Blicky Kitty

An Emerging Market

2011-09-20T22:51:00.000-07:00

As unemployment takes center stage as the nation's most pressing issue, I feel grateful that I always have something to fall back on in times of trouble. And no, I don't mean blogging for Blicky.

I feel more secure knowing I will always have a back-up career -- in stand-up comedy for the 6 and under set. I know what you're thinking, gentle reader. Hey, who would pay you money to do something that easy? Isn't that like offering family planning for pandas, running anger management classes for Tibetan monks, or teaching tail-wagging and steak eating to dogs? Comedy for kids? All you have to do is pretend to pass gas and call it a day. I understand your thinking, and I realize that I will need to demonstrate my gift in order to give people an understanding of the rigors and complexity involved.

For a limited time, I will share these free tricks that are guaranteed to kill -- I mean absolutely slay the members of the wrinkle-free-midget persuasion.

#1 One joke that never fails at drop-off even though they might hear it 180 days out of the school year: "Now remember, kids, DON'T HAVE FUN." But beware -- if you can't do a decent deadpan, you're out of your league and should stop here. At the very least, that line guarantees a sea of gleeful smiles and sing-song choruses of, "We're having fuuunnnn!"

#2 Persons of the curly-haired-dimpled persuasion absolutely LOVE anarchy. We grownups get a little nervous when the center cannot hold and the falcon cannot hear the falconer and all of that, but for the 6 and unders? Bring it onnn, baby! Any humor that contains anarchy is guaranteed to kill. K-I-L-L kill. One caveat, don't try to make jokes about political libertarian theory or make references to famous anarchists. It falls dangerously flat. For example, I would strongly advise against the following: "Hey guys, ever hear the one about Lysander Spooner and his thoughts about acts of initiatory coercion against individuals and their property?" Unless you're prepared to resort to a pathetic and desperate display of gas passing humor coupled with dancing (and such moves are frowned upon in juvenile comedic circles), you're toast.

#3 Persons-of-limited-vintage are none the wiser when you "borrow" your material. I have this running joke going in the kindergarten this year about Justin Bieber and how it would be really funny if he were the tooth fairy. So of course I had to come up with a reasonably good quality falsetto song that he might sing if he came to your house to get your teeth, "Oh baby baby, just give me your wiggly tooth…" They have no idea that my falsetto bears an eerie resemblance to Jimmy Fallon's parody of Barry Gibb because they can't stay up late and watch SNL or see it on anyone's Facebook. For that matter, they really don't care if you have no idea what Justin Bieber even sounds like. btw They don't get tired of the same joke either, so the next day, Justin Bieber might be a baby carrot who's going to jump out of their lunchboxes, start wiggling his little orange hips and sing, "Never say never." (again sounding eerily like Barry Gibb).

#4 They delight in any suggestions that the grownups in their lives might have a secret identity, "Who said your mom is actually a ninja? I didn't say that! No she really goes to yoga just like she says she does and is definitely not involved in secret training or missions of any kind."

That should be enough to get you started. And now for your mandatory fun, a bit of the real thing for those of us of the more energy-challenged, anile, vintage persuasion:

The Gift of Time

2011-03-11T22:25:00.000-08:00

I recently had great lesson passed along to me. I was late for a lunch date with my friend and instead of looking annoyed or impatient she seemed so serene. She's a Buddhist and I've long suspected them of being a little too happy, but I listened to her anyway. She said that time is a gift to be enjoyed and instead of being impatient, the way to look at it is to be thankful. If she was being ironic, she masked it pretty deftly as she said, "Thank you for the gift of time."

Lately, I think of time as a playful, flexible entity that changes its shape, texture and form as we change, and our relationship to time evolves. When you're a kid, time is either annoying and endless (lectures, Christmas Eve, and the last hour of school before summer break) or non-existent (amount of playtime between dinner and bed). There are moments in our lives when we don't even think about the passage of time. We are so absorbed in what we are doing, it vanishes and ceases to matter. Sometimes time can be irascible and petulant, playing tricks on you and taunting (when you have to stay up late for an exam). The busier we get, the more minuscule each moment seems. There are fewer and fewer of those 'annoying' and endless moments as we begin to work harder on the things that matter to us. But what if we look at those moments differently -- the bank line, traffic, the doctor's office, airport security -- the remaining ones that seem frustrating and long?

This was an epiphany to me because Blicky Kitty has a real problem with this. His wrath augments with every minute he is forced to wait. This poses a problem when we are out shopping, like we were just last week:

Blicky was getting a few supplies -- litter, salted cod, paper towels, caviar, batteries, plutonium -- and he got behind a family at the checkout. Immediately, I recognized the telltale eye-tick. I knew he was struggling to maintain his composure, and inwardly he was scrutinizing their every action and thinking. "How can you be so slow? How can anyone be that slow... and stupid. How long does it take to get your stupid credit card out. Why are you talking to the stupid checkout lady? Who cares how she's doing? You stupid, stupid nice lady...." Yes, outwardly Blick looks like your typical, sweet and cuddly bipedal cat, but he's not always nice about stuff.

The alarm bells ringing in his central nervous system were almost audible at that point. For Blick, it gets really extreme, so if you are a particularly gentle, gentle-reader, kindly avert your eyes and send the children away:

I'm sorry, I know.

I wish Blicky could just change his mindset. If you see me waiting in a line these days, I'm the one with the placid expression on my face (and quite possibly a homicidal feline in line behind me). How often do we just get to stand around and do nothing? For those blissful 5 minutes (usually less) there are no plates to clean up, kittens to cook for, work deadlines, and no obligations. All I have to do is just stand there and be. It is that precious moment of stasis between rushing to grab what I need, racking my brains to menu plan, and hauling 50+ pounds of groceries to and from the car. That, for me, is a gift.

Here is your mandatory fun:

Explaining the Birds

2011-03-05T19:11:00.000-08:00

I know what you're thinking. We haven't seen Blicky Kitty for a long, long time. The reasons for that are subtle and varied:
a) My new career in door-to-door interpretive dance has suddenly and inexplicably taken off, leaving little time for Blicky reportage,
b) Blicky took off in his Hummer, went deep undercover for many, many months, and I had no idea of his whereabouts,
c) and the fact that his disappearance coincided with me getting a track pad instead of a mouse was pure coincidence.

The real reason for his disappearance is that Blicky is starting to rethink his former ways and is starting consider to the many problems facing the environment on a global scale. He used to cough up furballs every time I mentioned my concern about dwindling frog and honey bee populations. I tried explaining to him that bees are vital to food production and that some 52 of the world's 112 leading crops -- from apples and soybeans to cocoa and almonds -- rely on pollination. There are still many questions, but researchers have identified some probable causes of colony collapse disorder (CCD), including blood-feeding parasites, bee viruses, fungi, pesticide exposure and decreased plant diversity causing poor nutrition for honeybees. He seemed to get it, but I think his primary concern was how embarrassing it would be for future generations of parents if they had to sit down and only be able to "explain the birds" to their clowder of kittens. He felt it would lead to some strange mating behavior if young people everywhere thought they were literally supposed to act like birds rather than grasp it as a metaphor for the fecundity of nature.

Your mandatory fun here:

Well I guess I just can't discuss this with Blicky. Yes these problems that face us are depressing and scary. They seem insurmountable at times, but for me doing things like buying organic food (or growing it), keeping woods instead of a lawn, writing to my congressional delegation and finding out the little ways I can help makes me feel better.

WINTERING
Sylvia Plath 1932-1963

This is the easy time, there is nothing doing.
I have whirled the midwife's extractor,
I have my honey,
Six jars of it,
Six cat's eyes in the wine cellar,

Wintering in a dark without window
At the heart of the house
Next to the last tenants rancid jam
and the bottles of empty glitters ....
Sir So-and-So's gin.

This is the room I have never been in
This is the room I could never breathe in.
The black bunched in there like a bat,
No light
But the torch and its faint

Chinese yellow on appalling objects ....
Black asininity. Decay.
Possession.
It is they who own me.
Neither cruel nor indifferent,

Only ignorant.
This is the time of hanging on for the bees...the bees
so slow I hardly know them,
Filing like soldiers
To the syrup tin

To make up the honey I've taken.
Tate and Lyle keeps them going,
The refined snow.
It is Tate and Lyle they live on, instead of flowers.
They take it. The cold sets in.

Now they ball in a mass,
Black
Mind against all that white.
The smile of the snow is white.
It spreads itself out, a mile long body of Meissen,

Into which, on warm days,
They can only carry their dead.
The bees are all women,
Maids and the long royal lady.
They have got rid of the men,

The blunt, clumpsy stumblers, the boors.
Winter is for women ....
The woman, still at her knitting,
At the cradle of Spanish walnut,
Her body a bulb in the cold and too dumb to think.

Will the hive survive, will the gladiolas
Succeed in banking their fires
To enter another year ?
What will they taste of, the Christmas roses ?
The bees are flying. They taste the spring.

iPoem

2011-01-09T16:44:00.000-08:00

Albrecht Dürer (German, 1471–1528)
Adam and Eve, 1504
Engraving

iPoem

by George Bilgere

Someone's taken a bite
from my laptop's glowing apple,
the damaged fruit of our disobedience,
of which we must constantly be reminded.

There's the fatal crescent,
the dark smile
of Eve, who never dreamed of a laptop,
who, in fact, didn't even have clothes,
or anything else for that matter,

which was probably the nicest thing
about the Garden, I'm thinking,
as I sit here in the café
with my expensive computer,
afraid to get up even for a minute
in order to go to the bathroom
because someone might steal it

in this fallen world she invented
with a single bite
of an apple nobody, and I mean
nobody,
was going to tell her not to eat.

Mandatory fun, gentle bloggy friends:

Blick Friday

2010-11-26T08:03:00.000-08:00

N.B. Gentle readers, drawing BK on a mouse pad makes him look like he's been through the dishwasher (again).

At first I wondered why Blicky left the Thanksgiving table so abruptly, but then it dawned on me; this week is Black Friday. Our cherished tradition on Thanksgiving is devoted to appreciating our bounty, our many blessings both as a nation and individuals, savoring the comforts that living in this rich nation has given us -- such as a warm homes and adequate clothing for ourselves and our children. The more fortunate among us have many defenses against illness both in access to high quality medical care, and protection from financial havoc it can wreak. Those of us with healthy families can count ourselves among the truly blessed. Although it rarely seems like it, we all live in a relatively stable social system.

It's so important to remember those things because when we're struggling through each week, measuring little professional victories, trying to squeeze in each little errand, and remember each thing on our do-to lists. The opportunity to stop, look around, and appreciate the immense beauty of what we've been given becomes a moment of mindfulness, love and bliss.

Things I am grateful for this week:

A comfortable home
A well stocked supply of tea, red wine and sugared ginger
My amazing kittens (the younger of whom just applied a sparkly layer of Hello Kitty "pol-nailish" to my nails, and kitten-the-elder is decorating an elaborate little room for her doll)
The woodpecker family that is nesting in the wall outside our kitchen
Good health
The giant pine trees outside my home
An inspiring and brilliant extended family
Fleece socks

After marking all of life's gifts, great and small, what better activity for the day afterward? Waiting in line all night so that we can stampede in and battle for the last toy on sale, thus saving a whole dollar or two? Yes, gloating at the crestfallen look of our competitors/friends when we tell them how little we paid for this season's "it" toy, getting back in touch with our inner greed monster are the things that truly mean something in this shared Black Friday ritual of ours.

I for one intend to hop off the computer, grab a run in the crisp autumn weather (once this "pol-nailish" dries), get my home nice and clean so we can think about the upcoming Christmas plans and remain thankful for my precious clowder of kittens.

Thankfully we live in an age where we can share great new music with relative ease. As always, this fun is mandatory:

Supercute!

2010-11-18T17:45:00.000-08:00

Those of you with kittens might have reached the same ground-breaking conclusion as I have; childhood is a little different than it was in the 1980's (OK, OK.....70's). For one thing, when kids play library, they make beeping noises instead of pretending to stamp things. Also, if a pretend game isn't going as planned, they pretend to "rewind" it.

One activity that the whole clowder of kittens is overly fond of these days is a Disney Web site called Pixie Hollow which is a little virtual world for Tinkerbell-type fairies. I like to investigate everything they do online assiduously after what I euphemistically call "the unfortunate incident," but could be more accurately described as plain old Bad Parenting.

One day I was letting my then two-year-old kitten watch Bugs Bunny reruns on YouTube while I got caught up on household chores. I checked on her every few minutes, and she was fine each time, except the last, when I heard a feeble little "mumma" and went in to find my sweet lovie, eyes rimmed with tears, heart racing. I learned two things that day:

a) Cool! My daughter knows how to click on stuff at age two!

b) This is the kind of thing a two-year-old might conceivable click on.

I know! Bad mumma, bad, bad, bad, bad mumma. Bad!

So I decided to check out this Pixie Hollow to make sure there were no sharp virtual objects that might flay their happy little avatar fairies in two. What I found was a gentle little world that seemed fine on the surface, but actually contained something far more sinister.....

Well come on, I'll show you. Here it is. You get to fly around and talk, make friends, play games or gather berries and nuts. I think you can use the nuts or dandelion tufts to buy sexy little outfits. But after a while, it leads to some larger philosophical questions:

"Is that all there is to life? Gathering acorns?"

These questions might even lead to some existential angst which I doubt Disney has anticipated.

"Who are we? Where do we come from? Where are we going?"

One thing was clear. I had to leave Chilly Falls to seek the answers I was looking for.

"What do you think about the home lending crisis?"

As you might have guessed, Dewdrop and Rosemary Tulippetal had absolutely no opinion whatsoever. In fact their blind, lemming-like acquiescence to conformity left me feeling even more empty and alienated.

"We all look the same."

Daisy Prettyvalley just blinked at me and said my slippers made me look fat. Will someone please tell me why I had to shell out 50 damn acorns for slippers when we fly anyway? Would nobody listen?

For a moment it seemed like Paprika Frostdew really understood what I was saying. She even started taking notes.

"We have lost our will to be creative individuals!"

But then Chipmunk came out of nowhere and said that my opinions were dangerous and I should start watching my back. Her goon, Sadie Silktwist was getting a little too close for comfort. I got out of there in a hurry, but I gleaned two important lessons before I left.

"I want to be a big plump fairy. With hair on my arms."

First: computerized censorship is not foolproof. One little boy fairy (Who used the the word "gals." Seriously, how many people under 50 use that word?) asked my avatar "Lets. Make. Out."

Second, and perhaps the most important thing:

Let's hear it for modern childhood! Your mandatory fun:

My Dearest Blickosphere

2010-11-15T18:20:00.000-08:00

Gentle bloggy readers, how I have missed you both.

I have been so very, very busy as you can imagine. Surprisingly, the door-to-door interpretive dance venture never worked out. I blame the economy.

I have decided to turn my attention instead to the exciting field of cooking literature. I recently had the pleasure of listening to a vegan friend enlighten me about how my bad carnivorous ways were harming myself, the environment, children, and furry, delicious little creatures everywhere. I do plan on watching the Food, Inc. dvd he gave me. It's just in my glove compartment to remind me to watch it. And it's also there to remind me that one day of vegan eating is the carbon footprint equivalent of driving a Prius.

Now while Blicky actually cooks endangered species on the grille of his idling Hummer, I myself actually care about the planet and have resolved to do something about it. I will be even more single minded and driven than my vegan friend and go him one better. I have started writing a raw food, vegan cookbook. Just because we eliminated all the processed chemicals, resentment and hatred that infests the typical American diet, doesn't mean it has to taste bad. A raw food lifestyle is so easy and rewarding too! Here's a recipe that's sure to become a favorite! Chocolate chip cookies:

2 1/4 cups flour

3 cups brown sugar and white sugar

~~2 eggs~~ 2 cups uranium

1 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

2 tsp vanilla

~~2 tsp powdered rhinoceros horn~~

12 oz semisweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven

....

crap.

Well the project is still in its early stages but I will keep you posted. I have a high school friend who is actually much further along with his project. His book, Fat of the Land: Adventures of a 21st Century Forager, was actually published ages ago and is teetering on the acme of Mount St. Bookstacks next to my bed. This is a seriously cool book. He's divided it into chapters based on different types of food one can forage. Apparently it goes beyond pies foraged from your neighbor's windowsill as well. He writes in depth about each thing and includes a recipe.

And now, since it's been so long since you've been assigned some mandatory fun:

Titian and Those Other Guys at the MFA Boston

2009-07-28T20:09:00.000-07:00

I wasn't sure how much to expect from our clowder of kittens and their friends as we made our way through the rain (I bet nobody has noticed how much it has been raining in New England. I might be led to believe I was living in Seattle, but the coffee is still bad, the live music overpriced and the footwear is stylish) and into the restored Huntington entrance of the MFA Boston for the Titian, Tintoretto, Veronese: Rivals in Renaissance Venice show. The titters about bum cracks from the 6-8 year old group was taken up in exuberant chorus by the 4-and-under set. I won't bore you with the details, but my nightmare scenario involved a disarmingly handsome officer from the Italian questura, a brightly lit room, a glowering agent from some prestigious international insurance institution, my cackling 3-year-old and a priceless broken masterpiece.

But seriously, if you live within 3 hours of Boston, try to see this show sometime during the next two weeks. It's up until August 16th, when it travels to the Louvre. As all the reviewers point out, given the costs required by the aforementioned prestigious international insurance institutions, it is highly unlikely that we will have an opportunity to see such an amazing collection of painting anytime in the near future. The only thing is, if Blicky Kitty had actually gotten that curatorship he applied for years ago, the exhibit would have been a distinctly different experience. For one, it would've been called Titian, the Other Guy, and Whosey-Whatsit; How Titian Rocked my Renaissance World.

Blicky also wouldn't have framed the interplay and visual conversations between the three artists in quite the same way. The reviewers practically make it sound like a horserace:

"Veronese is in the lead by a stretch with his depiction of the Holy Family, now it's Tintoretto coming up from the right with his Suzanna and the Elders, and wait now here comes Titian out of nowhere with a Reclining Venus. The crowd goes nuts. There's chiaroscuro everywhere and you almost can't make it out..... but yes, it's Titian, folks, winning the race by half a length."

Don't get me wrong. The interplay between artists is fascinating to see, but the true joy of this show is the opportunity to see really amazing art close up. When you stand next to a Titian, you get to experience the style that created a tidal shift in the way artists in the Western world used paint. He was the first one to use color and the depiction of light rather than line to delineate form. As his style became more mature and confident, his brushwork became a vehicle for the expression of energy and emotion. He also revolutionized the use of oil paint and glazing with his slow, exacting method of applying layer upon layer to his canvases. He painted over a reddish ground layer to lend warmth to his color then built up the paint. His subtle use of glazes (called velatura or veiling) brought out the richness of the different pigments. Titian was said to have cried "Trenta, quaranta velature!" ("Thirty, forty glazes!").

