I appreciated its earthy smell. I saw the value and beauty in it.

I feel like I came to church with my cat Reynaldo. The gerbera daisy is strong and in its prime, like my 10-year-old boycat. I left with Joey. At 17, he's not alert or lively anymore. But he's affectionate, with a loud purr, and an open and loving heart. I see the value and beauty in him, too. Especially in contrast with Reynaldo and the barely-adult Connie.

I have returned

Two weeks ago I saw Million Dollar Arm. This weekend it was Chef. While I liked both movies, I was reminded how much I enjoy going to the movies. Sitting there, in the dark, being transported to another world. It's magic and it's good for me. I must do it more often.

The best thing about Chef is the adorable Emjay Anthony. He plays Percy, the preteen son of Chef Carl. Sometimes movie kids are cloying, but he's too real for that. With his big, expressive brown eyes and dimples, he's cute and touching and thoughtful.

Also, the movie made me want a Cubano. I love that buttery bread!

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: Walk This Way
(recommended by In the Company of Me)

1) This song is about a young man who takes advantage of his "big chance at a high school dance." Share a memory from your high school years.  When I was a junior, our basketball team made it to the Sweet Sixteen.

2) Lead singer Steven Tyler is the son of a working mother (mom Susan was a secretary). Did your mother work outside the home? My mom didn't work until long after I moved out.

3) Onstage, Tyler takes colorful scarves from around his neck and drapes them over the microphone. Do you accessorize your outfits with scarves and belts? Or do you prefer to keep things simple?  I can never figure out how to tie scarves. I wear belts to keep my pants up. So I guess I'm a Keep It Simple Gal.

4) Tyler confessed to having a massive crush on Jennifer Lopez, his fellow judge on American Idol. Do you think a coworker has ever had a crush on you?  Yes.

5) Aerosmith lead guitarist Joe Perry says seeing The Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show in 1964 inspired him to go into music. How did you end up in your chosen profession? The company where I worked as a secretary -- a very high profile corporation -- was being investigated for their hiring practices. As a preemptive strike, they offered a copywriter test to all "timecard employees." I took it, passed and found myself in a career.

6) Perry's hobby, breeding horses, is very lucrative. What are your hobbies? Reading. Watching movies. Nothing that can be monetized, unfortunately.

7) Aerosmith performed before their biggest-ever TV audience when they played the Super Bowl halftime show in 2001. Are you a football fan? If so, do you prefer college football or the NFL? What teams do you root for? Not a football fan.

 8) Now that we're into summer, the days are longer. When is the last time you watched the sun set?  Seen it? Yesterday. But actually, consciously watched it? That was forever ago. I really should pay attention and appreciate more.

9) What time did you go to sleep last night? About 12:30 AM

 

A Tale of Two Connie's

When TV audiences first met Constance MacKenzie back in 1964, we knew her as the beloved owner of the only bookstore in Peyton Place. Connie to her friends -- of which she had many -- Mrs. MacKenzie was a pillar of the community. It wasn't until the season was underway that we learned about her past: weekends in Boston with an older, married man and an unplanned pregnancy. At first, when the townspeople learned of her youthful indiscretion, there was a scandal. But her inherent goodness and dignity ultimately carried the day and she retained the good will of the Peyton Place-onians.

This is why I have named my cat Constance MacKenzie. She was rescued from a crowded Indiana apartment (like Peyton Place's Connie, she has crossed state lines), where she and many, many other cats were kept by a hoarder. Barely a year old, she was already pregnant. She was also emaciated and battling an upper respiratory infection. She miscarried that litter and has been languishing in a cage since February.

But now Connie lives here. We're putting her painful past behind her and from now on, she'll be known as the respectable feline who lives in a booklined apartment. (Her eyes are still bothering her and she's squinting at the flash.)

So far Reynaldo views her with rapt attention and apprehension. He's been so preoccupied by her he hasn't knocked anything over or torn anything up. Joey, literally, could not care less. When she first arrived, he glanced in her general direction and then took a nap.

A Summer Celebration

To observe the 100th anniversary of Wrigley Field, dozens of pairs of stadium chairs have been decorated and are on display up and down Michigan Avenue. When the celebration is over, the chairs will be auctioned off for charity. If only I had the room and the money, I'd buy these three.

