Ah yes, I love marketing.

Manufacturers have perfected the art of planned obsolescence. Toasters used to last 20 or 30 years. Now, if you can get 6 months out of one before it goes bonkers and burns everything, you're doing great! Ink cartridges on printers have gotten smaller, or is it my imagination?

Then there are all the things for sale that manufacturers THINK we need, or, should I put it this way, they WANT US to THINK we need it!

Take toothpaste for example. Have you noticed in your forays down the personal care aisle how many TYPES of Crest toothpaste there are? I've lost count! One time I counted 14 different varieties.  Gel, liquid, whitening, kids enticements, 'natural expressions' for those who want to feel like they're getting back to nature while brushing. Stripes or no stripes? Of course it all has flouride, but that's in most municipal water supplies, anyway.

I just went on their website and there are 41 different listings!

Do we really NEED this?

No

They'd like us to THINK we do.

THEN there's the great 'digital TV' conversion.  How many perfectly good TVs will end up in the landfills? 

I hate to think.....

  Crazy cat!  We’ve gone from ICE CUBES to loving to have water poured on him!

*

’Course I guess he’s not so stupid.  After another round with the ice, I started dribbling water on his back.  He didn’t move.  Pretty soon I was pouring it over him, careful not to get it in his ears.  He didn’t seem to mind.

*

I think I will go to the dollar store and get him a wash basin and see if I can get him to go in it.

*

Wanna bet he will?

*

The cat AIN’T dumb!

JULY 4th post:  His Lordship, Sebastian P.  NOW has a POOL!  We haven’t used it yet, though.

  The temperature hit 100 degrees yesterday.  I went out to the front porch where Sebastian was resting in the shade.  I plopped down in my favorite chair, iced coffee in hand.  I took a piece of ice out of my drink and started rubbing it on my neck to cool the blood going to and from my brain.  (try it - it works!)

.

Something occurred to me:  if I feel cooler just by rubbing ice on my neck, what about the CAT?  I plucked a cube out of the cup and started rubbing it on the side of his face.  He didn’t seem to mind.  When that one melted and I dropped it, I took a swig of coffee and spit a cube into my hand, not wanting to reach into the drink with all that cat fur on my fingers.  He sat still while I rubbed it over the side, top and back of his head and ears.  Ok..., I kept going and got a bigger cube to rub on his flanks.  He STILL didn’t move! 

.

At one point he got up to walk around but stayed right in front of me.  I kept on rubbing.  When he flopped down I thought.... "Hmmmm.... dare I try to put some on his tummy?" He kicked a bit but then probably realized that, ’Hey - this feels GOOD!  Mom, you can keep doing it!"  He lolled over onto his back and let me swab him down, grinning stupidly.

.

I put a few cubes on his side when he rolled back over.  I kept rubbing one on his head but got the silly ’cat torture’  idea to put one ON his head.  Again, he didn’t seem to care at all;  he just sat there grinning stupidly.

.

He stayed like this for a long while, long enough for me to go into the house, get the camera and come out to take pictures.  I must’ve taken about 10 of him and he could care less.

.

Now..., I’D  SAY..... that’s ONE SMART CAT!

Rain..... falling straight down, in a steady stream, gently singing, tapping on the leaves of the trees.  The night is quiet.  No ominous rumbling of thunder in the distance, just rain.  It gurgles from the downspout into the empty 100 gallon stock tank, my rain barrel.  Filling up it’s ocean again, waiting to be fed onto the gardens and pots on the porch.  From the top of the chimney huge drops splatter onto the side roof...  ’blat..... blat...., blat’  in a steady stream. The beat never wavers.  This is a soothing time.  No night terrors of lightning’s electric fingers grabbing out of the sky. I will not have to call upon the ancestors and angels to stand guard over this ancient house tonight.  No, just a pattering, soothing rain...,  now deepening... louder..., louder the storm becomes.  Still it is harmless, steady, nourishing the earth and plants, providing water for creatures.  Water blessings.... night blessings.

I love my car.  It was love at first sight with the Miatas when they first came out in ’89.

.

Because of family matters I had to travel back and forth from my home in upstate NY to Long Island and Queens.  That meant I needed a car I could count on 100% of the time.  I did my homework, pouring over copies of Consumer Reports (my Bible any time I want to buy something) and finally decided on a Mazda 323.  It was a hatchback and just what I needed.  I bought one new and waited the many weeks for delivery.

.

Finally the day came to go pick it up.  As my friend Kenny and I pulled into the dealership we noticed this COOL looking white convertable parked near the front door!  WOW.... I’d love to have something like that!  I had to take a look at it while I was waiting for my car to be brought around.

.

Two seats, 4 speed, a black interior.  I’d like one in red, I mused.  RED - the perfect color for a sports car!

.

