valentina

The poor thing, the inside of one ear is nearly black if you look down into it. I'm hoping you're correct and that's all that is the matter. The other thing we'll do when she's at the vet's is to have them scan for a microchip. It would be great if we'd found someone's pet who ran away and we could get her back home. But I'm not holding my breath on that; I think minilux's initial assessment is probably the case, and she was abandoned. She's feeling pretty happy right now, so we'll see how we can help her even more!

Thank you dawndie, the darkity patented "vulcan grip" is something I remember from watching mommy cats carry around the babies when I was a little kid. It's been so long since I had a cat, that I've forgotten! The poor kitty has simply taken up residence on the porch and is utterly content at this time, but she's visiting the vet on Monday.

Tonight it's rather like a little lion guarding the house. Puddy is orange and she's just sprawled out, lounging on the porch. She doesn't have much reason to leave, I'm giving her food and water and there's shelter and a nice breeze on the porch. I am beginning to think the poor thing isn't very well... she just lists around when she stands up to walk. Then she regains her balance and she's OK. It could be no big deal and it could be something more serious. I'm going to take her to an all-feline veterinary and see what they can do for her.

There's a still-smallish pine tree in my back yard (probably 6 or 7 feet high) that has a cardinal nest in it. The nest is tucked in a bit, but is right at eye level. Mrs. Cardinal was faithfully sitting on the eggs, and would hold still if you approached quietly to look at her. Yesterday the eggs began hatching, and now there are four baby cardinals, making their tiny tweepy noises, little heads thrown back and beaks open wide. They are so cute. Both Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal are feeding and guarding. About 5 or 6 years ago, a fledgling cardinal, really a pretty tiny little thing, was flapping around in the back yard. The parents were frantically accompanying it, trying to get it to fly again. It was almost 100 degrees, and the poor little thing was exhausted and stressed. All the wild bird experts say to leave the bird alone if this is going on, so I just watched it. But then I noticed a neighbor's cat rambling around and that was it -- I went out and picked up the little bird. I brought it inside, put it in an old finch cage and fed it watered-down canned dog food all evening. I got up in the morning and fed it. I came home at noon and fed it, and by this time, it was just opening its beak and crying for me to feed it when it would lay eyes on me. It would fall asleep in my hand after it ate. Too precious for words. At that time, I had an Airedale Terrier named Karma. Karma was most interested in Birdy-Birdy (as I called him), and I let her sit in the room when I was feeding the little guy. She wasn't being mean, just curious -- she was used to my pet cockatiel and didn't consider birds to be food. When I came home at noon, Karma was sitting outside the closed door of the room where Birdy-Birdy was staying. It was a much nicer day, and the wildlife rescue folks had told me to put the little guy out and see if he'd fly again. So I did, and as it turns out, his parents had been hanging around waiting for him. I put him out and they were there right away. He fluttered away and I hoped like crazy that he made it to saftey. But here's the strange thing -- later that summer, a male cardinal would frequently come sit on the fence and Karma would sit and look up at it as it gave her a sweet, chirpy tweep. She wasn't watching it aggressively, it was like she was just listening to it. She never acted that way with other wild birds -- she just ignored them. But this bird and Karma were talking to each other. I always wondered just what that was all about. I like to believe that it was Birdy-Birdy, back for a visit.

I just finished reading that 1970's novel "Watership Down" for the first time, and now I call every little bunny "Fiver." Either that, or the Wascal Wabbit.

After this onslaught of peenies and snacked-out fellows, I think you need to do a side trip to England and Ireland just to see some of the Shelia-Na-Gig carvings! However, Shelia-Na-Gig is usually depicted as an old hairless hag who's not in her childbearing years, but at least she's showin' her parts.

Well, I haven't been very chatty on my blog lately. I've focused a lot of my chatting towards commenting on everyone else's blogs! You give me things to talk about without coming up with something of my own! Hey, it's 06/06/06 and the President landed in my state a few hours ago. Hmmm... what does this say? It's ostensibly because he is going to deliver a speech on immigration tomorrow, but as a blue person in a red state, I find it significant. As in: "Oh my god, Satan has arrived!" So I exaggerate. The W. isn't clever enough to be the Old Nick. Now Dick (hmmm...Dick/Nick, Dick/Nick...)Cheney or Rumsfeld, maybe, but not W. OK, now to drive this into the gutter, because I always go there, has anyone seen photos of Dick Cheney's package? Not that I would want to look, but the Wonkette political blog runs a few photos of it every now and then. Now we know why he isn't called Richard. However, I think he has an ostomy bag or something like that packed in front, especially in the first picture. I can't get a link to the photos, because Wonkette always redirects you to the front page of the blog. But if you want to see what I mean, google "Dick Cheney very big Wonkette." You will get hits on links to two photos of the Dickster that ran on Wonkette. You be the judge of what THAT is all about!!!