Before they were the Cubs, they were the Feds

My all-time favorite Cub, immortalized!

One of the best things about being a Cub fan is our victory song, "Go, Cubs, Go!"

How to describe Buyer and Cellar?

My friend Barb and I went to see this wonderful little one-man show last Wednesday and I was enchanted. It's funny and sad. It's about celebrity and loneliness and love and sex and Barbra Streisand.

Official synopsis: "Buyer & Cellar is an OUTRAGEOUS new comedy about the oddest of odd jobs: an underemployed Los Angeles actor going to work in Barbra Streisand’s Malibu basement.” -NYT

But that doesn't do it justice. Watch the clip.

When perfect doesn't matter

The meeting I was so worried about Monday morning? I aced it. The client literally said, "This is perfect."

My boss wasn't in attendance.

He's been there for each petty recitation of every typo I made on the manuscript, for the heavy sighing because I used Cambria when a san serif type would be preferable to ... someone. Our Drama Queen Account Executive has been acting as though the margins and font of my copy deck matter mightily when, in reality, a production artist is just going to convert it to HTML anyway.

So after the meeting I asked him why he wasn't there. He shrugged and said, "I know you present well."

I won't go into the permutations of all the office politics, but we had another round of layoffs a week ago today and he's working on our performance evaluations. I told him I was confused and nervous about the way things are being handled ... that anyone would. But he acted as though I was just being a hysterical female. OK. So be it.

If the work, the content, the words, we present to our client matters, I was "perfect." If being able to negotiate the complex office politics are more important, then I'm in trouble. I have to believe that pleasing the client means more than pleasing the Drama Queen. I have to believe that, or I'll start screaming at the unfairness of it all.

I think I'll call her Connie

I met a shelter cat yesterday. Currently her name is Koala Bear. She's mostly gray with a touch of white. About 3 (or was it 2?) years old, she was brought in when three months ago. Across the border in Indiana, a "cat lady" (I think it's a euphemism for "hoarder") was busted and her cats were divided among a variety of shelters. Koala Bear was pregnant, but miscarried her litter. Otherwise she was in good condition -- except for her eye, which can be runny because of FVR.

This means she has a forever cold in her system that can flare up at any time. I believe my boys have been vaccinated against it. I want to check with the vet, just to be sure. It can't be cured, but it can very easily be managed. As long as my boycats are safe, I don't mind her being "special needs."

My nephew accompanied me to the shelter. He had to hold the cat so that I could get a good look at her. When she was in my arms, she kept burrowing her head under mine so insistently I couldn't see her face! When I was giving the other cats a chance to charm me, she kept flipping around in her cage, trying to get my attention. So I think she decided on me.

I hope it works out.

His grandma's watch

My nephew graduated from 8th grade yesterday. He was in the top 10% of his class, National Honor Society and got a commendation from Barack Obama. We were all (Mom, Dad, Uncle and me) very
proud of him.

I was amused by how different he is from his sister. She so enjoyed the (literal) pomp and circumstance, the ceremony, the last moments in the school with her favorite teachers and friends. She insisted I take her picture with her posse in front of their favorite stairwell, their favorite entrance, their favorite restroom, with their favorite teachers … I offered to do the same for my nephew, but I had to suggest it. And he was only comfortable doing it once we were far away from his friends.

In his "memory book" (an 8th grade project), he wrote about finding his own voice. His style is more sophisticated than his thoughts. In one essay, he took on stereotypes but seemed to feel that in today's world, white men are victims. People don't care if fathers don't ever get custody of their children, while women's pay inequity in the workplace is a cause ("Matt Lauer will host a rally on TV" for the women). Likewise if blacks are verbally abusive to white, "no one cares," but when the opposite occurs, the media pays attention.

I was more than a little shocked to read this. But then I remembered: he's 14. We've had an African American President for almost half of life, so he doesn't know a world where white males were the law makers and law breakers. He doesn't understand what he's seeing in the context of centuries of inequities. And I think he's feeling vulnerable -- about his own entree into adulthood, his own masculinity. So I didn't say anything. Besides, he's 14. The point is that he's learning to think for himself. He doesn't need me telling him that, when he thinks for himself, he's wrong.

