My New Love

is also my "mew" love. Once again, a grey and white kitty has stolen my heart. So meet Lovie, my new love.

She was "discovered" a couple of weeks ago under my dad's house, hiding out. Where did she come from? I guess she was dumped off, for I have since uncovered seven more kittens, 3 of which appear to be somewhat younger, and four around Lovie's age, which was estimated by the vet to be around three or three and a half months. She has the loveliest brown eyes, and the most playful and loving nature. I had forgotten how much energy a kitten has, since I have been "mom" to adult cats for so many years now.

The others vary in color. There is another grey one, four brown tabbies, two black ones (one with medium-long hair), and an orange one. I guess they were dumped off at the same time, but I never knew they were there until this past week. Why did Lovie make herself known first? She was definitely vocal, and although a little skittish at first (she even hissed at me a few times), she was in the house and sleeping along side me by that night. Ever since then, she has been a part of the family, winning over dad and grandma, and (eventually) all the other cats and the dog. We get a kick out of watching her play with her boundless energy, and hilarious pratfalls, since she's not so very coordinated yet. She will grow up too fast, of that I am sure. But every day with her has been a delight.

What about the others? They are much more skittish than Lovie, but I am slowly getting them tamed by feeding them and petting them. They will all have to be tamed down enough so that I can take them to the vet for their shots and to be spayed and neutered. Then, I suppose they will likely remain outside cats, probably taking up residence in my dad's garage (which is probably akin to the Taj Majal for a feline), along with our black garage cat, Potter. Of course, if one or two wanted to hang around the house, they would be most welcome and would be a part of our family too.

Why was Lovie the ONE to win my heart first? I don't know. I suppose that's her secret. But I'm so glad she's here. Her love has captivated me and she is truly my baby now. Even if she does tend to get into mischief now and then. After all, she is still just a kitten.

Self-Explanatory

Isn't it? Just because....well, I'm in a pissy mood today. So here you are. Misery loves company, after all....




So by the way, which one's Pink????

Whose Writing Style Influenced You?

Ever wonder if your favorite authors have influenced the way you write? I often wonder how much I have picked up from Asimov, Bradbury, Lovecraft, etc. It seems, more than I ever imagined, that my favorite author in the world has had a profound impact on me, coloring the way I write, not just everyday, but even the more "formal" scientific papers I composed while obtaining my degrees.



Go here and you will find out for yourself. It is fun, free, and, much to my shock, handed me the greatest compliment I could have received about my writing style. I typed in a few paragraphs from a paper I wrote years ago for my criminal justice senior seminar titled, "Theories of Law Formation: Correlation with Criminological Theories", and go here to see my "badge".

Wow! I know this is just some silly computer gimmick, but it certainly made my day. To be able to extrapolate from my scholarly writings a similarity to this author's writings is an amazing thing.

So try it! You could be amazed.

The Evolution of Humor

Take my fish....please.

That Year

Was 1976.

The bicentennial.

I remember it well.

Everything was red, white, and blue. The spirit of patriotism was thick in the air, and my family, like most others, got caught up in all the excitement of our nation's 200th anniversary.

The "Freedom Train" came through Houston on its country-wide tour that year, bearing either the original or a replica of our Declaration of Independence. We surely took time out of our busy bicentennial schedule to go see this American treasure. Being 9 years old, I don't remember so much the details, but I do remember the importance of the moment and my dad and I posing outside the train.

My elementary school was positively abuzz with the spirit of '76. I am the one in the school picture in the front row wearing white pants (gasp!) and the shirt with the flag on it. Of course, we had all sorts of programs that year at school, and I particularly remember our music class rehearsing and rehearsing a special patriotic show to be given for all the parents and teachers. The thing that sticks most in my memory about that show is that all during rehearsals, being third graders, we couldn't help but snicker everytime we had to sing about "Amerigo Vespucci". Could you imagine how hilarious that name was to a bunch of schoolchildren? We vowed to get it out of our system during rehearsals so that come show time, we could be serious and get through this fine program without the giggles. So did we? Not really. But when we started laughing, so did the audience, and, of course, a good time was had by all.

1976 was the year my family got a new vehicle, which I believe was the result of our extreme patriot pride in the bicentennial. Being good American consumers, we added to the nation's bottom line at the detriment of our own by taking off that summer to "see the USA in our Chev...." uh, well, in our orange and white Ford Pinto. That's right. We just knew we were ever so mod, though, and were as proud as could be, touring our country in an American-made (mmm....probably not so much as we wanted to believe) death trap.....er, vehicle. Off West we went, riding into the sunsets until we reached the holy grail of all consumerism - Disneyland. Even the Magic Kingdom had gotten into the act with red, white, and blue bunting all over the place, and flags hanging from every nook and cranny, as can be seen in the faded photo. We toured Anaheim, Long Beach, and (of course) Hollywood, but the thing I remember most from that trip was the tour of the Queen Mary ocean liner. What an awesome sight that ship was, and I remember vividly how large its engines and propellers were. I had a hard time fathoming that something that huge and that heavy could actually stay above water. I had a blast on that ship, even more so than at Disneyland or even walking in the California surf.

Even my ballet and gymnastics class got into the act, performing all sorts of silly skits and programs meant to highlight the nation's birthday. There was I, the uncoordinated one, in a garish red, white, and blue costume with plenty of spangles and sparkles, feeling like a fireworks display, when the moment I remember most from that year caught my imagination: the ballet school's owners' daughter, who was (*SIGH*) a 17-year old MODERN dancer who had long graduated from the flimsy little slippers my age group still wore took the stage. Dressed in a yellow flowing dress, dancing barefoot just because she could, Ann Gurganis was the envy of all the youngsters that night. She was so important and so graceful, she merited the stage all to herself. And the main reason this moment sticks in my head: she danced a beautiful, free dance to Steve Miller's "Fly Like an Eagle". A song about the future capturing my attention? You better believe it. That was the first time I had ever heard that song, and I knew at that moment when I grew up, I wanted to be like her. My own woman, dancing to her own song, paying homage to our past and looking ahead to our future.

And that, in a nutshell, is what I remember most about that year: a nation gratefully celebrating its storied history, and on the brink of brave new things.

Come to think of it, that's what America is all about, isn't it?