theme? I don't need no estinkin' theme to blog!

Ah, the widdle seepin' angels! The dear babies are holding paws. Don't they look like innocence incarnate? Well, while they're asleep, they ARE innocent! But when they wake up - - -










You remember "The Great Escape" where Steve McQueen was continually coming up with ever more innovative ideas for getting out of the prisoner of war camp? Well here is our little "Miss Steve McQueen." In the time it took me to walk down the driveway, put letters in the mailbox, pick up the paper and turn around, she had managed to pry open the door, and was successfully ripping the screen out of the screendoor. I ran, but she made it out and BOLTED away like a fleet-footed little shadow in the dark. Luckily, she ran up against a chain-link fence and hesitated just a minute before trying to squeeze through. It gave me time to grab her. I was so frantic that I wanted to smack her one! (The neighbors on that side have a cat-killing dog.) I even swung my hand to slap her head, but by the time my fingers reached her fur, it had decelerated to a gentle pat. But i DID stuff her into the cupboard with the pots and pans and left her complaining in there while the other kitties got treats. Oh, thank Ghu I don't have teenagers!! When the baby daughter says, "Oh Mom, Snake isn't a bad guy. EVERYONE in his gang carries a gun!" I have no idea what I would do. Become completely catatonic from conflicting desires no doubt. Should I call into that Swiss convent first or should I start by calling the police on Snake and holding him at gunpoint till the law arrives? I know that my five-month-old kitten is just as likely as the average fifteen-year-old girl to agree with me when I explain that the world is a dangerous place. All you mothers out there have my heartfelt sympathy. I may not HAVE a fifteen-year-old, but I WAS a fifteen-year-old. And a damn lucky one at that!! And if anyone wants their kid to talk to someone who has been there and done that, I'm available. Not that it will help. When you're fifteen, you know more than any adult who ever lived. Our only purpose in life is to deny them any fun or excitement. Oh, and to do laundry and cooking and provide some cash and clothes and i-pods and stuff. I wouldn't be a teen again for any ammount of money, glory or power.

And I read this morning that the average age for a model in the New York Fashion Week blitz is - get this - 17. The AVERAGE age! Designers are making clothes that look good on skinny teenagers. (Duh - when did you get THAT news flash, Roxie?) I used to BE a skinny teen. Thank Ghu that when I WAS a teen, models were in their twenties. I dodged a bullet on that one. Models are crazy! The work, of neccessity makes them nuts, even if they were sane to start with. Say a model applies for five jobs a week. Say she gets one job a week. So four out of five days a week, someone is telling her, "Sorry, you're not pretty enough." (They actually say, "We'll call if we can use you," but the message is the same.)When your whole life is based on being pretty, this can be devestating. And it's not any better if a model becomes successful. She is a success because of the most fleeting, ephemeral thing about her. And worse, her success is based on current popular tastes. And you think YOU feel insecure sometimes? No wonder they need drugs and therapy. Momma, don't let your babies grow up to be models!

Thanks, many thanks to everyone who caught me before I wheeled on over to the Canby fairgrounds, two weeks early for the Flock and Fiber Fest. It's a nice drive and all, but not one I really needed to make just for the fun of it. Instead, I'll see you all there on the 22nd! (Right?)