His memory book also listed his favorite things in reverse order -- a sailor cap from his beloved older cousin, a coin that once belonged to my uncle (his great uncle), a small red towel that Bennie the Cat used to sleep on, and his grandma's watch. He misses my mother so.

Last night I went to bed hurt that I was listed nowhere in the memory book. I woke up this morning over it. For while I wasn't IN the book, in a very real way I was on the cover. The artwork he chose was a photo of Stewart and Colbert and The Beatles. That's my boy!

Not eager to go in this morning

I should be headed to the office for pre-meeting prep before our 10:00. And yet I'm posting. Because I'm not excited about going to work today.

Too much drama. Too much intrigue. Too much paranoia. Too little about serving our client.

I'm going to have a conversation with my boss about all this today, after the 10:00. Maybe we can do something to alleviate my paranoia. I'm not confident the rest can be helped with a conversation.

I'm so tired of being worried and so tired of being tired. I wish I could afford to quit. Or start over and try something else. But alas, I can't.

Gotta go pull up my Big Girl Panties.

 

 Image courtesy of Franky242 at freedigitalphotos.net.

Sunday Stealing

Hey Nineteen

1)Where would you retire to?  Right here. I don't foresee myself moving.

2)What are your best physical features?  I have bright green eyes and soft, shiny hair.

3)What are your best characteristics? I'm loyal and funny.

4)What kind of books do you like to read? Lots of different kinds: mysteries, biographies, memoirs …

5)What are you reading now? Cop Town by Karin Slaughter

7)What is your favorite time of the day? 11:00. Both of them.

8)Where did you grow up? One of your whiter whitebread suburbs

9)How far away from your birthplace do you live now? 30/40 miles

10)Are you a morning person or a night owl? Night owl

11)What inspires you? JFK: "Our problems are man-made, therefore they may be solved by man."

12)Can you close your eyes and raise your eyebrows? This is a big deal?

13)Do you have pets? Two boy cats, Joey and Reynaldo

14)How many rings before you answer the phone? When I can reach it

15)What are some of the different jobs that you have had in your life? Receptionist and

writer are two; most of the others are variations on the theme. I've had a manilla folder in my hand since I was 17.

16)Any new and exciting things that you would like to share? Nope

17)What is most important in life? Love

18)Did you dream last night? I vaguely remember something

19)Do you remember your dreams? Sometimes bits and pieces

Saturday 9

"Meet the Flintstones" (The Flintstones Theme) 

1) The song promises that, "When you're with the Flintstones, you'll have a yabba-dabba-doo time." So clearly Wilma was one accomplished hostess. What about you? Do you enjoy having company? No. I avoid it all costs.

2) Since lyrics say, "Let's ride with the family down the street/courtesy of Fred's two feet," we're assuming the pedal-powered Flintstone car didn't require much gas. Are you loyal to a particular brand of gas? Or do you fill up with whatever is nearby, or least expensive? Sorry, no car.

3) Clearly a sharp-dressed man in stone-age Bedrock wore a long tunic and no pants. What are you wearing right now, as you answer these questions? An oversized, bright gold t-shirt with the words, "KEY WEST" and the silhouette of a scuba diver in navy blue. It's this week's nightie.

4) Pebbles Flintstone grew up with Dino the Dinosaur and Baby Puss the Saber-Tooth Cat. Did you have any pets as you were growing up? I had a wonderful white cat named Tommy. He was quirky, fun and affectionate.

5) Mr. Slate is Fred's blustery boss at quarry, and he frequently threatens to fire Fred. Have you ever had a bad-tempered boss? I once had a boss who was ... um ... what's the word I'm looking? Fucking nuts! That's it! One day he just started insulting me in the most personal way -- telling me how bad my attitude is and that I need therapy. "OK," said I, "I get it. I'm fired. I've never been fired before. What do we do now? Do I go to HR and sign something?" He told me I couldn't leave, he needed me too much, and he took out his money clip and offered me all the cash in his pocket. Seeing crazy up close and personal like that is jarring. I was there barely a year.

6) It's estimated that during The Flintstones original run (1960-1966), it was viewed by as many adults as kids. Now that you're a grown up, do you still watch cartoons? No.