It's no small feat that Titian gained a mention in Giorgio Vasari's Lives of the Artists. Vasari chronicled all of the great Italian Renaissance artists from Cimabue to Vasari. This book is such an important source for art historians that I'm not really even sure how famous a certain little painting in the Louvre would be (or Dan Brown, for that matter -- his wife's an art historian so she'd totally back me up) if Vasari hadn't rhapsodized about its enigmatic beauty. Vasari's book traced all of the artists and their work, evaluating them for how high they ranked on the Tusca-meter. If they were Tuscan enough, they got his highest praise; garbatissimo, which translates roughly as elegant, gentile or wicked-Tuscan-ie. Of course, Michelangelo who like Vasari was born in Tuscany was the pinnacle of all things artistic.

So it's quite a feat that Titian, who had the double misfortune of not being born in that birthplace of the arts and of beating Vasari out on a big commission even made the lineup. Of course Vasari's praise was measured. Some people mentioned in the Lives thought Titian's painting would have been improved if he were to study more works from antiquity or the work of Michelangelo. Vasari even wrote that Michelangelo (the object of his total man crush), after praising the painting of Danae (above) lamented that in Venice they didn't learn how to draw well first. He quoted him as saying that if Titian were assisted by art as he is by nature, especially in the imitation of life, it would not be possible to surpass him, for he has the finest talent and a very pleasant, vivacious manner. So does that mean if he had been Tuscan, he would have been the greatest artist in the book?

Well, the good news is that I'm not in some sexy Italian jail cell, being interrogated mercilessly. The kittens actually loved the show. Elder kitten was delighted to figure out that the shell in the hand of one figure identified her as Venus. Destruction-prone younger kitten kept herself entertained for a while by admiring the pretty dresses or the animals in the foreground of the Last Supper paintings. But mostly she just delighted in calling out various body parts of each nude figure in a really, really loud voice.

Ecco qui il vostro Mandatory Fun:

Heeeere's Blicky!

2009-07-23T09:05:00.001-07:00

Wow that's scary. Sorry and my apologies to Jack Nicholson. Let me salve your nerves with an image from MFA Boston's show Titian, Tintoretto, Veronese; Rivals in Renaissance Venice.

There, that's better. Even Venus looks frightened. Blicky scared her so much her clothes fell off. My apologies for the extended silence, gentle bloggy readers. I was really quite busy:

A. Translating the phonebook into Esperanto.

B. Building a love nest/covert missile testing range for Kim Jong-Il.

C. Building a cool pillow fort in the living room.

D. Starting a new business enterprise in the burgeoning field of door-to-door interpretive dance.

E. Altering my address and facial feastures to avoid being stalked by Mitt Romney (I told you. It could never work. Stop calling me!).

F. All of the above.

So I try to make good use of my limited reading time these days, really I do. Usually it's historical non-fiction or really amazing fiction. I mean life is short, why not fill your mind with beautiful words?

But this summer a friend convinced me to read the Twilight series. First of all thanks a lot. You know who you are. Here's an excerpt of dialogue from the Blicky homestead while I was sucked into that series.

Kittens: Mumma we're hungry. You forgot to feed us breakfast and lunch.

Me: Shhhh, Bella's talking to Edward.

Kittens: Mumma, you left us outside in the rain. We're cold and wet.

Me: Be quiet! I think he's going to tell her.

Husband: Hi Sweetie! I'm home. I vacuumed the house and I love you.

Me: Go away, you not-Edward-Cullan-mortal man. I want a divorce because you're not Edward.

Cigarettes have warning labels, alcohol has warning labels. I think the publisher should be required to place a warning label on the Twilight books too. They are the literary equivalent of crack cocaine and something needs to be done.

I was initially ashamed of my habit until I remembered a very brilliant and well-read friend scoffing as the idea of a distinction between "high art" and the trashy read. What makes the distinction? I read some Chaucer's Canterbury Tales to the kittens a while back because I remember thinking it was hysterically funny when I was little. Here's a spoiler plot summary of the Miller's Tale:

Young guy moves into an apartment at the home of an unpleasant man with a hot younger wife. Young clerk woos and seduces said wife. Nerdy guy also gets wicked crush on the hot wife. The wife and the young man hatch a plan to spend the whole night together. They convince the jealous old guy that a second deluge is coming and that he should get set up in the attic for a great flood. Clever couple enjoys some amorous sport. Lovesick nerd comes by and begs for a kiss. Hot wife sticks bum out the window. Lovesick nerd, after kissing bum is no longer lovesick, but ticked off. Stalks off to find a hot poker. Clever young clerk thinks nerd wants another kiss and received a sound branding on his bum. Clever young guy has hot young wife but sore bum. Jealous old guy wakes up thinking it's the end of the world and falls two stories. The young couple convince everyone he's nutty and live happily (albeit sorely) ever after.

So is it really so awful that I got sucked into a romance about vampires, power, love and death and metaphysics?

Enjoy your mandatory fun:

A Letter to the Second-Grade Class in Room 28

2009-05-01T18:53:00.000-07:00

Dear Children,

I had a wonderful time volunteering in your class today and playing math games. I've heard about each one of you from my daughter of course, so it was fun to finally meet you in person.

I just wanted to pass along a few observations that you might find valuable as you embark upon your educational careers. First off all C.J. ― Dude! Who cheats at Bingo? Next time I tell you to hand me the bingo number balls it doesn't mean "Drop to the floor and make me pry them out of your hands while you giggle like a little girl."

Jackson, you were so helpful and nice today and I know I'm totally rocking age 40 but sweetie, I'm already married to a nice man my own age. Oh, and spit balls on your Bingo board does not a Bingo make.

Kids, I'm also going to clue you in on something important. When you're walking down the hall and your teacher says in a grave and reverent tone, "Listen. Think about where you are. This is the Third Grade Corridor. And these Teachers are going to be your Teachers next year in the Third Grade. Do you really want them to hear you being noisy?" OK C.J. I don't know, but I'm guessing you might not have to worry about the third grade for a little while. But for the rest of you kids listen up:

The third grade teachers do not hide behind the doors, peek out and make notes about which second graders are the noisy ones and plan horrible fates for them.

In fact, a lot of us grown ups don't really care if you talk too much or act like kids. I know your teachers hate it, but hell, you guys are funny! They need to lighten up. Also we don't really care all that much how you do in school. You know when you go to the dentist they always think you should spend the whole day brushing your teeth and you go to the hairdresser and they're all "Come on, deep-condition your hair." And you go to the doctors are they're all, "You should cut down on doing crack and eating lead paint." Well teachers are the same way and they make your mommies and daddies feel bad if you're acting like kids instead of kissing up (and yes you know who I'm talking about, Little Jenny. No one likes a kiss-up).

When you're a grown up you won't remember a single thing about how you did in second grade, except you'll remember which teachers really didn't like kids all that much. You know deep down, most of us grown ups don't really even care too much where you go to school as long as you're trying your hardest, you continue learning and being curious and you're happy doing what you do. Looking back on second grade you won't think, "Crap, I should've performed better on those standardized tests, thereby helping my school system acquire better state funding." OK, you might have the occasional dream about a test you didn't study for or coming to school naked (especially you, Jackson). But probably you'll think "Wow, I wish I had gotten the chance to run through the halls and jump to see how high I could reach on the bulletin boards."

I'll try and work on the teachers, but for next time guys, let's keep the Bingo game on the up and up.

Oh, and Michael honey? I think we as a species would have been born with only two fingers if they were meant to spend so much time inserted into our nostrils.

Sincerely,

Mrs. __________

You Make Me Dizzy Miss Lizzy

2009-04-30T20:33:00.000-07:00

Blicky Kitty has been asked to create a playlist for Queen Elizabeth's new iPod that Obama gave her. She'll be shaking her tweed-clad self in no time with our lineup:

Fake Empire by The National

Safe European Home by the Clash

Sexy Little Girl Princess by Lisa Germano

Radio Gaga by Queen

London Calling by the Clash

Banquet by Bloc Party

North American Scum by LCD Soundsystem

Wear Clean Drawers by the Coup

You're Aging Well by Dar Williams

Royal Pain by the Eels

Killer Parties by The Hold Steady

Daft Punk is Playing at My House by LCD Soundsystem

OK well maybe I'm just overtired so I just scrolled down through the titles in iTunes I thought she'd enjoy. Feel free to add your own...

L'Etat C'est Blick

2009-04-28T08:45:00.000-07:00

Paul Cézanne, Mount Sainte-Victoire

Mount Ste-Victoire, April, 1999

The staff at Blicky Kitty are celebrating all things French today!

The South of France is an ancient Gallic marvel of Papal Palaces, which produced minds like St. Exupery and Cézanne, plus there is killer rock climbing around Mount Sainte-Victoire. As you wander around the rocky terrain it's like walking into a Cézanne canvas with the darkly defined linear structure of the trees, growing as if they've been slathered with daubs of black ochre paint. The quality of greens that you can see on the landscape seem to change with each variation in light. The lenticular clouds float untouched by the mistral winds and scatter moody colors across farm buildings and woodlands. This unique landscape had as profound an effect on the development of early modern painting at anything hanging in far off Paris at the Musée d'Orsay or the Musée de l'Orangerie.

I'm sending Blicky over for a spa getaway while I clean the house and get ready for an afternoon playdate. He assures me that his French is impeccable. It's so weird, Blicky Kitty is HUGE in France. I know, who would've thunk it? The paparazzi and mainstream press are following him into his spa treatments. He emailed me the transcript of an interview he did:

French Reporter: Blicky Kitty, what do you think of France so far?

BK: Sur le pont d'Avignon, L'on y danse, l'on y danse, Sur le pont d'Avignon, L'on y danse tout en rond.

FR: Um, yes that's a 15th century folk song about the Pont d'Avignon. It's OK, I speak English. Tell me, how are you enjoying your spa day?

BK: L'Etat c'est moi. Pomme frittes. Je voudrais un chocolat chaud; grand avec du lait de soya, pas de creme. Quelle heure est-il?

FR: Blicky Kitty, that doesn't make any sense. Could you please speak in English? Can you tell me anything of value that I can pass along to my readers?

BK. Voici mon secret. Il est très simple: on ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.

FR: Ah merci bien alors Monsieur Kitty!

Et voici votre amusement obligatoire:

Report: What I Did on My Spring Vacation

2009-04-25T11:44:00.000-07:00

Well it was school vacation week in MA. We spent a wonderful week. See if you can spot the things we did not do during the vacation:

A. Spend the afternoon plein air painting in the gardens of Blythewald, in Bristol, RI.

B. Learn the fine, yet messy art of taxidermy at a special children's seminar offered by our local children's museum.

C. Construct an elaborate full scale educational diorama about child labor conditions in the 1920's.

D. Take in the sights at the new (to me) MoMA.

E. Dress my children up as 16-year-olds and hunt for 1920's-esque factory jobs with poor conditions and long hours.

F. Get to hear my three year old publicly utter the words: "Look Mumma, I found another Rothko!"

G. Enroll aforementioned 3 yr. old in rodeo clown school.

H. Get to hear my three year old publicly utter the words: "Look Mumma I'm a frog that poops!" as she hopped precariously close to the (gristly) Woman With Her Throat Cut sculpture by Giacometti.

I. Shop for Manolo Blahniks with the money earned from 1920's-esque children's factory jobs.

J. Enter 8 yr. old in the Jon Benet junior bathing beauty pageant.

K. Get to see Spring Awakening (w/out kids) in Providence.

L. Go for a beautiful nature walk with May-May in South County, RI.

Any cool images seen on BK are derived from talented relatives.

Answers: Activities B, C, E, G, I and J did not actually take place on this vacation. I am not ruling anything out for future sojourns however.

OK I brought home a little mandatory fun for you. Just to let you know I am one of those rare people who just does not like musicals. But Blicky is declaring Spring Awakening fan-flippin-tastic:

Wacky Packages for a New Era

2009-04-17T07:59:00.001-07:00

For some time, I've been aspiring to create a Wacky Packages line for our new era, but no sooner had I created this, Blicky decided to buy the rights and create an actual toy product for girls. He thinks these things will sell even better than another product of a different name...

He feels that until now, little girls had no idea what to tell their plastic surgeons when they grew up so this is actually a public service. He also feels that he's helping society by teaching little girls that the of the color of your skin doesn't matter; they can all aspire to sluttiness. He hired a bunch of models to promote the new line. They even agreed to have their noses surgically removed and their lips enhanced with permanent shellac. One of the unfortunate side effects from the procedures is that their feet now fall off, but luckily they are a cheerful bunch.

From Our Accountant...

2009-04-15T21:52:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. ________,

It was very kind of you to bring your tax materials to our office at 4:45 this afternoon but quite frankly I'm not sure what you thought we could do for you. While I understand you might not have heard that tax day is April 15th, some of the material you brought in ranges from the perplexing to the reprehensible.

Under your profession you wrote "Taxidermist (just kidding). MILF (just kidding). Blogger (LOL ROTF)." What do you mean by this? The IRS emphatically does not appreciate humor, ambiguity or narrative content in your tax return.

You list 3 dependents (one of which is a highly dependent dyspeptic feline), so I'm assuming that you have children under your care when you're not too busy blogging.

Spa treatments, massages and facials do not count as unreimbursed medical expenses and soreness from your pilates class does not count as a disability.

No, you cannot receive your refund in gold bouillon, and to answer your question you can't get an additional refund for your share of the stimulus packages.

You actually owe taxes and as I told you last year, you can't pay for it in Kinzcash.

Sincerely,

Dewey Cheetham

Your Accountant

Saucy-licious Wednesday

2009-04-14T19:32:00.000-07:00

Blicky Kitty is feeling absolutely Sauce-tastic, Sauce-tacular and Saucy-licious since he learned he is to be the featured blog over at the Secret is in the Sauce. Welcome saucy bloggers! I've already met some really great bloggy friends over at SITS, so I'm delighted and honored to have this Sauce-o-delic day in the sun!

I just stumbled over a reference to these the other day. Am I was the only person in the world who still remembers Wacky Packages from the 70s? If you don't it just means your either too young or not nerdy enough -- take your pick. They were little bubble gum packs that came with stickers spoofing contemporary ad campaigns. Here's my all-time favorite:

If I close my eyes I can almost hear the snorts and guffaws of countless 1970's kids from the 10 and under set.
If there's one things my kids are missing out on in their sheltered little Beatrix Potter PBS kids universe is a good drunken joke. Those little nuts are completely pissed off of their gourds. You never see Peep, Clifford or Caillou fall into a barrel of whiskey then stumble around hiccuping. I plan to write to the Corporation for Public Broadcasting on the subject. How will children ever know that they ought not go swimming in a barrel marked "XXX"? Caillou would say in his impertinent, high-pitched whine, "Mommy why are there two of you? I just punched Rosie and Gilbert!"

I remember this one too because it was so cool that there was this gruesome, dead Davie Crocket guy in there. I used to love the fact that anything was possible in the wacky packages universe. You could buy things that would seriously harm you and it would be hysterical.

What would be some good modern wacky packages? I think they just need to be super morbid, corny puns.

Oh here's some good mandatory fun for you. The birds and the fun animation reminded me of all the beautiful images in Steviewren's blog. I can't stop listening to Neko Case this week. Her voice is just astounding to me and her new album Middle Cyclone showcases it so well:

Happy Easter!

2009-04-11T21:06:00.000-07:00

This is what the moppets and I read tonight. Happy Easter!!

Dear little bunny, you unfortunately are not part of the bunny hegemony. You must come to terms with the social taxonomy as it is articulated to you by the dominant social group. If you don't make the appropriate reproductive decisions you are not destined for high achievement.

Oh No They Ditn't....

2009-04-08T20:43:00.000-07:00

OK this is a fun meme from Ann's Rants. Of course I can't follow the rules of these things to save my life so I'll just do my own. I present to you the rudest events I have ever experienced. I might not have a big list but they're goodies. I'm also adding in some things I wish I had said.

Growing up we were lucky enough to be able to spend summers at my grandmother's house in Newport RI (that's me rowing around with some children that have been foolishly entrusted to me). Because it's a tourist destination, a young student can always find a restaurant job and I had the distinction of being a horribly, horribly bad waitress. One especially busy night we were short-staffed and I was left with ten tables. In the middle of the shift a couple pulled me aside to make sure I knew how terrible I was.

Mean customers: "We just wanted to let you know this service has been the worst we have ever had. We didn't get our bread on time, our food was late and you forgot our second drink order entirely."

Dream Response: "Well I was disappointed in you as customers too. I don't think you handled yourself well at all. You shouldn't really try to order in another language unless you're fluent because it just sounds pretentious and you should really lay off the cream sauce."

Then there was the old guy in the train station in Czechoslovakia (thank you, spell check feature). We had gotten kicked off a train while en route to Poland, because we didn't know we needed transit visas. Anyway, we had to sleep in the station. I woke up when he came in -- a big friendly smile on his face, like one of those picturesque toothless dudes that serve as the unwitting backdrop to some overeducated American or British memoir writer who discovers themselves while traveling in Europe. Anyway, he picks up my water bottle off the floor walks over and squeezes my breast.

Real Response: (shaking my sleep-sodden head) "Um, I think that old man just squeezed my boob. Yeah, actually, no... um yeah...I think he did."

Dream Response: (in perfect Czechoslovakian) "Oh my gosh, that was so hot! I bet that just slays them in toothless rural Czechoslovakian old lady circles!"

Then there was the time one restaurant manager had the good sense to fire me. I won't mention any names but my boss was Eni and if I could spell it or remember her last name you may be certain that I'd be posting that as well along with her date of birth and social security number. Anyway, one night after work I was in the ladies room, in the stall, when Eni came in and slipped the envelope under the door.

Eni: "Sorry to do this here, but here you go." So I opened it up and read that I was fired.

Dream Response: Hey Eni, sorry to do this here, but I have a good-bye present for you!

Crazy Lady at my dad's funeral: Oh, you're Laurel? Oh I heard all about the miscarriage, and now your Dad died. That must be so hard. Are you pregnant again? (I wasn't)

Real Response: (insert sound effect of crickets chirping)

Dream Response: I honestly can't even come up with a good dream response here. Any ideas?