It was soooooo cute!  There was something about it that I just loved.  I wanted one!  Hmmm...., a stick shift.  Couldn’t drive one.  Well, I guess I could learn to.  I kept looking and drooling and for a few seconds, gave some serious - and totally irrational - consideration.  Nah..., I live in SNOW COUNTRY.  I’d only be able to drive it a few months out of the year.  Well...., maybe someday!

.

Fast forward a few years. My life had changed and I was living with a guy who restored antique Harley-Davidsons.  He didn’t fool around;  if the factory specs didn’t call for a certain color or chrome, he didn’t put it on.  Same for ’repo’ (reproduction) parts.  Absolutely not.  These bikes were lovingly rebuilt with painstaking care.  To do this involved going to many antique motorcycle meets all over the country.

.

Of course I got sucked in.  I’d never ridden a bike before and before our first outing on the ’65 Pan, I told Randy:  "You do ANYTHING to scare me and that’s IT!  I will never ride with you again!"  He wasn’t one of those idiot, show-off bikers.  We’re not talkin’ some kid on a Jap bike.  Well, he didn’t kill us and I managed to stay on the bike and not dump us when it came time to lean.  Oh, btw, I didn’t mention that I wasn’t riding on a seat.  He didn’t put the buddy seat on so I had to ride on a  pillow tied to the luggage rack on the back fender and put my feet on the crash bars!

.

In time I started to buy bikes for me for him to restore, and I learned to ride.  Most of the time, though, I just prefered to ride in the sidecar of the 1954 FLE Police bike;  MY BIKE.

.

Jump ahead another few years.  I’m down here in Virginia.  The two vehicles I had were my 1996 Explorer, bought new and left over from my days in the snow and drives to NYC.  I also had a van that I sold. 

.

My next thought was...... "Gee.... I need a second car - what will I get?"  and that thought was barely out of my brain when    M I A T A  came to mind!  I could finally get my red Miata!

.

Car Max became my instant friend.  I knew what I wanted;  red with black interior and top. It absolutely HAD to be a stick shift.  I’m sorry all you folks out there who have sports cars with automatics..., you gotta have a shift!  I had a better idea of how to drive a stick from the bikes, driving Farmall tractors and farm pick up trucks.  I wasn’t very good at 1st gear but I KNEW that I could get better.

.

I saw the car I wanted.  It had 8,600 miles on it, was 2 years old (and obviously not been driven), was a non-smoker’s car.  I like to think that the previous owner expanded their family and that’s the reason they’d given it up.  Why else would one give up a car like this?

.

A friend went with me the night I went to pick it up.  It was February 2001.  As I still wasn’t adept at a stick, HE’D have to drive MY car home! Aaaggghhhh... but I didn’t dare;  my night vision isn’t good, but my shifting abilities worried me more, so rather than take a chance on something happening - that little bastard got to drive the car home!  We’d stop at lights, I was behind him and I’d be thinking:  "THAT’S  MY CAR he’s driving!"  When we finally got home, somewhere around 11, HE decided that he wanted to go for a drive.  About an hour later, I asked.... "Can I drive MY car now?"  We came back into the town where I live and I practiced 1st gear by going up and down the streets, stopping at every corner, shifting and stopping again.

.

The next morning - it was freezing cold - I’m wandering around in the house with my coffee.  "WHAT am I DOING????"  I thought.  I bundled up in my snuggie terrycloth robe and sat in the car, coffee in hand.  Then I realized that duh - I need to be out driving, so drive I did.  All day.  I headed out into the sticks and practiced shifting (playing NASCAR) .  Came back into town and did the up and down the streets thing.  Came back here to the long driveway and practiced again.

.

I still love my car all these years later.  It’s been repainted (same color) and I had to get a new roof.  Despite the high gas prices, there are some days that I just have to do a "Cruise to nowhere’.... and when the weather is right.... a ’top down day’.  Never leave home without the topo map, I stop for snacks and potty breaks, never knowing what road I will head down next.  I always carry #50 suncreen and an extra hat for a passenger.  If it gets toward evening or threatens rain, I can put the top up. I don’t have to worry about falling down, which I’m very good at. on a bike. I miss riding bikes, though; there’s absolutely NOTHING like it.

.

It’s ALMOST better than a Harley.....  almost! 

When I was a kid on Long Island, my first memories of grass cutting were pushing one of those reel mowers around the 1/8 acre.... which seemed like a huge yard at the time.  THAT was work!  A few years later we got a 'lawn mower' - a tempermental gas-powered monster.  It never wanted to start and I dreaded having to go out and cut the grass.

*

When I moved to upstate NY I had about an acre or two to cut.  The previous owners had left an old push mower there.  That one started but there was another problem.  One of the rear wheels was kinda iffy.  To make matters worse, the house sat up on a hill.  One day, while going back and forth on the hill, that wheel decided to come off.  I kept going. I hoisted it off the ground in the back and pushed on! Sheer stubborness and determination (and throw in a bit of stupidity!) kept me going.  Also was the fact that I didn't want my new country neighbors to see how wimpy I was.