7) In 1961, The Flintstones was nominated for a Prime Time Emmy Award as Outstanding Comedy Series. Do you watch awards shows? Love 'em. The Tony Awards are next weekend.

8) There are at least two Flintstones-themed amusement parks currently in

operation. Do you enjoy scary rides? Yes. It's been too long since I've been on a roller coaster. Unfortunately, none of my friends is up for a trip to the amusement park. The closest I'll come this summer is the Navy Pier ferris wheel.

9) Flintstones Vitamins are still on store shelves. Do you take a vitamin each morning? Yes, but the CVS brand, not Flintstones.

"This bird has flown"

The entire front of the building I live in is glass. Four stories of windows facing the street. Vines crawl up and poke through the caulk between the panes, allowing for water damage. And so it was decided that the vines should be removed.

I get the decision. I'm in favor of it ... in theory. But the strong, thick vines have become home to bird's nest. I observe it every morning when I walk down the stairs. I noticed it because the

resourceful bird used a hank of bright red fabric, thin and netted, and laced it amid the twigs. I hated to think that a bird with such an eye for interior design would lose her home.

I'm happy to report that since they waited until after Memorial Day to remove the vines, the landscapers are removing an abandoned nest. I don't know where the bird went, but she moved away of her own volition before she could be evicted.

WWW.WEDNESDAY

PLEASE NOTE: This is This Gal's 5,555th Musing!


To play along, just answer the following three questions ...

• What are you currently reading? Cop Town by Karin Slaughter.  I just picked it up and am very impressed by the action and pacing. Not high art, but so far it's an entertaining thriller about a family of Atlanta cops. From the jacket:

As a brutal murder and a furious manhunt rock the city’s police department, Kate Murphy wonders if her first day on the job will also be her last. She’s determined to defy her privileged background by making her own way—wearing a badge and carrying a gun. But for a beautiful young woman, life will be anything but easy in the macho world of the Atlanta PD, where even the female cops have little mercy for rookies. It’s also the worst day possible to start given that a beloved cop has been gunned down, his brothers in blue are out for blood, and the city is on the edge of war.
 
Kate isn’t the only woman on the force who’s feeling the heat. Maggie Lawson followed her uncle and brother into the ranks to prove her worth in their cynical eyes. When she and Kate, her new partner, are pushed out of the citywide search for a cop killer, their fury, pain, and pride finally reach the boiling point. With a killer poised to strike again, they will pursue their own line of investigation, risking everything as they venture into the city’s darkest heart.
 

 

• What did you recently finish reading? Mary by Janis Cooke Newman. Wow. Just wow. More than 600 pages written as if by Mary Lincoln herself. An intense and very moving book about a woman who saw history first hand and suffered much (too much) pain in her life. It wasn't a fun read -- far from it -- but it was so engrossing and well written that I enjoyed it nevertheless.

• What do you think you’ll read next? I don't know.

To see how others responded, click here.

Facing forward

Reynaldo is behaving a bit differently these days. He hasn't curled up on his kitty condo once since Charlotte died. Instead he's taken to her regular haunts, sleeping on the foot of the bed and perching on the back of the sofa. I think he misses her.

Joey does not. While he has the sweetest of hearts, Charlotte never had any use for him. Nearly every morning this century, he tried to befriend her at breakfast and she swatted him on the nose.

Joey is the same age as Charlotte was. The heartbreaking thing about our pets is that they don't live as long as we need them to, and, statistically speaking, Joey is on borrowed time.

I have to start thinking about getting another cat. Reynaldo can't be home alone all day. He's too social. He'd be confused, bored and unhappy by himself all day while I'm at work.

Tuesday, June 3 is my nephew's 8th grade graduation. Depending on how things are going at work, I may take the whole day off and check out the animal shelter in his neighborhood. My nephew is a cat lover and might enjoy being part of the process. If I meet anyone who seems like a good fit for this household, perhaps I'll go back the following Saturday (6/7) and adopt.

Cubs Win! Cubs Win!

Going into today's game, Jeff (The Shark) Samardzija had the lowest ERA in the  major leagues, an amazing 2.0. Even more amazing, he had no wins this year. None. Zip. Zilch. For some reason, when The Shark is on the mound, the bats are silent.

