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Cats in Literature 

2/28/2013

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 Cats are found in literature more often than not.  Just like the stealthy creatures themselves, they hide in the words.   For instance, look at the following definitions of words found in literature:

Catatonic – a tonic for cats, often made of fish, birds, or mice.  If taken properly, it puts them into a state of complete bliss, where  they are almost sleeping but just lay there with their eyes open a slit, in a trance like state.

Catastrophe – a trophy for the best looking cat bottom ( or at least the most licked)

Cataract – Cats ‘re acting most of the time.  They pretend to be asleep when they are really spying on us.  Ever seen them with their eyes open only a slit, completely motionless?  That’s them acting.

Catbird – That is almost a sentence.  Cat catch bird for dinner.

Catechu – What a cat says when it sneezes. 

Caterpillar – A post shaped like a cat.

Catkin – like a lion, a tiger, and a jaguar.  These are all kin to a cat.

Catsup – dinner for a cat.

Catfish – cat fish for dinner.  Cat get fish.  Bones left over.  Maybe.

Catheter – cat theater - where cats watch movies of Ralph S Mouse or Tom and Jerry.

Catch – what a cat does to a mouse

Catnap- sleep all day and play loudly all night

Catnip – what the cat does with her teeth when she is playing or angry

Catgut- inside organs of cat

Cathargic- short for cat is lethargic, often during the daytime

Category – Cat is a mess from hunting and gorging all night

Catalog – a written diary of what cat does all day

Catalina – cat has been dieting

Cattle – short for cat is little

Literature – a potty place for cats at your house.

The next time you are reading, look for the cat in the literature, and then clean up the box.  Cats don’t like a dirty litter box.  And it’s easier to read.

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Shopping with Hubby

2/19/2013

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Did you realize that men and women shop differently?  It was years after I was married that I finally put it together and understood what was going on.  In fact, I analyzed it just yesterday when I was writing my new women’s fiction book, When Sisters Talk.

When the children were little, I thought it was boredom that made the boys whine and fuss.  I realize now that this was not the case.  They found no reason to go to shops to see things.  When my youngest became a teen, I told him that the three pairs of socks he had not used for working on his car or lost the mates to were not enough.  He had to go buy more.

I took him to the first store.  He practically ran down the aisles to the men’s department, grabbed the first package of socks he saw and said, “Let’s go.”

“Hold it.” I said.  “Is that the style you want?  Do you want long tops or short because you have medium tops in your hands. “

“These are fine.”

“Are you sure those are the right size?  Do you want that color?”

“Mom.  Enough of the questions.  Let’s go.”

He was done shopping.  No looking.

My husband said he didn’t mind going shopping with me.  So when I would go to the store and look at something, he assumed I wanted it.  “Get it, if you want.”

I was looking at it because it was interesting, not because I wanted it. 

If I did put something in the shopping cart, he would say, “Get two.”

I assumed he was being generous.  Not so.  If I bought two I wouldn't drag him back again.


I go shopping to get what I need now and to look at everything, catalog it in my head in case I may need it later, and to get everything I need for a project.  My brain is a warehouse for information.

Hubby goes after a specific item. When he gets home and is working on the project,and hasn’t thought it through or is missing a tool, he goes back to the store and buys the next item he needs.  It may take him fourteen trips to the store, and he will be grumbling under his breath, but he will have conquered the project. 

Hubby shops like a tiger procuring food.  Go, conquer, take home to lair, and eat.

I shop as if I am taking a stroll in the park.  I like that, that is interesting, oh, look at that.  We are evaluating everything and putting it into categories:  needed now for sure, might need in the future for ___ project, don’t like that, might be useful sometime in the future, so this is where they sell _____,  I like these colors, that’s interesting, I might try that when I get brave enough.

Store owners have figured this out many years ago.  In the men’s department, the selection of socks, for instance, is limited to white, brown, black and navy.  Three styles of white, one of each of the others, and a smattering of dress socks in the above colors.  Pants have four types, blue jeans, khaki, brown, black, navy and camouflage. 

In the women’s department, there are a peacock of colors of pants, socks, and shirts, even underwear.  The styling is important, the fabrics are varied.  It can literally take hours to examine the details. The women’s department takes up three times the space of the men's.

On the way to the women’s department are aisle displays, neatly arranged with colorful items to entice women to stop and look.  The men's department has no aisle displays, and is on a main thoroughfare through the store, often on the way to food, electronics, or tools.