My three yr. old at church, while stretching my shirt over my shoulder: Mumma your moo moo (what she used to call nursing) bra is not pretty. You should wear the leopard one.

Thesis Advisor: You can't measure these things, but if you could, I say you have a really disorganized mind. Also your writing is weak.

Real Response: (insert crickets again)

Dream Response: I think this skirt looks hot on me. OMG It's soooo fun being 28. Have you met my Italian boyfriend? I bet I could spell Checkoslovakia without even using spell check!

Drunk guy at bar: "So, who's your friend?"

Dream Response: "Go over and introduce yourself and tell her I sent you. Here, I'll hold your wallet."

Little old lady who I let go in front of me last month at the bargain grocery store: "Oh I thought you were a man."

Dream Response: Again I'm coming up dry. Any ideas? Oh, wait! I got it! "Well you cute little Q-Tip, I know a Czechoslovakian toothless little guy around your age who would beg to differ!"

Stuff You Never See On Facebook

2009-04-06T20:36:00.000-07:00

Click here to read my Facebook page

Well I was on Facebook tonight looking at the status of all of my friends. I know! My friends list has gotten way longer and more interesting since we got Blicky:

Charo is cuchi-cuchi

Gene Shallot is still being stalked by Anna Lefler.

Fabio still can't believe it's not butter.

Jermaine Clement wishes that weird old lady with the cat blog would stop calling his house.

Beazlebub is getting the "undisclosed location" all tidied up for when a former VP comes back home for a visit.

Johnny Depp is still deep and edgy.

Kate Moss is ****ssnooorrt!***

Miley Cyrus is flying to North Korea to teach Kim Jong-il how to take over the world, one little girl at a time.

Here are some ideas for really, really bad things to post on Facebook if you're receiving a bonus with a portion of the government bailout money:

Skiff is Nanny Nanny Boo-Boo.

Chet is busy instructing a contractor to cover the maid's quarters in gold leaf.

Livingston is on the yacht, choking on his Pims he's laughing so hard at poor people.

Monty is posting the addresses of his fellow federal bailout bonus recipients as a joke.

***

Skiff is worried about the flaming object that was just hurled through his window.

Chet is "hey did the contractor let you in?"

Livingston is wondering if there's a wedding with lots of torches at the yacht club.

Monty strongly regrets his role the untimely death of his Wall Street chums.

***

Skiff is "What does that say? Acme TNT?"

Chet is "No, no put the cudgel down you lowlife taxpayer!"

Livingston thinks that torch-wielding crowd must be his prep school friends coming onto the dock to surprise him.

Monty wonders if he remembered to delete his own address from the list.

***

Skiff is aahhhhhh!

Chet is owwwww!

Livingston is "Groundswell of populist sentiment! Oh no! Oh no!"

Monty is "heeeellllp!"

Check out Anna Lefler's post about Facebook which I discovered in the middle of writing this. It's the blog equivalent of thinking you look great walking into a party in that new Valentino and in walks Halle Berry wearing the same exact thing!

Here's some mandatory fun for you. I'm actually reposting to stick a new video on here that Kat over at Poetikat's Invisible Keepsakes reminded me about today on FB. Thanks Kat! This is just way too funny. Carol Burnett as Charo's mother:

Recession? What Recession?

2009-04-04T20:53:00.000-07:00

The Big Cat and I snuck out for a quick flick tonight in beautiful downtown Providence. The movie Duplicity with Julia Roberts and Clive Owen was showing at the Providence Place Mall (We always love a good caper flick and she's never dull to watch on screen, is she?). We used to live in Providence before moving out here to the boonies and driving in is always a treat. I lovie, love, love Providence for so many reasons.

On the walk in, we were struck by the sheer numbers of people wandering around who haven't heard of this stupid old scary, nose-diving economy thing. It was no different than any Saturday night two years ago; with self-conscious young girls wandering about in ill-fitting tight jeans, young boys conducting distracted, fractured conversations as they smile excitedly and look around, and young couples bringing their toddlers to movies and giving them free reign on the virtual video rides. Many of them carried actual store bags so they apparently weren't just there for the food court and a movie. I started to think "Gee, maybe I don't need to be hoarding canned goods, dehydrated military rations and automatic weapons." Everything is just fine.

Upon closer inspection however, some things have changed. We went to the automated payment kiosk to validate our parking and heard a familiar sounding synthesized voice:

"Welcome to Providence Place Mall, please insert your ticket." Oh no! It's world renowned physicist and author Stephen J. Hawking! How could things come to this where the pillars of our society are forced into such debased and menial positions? "Please insert card or cash payment now."

"It's OK, Stephen J. Hawking," I yelled. "You don't need to do lower yourself like this!" There are always high school science jobs that you could apply for!" At least he didn't have to see his clients. They must've had a microphone in there for him to use. As we left the building, I worried that it wasn't well-ventilated enough for him.

As we drove out I was reminded about another worrying sign of the times from a while back. Hobos have apparently taken up residence in our beautiful shopping mecca!

This is a true story! Performance artist (hobo) Michael Townsend and a group of fellow artists snuck into Providence Place mall and built a small studio apartment. The project arose from the artist's desire to explore the phenomenon of the modern American mall and his own relationship with consumer goods. Here's a link to a web site about their project where they "market" the loft as a stylish new living community. They created the 750 foot square space above an empty storage room in the mall parking garage that was accessed through a door in the stairwell. The collective of artists worked together to haul in over two tons of materials to outfit their space.

According to the Providence Journal, "In a feat of derring-do likely to be savored for years by the Providence-area underground-art community, the artists illegally ate, drank, slept, read, held meetings, watched TV and enjoyed games on a Sony Playstation 2 in a palace of American consumerism." They had simple casual furnishings and only the barest necessities, but they apparently had bold improvement plans for the space.

I only just realized tonight that Michael Townsend was the same one who created a moving tribute to the victims of 9/11 in Manhattan. He and a team of fellow artists created silhouettes in painter's tape representing victims of the attack. The figures are laid out across the city to form four hearts when viewed from above.

I'm not sure, but I might have met him when I took the kittens to the TapeArt Artaquarium off of Wickendon Street last spring. It was awesome. They had free Goldfish crackers and they let the kids adorn the walls with colored tape. Where was I going with any of this? I don't know:

Providence is awesome because of its vibrant art community?

Nah.

Consumerism as we know it is waning?

Nah.

It's probably that Stephen J. Hawking shouldn't feel badly because at least he's not a hobo. And even if he were, that wouldn't be so bad because hobos feed our children crunchy, salty treats.

Blicky Hacks Second Life: Shout Out to My Geek Peeps

2009-03-31T20:20:00.000-07:00

Blicky Kitty has been really curious about this virtual world, Second Life, he keeps hearing about and since he still cherishes an unfulfilled belief in futurist utopia he decided to hack his way in. Being a monochromatic kitty creating his avatar was a snap. Moving it around was a different story. Yes, he patiently submitted to the training tutorial about how to move, fly, give yourself enormous breasts, etc, but the second he left, he wandered into lava pits and walls and got stuck in trees while flying.

Luckily, he met a faerie named Una with a sparkling bindi and elaborate mehndi on her hands and feet and who, as luck would have it, was begrudgingly willing to show him around. This is an emersive 3D art installation at the amazing Kelly Yap Studios in second life. It's exciting to see how artists and architects are taking advantage of free materials, new possibilities for 3D and movement and not having to adhere to Newtonian physics. Blicky learned all about fractals by one of the artists/geniuses who creates installations, avatars and sculptures in second life.
Blicky's brain was starting to hurt, so he decided to go dancing at Jopsey Pendragon's Cloud Chateau. Blicky immediately friended Jopsey which, judging from the hushed whispers of his new friends, was the SL equivalent of having Johnny Depp on your friends list in Facebook (Which incidentally Blicky also has. His status today was "Johnny Depp is still suffering from existential angst."). All of a sudden it struck Blicky that he could be anything; human, dragon, animal, male, female, alien, cloud and do anything in Second Life. That's what things started to go downhill...
After about a week we noticed that Blicky was on the computer all night, then in the morning he'd wander around, eyes as big as saucers, mumbling about how he had to stay up for when his friends in India and Europe logged on. It was getting bad. He started forgetting his kittens' names, putting their shoes on their front paws, cooking their pet guinea pigs instead of breakfast etc. and we hoped it might be a phase. He got an SL girlfriend named SexyMysterious Starbeam and I'll spare you the details, but you know when you're little and you play with Barbies and you finally get the satin dress over her boobs and you realize she needs to be dressing up for a reason so you take Ken and you smush 'em together and squish 'em all up and make them kiss with the kissy kissy noises? Well a lot of people think that's a fun thing to play in Second Life.

Luckily, our intervention worked and as you can see he's made some more responsible and stable virtual companions. He even has a Second Life spouse, who complains about doing most of the virtual cleaning, and a mortgage, so he's been spending time off the computer to "get away from it all." He seldom spends any time there these days, but his kittens are fully clothed in the morning and they're thinking of getting a new guinea pig. While Blicky decidedly took the wrong road into Second Life there are so many others doing stunning and creative things there. Where else can you go to a lecture in a Victorian library, sit in on a buddhist discussion with people from around the world, fly in the apse of a virtual cathedral with a dragon, tour the Parthenon and listen to an in-world broadcast of Science Friday with Ira Flatow? I'm just curious about where these immersive environments will lead us. I mean this inter-a-web thing sure seems to be getting popular.

Oh and here's your Mandatory Fun:

Spring Cleaning

2009-03-30T19:15:00.000-07:00

Well the permafrost is finally lifting here in MA, and we're emerging from our winter dens, somewhat grouchy and bewildered. We took the opportunity last week to go to the Audubon Society's Environmental Education Center in Bristol RI for a nature walk. They had a lovely picture of a red-winged blackbird on their brochure and sure enough, there he was within five minutes of our arrival like a Walmart's greeter. I guess it's time for spring cleaning....

Cynthia, over at Muse Swings tagged me to divulge cleaning quirks.

The "Before" Picture. (Hey Cynthia, check out my Amaryllis)

I already had done a post about Blicky's unusual green cleaning tips, and I won't do it again because my hands just looked too blicky in the photos. I do try to clean every single surface assiduously in the few precious moments when I am able to move the cookie cutters off the bedside table, the potato masher off the writing desk, the minuscule Polly Pockets clothing off of the stairs and the Twister game off the dining room table (where I presume it has been serving as a polka dotted house for its two little denizens). So it is usually quite clean underneath the heap of toys and surreptitiously purloined utilitarian objects.

I do know how to clean and I like to do it thoroughly. I just marvel at people who can tame clutter. I feel so much better reading the blogs of other moms. What a relief to learn from Ann at Ann's Rants that other people had feline vomit issues and that at least there is a name for it. I do know moms who have lovely clutter-free homes. From where I sit though, it might as well be a superpower. I mean, why don't they just fly? They might as well. They just wave their superpower arms, and *poof* the cat food that's been poured into the water dish and transformed into crunchy soup instantly vanishes. While I sit at my computer and blog, they are going around their beautiful houses (probably singing) and using their super anti-clutter powers. While I'm spending hour after hour online.... I often puzzle over how they do it. Well I think I've finally found a way to even the playing field: Photoshop!

Now look at my kitchen! Don't worry, the kids and cats are still there — behind a cleverly designed storage panel. I also put a French chef in, but I dragged him into the larder with my mouse and created a new layer over him (how would that sentence have read a century ago?). Check out my bedroom too! I erased all of the cat hair without any harsh or toxic chemicals. I just erased one of the neighbor's houses, and the view is great now!

OK spring cleaning, check!

* * *

In other bloggy news, Blicky is just beaming with joy and has become rather unbearable after reading a panegyric in his honor over at Poetikat's Invisible Keepsakes. Not only did our friend Kat post the banner he designed with his own paws, but she created another beautiful and fun poem for her readers to enjoy. Thank you Kat!

Also, I'm not confirming or denying that I know this beautiful little blogger or anything but every time I read her posts I'm seized with an inexplicable maternal pride. She is cleverly ensconced in bloggyland with her own nom de plume and avatar. She likes to blog about the books she reads (voraciously) but lately many of the posts are about life in second grade and have ended with the sad little plea "please leave a comment." I know she would love a few words of encouragement. :) Rumor has it that she even wants to create a character that is a cat. Hmmmm....

Don't Be A Procrasti-hater

2009-03-28T21:19:00.000-07:00

I've been meaning to do these for awhile. I owe some custom graphics to my friends who won my Valentine's Day Karma Event. These take me a bit of time sometimes when I'm not doing silly Blicky Stuff. This is an homage to Kat over at Poetikat's Invisible Keepsakes, who aside from being an amazing and talented writer, is a really wonderful bloggy friend. Check out her blog here!

Kat, feel free to use it (or not) as you wish. I was thinking of how your poetry really balances inspiration with wit and fun.

The Non-Representational Joke

2009-03-26T18:26:00.000-07:00

Ursula von Rydingsvard, Wall Pocket, 2003-04, MoMA, New York

We've all experienced nonrepresentational art; beautiful or jarring abstract forms that provoke in our mind as well as our senses. It has the unique distinction of depending almost entirely upon the museum or gallery wall for its interpretive context. Abstraction splinters the way we think about an artwork because it prods and challenges us to break the experience down into essential units of color form, sound or texture. The reactions it inspires run the gamut from pretentious reverence, abject distain, utter dismissal, playful arousal to befuddled head scratching.

Alma Thomas (1891-1978), White Daisies Rhapsody, 1978, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington DC

In our house we have something called the non-representational joke. We had several at the dinner table tonight and I'm thinking of calling the Whitney Museum to see if one of the moppets could submit a performance piece for the Biennial. They go a little something like this:

Why did the chicken cross the road to the water?

Because he dropped his sippy cup?

No (thinking hard).

Because... he was friends with a duck?

No.

I give up.

Because he was a rock and roll boy chicken.

.....

Mark Rothko, Untitled (Violet, Black, Orange, Yellow on Red and White), 1949, Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York.

I know, I had the same reaction! It is so sophisticated and masterful the way she smashes the conventional structure to pieces. So subversive! This is all completely uncharted territory in both avant-garde circles and the comedy world. Here's another gem I learned tonight:

Knock knock.

Who's there?

Tutu.

Tutu who?

(Laughing about the sound of "tutu who?") Orange.

.......

Say orange who?

Orange who?

Orange tutu.

Marcel Duchamp, The Bride Stripped bare by Her Bachelors, Even/The Large Glass, 1915-23, The Philadelphia Museum of Art

(This one always reminded me of Odysseus' poor Penelope being beset by suitors.)

Do the Dog, Not the Donkey...

2009-03-24T19:48:00.000-07:00

It's more than just a killer Specials song,

I really, really, really want a dog.

I know what you're thinking, "Yeah, you just want one to eat your cat." True, true. But I also just miss having a dog. In today's era of central heating we really don't need to gather around a hearth anymore. But when you have a dog, there's a real sense of loving warmth that a family can gather around. The kids get to fight over who the dog loves more. "Just look at the way she looks at me. She secretly doesn't like you at all and just wags her tail to be polite."

The question becomes, where to get my dog? What kind of dog will I have? I do cherish a fantasy of having the Beautiful-Dog. You know the ones; custom dyed to match the L.L. Bean dog bed and your Volvo station wagon. My dream Beautiful-Dog would be a Rhodesian Ridgeback. But then there's this to consider:

Yup, those Beautiful-Dogs have more birth defects than the Hapsburgs. Prognathic jaw, hip dyplasia, tendency to try to rule the Holy Roman Empire ("Bad dog! Your heavy taxation to support costly wars will erode your support among the Castillians.")... all worrisome signs that those Beautiful-Dogs have been mixing it up with the cousins if you know what I mean. I have to ask myself, do I really want to contribute to the overbreeding? Do I want a commodity or a family member?

So what's left? I am down with having a mutt, but the local shelters are pit bull-o-ramas. I think New England is just where they get sent, like a maximum security prison for all the most hardened criminals. The people at the shelters don't like to talk about it, but I'm sure those pit bulls sneak drugs in. They do some pretty hard time in the Massachusetts big house. Also, the issue of canine incarceration rape (CIR) is seldom discussed outside of veterinary mental health circles. It's sad, I know, but do I really want a pet with substance abuse and sexual issues?

I love the rescue organizations, but even they're getting a bit steep these days. I think the cost of spa treatments for the rescuers is built into the requested donation. Plus, how do you know they don't have some latent, sleeper cell pit bull DNA waiting to emerge and bite you in the arse? What if the Beautiful Rhodesian Ridgeback rescue dog that you've paid 500 bucks for is really the Manchurian Candidate that's been trained to eat toddlers whenever he sees the queen of hearts?

I guess I'll just keep my eyes peeled for now.

Blicky Scores First Interview with Real Author

2009-03-16T20:32:00.000-07:00

Blicky was initially excited when I assigned him to interview Holly Barker, coauthor of The Consequential Damages of Nuclear War: The Rongelap Report, but was crestfallen to discover that the book wasn't advocating nuclear war and wouldn't lead to any new lucrative defense contracts.

Blicky Kitty: Mao, what in the world are the Marshall Islands?

Holly Barker: The Marshall Islands is a republic of about 29 coral atolls in the Pacific Ocean between Hawaii and Australia. The Marshallese live on small narrow islands of sand that lie atop coral reefs. These reef systems form a country that is the size of Mexico, but whose total landmass amounts to some 70 square miles.

BK: Mao like Waterworld with Kevin Cosner?

HB: I guess...the Marshallese are consumate seafarers. Much of their culture and livelihood centers around the ocean.

BK: Notice you spelled nucular "nuclear." Is that some pretentious liberal conceit?

HB: Yes.

BK: What role did the Marshall Islands play in the development of nucular weapons ~~that I use when I covertly manufacture nucular weapons in the basement~~ as we know them today?

HB: Well the U.S. nuclear testing program was conducted in the Marshall Islands from 1946 through 1958. The U.S. government detonated atomic and thermonuclear weapons with the aim of achieving world peace, but its actions essentially inflicted nuclear war conditions on a fragile atoll ecosystem and vulnerable population. The Marshallese, despite appeals to the United nations, were powerless to stop the testing and were left unprepared to address the resulting problems. The biggest and dirtiest nuclear detonation ever conducted was the Bravo test, on March 1, 1954. It was the equivalent of 1,000 Hiroshima bombs and it produced a mushroom cloud that was 25 miles from sea level.

March 1, 1954

BK: What was is like for them?