Until today.

The Cubs beat the Giants in San Francisco. The final score was 8-4, and Samardzija did some of the hitting himself with an RBI double.

So the team with best record in the league lost to the team with the ... um ... not best record. And finally, the best man won.

Two servings of Hamm

This afternoon I saw Million Dollar Arm, the Disney movie starring Jon Hamm. It was pretty predictable -- Jerry Maguire Goes to India -- but since it centered around two of my favorite elements (baseball and a gorgeous leading man), I had fun.

Now tonight I'm watching the mid-season finale of Mad Men. Once again Jon Hamm plays a handsome asshole in search of redemption. And I love it.

Left me feeling confused

I am, of course, a dedicated and lifelong Beatle fan. As a discerning Beatlemaniac, I long ago came to the conclusion that the group was really two outstandingly talented men -- Lennon and McCartney -- and two very lucky ones. While Sir Paul has always resonated with me, I don't skimp on my appreciation of John.

Yet this morning at church, I was disturbed when one of our choir soloists opened the service by singing John's signature anthem:

Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today...

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

It's Memorial Day weekend! How can anyone sing, "imagine there's no countries" on one of the most patriotic days of the year? How can anyone sing, "imagine there's no heaven" inside a house of worship? I was very uncomfortable hearing this song under these circumstances. The intensity of my feelings made me even more uncomfortable.

Then my minister took over and it all made sense. He reminded us that Memorial Day is about honoring those who made the ultimate sacrifice, those who died so that others may live. Perhaps the best way to honor their sacrifice is to work for peace, to ensure that fewer soldiers die on the battlefield, that fewer civilians are collateral damage, in the future. And that, he says, takes commitment and imagination. Hence, the song choice.

He also tweaked us. The U.S. volunteer military is made up, by and large, of people who don't look like our congregation. Few of the families at my church have "skin in the game." The conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq haven't touched us personally. Therefore it might be easy to allow ourselves not to think about, not to feel for, the challenges our troops and their families face.

My minister was telling us that we owe our military men and women -- past, present and future -- something. That's what he was saying. And he used John to make us stop and pay attention.

Sunday Stealing

Random XV

1. How old is the oldest pair of shoes in your closet? I don't keep my shoes in my closet. They're supposed to be in a canvas tote, but most of them are kicked under the coffee table or behind the chair.

2. Did you buy Girl Scout cookies this year? If so, what variety? Peanut butter sandwich

3. Do you know how to ballroom dance?  No

4. Were you a responsible child/teenager? I was nowhere near as bad as I could have been

5. How many of this year's Oscar-nominated movies did you see? Most of them

6. If you're going to have a medical procedure done, such as having blood drawn, is it easier for you to watch someone else having the procedure done or have it done yourself? It doesn't scare me

7. What is your favorite day of the week and why? Thursday. It means I'm better than halfway through.

8. What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received?? That I'm a good friend
 
9. Do hospitals make you queasy? No

10. At which store would you like to max-out your credit card? It's not a store. I dream of maxing out my credit card at the front desk at Chateau Elan Spa and Resort. I wish I was doing that right now.

11. Are you true to the brand names of products/items? Some

12. Which is more difficult: looking into someone’s eyes when you are telling someone how you feel, or looking into someone’s eyes when he/she is telling you how he/she feels? If it's a personal matter, the latter.

13. What’s one thing you’re deeply proud of — but would never put on your résumé? Tee hee, she giggled, blushing at the memory.

14. What’s the most out-of-character choice you’ve ever made? Walking away from my job in 2002.

15. What’s your personal anthem or theme song? "Tears Die on Their Own" by Amy Winehouse

That was nice

I spent my Saturday taking myself out to lunch, where I had a drink, and getting a salon  pedicure ("Optimistic" by Revlon). I needed a little pampering. Then I did all my laundry and blabbed for a while with my oldest friend.

A nice Saturday.

Saturday 9

The Star Spangled Banner

1) Are you a veteran? Are there veterans in your family? (We are grateful and want to hear about it.) My dad was a hospital corpsman in Korea. My uncle was a foot soldier in Vietnam.

2) Memorial Day also kicks off the summer season. What's your favorite picnic food? Barbecue. It's the aroma as much as the taste. I love that BBQ smell!

