But Call Me Betsy

That's the name of the governor's house in New Jersey, currently the home of Chris Christie. Similar to my distrust of people who have two first names instead of a first and last name--see "Juan Pablo"--I'm a little unsure about people whose last name seems to be an extension of their first name. Rob Robertson, Lee Leighly, Sam Sammerton, Kris Kristoferson, and Chris Christie. I won't weigh in on the whole BridgeWaterGate scandal because (1). I don't know enough about it to offer an informed opinion; (2). I'm a little biased because I still like that Christie hugged Obama after Hurricane Sandy even though I'm certain it was a calculated show of warmth because of his desire to run for president in 2016; and (3). I live in New Jersey now and I don't want him to come after me. But I do find it interesting that when I go into work in the mornings if I drive down Route 206 (which I have been doing most mornings after deciding that my peace of mi...

I dreamed last night that I met President Obama. I waited in line with a bunch of people to have my picture taken with him. I realized that I hadn't planned what to say and was struck speechless. The President said that I should probably comb my hair for the photo--it was flying every which way, as if expressing my anxiety. The hairdresser person brushed my hair and I believe the President side-hugged me while the flash bulb went off. The dream comes from a combination of seeing the line of people waiting to get into the Palestra yesterday to hear Bill Clinton speak, this photo I saw of the President hugging a crying lady after Hurricane Sandy, and my own fears about how the election will turn out today--based mostly on the constant barrage of news stories putting the two candidates neck and neck. I feel skeptical about this representation---is the race really that close? Is it possible that so many Americans could want to turn back the clock on change and progress by electing a ma...

It's hard to get to this blog when I'm writing in that 750 words thing every day (have done 165 days in a row so far). But then I look at the blog and feel so sad that it's neglected. So, maybe what I can do is to use the first part of my writing every morning to come up with something more general to say that I can cross post here. Right now, I'm reading Carol Shields' novel,   Unless , and really, not all that much happens in it from chapter to chapter, UNLESS you count that each scene shows this 44 year old mother trying to get on with her life after her daughter has taken to sitting on the street corner with a street sign reading, "Goodness" on it. I kind of don't like how the character keeps referring to her age, how she's in the first part of being middle-aged. That reminds me that I'm middle aged, but I don't feel like that. Also read a piece in the New Yorker that was really just this writer's diary from her time in Madrid w...

Just 3 kibble bits left in the bowls.

I just found this photo, and it was taken by me right after I was crying about something--I think I was crying about Henri being put to sleep. And then, for some reason, we decided to take a picture; maybe for a holiday card? Anyway, I think it's funny and sad.  And I think Dan looks extra cute and sexy. As does Ernesto.

This is what happens in the morning whenever Dan stays over and the cats are in the basement all night. I get to set them free!

We're not quite done with the cats-in-hats competition, but I did want to give you a behind the scenes look at what happens when you attempt to hat a cat.

You will have to suffer through more of my amateur home video crap. Here is Jenn Bing, acting like the super star that she is: And a short video of what my every morning is like:

Both Lisa Marie and John were kind enough to come over this past Sunday and remodel some things in the house. John cute a giant hole in the basement door (to accommodate the giant Henri) and he also hung the mirror in my bedroom that I bought at Circle Thrift for $20. Lisa Marie and I worked for about 5 or so hours on the brand new, redecorated, restyled, and re-carpeted kitty palace. It is resplendent. First, the cat door. I wanted to put this on so that I could keep the basement door shut, since that's where the litter box is and I don't want the smell wafting up into the kitchen. But I haven't yet put the flap on it b/c I'm not sure they're smart enough to go through it. Well, I know Ernesto is, but not so sure about the other two. This is a view of the living room with the new coffee table. Still no sofa. And the new table and chairs all set up. I haven't hung any pictures b/c I'm scared to mess up the walls. Liz and Luke are coming for a visit this week...

Just found these two videos I made of Ernesto in my down time this spring. Don't know what the hell I was doing with my time. Must have been an "off" season for The Bachelor and/or I had no new library books. Can't remember if I posted them before, but here they are for your viewing pleasure. I hope you find them as charming as I do...

Not sure I like it as much as my first one--it's not quite as intuitive. But anyway, here are my first photos. Of course, they are of cats.

You can make your very own Obamarama poster here . Below, please find the noble Ernesto, who was not actually very noble when he fell out of my bedroom closet last night at 2 a.m. (he occasionally goes in there to inspect the sheets and towels and almost always knocks something over). I am having a kind of weird week. Seems to be going extremely slowly and I don't feel like I'm getting anything done at all. I really wish I were a tidier person. My house is a mess--not in a way that's obvious. There's not piles of garbage on the floor or pillars of old newspapers or even clothes strewn about. My dishes are washed and my clothes are put away and my bed is usually made, but I don't clean. I don't dust, I don't mop the floors, I don't scrub down my fridge. I sometimes clean the tub is I know guests are coming for the weekend and I sometimes sweep the floors, but I still feel like a sloth. I was thinking the other day, What if I could have a maid. I honestly ...

This has not been a particularly good week for window photos, as you will notice. In fact, here you see a rabbit plant carrier, not a window. Partly, it's because I kept forgetting to charge the battery in my camera and partly, it's because I think I've taken pictures of most of the interesting windows around where I live. Looks like I have to change neighborhoods. But anyway, I like how this rabbit looks as though he's smiling. Below, please find a clear-eyed tabby--I think he's actually standing in a doorway rather than a window. He looks like Emma Carol's soul mate. What a tragedy that never the twain shall meet. Here is a Siamese cat flirting with Lisa Marie and me. I took this photo on the way back from brunch with her and John at Sabrina's. It has occured to me lately that I may be turning into a misanthrope. At Sabrina's, for instance, I found it totally irritating that when we were offered a table inside, this bunch of people who said they wante...

I don't know exactly what has come over me lately or why I keep posting so many pics, but these make me laugh even though they're of cats (or especially because they are?). Below, please find Ernesto. He laid immodestly like this for about twenty minutes last night. It wasn't even that hot, so it's not like he had to air out. I don't know what his deal was. And Henri. This is the best of about 100 pictures I had to take of him. Every time I snapped the button, he would look down over move. He is bashful. The fatness that is Emma Carol. I showed this picture to a co-worker and she said, Did that cat eat one of your other cats? Look how stumpy she is too. Her legs are like two inches long. She makes me laugh more than any of the other ones because she always just looks goofy and unkept. Here, she appears to have been shot. More body parts. Someday, maybe I will post an entire photo. This is one of my favorite rings though.

I added some photos that Celia took to the Saturday post. You should take a look. Below, you will find the typical picture of Emma Carol--caught in mid-meow with her crazy eyes. This is just before she ran to see Celia and lick her on the knee. Ernesto looks on with lazy disgust at her display. If you click on this little picture, you can see her in full bloom. My floor looks much cleaner than it is from this particular angle, that's for sure. A phenomenon that I've noticed in our culture of late...The use of the phrase: "It is what it is." On first blush, this phrase seems to imply a sort of Buddha-like acceptance to life's annoyances and problems; no judgment passed, no real anxiety attributed to whatever the "it" is (have I written about this before? I feel like I have). However, you never hear this in a positive context. Like, you never hear a guy saying to his friend, who has just gotten a new guitar: "Man! It is what it is !" You only hea...

I am now for sure a person who posts numerous photos of her cat. It's not totally my fault--Shawn continues to take them. I feel bad for Henri, the red-headed stepchild, who is often neglected and made fun of for his fatness. Still, admire the cuteness that is Ernesto.