John Anjain describing the explosion from the Bravo test

HB: We published an account by John Anjain (shown above) who witnessed the Bravo explosion from the nearby Rongelap Atoll. They saw a light and many beautiful colors; yellow, green, pink, red and blue. Then they felt a gust of wind and we saw the smoke cloud. There was a clap that was louder than thunder and the women and children fled to the woods. Later Anjain went fishing and felt a fine powder falling all over his body. He was somewhat afraid when the powder began coating everything. It fell all day and all night. The next day, when they saw that the powder had turned the water yellow, they realized it was harmful. Later that afternoon a seaplane came and two men surveyed the damage. They left after about ten minutes which worried the people on the island. On March 3 everyone on the atoll was evacuated. The people of Rongelap were relocated in 1957 after assurances from the Department of Energy that there wouldn't be any risk. Mr. Anjain wrote that "However in 1958 and 1959 most of the women gave birth to something that was not resembling human beings."

A US worker measuring radioactivity on the roof of a Marshallese home with a geiger counter.

The medical treatment that the Rongelap people received was more for the purposes of research rather than optimal care. They were interested in documenting the radiation burns (some people had radiation burns down to the bone and weren't even given painkillers) and the thyroid cancer, but didn't respond to complains of reproductive abnormalities.

BK: Hiding the nuclear fusion rod in his pocket. Why were they researching this?

HB: The Bravo explosion was designed to keep the fallout local so they wouldn't alert other countries to the event and so they could use the Marshallese as test subjects to study the effects of nuclear radiation.

BK: That's nucular. N-U-C-U-L-A-R.

HB: Declassified documents show that they knew the wind would carry fallout towards inhabited islands. Project 4.1 outlines the study of the effect of nuclear radiation on human subjects. The Marshallese believe that this project of human study was conceived before the Bravo explosion took place but the U.S. government contends that it was accidental.

BK: People were so mean and clueless back in the 50's. Thank goodness we're so smart and enlightened nowadays.

HB: There still is no oncologist in the Marshall Islands to this day.

BK: Ta eo kwöj ba? Enana.

HB: Blicky Kitty, how on earth did you learn Marshallese?

BK: Mao. Ña DOE. One last question. What nefarious form of mind control have you used on my human to make her think you're the most awesome rock star of a human being in the universe?

HB: Well I've known her a little while (see above photo). Now Blicky, you said Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama would be here to hear about the Marshall Islands.

BK: Oh look! Something shiny!

HB: Damn you Blicky Kitty, Damn you!

BK: Kommol tata! Yokwe! Ñe ebar nana m wilim, inaaj kinake eok ñan mama.

Meanwhile in Fifteenth-Century Italy....Part 3

2009-03-15T17:30:00.000-07:00

Click here for a link to part 1 or 2

Courtly Culture During the Reign of Borso d’Este (1450-1471)

During Borso’s reign, the court became larger and more complex, and the humanist was demoted to a position that differed little from other court functionaries. And while Leonello preferred a simpler, classicizing aesthetic and his commissions favored the acquisition of Latin books, Borso’s patronage was more closely linked to the propagandistic and ritualistic functions of the arts, which attempts to merge and conflate an aristocracy with its metaphorical representation.[1] In other words Borso had some mad bling.

The Este court became larger as a result of a gradual bureaucratization during Borso’s reign. Distancing the relationship between himself and various officials, he delegated many duties. Notaries and chancellors became mere functionaries, executing orders from above. He then assembled what one scholar called a "kitchen cabinet" of his most intimate circle of courtiers, which included his personal friends (such as Dick Cheney, who was actually born already), and the Ducal Secretary.[2]

Guarino da Verona

By most accounts Ferrara’s intellectual elite were not included in Borso's inner circle of trusted courtiers. Many documents attest to this change in status of the humanist in Borso's court. In a Papal brief of 1458, Pius II intervened on Guarino da Verona's behalf after Borso had docked his pay. The changing function of scholars in the Ferrarese court can also be seen in the increased quantity of encomiastic literature dedicated to the Duke. The first alphabetical inventory of the Este collection, produced during the reign of Ercole, lists seven books whose titles begin with the expression of "Laude" to Borso.[3] Humanists (like the 24 hour news networks today) were valued for the contributions they could make to Borso’s public persona.

By making the hierarchy more rigid in the innermost circle of his court he was less vulnerable to threats to his power. But while those who interacted directly with the duke were far fewer than in previous years, Borso also made the spectacle of the court open to a greater number of participants. He employed calculated generosity to create a quasi-feudal system of dependent relationships thereby insuring the full allegiance of his courtiers. Borso’s court extended extraordinary possibility for both nobles and non-nobles. The court library became a place where greater numbers of people had access to the resplendent illuminated manuscripts of the Este family allowing them to participate in the discourse and the fashions of the court.

Although the books inhabited the same physical locations during the consecutive reigns of the two brothers, lending practices, manuscript patronage and collection maintenance differed vastly. By controlling access to the manuscripts and determining how books could be used and by whom, the marchesi ruled the intellectual activities of the court. During his reign, Leonello d’Este demonstrated a more exclusive, curatorial stance towards his collection. Under Borso, however, the courtly space of the library was transformed into a more public one. The Duke allowed both the members of his court and outsiders to borrow more freely from the collection. Individual manuscripts were also incorporated into part of public spectacles. In the case of the Bibbia, the book was transformed into an ostentatious statement of piety and the library became an itinerant space.

Courtly Space

So how do we define courtly space? In order to understand our friend Borso it makes sense to reconstruct as best possible the Renaissance definition. The most fundamental definition of courtly space is any location where the court resides. Scholars point out that in Sforza Milan, the word corte bore five different meanings.[4] Two of the meanings referred to tangible architectural structures which could accommodate and contain the court. The term corte could be used to identify the persons traveling or staying with the Duke; his “retinue” or “entourage.”[5] It could also denote the establishment or institution of the court. In order to see courtly space through the eyes of the fifteenth-century courtier in Ferrara, one must relinquish the conception of space as a rational and solely physical entity.

Renaissance rulers made manifest their political power on the physical, social and metaphorical levels of a courtier’s life. They exerted control over their courts in a physical sense by the ordering of bodies into court rituals, by determining the prosperity and deeply affecting the physical lives of their dependents, and through the ordering of courtiers within the architecture they commissioned. Like dance, spectacle and ceremony ordered the bodies of participants into a lyrical manifestation of marchesinal power.

In a system where favor from the monarch often represented a tangible material gain in the form of a fief or a commission, the nuances of social intercourse; speech, gestures, gazes became primary preoccupations of the courtier.[6] Access to power was predicated upon a courtier’s knowledge of court rituals and his fluent understanding of the symbolic language of the court embedded in the social interaction between courtiers.

The power of the Marchese was made manifest on a metaphorical level as well through reflections of courtly life through the artistic expressions commissioned by the Este dynasty. Representations of the rulers, the ladies and lords of the court adorned the frescoed walls of Renaissance palazzi. Their elegant forms graced the elaborate tapestries and the margins of resplendent manuscripts creating a duplicate courtly space. Art and society existed in a reciprocal rapport, each defining and influencing the other to the extent that they would not have been viewed as entirely distinct. The Este marchesi manipulated the arts not only to captivate viewers and to reinforce their own sovereignty, but also as Lauro Martines points out, they could “control the perceived reality of the surrounding world.”[7] Much as representations of space defied physical laws, the imagery of the court could defy political realities to reinforce and celebrate the Este hegemony.

(Palazzo Schifanoia. Figure 11. For a more contemporary example of the visual language of power one need look no further than our nightly news with flags and military images flanking our political leaders) For the courtier under the rule of Borso d’Este, courtly space was an expanse of wonder and delight, imbued with the mystical allure of power.[8] For our purposes, we’ll define courtly space here collectively as any physical place, a social gathering or a metaphorical space that serves to delight, evoke reverence and to reflect and reinforce the social structure of the court.

[1] See Marco Cattini and Marzio A. Romani, "Le Corti Parallele: Per una Tipologia delle Corti Padane dal XIII al XVI Secolo," in Papagno et al., 649. The authors describe the arts in the Northern Italian Renaissance courts as an instrument of intervention upon reality.

[2] Gundersheimer, 141 - 142.

[3] See Appendix II in Bertoni 1903.

[4] Ibid., 95. The first definition referred to the Palazzo dell’Arengo, the second to the Corte Ducale, or the castle courtyard, and a third to a type of farm buit around a central courtyard (the fourth and fifth definitions refer to the ducal retinue and court functionaries respectively).

[5] Ibid.

[6] Ibid., 94.

[7] Lauro Martines, Power and Imagination; City-States in Renaissance Italy (New York: Vintage Books, 1979), 229.

[8] Lubkin, 96.

Look Something Shiny!

2009-03-14T20:38:00.000-07:00

Well I was happily and morosely nursing a long bout of ague, just minding my own business and being treated with large doses of calomel and a lovely chloride of mercury with cathartic properties, when in burst that impertinent waif, Lil Cindi. I knew she was up to no good the second I laid eyes on her. "Have her removed" I managed to breath to my physician, "she's trouble." He responded my giving me an extra large dose of laudinum, which come to think of it is his response for everything.

"She's not even sick, doc, look she's just squinting to see what we're talking about. Make her come back to bloggyland and ride on the choo choo."

Thanks a lot Cindi, I had breakfasts in bed and now I'm back to cleaning the house again. This evening I was even expected to cook again.

****

So since I'm back, I thought I'd tell you about an invaluable phrase I've learned from my sister-in-law which indispensable for those difficult conversations you'd rather not have. I give you; Look, Something Shiny!

As highly evolved as we might think we are as a society we seldom have the strength to resist the siren call of the shiny, sparkly object. All you have to do when the conversation heads in a direction that you'd rather it not is point right behind them and say it, then just sit back and enjoy the magic. Here are some everyday conversational uses to get you started out:

Ma'am you can't park here. There's already a car in that spot!

Look, something shiny!

Is that your child over there teaching the whole playgroup how to say "damn"?

Oh look! Something shiny!

Ma'am, you do know that private kidney harvesting is illegal and dangerous.

Knock Knock. Oh who's there you ask? Something shiny!

Oh, nice to meet you both. I knew your wife back in boarding school. Boy was she....

What does Kojak's head and that big thing right behind you have in common? They're both shiny!

Ma'am you do understand that this Flight of the Conchords tattoo on your lower back is permanent and can't be removed right?

Oooooooh. So shiny.

Ma'am we have a small catlike individual down at the station claiming to be a feline weapons contracter / budding rap artist and he said he belongs to you. We picked him up after he drove through a church bazaar in a hummer.

Shiny?

Sicky Kitty

2009-03-10T18:50:00.001-07:00

Gentle Readers, in case you're admiring my bed pictured above, it's a snorkedischkedurgeborg (mork, mork, mork) from IKEA.

Note to future self: Oh self, the best cure for a bad chest cold/bronchitis is not pretending that it's not there and going for eleven mile runs in the middle of winter. This doesn't make you more more obdurate or stalwart....more Scottish. If that were the case, doctors would prescribe a good battle cry and a double serving of haggis (to be taken with plenty of water). Alas, the only thing it makes you is tragically stupid, and oh yeah you may or may not end up with pneumonia.

Here's a rap to serve as a mnemnotic device in case you forget this missive. Kindly provide your own bespittled percussive riff.

You're no Tenacious D,

Unless the "D" stands for duh,

Cause that's not how it should be,

Even when you're the mammuh,

You threw a dinner for eleven

Then you started gettin' peakish,

And by quarter to seven,

You was lookin' pret-ty freakish

Your good friends they ditn't know,

That you was feeling so blue

They thought beaujolais nouveau?

O peut-etre prime rib au jus?

So although you're lookin' yuck-tastic,

There may still be some hope,

Cause they call you Mrs. Bombastic,

And your rhymes are so dope.

In celebration of my brightly plumed little visitors, who have decided that we need a hint of springtime music in New England right about now, here's some Mandatory Fun:

Steamboat Blicky

2009-03-06T14:37:00.000-08:00

Hi bloggie friends! Things are pretty busy this week chez Blicky and I'm working on a few more detailed posts, so I decided to recycle an older post from way back when my only reader was my mom. (Thanks Mom!) In light of the stealthily creeping gas prices and reports that GM might discontinue the Hummer brand, this might be a fun thing to repost. I know what you're thinking, he looks sooo different. He's been colorized of course, but this was posted was way back in the time that the internet was still in black and white. I guess this is sort of like Steamboat Blicky.

Beware the Hypermiling Feline

Well, I was just so appalled after reading that Melanie at Bean Sprouts doesn't love her dog enough to give him bottled water that I ran out and bought Blicky a Hummer. We chose the H3 Alpha. Now I was surprised to find that they were even still available. Apparently the liberal media is still convincing people to consume less gas.

So I was finally able to find one and it only cost 40,000 USD. But you get so much! It is 73 inches tall and 6000 pounds. You can haul 1500 pounds of groceries in it and when you peel out of the parking lot, you can go from 0 to 60 mph in 8 seconds. I think it's the perfect vehicle for your pet -- especially if he has a defense contract and needs to haul around some heavy and dangerous raw materials.

It is such an environmentally friendly car too. According to their Web site it's 85% recyclable. That means if gas goes too high or polar bears take up residence in your garage, you can just drive it to the recycling side of your local dump. The only little snag is that gas is a bit on the pricey side: 13 mpg. But that's OK. We've come up with a new solution: hypermiling. Blicky averages an impressive 20 miles per gallon now, but he often comes home with small animals, various assortments of shrubbery and slower-moving humans stuck in the front grill of the H3 and his kittens all have whiplash and contusions from his whipping around corners.

We prefer a more measured approach:

We're starting to use a bike when possible (tough with car seats).

We try to plan driving carefully and get errands done on the same trip.

We've seen a small increase in our mileage by coasting in neutral at times, accelerating slowly and not braking too often.

We buy local produce either at farm stands and farmers markets or (as we're attempting this year) growing our own.

We're even thinking or buying a more fuel efficient car for our pet next time.

Have any other tips (serious or otherwise) for saving gas? Feel free to email BlickyKitty@comcast.net or leave a comment.

Blicky's Rock & Roll History Charades....Part 1

2009-03-01T21:19:00.000-08:00

For your entertainment this evening Blicky is going to act out some great moments in the past forty years of musical history. Of course we provide this as a public service, so you can forward this to your friends and see how cool they are. To read the answers posted below simply perform a graceful handstand directly in front of your computer monitor.

Am I Nick Nolte's Mother?

2009-02-26T19:18:00.000-08:00

I've been joking around all winter about Ludwig Van Beethoven, Yahoo Serious and Nick Nolte to everyone who'll listen because the dry winter air is playing some unfortunate pranks upon the already distinctive coif of the younger moppet. But it struck me today, what if the cosmos is trying to tell me something? What are the similarities between Nick Nolte and Younger Moppet of three years?

Fabulous hair

They're both really, really bad drivers and, in fact, probably shouldn't be trusted behind the wheel

A flair for bright prints and colors

Tenuous mastery of motor control

A real creative gift for performance and acting

Really poor impulse control

Notably bad Italian accents

Luckily, only one smells of lavender shampoo and pads into my room each night for a snuggle.

Recent Tweets by Oscar Wilde

2009-02-24T18:40:00.000-08:00

I know! Who knew Oscar Wilde was on Twitter? Apparently Blicky's friended him on Facebook and follows him on Twitter. He must be really really old, but apparently he stays pretty well informed:

Patriotism is the true virtue of the vicious.

One of tragic failings of our generation is how much the workplace has started to cut into our Facebook time.

The debate surrounding the economic bailout is the most vicious of all; that's because there's so little at stake.

If you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh otherwise they'll kill you.

History will reveal that the mormons were right to back Proposition Eight. Marriage should be between a man and a woman, and a woman, and a woman, and a woman, and a woman and a woman, and a woman.

"Fidelity": Don't Divorce... from Courage Campaign on Vimeo.

I have to go because if I watch any more, apparently my heterosexual marriage and lifestyle might spontaneously combust.

Karm-A-Thon Winners and Blicky's Red Carpet Reportage

2009-02-23T17:58:00.000-08:00

We're back after a week of school vacation day trips to historical museums, natural history museums, ice skating and then collapsing with a lovely variety of late February fevers and agues. I wanted to get back on as soon as I could to announce the three winners of our Karm-A-Thon. They are:

Katie over at Ragamuffin Gal for her amazing post about a meaningful connection with a random stranger. It demonstrates the power we have to offer kindness to anyone we encounter. Her blog is so beautiful to look at while you're reading too.

Ann's Rants has become one of my favorite new blogs to read. She is so funny. I just popped over there to grab the link and found a great post about ironic onesies. I would have loved the "emo" one. Well Ann actually made a donation to Willow House in honor of the Karm-A-Thon. We, the staff at Blicky Kitty are truly honored and money is pretty powerful way for spreading karma in the world. Her donation will help support families grieving the loss of a child or spouse.

I also loved Kat's post on Poetikat's Invisible Keepsakes because she was giving comfort to her mom on Valentine's Day. They recently lost her dad and she knew Valentine's Day might be tough for her so Kat and her husband took her out to dinner and a movie and to Verdi's La Traviata the next day. It's often the easiest thing to respond to the needs of a loved one and the added benefit is that is means so much more coming from a daughter or a wife or a mom.

Again thanks to everyone who contributed to our Karm-A-Thon!

* * *

While we were on school vacation and nursing sundry maladies, Blicky had to go out and find another job. He's been moonlighting to support his nasty kitty plastic surgery habit. He landed a gig reporting on oscar fashions, but I'm not sure if they'll hire him back next year. I don't think any of the stars actually answered his questions.

I think his stylist might have gotten his gender mixed up a bit, but it doesn't matter much since he's been (you know) fixed. He was just pleased that so many of the stars seemed to copy his carefully cultivated pale shouldered elegance. Here are some excerpts of his interviews.

Mao nice shoulders, mao can I call you Ella Enchanted?

Mao, listen up pop-tart, I'm only interviewing you because they're paying me. Mao ignore the fact that the fact that the kittens both think I'm mean because I don't let them watch your insipid show that teaches young girls to dress slutty and act rude. Mao, will also disregard the fact that an entire village could be fed for a year on what you earn on one night of a concert tour. But just can't ignore this dress. That is a true travesty. You're out of your league, powder-puff. Oh and are you having a hard time not pulling your eyes into slants and traumatizing your young Asian American fans?

Mao, how is this a statement about style? Someone could pour shellac over her head, cover it all with yellow feathers and those wiggly eyes from the craft store, slap on a pair of ducky slippers and she'd be red carpet ready. If a stylist could ever devise a way to make her look bad, that would be a crowning achievement, mao.

Mao, rockin it.