3) Let's celebrate the Memorial Day holiday with ice cream. What's your favorite flavor? Mint chocolate chip.

4) This marks the weekend when Americans step up their outdoor activity and do things they may not have been able to do during the winter months. For example, when is the last time you rode a bike? Years ago, in Key West.

5) Or went hiking? If we define "hiking" as taking a long walk, then last Sunday.

6) Or rode a horse? Decades ago, visiting my cousin when she still lived in Albuquerque.

7) Or toasted a marshmallow? When I chaperoned my niece, then in first grade, on her first-ever Girl Scout sleepover.

8) As you answer these questions, is there an air conditioner or window fan on? The fan is in the open window, but it's not turned on.

 9) Crazy Sam needs your help: What song or a performer would you like to see featured in a Saturday 9 this summer? Diana Ross and the Supremes. 50 years ago they were the second biggest act in the world, topped only by the Beatles, with 5 consecutive #1 hits. It was an astonishing achievement at the time, for women of color to dominate the charts like that when much of America was still segregated. They truly helped change the world, and I think that's a very big deal.

 

So that's what it's for!

I'm not really a fan of Facebook. Oh, I spend a lot of time on it. But usually I'm snooping on people (a former and very annoying coworker was looking for work and I was so happy to see where she landed ... because it meant she wasn't coming to my agency) or reading what feels like press releases from people I don't necessarily know very well. Not much that's posted feels real. So while I enjoy keeping up with people over the miles in real time (an old boyfriend, a really good guy, and his wife just posted the last day of school of their youngest child, so it truly was the last day of school for them), I don't much see the value of it.

Until Thursday. I posted this photo of Charlotte (posting it again because I like looking into her eyes again) and mentioned that, after all those years of looking after me and the boycats, she can now relax. I got so many very sweet little messages and hugs. I got two IM's, too (from my nephew and from Ms. Snarkypants herself). They made me feel better. They really did.

As did the sweet and sensitive comments I received on my Charlotte blog post (below). Thank you, everyone. Because she was such a good and trusting diva cat, I'm reminded from that Arthur Miller line from Death of a Salesman -- "attention must be paid." The internet gives us an almost immediate way to pay attention to the important things in one anothers lives.

My girl is gone

I left work today at 1:30, rushing through The Big Meeting and not much caring* because I just knew Charlotte needed an IV at the vet. It was a last minute emergency appointment, and they said they could squeeze me in at 3:30.

I thought she had the flu. After all, she wasn't avoiding me and the boycats like she had in February. She even purred as I fell asleep beside her on the futon Tuesday night. She really loved that furry green pillow from the old sofa. That's where she spent last night, too, in plain sight and not hiding under the bed.

She was much sicker than she was in February. Much sicker than she had ever been before. Her liver had failed. The vet showed me how yellow the inside of her ears and gums were, tell tale signs, and I felt awful for not having noticed. None of the lights here at home are as bright as the fluorescents at the vet and, even though I looked into her mouth every day, twice a day, to pill her, I never noticed.

They took some blood and gave her fluids when we waited for the results of her test. The vet was warning me that it looked very bad, but I wasn't understanding. After all, they took her temperature and she didn't have a fever! After she had the fluids, really very quickly, I could tell she was already feeling better, purring and giving me a kiss.

That, of course, was when we were alone. When the vet and the techs were tending to her, Miss Thing sent her mind far away. She was terrified by all unfamiliar those hands on her, of strangers calling her strange names like, "Little Mama."

When the results came back, the vet read me some dizzying numbers and added pancreatitis to the liver malfunction. She told me Charlotte would have to stay in the hospital for days to "at least have a shot." I held her tiny head in my hand, and she stared up at me with big, affectionate eyes, looking comfortable for the first time in days. I wasn't sure leaving her in a hospital environment was fair.

"I'm afraid if we get her well, we'll just have to go through this again in another three months," I said, starting to cry. Unselfish doesn't come naturally to me and I really didn't like the conclusion I was slowly reaching.

"I'm not sure she would make it three nights," the vet said. "I think you need to think about the short term, not the long term."

"Is she dying?" Duh, Gal.