Even the dressing rooms are convenient to the women’s department.  Here's why.
 
Last week my hubby and I went to the store after jeans, he looked at the size and put it in the cart.

I stopped him and said, “Are you sure that is the right size?”

He held them up to himself.  “Yup.” And put them back in the cart.

“Try them on.  I think you might have changed sizes.”


Grudgingly he went into the dressing room and came back out.  “See, I told you they fit.”  He rolled his eyes.

Then he rolled his eyes and stood looking bored while I looked for a pair of socks for me.


So when you go shopping, if at all possible, go with your own gender.  It will be less frustrating.

 


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Signs at Large

2/12/2013

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I’ve seen some signs and advertisements lately that are really thought provoking.

One says that the product is made with real strawberries.  I wonder, what does an unreal strawberry look like?  I know it could look like a red blueberry.  No wait, that would be an unripe blueberry.   Maybe like a three-D foam replica dipped in just the right color to look delicious.  You know like the advertisements for hamburgers that don’t resemble the real things at all.  Theirs are plump and juicy while the real thing looks like a gorilla sat on it and then they put two pickle slices half sliding out of the side of the bun.  What does an unreal strawberry taste like?  The implication here is that it tastes somehow different than a real strawberry.   How?   Are they sweet or are they sour enough to turn you mouth inside out?  I want to know about these unreal strawberries.  Are they organic?  Are they made from, say tripe, sawdust?  What? 

Then there was a sign for a motel that said:  QUEEN BED VACANCY.  Where is the queen? Is she on a long trip to say, London?  What would she be doing there?   Why is her bed vacant?    Did she just get up or has she not been here for a while?   Where is the bed? If it is in London it is kind of a long way to go.   Is the King there too or is the king bed occupied?  With the queen?  Oh dear!  So many questions.

Another motel advertised: WELCOME WIRELESS HOT BREAKFAST.  What does a wireless hot breakfast look like?  Obviously it is a remote controlled device.  Does it look like a robot or an alien from planet Zigmoid?  I want to know so I can avoid it.  Is it dangerous?  Should I avoid it at all costs?  Where can I go instead?  How does it sleep?   Should I be aware of any unusual behaviors?   Were these wireless hot breakfasts having a convention?  What do they do there?  Will it burn the motel down?  I think I’ll go somewhere else to stay the night.  Is there a city without wireless hot breakfasts?

I suppose there could be a motel in the area that serves unreal strawberries over fake cereal to wireless hot breakfasts in the queen’s bed. 

You stay there and you could be wired to a king bed and be force fed painted lumps of red berry-looking sawdust until your free parking ticket runs out… and saves you.

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After the Super Bowl

2/5/2013

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It’s all over now the huge game that “everyone watched”.  I’ve forgotten or never really knew who ran for how many yards, who made touchdowns or much about anyone in playing the game.  It’s not what I do. Or how I function.  Sorry fans and players.

I do remember three things very clearly.  Number one was the Sandy Hook choir.  They were wonderful.  No child at any time did anything inappropriate.  They were all singing from the heart.  They are what our nation is made of and will be made of.  It brought me to tears.  Thank you, students.

Another thing that brought me to tears was the Star Spangled Banner.  Alicia Keys, thank you for singing it just the way you did.  From you choice of clothing to your heartfelt, simple version I will remember your song the way my parents remembered Kate Smith.

During the National Anthem, the pictures of our military faces serving our country in uniform was wonderful.  Thank you to them for serving.  Thank you, television producers, for helping us to remember them.

It was during the national anthem, though, that I decided to stay tuned to the game.  I saw  players standing at attention in a respectful manner.  There was one young man from the blue team that absolutely compelled me to root for his team.  He stood and sang the words of the national anthem with tears streaming down his face. 

Until that moment I had no favorites in the game.  I was going to turn it off after the National Anthem, but I couldn’t when the players themselves acted like adults.   I wish that all of the children and teens watching the Super Bowl would remember the respectful, gentle way the men from both teams stood at the National Anthem.

Unfortunately they will remember the fights and brawling that took place on the field instead.  That is what they will emulate on the playground at school. 

When someone puts you on a pedestal, big or little, you have an obligation to be the best human being you can be first, and the best human being you can be at doing what you do second.  Come back next week for a look at something that makes me laugh.

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    Gwen Kruger, author, writer, crazy person.  I love writing, the outdoors, and my husband, although not necessarily in that order. 

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