Again, not a stylistic coup, mao. This would look like a particularly unfortunate prom gown on a normal person.
Blicky's pick for rockin' the red carpet.

Blicky's Meditations on Aging

2009-02-17T16:57:00.000-08:00

Someone once told me about a local organization of women called a Crone Society or just plain Crones, I'm not sure, where women gather and sit in a spiral and take turns, starting with the youngest, relating what it means to have reached their age and what their perspective on life is from where they sit.

I love this idea on so many levels because first of all, how many tabloids in our culture scream out to us, "Woman Reports Valuable Wisdom As She Ages?" We are so much more concerned with the contour of Jessica Simpson's arse than we are with the subtleties of Madeleine Albright's insights into the current geopolitical landscape. I applaud the revival of the Crone because it restores honor and respect to aging.

So this week, as I make my graceful transition from thirtyten to fortydamnit, I thought I'd share my own insights about aging; the cool parts and the not so cool and impart some advice to the kittens seated farther out along the spiral.

OK Cool Part About Aging:

You mostly forget your age. I still think I'm in my early twenties until I catch a glimpse of my hand and shriek. I also gasp in horror each time I espy my smile lines in the car mirror.
Your body has all this cool science project stuff happen to it. Like when you do bicycling in Pilates your tummy does this super cool Sharpei dog thing where all the skin collects down next to your sports bra (note to self: do not show this post to spouse). My sister showed me the cool inner elbow trick five years ago and I didn't know what she was talking about, until now. Oh, and no one ever told me your ears keep growing. Time lapse photography shows me looking a lot like Gollum by 2029.
The forty-year-old self is infinitely cooler and stronger than the twenty year old self, and that inner beauty rocks! Most women I know wouldn't go back to twenty even if they were offered the opportunity.
You can go out with a bunch of friends and not have to worry about getting hit on. Nuf said.

Now for the sucky part about aging:

You mostly forget about your age. This is fine until the day you realize the guy you thought was checking you out is just waiting for you to vacate a parking spot or waiting for you to order lunch. Note to self: next time a cute guy asks to sit next to you at the movies, the proper response is not, "yeah, yeah but keep your paws to yourself, butterscotch!" but rather "Oh certainly young man, and will your girlfriend be needing this other seat?"
Your body has all this cool science project stuff happen to it. This is not so cool when you're Posh Spice and you're working out everyday, not eating and trying to be all Posh spice and not all Scary Spice and someone gets all up in you biness and posts a picture of you in a gold bustier with a lump of skin hanging below your armpit like a crestfallen scrotum.
The forty-year-old self is infinitely cooler than the twenty year old self, and that inner beauty rocks! You get to look back at all the stupid things that idiot inhabiting your much hotter, younger body did with all that precious youth. I now understand that I should have slept my way to the top while I still could.
You can go out with a bunch of friends and not have to worry about getting hit on. Nuf said.

Oh and for you spring kittens, aside from sleeping your way to the top, I will impart some additional skills for a young gentlewoman. Here's how to get rid of the gross, drunk dude when you just want to spend time out with your friends. Your main priority should be to disabuse him of the opinion that you're hot. I know this is hard for many of you young things, but trust me; not every guy needs to go forth into this world cherishing your hotness. Here are the fastest ways to achieve this goal:

1. Speak a strange dialect with lots of clicks and snorts. This usually only works if you happen to be out with my cousin Anna who without skipping a beat would fall into a sustained click-snort conversation with you.

2. Pretend to have a fit of some sort. This works like gang busters for the really persistent or the really drunk. It usually works best if you happen to be out with Sally, who provides masterful supporting dialogue like, "oh no, not again, someone please get us some water."

3. Make you're eyes really wide and stare-ie and make your voice really gravelly, grunty and erratic. Look deeply into his eyes and say, "The woman at the center said I was ready to have a boyfriend."

For all of my sisters farther along our winding spiral: we're listening...

***

I'll post the results of our Karm-A-Thon at the end of the week! Here's some mandatory fun in the meantime:

2009-02-14T20:32:00.000-08:00

Blicky has prepared a gorgeous meal for everyone to say thank you and namaste for today's Karm-A-Thon.

Mmm, good kitty! Roquefort and pear strudel, watercress salad with port-braised figs followed by steamed mussels with sausages and fennel. We probably don't need dessert but he's made some nice lemon custard cakes. In case your cat doesn't cook, here are the recipes.
I was delighted with the creative, fun and profound blog posts that everyone contributed. Lavinia and Musey the consumate bloggy hostesses/schemers add such a feeling of fun to any blog event. They not only wrote wonderful posts but add fun and joy to the process. Kat at Poetikat's Invisible Keepsakes wrote such a thoughtful and caring entry about spending time with her grieving mom. Steviewren wrote such a touching piece about her children. CDB crafted a wonderful poem for the occasion and got it posted right before her Valentine's date, so the link is below if you haven't seen it. Find the link to Ann's Rants below while your at it. She not only coined a new phrase, "What in the Sally Jesse Raphael...", which will undoubted become commonly used, but she made a donation to an actual charity in honor of our Karm-a-thon! Katie at Ragamuffin Gal wrote an amazing post about a random encounter at Walmarts that became a meaningful connection. Well I'm going to hit it now because I've got to haul my thirtyten-year-old arse ten miles tomorrow morning. Enjoy a wonderful night with your loved ones, your Ben and Jerries — or in a perfect world— both, dear readers.

Oh and here are some fun additions to the new candy Sweethearts sayings from reader comments. I had started with:

RUFI ME

UR HOT THRU MY BEER GOGGLES

DON'T STALK ME

I AM EASY 2 IMPRESS

and these were some of the funny ones left in comments:

Courtesy of Muse Swings:

BLOG BABE

LIL' CINDI

From the inimitable Self Deprecaun:

LOVE ME FROM AFAR BUT DON'T YOU DARE VIOLATE THE RESTRAINING ORDER

From CDB:

GIVE ME COMMENT LOVE

FOLLOW ME

I HEART YOU

KISS MY BLOG

From Pearl (I nearly split my gut when I read this one):

MY HUSBAND IS A HEAVY SLEEPER

From Steviewren:

HOT GRAMMA

From Debby:

TOMCATTIN'

From Anna Lefler:

GOOGLE ME

YOU MAKE MY SITE METER RISE

YOU'RE THE TWEETEST

U MAKE MY FEED BURN

You can find links to all sites below of in my blogroll.

Welcome to Blicky Kitty's Valentine's Day Karm-A-Thon

2009-02-13T20:23:00.000-08:00

Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,
And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow;
If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed
A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know:
Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses,

And being set, I'll smother thee with kisses;

(I was always taught that the only proper response to Shakespeare's

Venus and Adonis was not reverence but snorts and guffaws)

Happy Valentine's Day! A short while back Blicky and I asked our bloggy friends to share a thoughtful compliment about someone they know or blog about a compliment they have given. Here's the original post. So today Blicky's really feeling the love. He's eagerly waiting for all of our bloggy friends in a canal-side cafe in Bruges where he's taken the liberty of ordering us espresso, brioches and chocolate-dipped strawberries. Oh, and because of the time difference, cocktail hour will be starting at 12 noon our time. Cheers!

We have so many great blogs to visit today. I've always loved the idea of karma. I don't profess to know much about it, but I think it's more complex than just getting what we deserve. I've always imagined it to be like cosmic ecology. If we put blicky stuff out there, we're making our world blickier. So here's to de-blickifying the world, one post at a time.

Go ahead! All our blickosphere fare is calorie-free.

Our Karma-thon starts at the of the most gracious and fun bloggy hostesses over at Muse Swings. Her fun events never fail to a-muse and she inspired me to do this.

Yay! Mary at Little Weloos Mom wants to play too. She is seriously fun (check our her header) so I can't wait to see what she's writing about.

Kat is happily joining us, but I think she thinks we're singing Karma Chameleon. I'm not sure where she'll post but it's always fun to read both her blogs; her amazing poetry and thoughtful posts on Poetikat's Invisible Keepsakes and the funny walks down memory lane Poetikat's Blast From the Past.

I heard Steviewren at A Little Bird Told Me So is going to play too. Her blog is just a joy to visit. It fills me with an admiration for what is possible with a creative mind and confident brush stroke.

The multi-talented Melissa at Multi-Tasking Mama will join us too and we'll have the added treat of seeing what chemical enhancements follow when one blogs on painkillers. I've been on laudinum for years and it hasn't affected my writignkjd at bit!

Blicky's apparently got some flowers for Mimi over at Screaming Mimi because she said he looked handsome.

We might have a few blog-o-crats in our midst too. She doesn't post on Saturdays so she might not play, but Blicky has long been an acolyte/stalker of Anna Lefler's. If you haven't yet been over to Life Just Keeps Getting Weirder, you're missing the kind of snort-your-coffee-through-your-nose kind of good time you always hoped for in bloggyland.

I've had fun getting to know CDB through her posts at Fingers and Toes. She's a smart funny, and talented writer and I can't wait to see what she'll post.

I'm apparently one of the few that hasn't known about the awesome Ann at Ann's Rants. She is absolutely hysterical and an amazing writer. I'm pretty sure feline bloggy acolytes will get autographed copies of her work when she's a famous author.

Yay! Lavinia is joining us too! She has a beautiful blog called the the Birdbath Chronicles which she always adorns with the most beautiful images you can imagine. She is also a super fun and gracious bloggy event hostess.

Katie over at Ragamuffin Gal with be joining our karm-a-thon as well! Her blog is so lush and gorgeous. I find it inspiring to see her artwork-- enjoy!

Here's where I'll be in the morning:

We're bringing the kittens to Old Sturbridge Village in Sturbridge MA. It's apparently one of the largest living history museums in the country and it focuses on life in New England from 1790 to 1840. It's one of the few places where you can really let kittens run wild without worry.

If you'd like to join our Karm-a-Thon just leave a comment and I'll add you in when I return.

For today's mandatory fun I thought I'd give you a winter love song (studio version, unofficial video) from a NYC band I LOVE:

Blicky Kitty Tours the Sweethearts Factory

2009-02-11T11:43:00.000-08:00

Mao baby you are just driving my traffic up and up and up. My RSS feed is so into your mailbox. You are making my discreet page views go wild.

Blicky are you hitting on the blogosphere? That is completely inappropriate! We're not celebrating that kind of Valentine's Day! Today I've planned an edifying tour of the Necco candy factory in nearby Revere, Massachusetts.

Mao.zzzzzzz

OK Blick, you can just stay home and finish your bath then. These things have been my favorite candy since I was little and I was delighted to learn that they're actually a local business (New England Confectionery Company) and they make my other favorites, Mary Janes. Luckily since I'm blogging you can't see my disturbing absence of teeth.

These candies have been around in their present form since the turn of the century. Some of the 100 sayings they still include are "be mine," "kiss me," "be true" and "sweet talk." Apparently since some came in larger shapes they had room for longer sayings like "Please send a lock of your hair by return mail." or "How long do I have to wait? Pray be considerate." Starting in the 1990's they decided to update some and retire others. Hence the very popular "email me" and "fax me". This has tapped into the zeitgeist of a new generation that uses romantic faxes to express their most intimate sentiments. Apparently this year will include new sayings about the weather such as "melt my heart" and "in a fog."

I'm such a fan of the sweet and entertaining confections that I've started collecting some of the rarer ones. These are some new sayings that they've retired immediately due to a lack of commercial success:

Blicky says: Mao, really, friend me on Facebook....

Anyway, I've sent a bunch of suggestions that keep getting rejected:

RUFI ME

UR HOT THRU MY BEER GOGGLES

DON'T STALK ME

I AM EASY 2 IMPRESS

Feel free to add your own....

Running Induced Omnipotence: Symptoms and Etiology

2009-02-09T07:43:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I numbered among the many New England denizens who took advantage of the temporary thaw on Sunday to get out for some fresh air and vitamin D. Only, because I'm turning thirtyten next week, my foray out-of-doors was a ten mile training run for my celebratory roadrace.

So I found myself wondering if anyone else out there was afflicted by exercise-induced omnipotence. Luckily Blicky is an expert on the disorder and has devised a detailed description and etiology of the symptoms. Prerun-mile 1

The first stage is characterized my extreme fatigue, fear and ill humor. The inner dialogue usually consists of extremely negative thought patterns with regards to the upcoming run. It's so cold, and I'm safe and warm with my book and my fleecy blanket. I might get bitten by a dog or mowed down by a crazed Sunday morning drunk driver. Also, I've heard there have been black bear sightings and I can't find the pepper spray. I'm too old. Not too old to find the pepper spray, just too old to be running a distance race.

Mile 2

OK this feels pretty good. But I hope that great dane on Pine Street is inside. What would I do if I ever ran into that bear?

Mile 3

That dog couldn't hurt me that much.

Mile 4

How many miles left? OK that great dane is inside. Time to find a better song on the iPod. The normal person usually maintains this stage of endorphin induced omnipotence for the duration of the run, as seen in the fuchsia line above. The truly afflicted progress into the more pathological stages of exercise omnipotence as indicated by the yellow line.

Miles 5-7

Oh I'm just gliding along like I'm on wheels! I like the colors on that cute little contemporary over there. Maybe I could do something like that. Ok I'm DEFINITELY going to win this race next week. Yeah, I'm average 10 minute miles and there will be young men in their 20's and 30's, but they don't brave roving bears, dogs and chickens in their training runs. They're going down. Also, I think I could probably change careers and become a recording artist. I'll learn how to use Garage Band and maybe a musical instrument make millions on my first mash-up. What should my stage name be?

Bugs Bunny in drag part 2 @ Yahoo! Video

Miles 8-9

If that bear came up to me now I would beat it up. First I'd poke him in the eyes with my fingers then I'd elbow him in the stomach and rotate my arm up to punch him in the nose. Then I'd knock him down and punch him. Actually, maybe I'd dress up like a female bear first like Bugs Bunny used to do, and then when he fell in love with me, I'd beat him up or give him Acme TNT inside a candy box. I might have to be careful of how to play it to the media, with my recording contract and all. Extreme sufferers, during this final stage of endorphin madness have been known to devise evil plots involving dark magic and horcruxes to kill Harry Potter, attain immortality and rule the world or plan preemptive invasions of Iraq.

Mile 10-postrun

This is stupid. I'm a terrible runner. I bet even...even...Ozzy Osbourne or Rush Limbaugh could beat me next Sunday. This hurts. It's cold. The inner dialogue usually degenerates into constant repetitive profanity at this point.

There is only one cure that I would strongly recommend: sloth. I have no cure for turning thirtyten, but it most assuredly isn't signing up for a ten mile roadrace.

A Formal Retraction

2009-02-04T20:01:00.000-08:00

As some of you might know I was a bit enthusiastic when I first discovered Webkinz World. Now, on the advice of my lawyers, I wish to post a formal retraction to my earlier post. I was wrong to espouse the use of a children's game for adults.

Dear Mrs. ______,

We are writing to inform you that your Webkinz account is on probation status pending review of your case. I have outlined our major concerns below:

While your superior computer hacking skills are commendable, we don't condone the changes you made to the standard phrases and words in KinzChat. The other members playing games in the club house and tournament areas are presumably small children, and therefore "Suck it!" or "You're going down!" are not appropriate exclamations upon winning at bowling.

We've also been meaning to talk to you about the way Pinky has been dressing. Our programmers did not add a bikini or diamond encrusted necklace to the W Shop and we need it removed immediately (although you may leave the zebra-striped fly shoes with dice tank). Please be advised that Pinky needs to be dressed appropriately in the future.

Somehow you've accrued 1,650,000 Kinzcash in your account, and in response to your repeated queries, no, you cannot "withdraw" Kinzcash for use in any kind of real world context. We don't know how you were able to amass this much, but our programmers are taking a closer look at your use of the "Wheel of Wow."

We are unable to track Pearl's whereabouts in Webkinz world, but have had complaints from some of our younger clients about "a bad, bad horsie in a leopard hat" who took all their Kinzcash.

We will not elaborate on last week's incident in the Clubhouse, but we feel it necessary to restate that alcohol, cigarettes and firearms are strictly forbidden in Webkinz world.

Signed,

I. P. Freeley,

WebKinz Corporate Headquarters

Blicky's Mandatory Fun:

Conor Oberst, Vancouver
The studio version is below in my iLike playlist.

In Which Blicky Dines with One of the Romanovs

2009-02-02T20:18:00.000-08:00

I am just astonished that many of my readers didn't believe a single word of the meme I recently maimed. A few people requested that I elaborate on some of the items. So here's the story of our Thanksgiving dinners with Tsar Nicholas' daughter. Anastasia, the Grand Duchess of Russia was sadly killed during the Bolshevik Revolution in 1918, but there were at least ten women who claimed to be her. One of them was friends with my great aunt Edith in Newport RI. She had published a book detailing her life in Russia and possessed numerous pictures of herself and the Royal family. My great uncle Buster always believed her. He'd say, "Just think! You had Thanksgiving with royalty."

The weird thing is that no one called her Anastasia. She was just Mrs. Smith. I have memories of her from when I was around 10 or 11 years old. I already towered over her because she was so very tiny and very frail. She'd come up to me after church and talk at great length in a teeny tiny whispering voice. I usually couldn't understand a word she said so I'd stare at her eye folds. She had these crazy rubbery eye folds that hung almost all the way down to her eyelashes. She used to paint really beautiful Easter eggs and pass them around after church. As she got older the intricate painted lines on the eggs became wigglier and wigglier, but they were still beautiful. Everybody in Newport was so solicitous of her. They'd lean over and listen to her, then escort her around as if she were one of those fragile Easter eggs.

One Thanksgiving, when we were quite a bit older, my (awesome rock star of a) sister and I were charged with driving her safely home. Maybe it was just a mistake to entrust her to us because we can sometimes be a little on the irreverent side. Every sibling in my family should have been automatically banned from coming within ten feet of that poor, sweet woman especially after my older brother tried to grill her repeatedly about how Catherine the Great died. Anyhow, I think I was driving, Anastasia was riding shotgun and my sister was in back. All of a sudden, the aroma of the car's interior underwent a drastic and most unfortunate transformation. We had all been making small talk. Anastasia continued, undaunted; making her whispery, quiet, small talk and I could hear my sister's voice become clipped as if she were stifling a laugh. You know how when you suppress a really, really powerful laugh it sounds like you're crying? I managed to cry out very quietly "Was...that....youu?" I think I was laughing so hard all I could emit were a few gasps of air and tears were just streaming down my face. From the back seat: "No...I...think...that...was...a...royal...one..."

***

Blicky Kitty's on Facebook too! Click here to join us if you like!