"She has never been this sick before," the vet said carefully. "Her liver shut down. I'd be worried about her if she was a strong, 6-year-old cat." Meaning my fragile 17-year-old didn't have a chance. She also told me that -- right now -- was the best Charlotte could expect to feel for days. And even then, she might not pull through.

I told her I hadn't even entertained this notion, and that I needed a little time. The vet left me alone and after a few minutes (I don't know how many) one of the vet techs came in and was telling me about how she recently found out her husband was cheating on her. She said she didn't know what to do. It was weird. I think she was trying to be kind, to distract me, and since I spend so much time at the vet's office I think she feels we know each other. We don't. I wanted to be alone with my girl.

She left and Charlotte and I were alone again. I looked in her face. I listened to her purr. I made up my mind to act out of love. I didn't want to let her go. I wasn't ready to let her go. But I couldn't stand the thought of her dying in a hospital, with strangers handling her and calling her, "Little Mama." Divas are not "Little Mamas," and Charlotte was always regal and always had attitude.

I didn't want her to hurt. Because of her age and her failing liver, the only sure things in her future were discomfort and fear. Wellness was not likely. Here I had an opportunity to ease her out of life without pain. It would be monstrous of me to not let her go.

So I knelt on the floor and looked into her eyes as the vet gave her the shot. I cooed, "Charlotte Anne," and "Girlfriend." I could tell she saw and heard me … until she didn't.

She didn't die among strangers, and she didn't hurt. So I have sadness but not regret.

Charlotte was (best guess) 17 years old. She joined and immediately began dominating this household in 2001. I gave her the best life I could. She gave me her affection and her support. I will miss her walking along the back of the sofa and rubbing my head with hers, and her help in the mornings. Who will sit on the toilet seat, watching me put on my make up, or jump into the armoire as I select the day's blouse, or chat with me every time I enter the kitchen?

I was fortunate to know her.

*No one else could meet yesterday afternoon, as originally scheduled. And I was ready yesterday afternoon. Today my girl needed me. So fuck 'em.

What's Up, Girl?

My poor Charlotte was not that enthusiastic about breakfast this morning, even though I augmented it with her beloved Gerber baby food. She also passed on two of her favorite morning rituals -- sitting beside me as I slather moisturizer on my legs and leaping into the armoire when I remove a shirt.

Still, she did eat, her eyes do follow me around the room and she's not hiding from Joey and Reynaldo. So she's not feeling as poorly as she did in February, when she was dangerously thin and dehydrated.

I wish she could just tell me what's up. I'll bundle her up and take her to the vet this weekend, if that's warranted. But she so hates going. Leaving the house, traveling by car, being handled by strangers ... it's such an anathema that it feels abusive to do it for my peace of mind, rather than her well being.

And they say crime doesn't pay!

My blow dryer died Tuesday morning. At first I was pissed, and then I remembered that I've had it since George HW Bush was in office. I had spent five years working for a haircare company, writing the product packaging copy, and after I gave notice I began "liberating" as much product as I could.

I was a regular Artful Dodger. We actually needed a dolly to get the cartons of shampoo bottles out to the car! (And yes, I was that brazen. Building security looked the other way because they loved me ever since I had to work on Super Bowl Sunday and brought them the portable TV from our office.)

I feel like there should be a downside to this story, since I did steal. But there isn't one.

I wish I'd been there!

Yesterday the Cubs beat the Brewers on a lovely, sunny spring Sunday within the Friendly Confines of Wrigley Field. I had a completely wonderful time listening to the game as I wandered around town and ended up at Pet Supplies Plus, where I stocked up on canned cat food for Charlotte and Joe and saved about $7. I always enjoy listening to games on the radio because of announcer Pat Hughes, who has a terrific voice and is so talented at painting word pictures.

But yesterday I wished I was actually at the ballpark. For as part of the season-long centennial celebration at Wrigley Field, the Cubs were highlighting the 1930s. The players wore zip front jerseys, knee pants and cool socks, like the 1937 Cubs wore, and fans under 13 got Viewmasters, and I loved my Viewmaster. I wonder if it seems like a very retro, low-tech toys to today's child.

At any rate, I'm starting to feel better, and it was good to be out and about and listening to my heroes in pinstripes.