Naughty monkey sandals aren't on sookster's wishlist be she ALREADY HAS 'EM! Welcome to the BPAL blog island. We do like to ramble on! ETA: Naughty monkey sandals is not the name of an extremely rare BPAL LE scent, they are sookster's actual sandals!

I think the first fella is very representative of what's important in the typical male brain. (I said "typical" and there are a few atypical males, so I'm not bashing all men, just a lot of them! )

I bet he says that to all the girls! And if he catches them looking at another guy's package, he points at himself and says "Scoreboard!"

It comes in handy during those long cabinet meetings!

I think it's a summer sausage and a ziplock full of kosher dills!

Oh, ouch. That hurts. I know the Mister's health is more important, and he'll probably get something else without any trouble, and the house will remain yours. But... to even consider the possibility of giving up something that you've worked so very hard to make beautiful and to make your very own, just makes me ache. I'm in a situation where I've had to consider a similar possiblity, and it's just sad. It's like a bit of your soul goes into what you're doing. But all will work out, I am sure. Mister will get a different job, find a saner place to spend his workdays, and life at the Chez Snark will be even better than it is now.

I was at the health club, riding the cardio cross-trainer (I've nicknamed it the sadiomaster), but I'm having a fine time because I'm reading "Insatiable" by Gael Green, the escapades of an unabashed sensualist food critic who had lots and lots of fun in the 1970's, eating and screwing her way around New York City. And while I was reading and riding (the sadiomaster, remember!) I was listening to Billie Holiday. I finished a chapter and looked up at a TV, and there was Andy Garcia on screen. What a fine man he is. Could I take much more? Of course, because then the scene switched to George Clooney. ("Ocean's 11" was on TV.) In a brief aside, I think Andy and George make Brad Pitt look plain, but I'm a sucker for dark-haired men. Could I take much more? Yeah, the guy at the club that I mentally refer to as "Scenery" (I don't know his name) was walking around the track, cooling down from his weight training. He has dark hair too, plus he's classically handsome and he doesn't realize it. I think that men who aren't especially handsome, but act like they are, are really appealing, as are handsome men who don't understand just how good looking they are. But after that flurry of man-watching, I was content to return to reading Gael and listening to Billie. It certainly did make the sadiomaster session much more worthwhile.

Last night on TV, (ABC, I think), there was some awards show for people in the Latino entertainment industry. It was getting over and I was just waiting for the late news, so I saw the end, where they ran brief clips of people accepting awards. Andy Garcia! Then Jimmy Smits! Gracious.

Well, I know you don't want to celebrate just yet, but that sounds very promising. You did a beautiful job, anyway. Be proud of yourself! In the meantime, fingers crossed.

I get a bit of an Emma Peel-like vibe from your rendering of her. Femme, beautiful, but not someone to be crossed or trifled with!

Tee! His jawey, giant square head! I think his look (and his acting) lacks nuance and depth. And I know what you're saying about that scene in Ocean's 11, and I have to wonder if he didn't pick that up from Al Pacino when they did "The Godfather, Part III" together. Pacino is damn fond of just generally bellering like a madman in his movies, and maybe Garcia decided, oh hell, "Ocean's 11" isn't "MacBeth," I think I'll do an Al imitation!

Dorian was a love-at-first-sniff scent. All too often, the scents that make me swoon in the imp sadly change on my body. But I was so frenzied by the smell of Dorian that I put in on promptly. And it's great. On my body, it's sugar and vanilla with a high note of lemon, but there's something darker and spicier underneath it. Musk tends to turn dark and spicy-smelling on me, so I'd guess that's what gives off that quality in the blend. It doesn't morph at all, but retains a certain complexity that I love. I also found this scent was very feminine on me -- I can see how it could heat up into something else altogether on a man's body, but for me it's the perfect olfactory embodiment of Dorian Gray -- a true juxtaposition of scents that works beautifully together.

