But Call Me Betsy

Here you will find a photo of my neighbor, Avis, who loves animals and always wants one, but then she gets the animal and realizes that she's only nine years old and not quite qualified to take care of the beast. So, she adopted this kitten. Then one day recently, she knocked on my door with the kitten in her hands and said, My mom said you want to adopt her? I said, No! She despaired because her cousin is allergic to cats and now, they either keep the kitten in the basement or leave her outside, where she meows pitifully and is in danger of being eaten by the tougher cats in our hood. Today, I peered over the fence to see what she was being fed and saw a chicken bone lying in her kitty dish. Which the sparrows were trying to eat. I told Avis that I would do my best to find a brand new home for no-name calico. Here is my attempt. Please tell everyone you know. I can't have another cat. One more would tip the scales and push me into cat hoarder land. But if you can't help, d...

I actually ironed a shirt this morning. It's one of my recent H&M purchases, a white button-up with wide cuffs. I am certain that in typical H&M style, it will last approximately 3.5 washings before disintegrating into thin air. but who cares, I needed a white shirt after suddenly realizing that the other white button up I've been wearing makes me look like I'm auditioning for the role of secretary in a Mamet play--too tight and inappropriate for work and looking as though a button might pop off and get you in the eye at any second. After many, many, many episodes of What Not to Wear, I'm finally getting the message that I need to buy clothes that fit, rather than those that make me look like pin-up girl and not in a good way. So, ironing this morning made me remember how my mom used to let me iron my stepdad's handkerchiefs and their pillowcases when I was in elementary/middle school (by the time high school rolled around, I was like, Yeah, no thanks). We...

Here's my state of mind for the last several days: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Z!Z!Z !Z!Z!Z!Z! What that represents is me being freaked out and running in five different directions for hours at a time and then falling into a coma-like sleep. My bff and former roommate/co-building manager/confidante/substitute sister, Jodie, came into town on Monday night from way far away in Idaho and we stayed up laughing until maybe 2 or 3 in the morning and then my alarm jerked me awake at 6:15 a.m. so I could begin a new phase of my professional life. Worked all day, returned home to see Jodie, went to dinner at this authentic Italian restaurant where all the waitresses called us "honey" and brought huge plates of pasta followed by a cannoli. Jodie paid, despite the fact that she had already brought me a birthday gift, an artfull...

For those of you who have been paying attention, today was to be the day that the mama kitty would go to the vet and have her reproductive organs removed so that she wouldn't continue to give us more and more kittens. This morning, Mr. D. and I attempted to get her from the big dog cage into the little cat cage. I did about five things wrong, beginning with freaking her out by putting the little cat cage inside the bigger one, thinking she would just run into the safety of the smaller one and I could shut it. Instead, she got out and jumped on the windowsill to wedge herself between the screen and the window. Mr. D, with towels swaddling his hands, tried to grab her, but it was like trying to catch hold of a live wire or a firecracker with claws and teeth. He got bit but soldiered on. She fought and flattened herself further against the screen, like, she appeared to change forms into something more like liquid than cat form. Finally, she pressed so hard against the screen that it p...

Okay, no headache this morning so that's good. Could it be from having a slight cold or something too? I've diagnosed myself twenty different ways through the Internet. I may actually have a rare form of gender identity headache caused by being scratched by one of the feral kitties (watched ER last night for the first time in years and that was one of the side stories. Sort of). My life-style column article for Philadelphia Maven is out. If you want to read it, go here . It's not earth-shattering and there's a typo at the end that makes me crazy, but oh, well. I'm a columnist, people. Look out. I sent my other piece in this week and I want to work on one for July that's a modern day version of Dorothy Parker's "The Telephone Call." In the new version, she'd be wondering when he's going to email her back or IM or send a text message or respond to her request that they be facebook friends. All the many ways one can now be reached or ignored. ...

Have not mentioned the litter of stray feral kitties in awhile, but they did return. The mama kitty decided they were best suited to live in the rough and tumble chaos of the abandoned yard next to mine. I woke up one day to discover that they had taken up residence there and have spent the last two weeks feeling like I should rescue them, but hesitating too, since they were still too young to separate from the mom. So, I checked every day, often more than once a day, to be sure they hadn't been slaughtered or fallen down into the cracks in the backyard or been otherwise hurt. And the nine year old who lives next door to me (Avis) has been pestering me to save them. She kept volunteering to climb over and save them, but I wasn't sure what that meant--what we would do with them if we had them, but not the mommy. Today, I was out with Carrie and Padhraig and Carrie seemed determined to rescue them too, so we climbed over into the adjacent back yard and I caught them, one by one...

It occurred to me today that I currently happen to know lots of really good men. I've always had good girl friends; women who are giving and thoughtful and willing to listen to me go on and on about cats and SVU and Flight of the Conchords and library books and the other things that disproportionally occupy my thoughts. And I still have lots of those girls around. But just noticed that I also happen to have a high number of good boys in my day-to-day life. There's Dave who will read my scenes and forgive me my trespasses. Padhraig who lets me steal back books I just gave him and makes CDs for my ipod. HH who said to me on the phone the other day, I wish I could hear you better on your cell phone. Your phone cuts out and I feel like I'm missing some of your Aimee-ness. The boy from Circle Thrift who offered to let me use the new restroom they've put in and who looks exactly like Bret from Flight of the Conchords (I swear to God).G. from my philosophy class who gave my te...

You know what, forget it. I am not raising the cat population in Philadelphia. I give up. The kittens have gone on vacation again, perhaps to the Jersey shore for a brief respite from the free food and water and shelter provided by yours truly. I suppose the mom will return with them in another two days, and I will be relieved and then worried that they'll go away and on and on until the cats are old enough to reproduce and give and take away their offspring with the same illogical frequency.

I must accept that I am a cat lady. I must accept that I worry too much about every stray animal in existence. Why, you ask? What are you talking about? I am referring to this orange and white kitty who I thought was a boy until yesterday, when I spotted her carrying something wild in her mouth across the wide expanse of brick in my backyard. I thought she had caught a mouse, but then realized it was a kitten. And so I worried. Where would she take it? So I built this little hutch in the back yard made out of two drawers and a piece of wood and a couple of rugs I don't need. I didn't think she would notice, but then, tonight, as I was making pasta, I saw her drop down into my yard with that same small animal in her mouth and realized that she had seen the shelter and was ready to use it. I thought, How sad. Only one of her babies survived. But then, a few minutes later, I watched her return again with another kitten in her mouth. Okay, so two survived. She aban doned them, only...