Creature Double Feature

2009-01-30T18:26:00.000-08:00

I was reading my bloggy friend Debby's wonderful tirade about Ann Coulter the other day and it made me think about Godzilla and the other monsters on Creature Double Feature on Boston's Channel 56. Well, not exactly in the way you think. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that she isn't a venomous reptilian fire breathing succubus, but thinking about Ann Coulter got me thinking about fear and how we deal with it.

We all have "monsters" that frighten us as kids, haunt our thoughts. I won't admit how old I was before I stopped taking running leaps off the bed so the monster underneath couldn't grab my ankles. As a group or a nation, our fears can be distilled into powerful metaphors. The ancient Greeks feared the unpredictability of nature — the hostile winds, a mercurial and uncharted sea — and these fears coalesced into the menagerie of sea creatures that slithered across mosaic walls and amphoras. From the 2nd century AD onwards people began their attempt to catalogue these fears, the unknown in the world and make sense of them with respect to their faith. The Hydrus in the Workshop Bestiary (the pages of which I've had the pleasure of touching) at the Morgan Library is shown being eaten by a crocodile.

These were used as moral lessons for an illiterate public. The crocodile represents death and hell and the Hydrus is a symbol for Jesus who descended into hell, then burst out dealing a blow to death itself. For later artists perhaps their monsters were the less tangible fears of human passion as they delighted in rendering the eroticism of the helpless Andromeda and the destructive force of the beast.

Joachim Wiewael, Perseus and Andromeda, 1630

Perseus and Andromeda, Frederic Leighton, 1891

For me and my young contemporaries near the greater Boston area, our monsters were Godzilla, Mothra (my favorite), Megaguirus or Orga who would duke it out every Saturday afternoon at the Creature Double Feature. Of course I just found the cheezy effects, delayed voice-overs and over-the-top narratives funny and campy, but on another level they were pretty potent symbols for their age. They represent the angst of the nuclear age. Japan, having felt the effects of nuclear war generated these powerful and moralizing symbols of the destructive power of the hydrogen bomb through the medium of film. Maybe we should've taken more notes when we watched the smog monster. He's still apparently lurking about:

I know, I know I'm getting back to Ann Coulter. Blicky's been a little worried about Ann and her pals lately. How will they fare now that the inauguration has renewed our pesky sense of hope? Fear is their bread and butter. A lot of us got the scary, specious emails during the run up to the election. Obama Hussein (subliminal fear) is a secret Muslim and the world is going to be destroyed (subliminal fear) by his evil plots. Their warnings are starting to go unheaded as the country watches him being a pretty good guy, nice dad.. cute kids. I know Blicky's really worried now. What will Ann do? Rush will enjoy a fine roll with this he-didn't-really-get-sworn-in nonsense. Blicky's been hard at work creating a new beast for his muse, Ann, the lovely (vitriol spewing) Andromeda. What monster could be so foul, so fiendish as to reawaken the fears and angst of a nation?

Not buying it? I know. I told Blicky the same thing. Maybe he should have written that Al "wants wants to eat Christmas and outlaw your money" instead. I don't know. We'll let Blicky worry about that. On Debby's suggestion, here's one that we're all scared of:

In Which Blicky Subverts the Meme

2009-01-28T18:35:00.001-08:00

No Blicky!!! I said we were going to subvert the meme, not bludgeon the mime. Silly Kitty!

OK lately I've been reading a few wonderful twists on the meme. Check out the numbers over at The Daily Egg. Merrill's worked it all out, and basically if everyone obediently passes along their various memes (25 things about me), it doesn't take long before all the known universe is participating. The Unfinished Rambler decided to turn the standard meme into 25 Things I've Learned About You, Blogoshpere, Since I've Gotten Here, Wherever the Hell Here Is.

Cynthia over at Muse Swings posted a sort of meme where you create a dialogue with the Good Wife's Guide; a list excepted from a 1955 edition of Housekeeping Monthly. Although I love to read them, I usually demur from posting memes because they feel suspiciously like a high school senior page. I’m inspired by these creative twists though so here it goes.

Since the world is my own personal all-you-can-eat salad bar, I'm just going to pick and choose from the fun memes:

Prague, July 1990

1. I once got locked in a high-rise apartment building on the outskirts of Prague by a vodka-sodden guy named Izzy with blood rimmed eyes.
2. I love to make my own yogurt .
4. I’m six feet tall and wear boots most days to conceal the fact that my flippin’ pants are all too short at present.

5. A friend and I once hitched a ride from Madrid to Toledo on the backs of motorcycles driven by a South African and a Yorkshire bloke who swore with impressive gusto.

6. My last paying job was translating laser technology for some nice fellows from Northern Italy. If you ever need to explain to a friend in Genoa how to configure their laser for a seam wield on steel, email me.

7. Being a church lady makes me really happy.

8. I was there on the day they opened the Brandenberg gates in Berlin.

9. It just doesn’t feel right if a day goes by and I haven’t talked to my mom.

10. I like to run distance races and I love pilates so much even my teacher thinks I’m pathetic and nerdy about it.

11. I used to work at an art museum and I guess you could say I’m one of a handful of experts on a 15^th century duke from Ferrara (hence the 100 dollar bills I used for wallpaper the butler’s quarters).

12. I have a big old scar on my chest from a spazzy childhood encounter with a glass window. It used to make me self-conscious but now I love it because it looks like a cleavage line from a distance.

13. My three-year-old once belted out Baby Got Back to our minister.

14. When I was growing up we used to have Thanksgiving with our extended family and a woman who claimed to be Anastasia, Tsar Nicholas’ daughter.

15. Cats crack me up but I’m really more of a dog person.

Toledo Spain, 1989

***

Blicky's Mandatory Fun: Check out this video! It's called Fortress by a band named Pinback.

***

In other news, ever the victim of treacherous calumny, Blicky is being framed for the theft of the Paradasha Sapphire. If anyone can step forward as a character witness, please let me know.

Speaking of mimes, you feel like writing me a review click here (you don't have to sign in or anything):

A Very Special Blicky Kitty Valentine's Day Event

2009-01-25T22:13:00.000-08:00

Well the season of love is fast approaching and Blicky has already been bitten by the love bug. Normally irascible and surly in nature he seems to be floating around the house as of late.

What are your Valentine's Day memories?

Awkward exchanges of wilted, grotesquely-hued carnations in the corridors of your high school?
The sinking realization that candy hearts now say "email me" and you remember when they said "Pray send thy amorous missive on illuminated palimpsest" (believe me, they were a lot bigger back then)?
The worry that Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Brownie Batter didn't arrive in a heart shaped box, and technically speaking no one actually "gave" it to you?
The time at boarding school when a really cute upperclassman took you to Hampton Beach and you tried to be cool and light his cigarette, but instead you lit the highly flammable front of his Flock of Seagulls hair style?

We at Blicky Kitty want to recapture Valentine's Day in it's purer and less expensive form. Remember the warm fuzzy pom pom people from kindergarden? Or the poorly-spelled second grade notes pointing out your obvious physical traits such as height and hairstyle or your funniness ("I like Lorall, she is tall and funny. That is why I like her.")? We are hosting a very special Valentine's Day event called a Karm-a-Thon. If you'd like to participate, just leave me a comment and link to this post if you wish.

Then, create a special Valentine's Day post where you give a really thoughtful, meaningful compliment to someone you know. It could be a loved one, acquaintance or friend. Also you could give a compliment to someone and write about it. Make a stranger's day by telling her she looks pretty in that outfit! Let someone know that you see something cool and special about them. Share the love!

Blicky will select a winner or winners to receive a custom Blicky Kitty or other Photoshop design of their choice!

"Mao aren't you just oversimplifying the deeper Buddhist meaning of karma?"

Yes Blicky but I think people will understand that my intentions are well-meaning.

"Mao aren't you just trying to distract yourself from your upcoming 40th birthday?"

Gotta go!

***

Many thanks to Bill Austin from Blog of the Day Awards for the honor of naming Blicky Kitty among the Blog of the Day recipients for Saturday, January 24th! I am truly honored, and thank you to the person who nominated me!

The Blick Project and Some Belated Thank Yous...

2009-01-24T20:40:00.000-08:00

Well it's been a few days since our last visit to the blickosphere, but we've been really busy with an exciting new project! Blicky and I have finally finished the screenplay we've been working on and we're really excited for the next phase. It's only a matter of time before some big Hollywood hotshot picks it up because we're breaking new ground not only with our narrative, but I think we've invented an entirely new genre: horror movies starring toddlers.

The premise is one cat, one house in the middle of the woods (just a coincidence that ours is too), one toddler and a camera. I think we could shoot the whole thing on a shoestring budget. Let me describe the opening scene: Blicky goes upstairs to check on toddler after hearing a long silence. We hear a the piercing sound of violins get louder and louder as he walks up the stairs. Then "Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!!!!" Blicky screams as he opens the bathroom door to find scary toddler using Blicky's toothbrush to paint with half a tube of toothpaste and half a container of expensive, intensive moisturizing cream. His scream echoes again and again as the camera pans to the other cream-covered family toothbrushes and makeup brushes, makeup and toilet paper strewn across the floor. Is there no end to the horror?

We call this the nostril shot, but my husband calls it the "how much time did you spend on that?"

The doorbell rings and more scary music. It's the Blair Witch! "Listen, now's just not a good time. There's some scary stuff going on around here, so you'll have to come back." The scary music abates as we see Blicky scrubbing the whole bathroom.

Then the camera drops to the floor and we realize that someone much shorter has taken control over the camera and things have gone horribly, horribly, wrong... then it just gets too scary for words, the hideous carnage of My Little Ponies strewn across the ground, Barbie laying naked and mangled, the fingerprints on the tv. Just imagine each new image accompanied by a blood-curdling scream:

That should give you a little taste. I don't want to spoil the whole thing, but now you can see why we're so excited.

***

I owe belated thanks with apologies to Tracy Griffin and Mary for the wonderful awards they've bestowed upon Blick. It makes him so happy!

Tracy over at the Art Barista gave us this lovely blog award, but the kudos should go to her because lovely is the word for her artwork. Her work is so fun to look at because her colors are so soothing and the lines and compositions are really joyous and playful.

My Bloggy friend Mary over at Little Weloos Mom gave Blicky this fun little lemonade award. If you haven't checked Mary's blog it's a fun one -- she describes it as motherhood Appalachian style.. I was smitten the first time I saw her banner with her daughter next to the mothman, because I knew I'd found a kindred sense of humor.

And thanks to the Unfinished Rambler (I think Mrs. Rambler must've given him that name because I couldn't find another anywhere) who gave Blicky Kitty and Soggy Doggy Bloggy a Sunday Shout Out last week! It was quite an honor coming from such a funny, smart writer. I especially love how he put his own spin on the meme.

Inauguration Day at the Blicky Kitty Homestead

2009-01-19T20:25:00.000-08:00

Abigail Adams, Gilbert Stuart

"Martha is my bonnet straight? It's so lovely here at Mt. Vernon. Oh no, who invited Calhoun?"

It's finally here! The day we've all been waiting for. For more bloggyland Inauguration Day fun be sure to head over to Muse Swings. I thought for this special occasion I'd take you on an edifying tour of our local birthplace of Gilbert Stuart, the painter of George Washington's most famous portrait.

Mao. Zzzzzz

What do you mean, Blicky?

Mao. Standing by today with exclusive coverage.

Well, I guess that sounds interesting. OK Blicky, be my guest!

Mao, reports coming in from all over the country today of rolling sounds emanating from the graves of famous racists. I'm standing here over the grave of staunch slavery advocate, and big fat stinkin' racist, John C. Calhoun. One can clearly discern a steady rolling noise punctuated by the occasional creepy thump.

Wait Blicky. I hardly think that's an appropriate topic for today. The politics of the incoming administration have transcended so many issues surrounding race and we should all be inspired by the sense of hope and positive message of.... Is that the gopher from Caddyshack?

Now standing at the grave of Confederate President Jefferson Davis who was one of the biggest, fattest founders of American institutional racism. I am listening to whirling, rolling sound interspersed with ghoulish moans. It gets louder every time I turn up the volume of the inauguration coverage.

Mao, some of the loudest moans have been heard from pro-segregation Alabama governor, and big fat stinkin' racist George C. Wallace's grave. The rolling sound is quite fast and quite loud. It almost sounds as though he's spinning like a top down there.

Blicky, are you saying this is actually happening, or are you the only witness?

Mao, no, crowds are starting to form and there's dancing on the graves and some champagne corks flying.

Mao, big fat stinkin' racist, Strom Turmond preserved in a cryogenics state.

That's enough, you've ruined another post! Damn you Blicky Kitty!

Please accept my apologies. Now I won't have time to talk about Gilbert Stuart. I guess I'll just leave you with an image of the very thing Pandora found at the bottom of her box after a host of human maladies were loosed upon the world (big fat stinkin' racists, intolerance, war, corruption, poverty, famine, grief)...HOPE. I just learned that the artist of the image, RISD grad Shepard Fairey also did the ubiquitous Andre the Giant images of the 80's and 90's. Here's a great video about him. I guess all presidential portraits have the same goal, to reach the eyes of many (Gilbert Stuart made over a hundred copies of the famous Athenaeum portrait that appears on the one dollar bill) influence and inspire. I find it interesting that this street artist had an interest in "viral" images before the use of the internet became widespread. This poster offers a wonderful testimony to our national zeitgeist. It is simple, lyrical and profound and it captures this moment in time in every way, from it's aesthetic style to it's savvy, forward-looking use and dissemination.

Here's to hope, gentle readers.

Blicky Unearths Rare Fragments of Historical Farewell Addresses

2009-01-17T15:50:00.000-08:00

Try as I might to keep from hearing the farewell speech by a certain president, who shall-not-be-named in order to avoid offending any of my gentle readers numbering among the 22% who still feel like he did a bang-up job; a few radio borne snippets managed to float through the airwaves.

When I heard it, however, I was really relieved to know that things are a lot better than I had feared. Afghanistan actually sounds awesome. I was even thinking it would be a great place to raise my girls, now that women are so free and the country so democratic. I guess things are going really well in Iraq too. I had been concerned that maybe we shouldn't have done it, but it sounds like things are awesome there too.

The speech got Blicky thinking about historical figures and the legacy they leave behind, so over the course of months of exhaustive and tireless research he unearthed a treasure trove of new documents the existence of which scholars have hitherto remained ignorant...until now.

Fragment from an early draft of George Washington's farewell address:

We are seeing the peaceful birth of a new, peace-loving democracy in France. Reports of Robespierre eating Louis XVI's liver, sharpening the guillotine with puppies and orphans, and using the court dwarf for jousting practice have been wildly exaggerated by enemies of American freedom. Slavery in our new land is beginning to fade away gradually, and our indian brethren are coexisting peacefully with American patriots across the Great Plains.

Xerxes' Farewell Address: Our last campaign against the Athenians was a huge success thanks to the bravery of our military heros like Turgot the Meek and Hargip the Bewildered who sacrificed their comely wives to me and then lay down their lives for this great Persian empire.

The Farewell Address of Emperor Titus Flavius Sabinus Vespasianus: Our response to the destruction in Pompeii and Herculanium was immediate and well executed thanks to the efforts of Brunicus. Heck of a job, Brunicus!

The Farewell Address of Napoleon: Some may not have agreed that I should have attacked Wellington and von Blücher while they were assembled near the northeastern border of France but leaders are often called upon to make difficult decisions and I think history will look back upon Waterloo as the beginning of the end for the Seventh Coalition.

George Washington's Farewell Address, co-authored incidentally with Alexander Hamilton, was first published in 1796. The Address is read aloud every year in the US Senate. In anticipation of the inaugural festivities at Muse Swings, here's some of what Washington had to teach us about partisan politics and the usurpation of power by any one group:

"I have already intimated to you the danger of parties in the state, with particular reference to the founding of them on geographical discriminations. Let me now take a more comprehensive view, and warn you in the most solemn manner against the baneful effects of the spirit of party, generally.

This spirit, unfortunately, is inseparable from our nature, having its root in the strongest passions of the human mind. It exists under different shapes in all governments, more or less stifled, controlled, or repressed; but, in those of the popular form, it is seen in its greatest rankness, and is truly their worst enemy.

The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharpened by the spirit of revenge, natural to party dissension, which in different ages and countries has perpetrated the most horrid enormities, is itself a frightful despotism. But this leads at length to a more formal and permanent despotism. The disorders and miseries, which result, gradually incline the minds of men to seek security and repose in the absolute power of an individual; and sooner or later the chief of some prevailing faction, more able or more fortunate than his competitors, turns this disposition to the purposes of his own elevation, on the ruins of Public Liberty.

Without looking forward to an extremity of this kind, (which nevertheless ought not to be entirely out of sight,) the common and continual mischiefs of the spirit of party are sufficient to make it the interest and duty of a wise people to discourage and restrain it.

It serves always to distract the Public Councils, and enfeeble the Public Administration. It agitates the Community with ill-founded jealousies and false alarms; kindles the animosity of one part against another, foments occasionally riot and insurrection. It opens the door to foreign influence and corruption, which find a facilitated access to the government itself through the channels of party passions. Thus the policy and the will of one country are subjected to the policy and will of another.

There is an opinion, that parties in free countries are useful checks upon the administration of the Government, and serve to keep alive the spirit of Liberty. This within certain limits is probably true; and in Governments of a Monarchical cast, Patriotism may look with indulgence, if not with favor, upon the spirit of party. But in those of the popular character, in Governments purely elective, it is a spirit not to be encouraged. From their natural tendency, it is certain there will always be enough of that spirit for every salutary purpose. And, there being constant danger of excess, the effort ought to be, by force of public opinion, to mitigate and assuage it. A fire not to be quenched, it demands a uniform vigilance to prevent its bursting into a flame, lest, instead of warming, it should consume.

It is important, likewise, that the habits of thinking in a free country should inspire caution, in those intrusted with its administration, to confine themselves within their respective constitutional spheres, avoiding in the exercise of the powers of one department to encroach upon another. The spirit of encroachment tends to consolidate the powers of all the departments in one, and thus to create, whatever the form of government, a real despotism. A just estimate of that love of power, and proneness to abuse it, which predominates in the human heart, is sufficient to satisfy us of the truth of this position. The necessity of reciprocal checks in the exercise of political power, by dividing and distributing it into different depositories, and constituting each the Guardian of the Public Weal against invasions by the others, has been evinced by experiments ancient and modern; some of them in our country and under our own eyes. To preserve them must be as necessary as to institute them. If, in the opinion of the people, the distribution or modification of the constitutional powers be in any particular wrong, let it be corrected by an amendment in the way, which the constitution designates. But let there be no change by usurpation; for, though this, in one instance, may be the instrument of good, it is the customary weapon by which free governments are destroyed. The precedent must always greatly overbalance in permanent evil any partial or transient benefit, which the use can at any time yield."

