Cats 'n Blogs, Part 2

Yeah, I know, genug already with the damn cats. But come on! Fifty years ago, I would be firmly set in cement as a crazy spinster, what with my utter lack of romantic companionship and feline fixation, so give me a break.

Anyway, Hissy continues to improve. She seems not to notice the fact that her wet food is further saturated with medicine--a painkiller and an antibiotic, for the record--and she's been rubbing against my ankles like a regular ol' mushball. As for Fitz, she's mighty rankled that her sister is getting all this attention and 9 Lives to boot, and she's been hissing and growling and generally behaving like a crazy-ass bizzotch. I hope these two come to some kind of truce, because I feel terrible seeing little injured Hissy receive such hostile treatment. Not that the cat actually understands this, but still. Feline Bill and I will be conducting a roundup later today so Hissy can get her surgical drain removed. I have a feeling it'll go about as well as the last one, so if you really want to know how it goes, just read the previous post.

Oh, here's some non-cat, non-blog related ruminations: As we all know, Ned Lamont roundly and soundly trounced Senator Joseph I. Lieberman in Tuesday's primary. My acupuncturist friend is, I'm sure, tickled pinko about this, because she can't stand Joe Lieberman's voice. (And I can't stand referring to her as "my acupuncturist friend," but she hasn't given me permission to use her real name, and I can't think of a suitable pseudonym. AF, if you're reading this, let me know what's what.) AF has a particular reason for why she can't stand Joe Lieberman's voice, which has to do with--you guessed it--Chinese medicine. See, in Chinese medicine, the human voice has five elements: a weep, a groan, a sing, a laugh, and a shout. One's voice is typically comprised of more than one of these elements and/or a lack thereof, leading to such combinations as "sing with lack of laugh" or "somewhere between a shout and a groan." What sends AF into anaphylactic shock is the weep, which is what Joe Lieberman has. During the 2004 primaries (oh, those halcyon days when we thought we might have a soupcon of a chance at getting rid of Bush once and for all!), AF made it clear that if she had to listen to "THAT MAN'S" voice for four years (Lieberman's), she would have to put NPR on mute, which rather defeats the purpose. "So," I goaded, "does that mean you're gonna vote for Bush if we run Lieberman?" No, AF assured me, she would vote for a salamander over Bush. She would just require a morphine drip if she had to listen to Lieberman. Crisis temporarily averted when we nominated Kerry, and I'm not about to rehash what happened next. Anyway, as soon as Garrison Keillor (weep) decides to retire, NPR will be safe again.

As for me, I don't have a huge problem with either Lieberman's or Keillor's voices, although I do wish they'd crawl under a rock for other reasons. Obviously, I have nothing but contempt for a Democrat who decides to play Carpetbagger, and my memories of Garrison Keillor involve having to sit mute on my crackhead mother's couch while she listened to the "News From Lake Woebgone" on Saturday nights. My lord, woman, it's not real! God forbid you pay attention to your only kid for two seconds. My apologies for being a flesh-and-blood child and not a trained puppet violin prodigy. (And no, my mother is not reading this. She died in 1989. And don't you dare tell me I shouldn't still be angry at her, especially when I have PMS.) No, my visceral reaction is for the sing, a trait that seems to be shared by local female newscasters the country over. Oh, it's like fingernails on a chalkboard--"A WO-man was RAPED TO-night in the BEN-son-hurst neigh-bor-hood in BROOK-lyn." Lady, she was raped! Quit crowin' about it! Inject some gravitas, and wipe that damn smile off your face! (Of course, I don't know that I enjoy their moues of woe any better. Just stay poker-faced, like they do on the BBC, and we'll all be much better off.)

So, blogs. My friend Sarito has started one of her own, Shredding The Envelope, which link will remain in the sidebar in perpetuity. I met Sarito in my acting class a few years ago, and we became friends the day we worked together on a mirror exercise. Since then, we've slapped together a scene from Alan Ayckbourn's Table Manners, quaffed tea, and smoked many cigarettes together. When she's not acting, Sarito edits manuscripts for a sort of New Age guru fellow (not Deepak Chopra, that's all I'll tell you), and her blog is, in addition to being much better than mine, is rather a rumination of all things, well...coincidental? Spiritual? Metaphysical? All/none of the above? Whatever--check her out and send her some love.