I was still on my kick the other day about "The Philadelphia Story" and went online to see what DVD versions existed, and I found a box set of 1940's movie classics, that includes: "Casablanca," "The Maltese Falcon," "The Philadelphia Story," "Arsenic and Old Lace," "The Big Sleep," "Now, Voyager" and "Citizen Kane." Damn, what a set! It costs about $170 and I simply don't hold still long enough to watch movies very often, but it's tempting. But actually, if I get a box set of classic movie DVDs, the first one that I must buy is The Marx Brothers Silver Screen Collection, which has their first five movies: "Cocoanuts," "Animal Crackers," "Monkey Business," "Horse Feathers" and "Duck Soup." They early Marx Brothers movies were the very best, when the boys still had their tendency towards political commentary and general weirdness intact. Granted, there's semi-cheesy musical interludes (remnants of the Vaudeville Days), but that's what fast forward is for. I watched "Duck Soup" on the day of both George W. inaugurals rather than watching the real thing. Hail Freedonia! I'm rather certain Rufus T. Firefly was a more cogent leader that the W. could ever hope to be. That movie has one of my favorite Groucho lines, spoken at the "trial" of a political spy, played by Chico: "Gentleman, Chicolini here may look like an idiot and talk like an idiot, but don't let that fool you, he really is an idiot." Maybe now you see why I watched it on both inaugural days. But as much as Groucho's acerbic humor makes me laugh, my favorite Marx Brother is Harpo. I was utterly fixated on Harpo when I was a little kid, and I still love Harpo. I am completely unable to look at anyone else if he is on screen. He is the consummate trickster. And he was really, really cute in his wig. Has anyone seen a photo of Harpo out of his wig? Gah. He and Groucho really looked a lot alike when out of makeup, except Harpo went bald at a pretty young age. I prefer to think of Harpo always looking like "The Professor" in Animal Crackers, because he was the horny little imp in that movie. Let's see... I have 3 Harpo figurines, a big "Animal Crackers" poster and a smaller "Duck Soup" poster in my office. That's in between the vintage Wonder Woman reproductions. I think in a previous life, I had one hell of a good time in the 1930's and 1940's.

While MM died before her time (although she may or may not have thought it was her time, depending on what conspiracy theorist you listen to), I can not imagine her being 80 years old. I'm not sure she would have been pleased. I think if she'd been not so self-destructive and taken a bit more care of herself, she would have been a lovely older woman who still had that look in her eyes. Louise Brooks, when she was an older woman, was still incredibly beautiful, even after she'd landed in the gutter and pulled herself out. But Marilyn's will remain forever beautiful in our minds. And I think she'd be happy it's how we remember her.

Snarky, I just returned from the bookstore, ostensibly to purchase the next book that my book group would be reading. Of course, I had to do a quick circle around the newer titles, and there was a book called "Insatiable," by the food writer/restaurant critic Gael Green. If the title alone wasn't enough to compel me to buy it, the subject matters are food, sex and all manner of sensual indulgence. It has recipes in some of the chapters, and the back cover has a comment by the author stating something about the greatest discoveries of the 20th Century being the Cuisinart and the clitoris. Well, call it sold. Tummy love and love and letting the senses do their thing is what it's all about, sister! ETA: I love "Big Night" so much that I even own the soundtrack. I put it on when I cook Italian. And "Like Water For Chocolate" is, of course, fabulous. Actually, "Moonstruck" has that scene where Olympia Dukakis is making this breakfast dish that's French bread with a hole cut in the middle to hold an egg with some tomato paste on top, then cooked on a hot fry pan or grill. I have tried that sort of thing and it's yummy as all get-out.

I've been listening to more detailed reports on NPR about the riots. How terrifying for you... I am glad to hear that you weren't injured , but to say it must be disheartening is a complete understatement. Thinking of you and wishing you safety and I hope you can regroup soon.

Everyone has mentioned movies that I adore. I could go on and on and on about all of them! I need to mention a little German movie from the mid-'90's called "Nobody Loves Me." The main character is decidedly a Goth, it's funny, it's weird and it seems utterly anti-romantic, but in the end, it's very romantic. And it's German! I keep trying to find someone else who has seen it. I know a man who loves to watch "Casablanca," but he cries at the end every single time that he watches it, even when he tells himself he's going to watch it without getting all weepy. Guys can be really funny like that.

Calling someone's mouth their "pie hole" has always amused me considerably. As in: "Shut your pie hole." It's even better when said with a Andy Griffith/Mayberry accent, as in: "Shuhut yer pah hawl, Barney. Ima thankin' 'bout sumthin.'" I work with someone who is apparently a monument to oral fixations. If she isn't talking at a very high volume, she's eating at a high volume. This person likes to hear herself smack, schlurp and snort as she eats. She is a professional person, but she is a grotesque eater. She also makes little murmuring and yummy sounds as she eats. And she feeds her pie hole all the time. Often she has food smeared on her face when she's eating because she virtually sticks her face in it and slops like a hog. Astonishing. Disgusting table manners are truly one of my pet peeves. If she had french manicured toenails, I would probably lose my mind. And have a look at this, I pull this site up and play it every now and then. It's good for a titter. http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/piehole.php