Word.

Wanna review me over at Humor Bloggers? No sign-up necessary.... Here's the link to me.

Blicky Scores Interview with Author Ron Chernow

2009-01-14T19:40:00.000-08:00

Blicky: Read book, Alexander Hamilton, mao.

Chernow: Thank you Blicky, but I published that years ago. Don't you want to discuss my work on the great families of history in the context of the current economic crisis?

Blicky: No.

Maooo your account of Hamilton’s life chronicles reveals his remarkable ascent to power but also serves as a lurid chronicle of tragedy, betrayal and scandal.

Chernow: Um, Thanks?

Blicky: Maoo really formidable intellect for human.

Chernow: Well, yes Blicky. He was born an illegitimate child in the West Indies. He started out his career orphaned, alone and broke and within a short span of time he became a successful businessman, earned a law degree and became George Washington’s Chief of Staff. He went on to become one of New York’s most successful lawyers, he authored the Federalist Papers, and he constructed the basis for our modern economic system as Treasury Secretary.

Blicky: Mao, cure cancer too?

Chernow: Blicky, did you even read my book?

Blicky: Mao.

Chernow: The thing I tried to convey was that we don't learn as much about Hamilton as the other founding fathers partly because his political foes, such as John Adams and Thomas Jefferson outlived him. He made some tragic personal and political mistakes, but he was really the first to see that our strength as a nation would only be possible when we became a world economic power.
Blicky: Mao, give all gossip.

Chernow: Blicky, my work isn't about gossip. Hamiton's career was tragically sullied by an unfortunate affair with the young Maria (pronounced Mariah) Reynolds. Apparently she called at Hamilton's home in great distress, lamenting that she had been abandoned by a perfidious and cruel husband and required assistance to return to her friends. Hamilton being ever the gentleman, arranged to meet her later at her home where she received him upstairs and led him into a bedroom. He presented her with a banknote and as he himself wrote, "Some conversation ensued from which it was quickly apparent that other than pecuniary consolation would be acceptable."

Martha, you must divulge to me everything forthwith. Is it true she wears her bodice in the French fashion?

The bizarre part of the affair was that it went on for so long, even when the husband found out. Even when the husband began to bribe Hamilton. Even when Maria proved herself a tad bit unstable. Even when her husband, after Hamilton's interest seemed to flag, switched from being an aggrieved husband to a quasi-pimp/con artist. It almost seems as if Hamilton was seized with a sexual obsession which serves as a puzzling counterpoint to a brilliant career in public life.

Blicky: That would never happen today. Mao, great gossip Chernow. Knew you'd hook me up, mao.

Chernow: Blicky I resent the implication that I engage in gossip!

Blicky: Detected slight homoerotic subtext running through the book as well.

Chernow: That's it, Blicky this interview is over. Now if you'll just introduce me to Doris Kearns Goodwin as you promised.

Blicky: Ooops, forgot to mention that she'd won't be here today but will attend the inauguration festivities over at Muse Swings.

Chernow: Damn you Blicky!! Damn you!!

Blicky's Tips for Riding Out a Bad Economy

2009-01-11T11:30:00.000-08:00

Sure the news is bleak. We hear reports of the alarmingly rapid rate Americans (some more than others) are losing jobs. We hear about foreclosures. All of us feel a little more frightened perhaps than we did a year ago. As you know, Blicky Kitty is all about the readerZ, so we've researched long and hard to come up with a solution for you. In recent decades Americans have accustomed ourselves to a standard of living unparalleled in human history. Now are we supposed to give that up? I say no!

The secret? Webkinz World. For the price of a stuffed animal, you too can have access to the greatest place in the whole world. You wait until the kids are in bed because frankly, they just get in the way. Then the fun begins. You start out with a huge pot of money to spend on your crib.
Then all you have to do to earn more is press a button affirming your profound, heartfelt love for your two-dimensional animal avatars to earn more. Also, for those of us in the know, there are two games called the Wheel of Wow and Wishing Well where you get a chance to win serious loot everyday.

Pinky, Kitty, Pearl, Rainbow and Soleil were keeping it real until the economy tanked and I took things over. Now they are decked out with mad ice and it's all about the Benjamins, baby. I'm not saying that Webkinz World is not without it's drawbacks. My neighbors in Kinzville, Fluffy and Spotty have been speaking rather derisively about our conspicuous consumption. They prefer to spend their Kinzcash on the less visible status symbols. Their Webkinz go to Kinzville Academy and wear those dapper little jackets. But they and their peers have gotten to enjoy the wealth of Webkinz World for a longer time than Pinky and Soleil. What they don't understand is that even though we have mad Kincash, we still know how to keep it real.

Most economic deconstructions of bling fail to understand economic expressions are not so binary. Our use of Kinzcash should be understood both as embracing capitalism while subtly subverting its traditional inequities between the haves and the have nots. As we have learned in our research, Webkinz Bling has obviously bought into the larger capitalist project of amassing wealth, measuring all things in money, conspicuous consumption. Nevertheless it has done so while retaining it's traditional cultural idioms and heritage. Part of the use of Webkinz bling can be seen as defiance against another form of Kinzcash capitalism, the racialized white webkinz capitalism that works to keep ethnic minorities (like Soleil and Kitty) in a subjugated position. So while wearing them diamond bracelets, sippin' on Cris, fittin up that Benz with Lorenzo rims might not save or edify you, it'll sure feel good to stick it to the W Man.

Count Me In: Inauguration Day at Muse Swings!

2009-01-06T15:43:00.000-08:00

Muse Swings: Inauguration Day Invitation For You!

When Cynthia at Muse Swings has a bloggyland event, you know it's going to be fun! I am off to go plan my outfit...

On a related note, for those of you who have read my blog and scrolled down far enough may have noticed I have an resplendant array of awards. At first glance, you might guess that I'm a gifted writer and all around great blickosphere citizen. But if you inspect them a little closer, you might notice that most of them are from the same person; Cynthia. So your next assumption may be that I suck. A fair conclusion, but actually they are proof of my unsuckiness because Cynthia is awesome and an amazing writer, so if she thinks I'm cool I might possess a modicum of blickosphere awesomeness by association. So it is with great pride that I display this award:

Thank you Cynthia! There are a bunch of bloggers who I would pass them along to but many of them either have them already or have too much traffic to notice :).

Here would be the recipients for my favorite blog list for 2008. For those of you who are already the recipients of this honor, just consider it a shout out:

Cynthia at Muse Swings

Kat at Poetikat's Invisible Keepsakes and Poetikat's Blasts from the Past

Mary at Little Weloos Mom

Anna at Life Just Keeps Getting Weirder

Tiffany and Heather at the Secret in the Sauce

Debbie at Life's Funny Like That

Stevie Wren at A Little Birdie Told Me So

Lavinia at Birdbath Chronicles

Margaret at Nanny Goats in Panties

Mel at Bean Sprouts

Willow at Life at Willow Manor

Time Capsule Missive to Future Self: Do Not Open Until January 25 2009, circa 8:00pm

2009-01-04T19:31:00.000-08:00

Dear Me,

PUT-THAT-COOKIE-DOWN!!

Yeah, don't look around the room because nobody told me. I just know you so well. You're thinking:

Just one. I've been so healthy since New Year's Day and I've been running a ton and they're made with whole wheat flour, so chewy and yummy...

But listen, I have great plans for you. You're signed up for that 10 mile road race in February and you want to be in the best possible --

EH-EH-EH-EH-DOWN!!! THE COOKIE -- DOWN!!

That's better. I know, now you're frowning and your eyes have narrowed into little slits and you're thinking:

She is so mean. That half-crazed perfectionist must be cuckoo for cocoa puffs if she thinks I'm sticking to this perfect nutrition / no treats / exercise until you're shaking New Year's "plan." Why didn't she just stay with our old standbys; the easy ones to check off the list? No kidney trafficking! No setting the fingernail record in the Guinness Book! No learning Mandarin -- that sort of thing! Those are beautiful resolutions that you can mark off with nice big checks.

I won't hear it. The world, or at least large swathes of protestant New England run, nay thrive on guilt. Guilt is your friend, and I for one am truly disappointed in you.

AP-BA-BA-BA-BAH! DOWN!!

Oh come on! You're doing so well. Just stick it out and I promise I won't make next year's resolution running a marathon. There you go. I knew you'd see it my way.

Love (I guess),

You

Blicky Opens His Mailbag

2008-12-30T11:25:00.000-08:00

Dear Blicky Kitty,

My three-year-old is really starting to destroy our lovely home. Just yesterday she got into last summer’s tanning cream and now looks like a very small, orange mental patient. Today I found several small wooden toys glued and taped to the wall and my feminine pads were stuck to the beds in the Little People dollhouse. What can I do? I feel like my life has been hijacked by an insane dwarf.

Signed, Desperaux

Dear Desperaux,

Your life actually has been hijacked by an insane dwarf. The culprit is most assuredly bad parenting, but we can also look at the history of parenting small humans to find a solution. In the Middle Ages she would have been exorcised, then affixed to a thirstiness of leeches to rid her of an overabundance of bile. During the Renaissance and early Enlightenment, she would have been sent to an astrologer to gain insight into the configuration of stars at the time of her birth. In the Victorian and Edwardian eras her clothing would have been too restrictive to allow for any destructive behavior or movement. The first half of the 20^th century saw the advent of shame as a behavior modification tool, which was quickly supplanted by the useless time out, favored by parenting tomes and pedantic nannies. I would recommend a course of leeches to correct her choleric, bilious nature and restore some of her more phlegmatic humours.

Dear Blicky Kitty,

What am I going to do? I’ve lost my job and now I’m afraid we won’t be able to keep our home.

Signed, Frightened in Fresno

Come, Man! Bring in some barrels for the help!

Dear Frightened,

Here at the Blicky Kittty Manse we’ve enacted certain forced austerity and adversity preparation measures so that we will continue so enjoy boundless prosperity. Try getting a nuclear power plant to run the landscape lighting around your grounds and the recessed lighting in the fish pond. Maybe you can let go the evening butler or the catnip buyer. At the very least, limit health insurance to your most cherished domestics. You can also buy them all gloves with the fingers cut off. Some of your servants could wear a barrel if they’re working away from the eyes of polite company. You can save a lot of money during the holidays if you switch from caviar to smoked salmon and don’t invite Mary Hartman or Frad Grandy unless you buy your wine directly from an importer. Grandfather Blicky made that same mistake during the Great Depression with Tallulah Bankhead to his great and ignoble detriment.

A Holiday Tragedy in Gingerville: A Cautionary Tale

2008-12-26T13:07:00.001-08:00

Skip: "Ahhhh, another beautiful and prosperous morning in Gingerville. The doves are cooing, the air smells like fresh cinnamon... I think I'll go buy some expensive gifts for my improbably gorgeous and well-preserved wife. Maybe some candy diamonds from Bulgari. A new frosted evening gown from Versace or maybe some sugar injections for her latest pair of candy buttons. She's looking as hot as she did the day she first came out of the oven."
Skip: "Oh Bernard Madoff, so nice to see you! My portfolio is doing so well these days, all thanks to you. See you at the country club! You're my hero."

Madoff: "Raahhr, raaahh, raaarh."

Blicky: "Meow, need get more investors to cover shortfall. Just listen to meow."

Madoff: "Raaahr, raahhh, raahr."

Skip: "Hi Honey, nice candy buttons. I got myself a new candy Armani suit on the way home and look, a brand new candy Cartier necklace. Just think, all we started out with was some flour, spices, baking soda, confectioner's sugar and some cream of tartar."

Honey: "oohhh."

Madoff: "Raarh, raah, hand over that shirt raahr!"

Skip: "Noooooo!"

Madoff: "Raaarh, raaargh, nice oven rack, raarh. Husband's lost his shirt, raaarh"

Honey: "Ooohhhh?"
Thomas the Tank Engine: "Bust my buffers, someone's on the track Annie and Clarabel! He's weaving around and it looks like he's had too much brandy in his egg nog. Is someone pushing Madoff? Call-Sir-Topham-Hatt!" CRASSSHHH....

Honey: "OOooohhhh!"

We just wanted to let you know that no actual cookies were harmed in the making of this tale as we do not condone culinary violence (or even heresy), and it was all just red sugar and prosthetics.

The Trees in Our Back Yard

2008-12-21T23:20:00.000-08:00

I'm missing spending more time in the blickosphere. Here are some images were taken by my brother-in-law in the midst of this snowy snowy weekend in Massachusetts:

North Wind

Stepmother’s-breath
hissing through barren boughs
dispensing discontent,
cold as a witch’s kiss.

Scandalmonger of the fields,
grips ragweed by the forelock
to lay across the line
and beat away the dirt.

Hickory switch, finger wagging
at a giggle of snowflakes
leapfrogging through ochre fields
and playing knock-knock—

upon her parlor door.

—Debbie Ouellet

I'll Get You Humanz

2008-12-19T22:27:00.000-08:00

My stoopid humanz trying furryously to make all her gifts this year and terned me into this stoopid card for the second graid class. Now I will be mockt...

She duznt no I ate the ginny pig she rapped up for tha kids. He tasted jus like chikken. Thay wont mok me wen thayr crying.

Muse Swings: Bloggyland Christmas Tour - What A Day!

2008-12-16T20:11:00.000-08:00

Muse Swings: Bloggyland Christmas Tour - What A Day!

Blicky: Stuck in Virtual Traffic?

2008-12-16T18:13:00.000-08:00

We’ve had spotty internet access this week because of ice storms. I was so sad to miss out on the bloggy fun! I had the gifts all wrapped and the wine all mulled! Here it is late anyway!

Welcome bloggy friends! Brrrr come on in it’s cold here in Massachusetts! Feel free to take off your shoes and stay awhile. Oh no, a certain little someone has drawn with magic marker on our living room carpet. Almost forgot this is bloggy land though. Just let me open Photoshop and get rid of that. Oh now the kids are making a racket, what did you say? Hold on, I’ll just open Photoshop again. I’ll just paste in a nice picture of them playing angelically. Please help yourselves to some mulled wine and grab a seat near the fire. It’s actually punch. A friend from Austria taught me to make it the traditional way at a party last night. You make caramel in the pot with a hunk of butter and about two cups of sugar. Then you add some hot water. Watch out! It gets hot and bubbles up. While the water heats up you have to stir up all the hardened caramel on the bottom. Then you add two cups of wine and two cups of orange juice and heat it all up with some black tea and mulling spices. When it’s had a chance to steep a bit you add some rum according to your taste…and tolerance. Of course it’s best if you get the Austrian kind which lends a subtle cherry flavor.

We found a beautiful Christmas tree this year. It’s prettier when you can see it against the pine trees in the woods out back, but my Photoshop skills are limited. I love looking at the ornaments because they come from all over the world. One comes from the Marshal Islands where my sister went as a Peace Corps volunteer. Some of them came from the Kindermarkt in Munich, some my parents bought in Europe when I was little, one comes from Thailand where my Mom traveled with my sister and many of them are of the more prosaic homemade variety.

Look for your name on the gift cards. Email me at BlickyKitty@comcast.net if you can't find your name because there's one for everyone. I’ve been really generous here on the blogosphere since I can make all things appear magically through Photoshop legerdemain. The first one is for our intrepid and gracious hostess, Cynthia at Muse Swings. It’s the-most-beautiful-Christmas-ornament-in-the-whole-world. I know...they were almost out. I got the last one. Kat gets this illustrated first edition of the Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Deb gets a gift card good for an unlimited shopping spree on the Champs Élysées (and a special place in my advent prayers). Lavinia is getting a bejeweled keychain from Cartier to keep track of the keys to her many castles, chalets, flats and mansions in sundry places across the globe. Mary gets the original Cold Meiser puppet from the old puppet Christmas special. Margaret at Nanny Goats in Panties will receive the actual Greek muse, Thalia (muse of comedy and bucolic poetry) for her new writing endeavors. She was impossible to wrap so I just altered the scale in Photoshop and put her in a box. Willow at Life at Willow Manor gets season box tickets to the opera in Rome. Over at Cassoulet Cafe I was going to give a universal translator for shady Mexican restaurants (by Ronco), but I think prayers are in order for her family friend. All those super saucy SITS girls each get a leopard skin upholstered settee and a box of Godiva bon-bons. For my new friends at Humor Bloggers I’m getting rubber chickens (all in elegantly wrapped packaging) and wiggley Fozzie Bear ears. Anna at Life just Keeps getting Weirder gets the Rolling Stones (I got them all to get into the box but Keith Richards is wandering around in the basement) because she totally rocks. The always awesome Mel at Bean Sprouts gets a solar-powered clothes dryer. Hot Belly Mama gets a little kumquat...but not from me. Stevie Wren gets the Flight of the Conchords to perform at her next function. I bought Mama over at whatmamasaysgoes a wet nurse good for one full night's sleep, but she was a challenge to wrap because her lactating breasts crinkled up my paper.

Help yourself to some cookies! I’ve been trying out different recipes for my eldest kitten’s class party. Apparently there is now another mom in Mrs. F’s second grade class who bakes. One day my kitten arrived home looking a little bashful and said, “Mumma, Catherine’s mom made these cookies for the Thanksgiving party and everyone said they were sooo good. It made me feel bad because your cookies are special and I wanted them to be everyone’s favorite. Hers were really fancy looking but yours taste better.”

These moments provide us with those rare teaching opportunities. I will treasure forever the special conversation that ensued. I looked into her earnest little eyes and searched for words that would convey the true meaning of Christmas and teach her about how to negotiate her way in the world. Pulling her close to me I said:

“She’s goin DOWN!”

“Gee! I feel a chill. What’s the thermometer doing? .....Goin’ DOWN!”

“She should take the elevator and press “G” cause she’s .....goin’ DOOOWN!”

Want a joke? “What does Catherine’s mom have in common with the Nasdaq the Dow, and the Nikkei averages? There all .....goin' DOWN!”

“Knock knock. Who’s there? .....You’re goin’ DOOOWWN!”

The Crush

2008-12-09T18:51:00.000-08:00

The phenomenon of the Crush has long been a topic of fascination to me because I realized long ago that I didn't get crushes like normal people. I just don't see the fun in hopping on the bandwagon with the celebrity crush. I tried that long ago but neither Donny Osmond nor Eric Estrada ever answered my letters. Since then I've never understood why my only crushes either last 5 minutes or focus on unconventional recipients.

Here are some of my crushes over the years:

I really don't have any explanation for myself here.

Roberto Benigni is just plain hysterical, especially if you've spent any time in Tuscany and funny men are just awesome, which is why I married one. I almost had a chance to meet him once in Italy and the crush vanished. I think I just had a platonic crush because of how he made me see things to love in people and how sweet he is about his principessa.

I know normal women are supposed to get crushes but even the fantasy of it doesn't work for me. Say you actually get to meet your Brad Pitt/George Clooney person. What then? Who's going to watch the kids? Also there's the minor fact that they hang out with chicks that I'm pretty sure are actually a different species from me. They are always magically coiffed and perfectly put together and they never get stinky even though they have to work out non-stop to look that way. When they get pregnant they apparently don't swell up like a big tick and have the guy at the drive-through mistake them for a man (That didn't happen to me. Who said that happened to me?). If Angelina Jolie were an animal and I was an animal, she'd be like a cougar or a doe and I'd be like a marmot or something. Still totally cute, but just a different species. I think also if someone came from a different planet and was all "Hey, just came to check out your planet. What's up?" I'd be all "Whoa, that's so amazing." Then once I got over that initial shock of new planet, greenish tint to the skin, intergalactic travel and all of that, let's say Angelina Jolie shows up. Who would it be weirder for me to stand next to? Honestly. I really couldn't say...

My husband and I each get a crush and his has always been consistent. Yep here she is:

Wanna hear what an awesome wife I am? I found out that Cindy was actually going to be in town promoting her fine new line of home furnishings. My husband chuckled about it over breakfast and said "too bad I have to work." So at the appointed hour I piled the girls into the car. We're not a fast food family, but I had to stop and get sushi for me and happy meals for the kids to get there on time. I vaguely remember French fries falling out of our blicky old car as we went to meet "Daddy's girlfriend." I had my then 1-year-old in a vice grip as we entered the store. I lunged for a glass of free wine, picked a French fry out of the fold of my fleece jacket and tucked it into a potted plant. Then I waited in line for about an hour and a half with a squirming toddler, a loudly complaining six-year-old and most of the male residents of Seekonk, Massachusetts to obtain Cindy's autograph on one of my daughter's drawings for Daddy.

We often think, "Oh it's just airbrushing, lighting etc. They're really just like the rest of us." Well, in Cindy's case that is patently false. It's like she's from another universe where everything's pretty and smells nice. Maybe if you have a ton of money you just start looking like that. Maybe she wakes up in the morning and puts a little Money Juice behind each ear and becomes instantly breathtaking. She smiled and said my girls were so cute and all I could think was, "She thinks they're cute! She wants to be my BFF!" Then "Am I stinky? I bet she can smell French fries and she'll think we eat gross food. I need to go home and groom for like three hours. I'm going blow dry my hair every day and start wearing makeup." I also found myself wondering if she had ever found herself still in pajamas when the school bus came. Our bus driver always asks if I'm wearing my "good pajamas" today --as if I'd actually waste the good pajamas on the bus driver. Anyhow, I just giggled something stupid to poor Cindy and left, but it occurs to me now. I'm a girl (when I'm not pregnant) and here she has this effect on me. How does she make men react?

Speaking of men I think I've finally found a celebrity crush that I can stick to: Jermaine from the Flight of the Conchords. He's like Donny Osmond and Eric Estrada all rolled into one. Hey baby (not the actual baby, I'm saying baby to Jermaine in a sexist way), you like 40 yr. old mummas? Yeah, I bet you do, and I might even break out my good pajamas if you want to make me laugh while I wait for the school bus.

In which a Torpid, Cartoon Sodden GenXer Encounters Her Spirit Animal

2008-12-07T16:12:00.000-08:00

Many cultures believe that we share a cosmic affinity with a totem or spirit animal. In some communities, the coming of age ritual involved a journey into the wilderness to await some vision of their spirit animal. I always imagined mine would be something noble or beautiful, like a lion or a deer.

My majestic spirit animal finally did come to me in one of my direst moments on the ledge of a cliff. You might be asking yourself how it was that I found myself on a cliff in the first place. Well, over the course of my impetuous youth, one of my activities of choice was rock climbing. In all honesty, it started out as a way to impress my esteemed and nearly un-impressible older sibling who was an avid climber. But I grew to enjoy the feel of the rock and how my fingers thought their way over its surface, the fatigue and exhilaration I felt at achieving something I thought I couldn't and, of course...the view from the top.

One year my brother and I travelled to Tahoe to visit my friends and do some rock climbing. This is an image of the cliff. It's called Lover's leap. I have no memory of which route it was (Pop Bottle?) on the cliff. Below is a picture of Blicky climbing there. See those tiny things that appear if you really, really squint. Yes, waaayyy down there at the bottom? Those are trees. Tall ones. At this altitude the wind blows pretty hard and it's hard to hear your older brother/climbing sensei guiding you up the face of the cliff.

We were on our last pitch and my brother was at the summit belaying me. There was a slight overhang on the first part of the climb that was beyond my pathetic skill level and I just couldn't start up. My legs were shaking from a combination of fatigue and fear that I think some refer to as "the sewing machine effect." Did I mention how far down the treetops were?See?? I think falls from this height have been scientifically shown to make the Coyote and Roadrunner whistling plummet noise, followed by a thump and a cloud of dust at the bottom. I kept shouting up to my brother that I couldn't do the move but most of his responses were inaudible. I'm not quite sure what my options would have been if I hadn't made it. Maybe I would've just stayed there and subsisted on rattlesnake and cliff bars stolen from hapless climbers. I think my brother would've figured something out, but then I would've had to endure the shame of having been hefted up that last pitch and the resulting ignominy.

At some point we resolved that I would just have to try my hardest while he tried to pull me over that first ledge. I was completely paralyzed by fear. But all of a sudden my fear washed away and my spirit animal appeared to me -- that noble creature that best represents my inherent dignity and stately sense of gravitas.

Yep and here he is (he stopped in to help us string some lights this afternoon). That day on the ledge, all I could picture was the MetLife commercial where Snoopy struggles up a cliff, making these cute little grunts of exertion. Ultimately, there was nothing impressive about the move; my sorry, sorry arse had to be mostly hauled through it, and it's not like it was a super difficult climb (5.6, 5.7). But after I thought of Snoopy my fear literally vanished. These days I no longer climb and I do not permit kittens of mine to scale anything bigger than a breadbox. Maybe this will prevent them from ever encountering their own animal totems. But you know what? The cartoons they watch would just make matters worse. SpongeBob (OK they're not really allowed to watch at home) would just cry until his eyeballs bulged out and My Little Ponies (again, not really allowed) would just sing a song and encourage them to apply sparkly fruit flavored lip gloss.

Le Cirque d'Honte

2008-12-02T10:35:00.000-08:00

We thought we knew this family. We read their charming little quips for a whole generation when the cereal box got too boring. But the truth finally comes out. Through years of indefatigable determination Blicky has found the evidence he needs to expose this family for who they really are:

Mommy says if I keep skipping meals I can look just like Barbie and then I can go to the Pretty Princess Pageant in Florida. She said food should taste like shame.
Daddy what does d-i-v-o-r-c-e mean? Does it mean we're getting ice cream?
Mommy's sayin' that Daddy should fork over the cash for Billy's spechul school since he dropped him on his head way more than she did. She says we're all a little slow on the uptake which I think means we like ice cream.
Mommy is this where they sell the pills that make you so sleepy you forget to make us dinner?

Feel free to add your own.

I know this is a lot to take in so I'll leave you with something to make you smile:

Have Award Meow

2008-11-29T21:54:00.000-08:00

Cue the orchestra. Blicky Kitty is honored to confer the coveted prize — Blicky Kitty's Blogs Worth Stalking. He will of course be stalking each blog personally. Please know that the nominees are so many that we must hold various ceremonies to include all candidates, so be on the lookout for more awards. The first goes to my awesome bloggie friend Cynthia at Muse Swings. She holds forth on everything from Victorian social codes to wonderful creative cyber happenings and parties that bring so many fun bloggers together. Blicky adds "social security number 352-86-0286, many Bit 'O Honey wrappers found in refuse, monitor for subversive content, must subdue canines."

The next award goes to Anna at Life Just Keeps Getting Weirder for making female facial hair cool again and for being a reliable source of audible mirth. I'm just one of a lively throng of acolytes over there. Blicky adds, "SS# 637-87-0246, found one discarded dental hygiene calendar in garbage, subject is a master of disguise, must stalk with caution."

If like me you've been searching for a blog that would provide updates on Middle Eastern beauty pageants for goats, and the best letter ever written to soon to be ex-boss look no further than Granny Goats in Panties. She actually needs a separate link for her trophy case, so Blicky coated this jpg with an extra layer of dust-resistant Scotch Guard. Blicky notes, "SS# not on file, flagged by the FBI. Found in garbage: empty take-out containers, board game rule books and scrap pieces of shelf-liner."

Seattle For the Culturally Sensitive Traveler

2008-11-28T20:38:00.000-08:00

Well, I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving. We just disembarked in Boston this evening. Here's a picture of the event because it's about time I realized that you, gentle readers, need to see my actual visage (I know, my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard).

Before I share my groundbreaking cultural observations about Seattle, I wanted to briefly impart some techniques for surviving the 6 hour flight with a 3 and 7 yr. old without the benefit of the cartoon network that features 24 hour feed of sea creatures with athletic, prominently-veined eyeballs and commercials peddling products designed to turn little girls into Slutz and little boys into thugs. Unfortunately, this technique requires a black felt pen and opposable thumbs, but luckily I got a little help from Blicky. Oh, and also my Awesome-Rock-Star-of-a-Sister manages to get cooler and more awesome every time I see her, which is perplexing because she pretty much ruled the world when I used to sneak in her room and steal her Bonnie Bell soda-flavored lip gloss.

I really feel like my knowledge and experience of Seattle is so vast now that I know it better than most residents. In fact, if you live in Seattle and have any questions feel free to email. The first surprising fact is that they don't all sit around and talk about the rain all day, and if you repeatedly refer to their meteorological challenges (So, how about this rain? Hey, don't overdose on vitamin D out there! What did the swarthy REI-clad raindrop say to the cute, socially conscious female raindrop? I'm falling for you! Hey how's your Seasonal Affective Disorder doing? You're all 'Whoa! Look at me, I'm so depressed!' Seriously, we should really call for help. I'll dial 1-206-WHOA-ITS-WICKED-RAINY) they don't clap and pronounce you the most culturally sensitive visitor ever. In fact they seem to just avert their eyes and shoot glares at the person who invited you. The other interesting fact is that even footwear in Seattle is apparently expected to be functional and English riding boots do not impress anyone as outdoorsy.

Now, on a professional note: I was lucky enough to document for the first time, some real native Seattle-ites of Medieval European origins in their indigenous surroundings. I have already been contacted by the National Anthropological Archives at the Smithsonian, but remember you saw them here first. Below, we see a sword battle in a local park that still contains some true indigenous Euro-Seattletonians (as one should say in culturally sensitive circles). They were quite bloodthirsty by the looks of them, so we just tried not to make any sudden movements and hid our young.
That whole Microsoft/Boeing thing must be a myth too because their technology was quite crude. Their weapons were held together with duct tape (which of course finds it's origins in European Medieval heraldic tradition) and I believe that's a garbage can cover in the battle below. They must be privy to some amazing forms of traditional healing because we observed that after a vigorous sword battle where several of them are slain and the victors skulk away furtively, they are inexplicably resuscitated and fully able to return to their habitat in a mysterious region of Seattle called Parentsbasement.

While I'm Away...

2008-11-25T19:38:00.000-08:00

I'll take advantage of the superior creative energy of others while I'm out of town:

Happy Thanksgiving!

2008-11-20T12:43:00.001-08:00

Fancy feast? Check. Running shoes? Check. The entire staff here at BK is off to Seattle for a fun-filled week-long fiesta with The-Most-Awesome-Rock-Star-Of-A-Sister and her family. Perhaps we'll do some blogging from the top of the Space Needle, perhaps we'll just sit around on our cyber arses and do nothing. We've been there before so we know how to blend in:

1. Don't wear anything stylish. It has to come from REI and no high heels.

2. Do outdoorsy stuff. We're planning to climb Mount Ranier -- for about 15 minutes.

3. Know how to behave like a native. We plan on spending most of our time drinking tons of awesome coffee and doing socially responsible stuff.

Said Old Gentleman Gay, “On a Thanksgiving Day,
If you want a good time, then give something away.”
So he sent a fat turkey to Shoemaker Price,
And the shoemaker said, “What a big bird! how nice!
And since a good dinner’s before me, I ought
To give poor Widow Lee the small chicken I bought.”

“This fine chicken, oh, see!” said the pleased Widow Lee,
“And the kindness that sent it, how precious to me!
I would like to make some one as happy as I—
I’ll give Washerwoman Biddy my big pumpkin pie.”
“And oh, sure,” Biddy said, “’tis the queen of all pies
Just to look at its yellow face gladdens my eyes.

Now it’s my turn, I think; and a sweet ginger cake
For the motherless Finigan children I’ll bake.”
“A sweet cake, all our own! ’Tis too good to be true!”
Said the Finigan children, Rose, Denny, and Hugh;
“It smells sweet of spice, and we’ll carry a slice
To poor little Lame Jake—who has nothing that’s nice.”

“Oh, I thank you, and thank you!” said little Lame Jake;
“Oh, what beautiful, beautiful, beautiful cake!
And oh, such a big slice! I will save all the crumbs,
And will give ’em to each little sparrow that comes!”
And the sparrows they twittered as if they would say,
Like Old Gentleman Gay, “On a Thanksgiving Day,

If you want a good time, then give something away.”

—Marian Douglas.

Source: A Treasury of Verse for Little Children, edited by M. G. Edgar, illustrated by Willy Pogany

Mo Vengo!

2008-11-16T19:40:00.000-08:00

We are on our way to Roma for the Grape Escape thanks to Cynthia at Muse Swings and Lavinia Ladyslipper at the Birdbath Chronicles. We at Blicky Kitty Mousing Around Tours take your cultural enlightment very seriously, so we have scanned the blickosphere for our humble contribution. All you'll need for the tour is an updated version of Quicktime and your Mouse. Oh sorry, could you wait here while I give the servants instructions for my absence (feel free to use your mouse to enjoy the view)?

Here you can see the great travails suffered by armchair travelers of yore; destined to squint into a small device for hours on end, only to emerge cross-eyed and tripping over the ottoman or the children. We, gentle readers, now have the advantage of miraculous mousing technology at our fingertips. Let us start our tour in the Vatican Square where we see the stunning scale and measured elegance of Bernini's colonnades. Be sure to press the green turning arrows then click where you want to view so you can have a good look around. Mmmm... I can almost smell those roasted chestnuts and the soft rustle as a flight of pigeons takes wing.

OK back on the bus. Lavinia, Cynthia stop teasing each other. Did Willow wander off to the opera? Stevie, oh no, she's being swarmed by a crowd hoping to see the sketches she's just made. Anna's being hounded by a tall dark stranger who thinks mustaches are hot. Next stop? Sant'Andrea al Quirinale, OK move your mice on the image to look around. This was built between 1658 and 1678 by Gian Lorenzo Bernini and Giovanni de' Rossi and is one of the finest examples of Roman Baroque architecture. Here we see a masterful fusion of architectural form and sculptural detail.

Walking Along the Tiber, Rome

OK I think we've lost half the group. They've wandered into a local bar... Oh good Deb, Kat, Queenie you're still here right? Well let's just poke our heads inside of San Carlo alle Quattro Fontane, shall we? Designed by Francesco Borromini, this masterpiece of Baroque architecture was constructed between 1638 and 1641. Want some more classical antiquity? I'm just going to step into my new time machine sponsored by Google, just click the play button.

The Villa Doria Pamphili, Rome

On the way home we'll just stop in Florence to see the 15th century Pazzi Chapel in Santa Croce designed by Brunelleschi. I love it for it's utter simplicity. Last time I was there I was too busy ogling the Giotto frescos and finding the tombs of Rossini, Alberti, Galileo, Michelangelo and Dante (whose mortal coil resides in Ravenna) to appreciate this space.

OK that's about it! Hope you enjoyed your tour. Feel free to email Blickykitty@comcast.net if you've experienced any mouse-related or technical difficulties on our tour. For those of you whose flights connected in France, you might want to make a quick pit stop in Amiens to see the cathedral architecture (click on any of the bulls eye shapes to view). Or if you've always wanted to soar through the clouds like Daedalus into the apse of a gothic cathedral while a wicked smart English dude provides a personal tour but never knew how, click here.

Blicky; the Baleful Scourge of Your Inbox

2008-11-15T09:12:00.000-08:00

I try not to let this get out, but you know those email forwards you get? "Forward this to seven people you care about in the next ten minutes and you will have good luck." As some of you know, I love to devour a good book just as much as good cuisine. So... if Light in August by William Faulkner is a nice roasted chicken in bitter orange and garlic deglazing sauce, and the Sedaris book you fished out of the dump book swap is like a decent pizza, the email forward is the literary equivalent of a week-old pile of fritoes found next to an old pair of shoes in the garage. Well, Blicky actually authors the majority of them. He is out of town this week. I think he and some undisclosed associates have hired a psychic to help them channel the ghost of Lee Atwater so Blicky can make his big comeback in DC. He asked me to write a few in his absence and left me some pointers.

1. Meow lay on the saccharin.

2. No font size is too big, meow.

3. Meow never have too many wiggling animals.

4. Include cute animal or spurious political claim -- or both.

5. Meow, don't be a slave to coherent thoughts.

Ok let's give it a whirl. Feel free to chime in with your own ideas and we can start circulating it. I'm embellishing things from actual email forwards:

Just think, if the entire population of China walked past you in single file, the line would never end because of the rate of reproduction.

Which, apparently they can accomplish while staying in line which is a little disturbing but nevertheless impressive and...

Did you know that 111,111,111 x 111,111,111 = 12,345,678,987,654,321? Weird huh?

I believe that children are the future and they will have a future as long as the president isn't a secret Muslim bent on our destruction.

And we all love children, especially if we've given birth to them while being cruelly forced to stand in line with your entire country. Always remember that the love that you carry in your heart is many a splendid thing and, like a festering illness, will grow if you pass it along.

Send this to five people you love. If you do, you'll receive an email telling you which common vegetable might be poisoning the children in your life. If you don't, then you probably don't love them anyway. Ok, now I just need a cute animal.