*

I mowed like this for weeks. It was now about July and somewhere around 90 degrees.  I was struggling across the lawn wondering WHY in the hell I was doing this?  "I'm NOT gettin'  a-n-y   younger...  I'm gonna bang a heart attack!" I thought. 

*

I went into the house, got my car keys and drove the 8 miles to town to the Sears store where I ordered a tractor.

*

My roomate at the time - of course being male, was subjected to the strict instruction of lawn mowing by his father when he was young.  He HAD to do it right;  all the lines had to be straight and everything must be perfect.  My Mom, on the other hand, was just glad to get either my sister or myself to even MOW the grass!

*

Kenny couldn't wait to get on the tractor.  I was happy to oblige.  Go for it!  I watched from the wraparound porch, glancing across the road to my neighbor's house, waving to my elderly neighbors sitting on the porch.

*

The time finally came when it was my turn to mount the beast and tame the wild wooly yard.  "Oh, this should be easy... all I have to do is ride."  I chuckled.  Yeah - riiiiiiiight!

*

I started out OK; just went around and around on the perimiter of the yard.  I remembered Kenny's instructions about mowing on the hills.  God knows I didn't want to totally embarrass myself by tumbling ass-over-teakettle down the side yard in full view of Gertrude, Albert and Don sitting on the porch across the road!  (everything us 'city' people did was subject to close scrutinity!) Didn't want to wreck my new tractor, either!

*

Somewhere along the way I lost my place.  I missed spots which was annoying.  I wanted this to be perfect, so - I did what I thought any normal person would do:  back up.  Then when I'd find another patch I'd overlooked, I'd do figure 8's.  Around the huge maple trees in the front yard I go around and around and around till I got so dizzy I thought I'd fall off the mower!  I didn't hear any guffawing from across the road so I thought I was doin' pretty good! I switched to figure 8's to finish it off.  I was doing real well... or so I thought!

*

Kenny, meanwhile, unbeknownst to me - was in stitches on the porch watching me.  He didn't say anything to me right away.  Later, after looking at the yard he said:  "It looks like a BAD HAIRCUT!  A drunken blind person mowed this lawn!"

*

I was SHOCKED!!!  I thought I'd perfected the art of mowing!  I was crushed!

*

Years and a BIGGER LAWN later (try about 3 acres now), I still am no better..., and I don't care.  Thank God my house isn't near where anyone can actually see how I mow.  I rent out some of the 60 acres here for my farmer neighbors to mow for hay.  I keep a keen ear and eye out for tractors during hay season.  If I see one coming down the 1/2 mile drive, I abruptly shut off the tractor and go inside.  I will NOT let these 'faamahs' see me MOW!

* 

It has developed into a ritual for me now. I still go backwards. I still go over what I've already mowed to get to a 3" strip that I missed. When I mow around (and around and around) the huge holly tree out front, I feel like a kid on a carnival ride; going as fast as I can without throwing myself off the tractor and getting SOOOOO damned dizzy! I always - on purpose - leave spots that I've missed.  Who cares?  This isn't Better Homes and Garden!

*

People have favorite foods, why not cats?  Following are some favorites of both past and present felines. 

Violet...., l-o-v-e-s.....  RED PEPPERS.  I swear that cat knows when I’m slicing them in the kitchen.  She’ll scream until I give her some!  This cat can eat a pile of peppers - even the insides, without the seeds, though!  Her sisters & brothers turn their noses up!

*

Errol (yes, as in ’Flynn’...) could smell Hardee’s chicken a mile away!  He died at age 21 and a half.  When he’d go through a not eating phase, I’d go get him some chicken.  The girls at the pick up window got to know me (I’m pretty hard to miss in a red Miata!) and they’d ask, "Is this for your cat?"  He’d eat MOST of it over a few days;  I usually only got the biscuits out of a 10 pc box!

*

Panthera stole CANTELOUPE right off the dining room table!  I couldn’t turn my back on it.  She’s be up there chewing away on my half of it, totally oblivious that Mom was watching.

*

When Panther was a tiny..., TINY baby, my newphew, who was then 7 came over.  I’d made an oven stuffer roaster which was cooling on the counter.  Jake put Panther up there and this half pound kitten tried to run OFF with an 8 pound chicken!  She put all her might into pulling at it, feet dug in for traction, but got nowhere!  Jake, his Mom and I absolutely ROARED!

*

Katie was a sandwich thief! A roomate who was a dog person, and not versed in cat tricks, consistantly left his sandwiches on the kitchen table.  I warned him not to do it.  One day he’d made his lunch and turned away. Katie was on a chair which was pushed under the table so he didn’t see her there.  Kenny turned just in time to see this white paw come out from under the table, feel around, then SNATCH the sandwich off and run for her life with it in her mouth.  There goes Kenny, chasing her through the house.  He never got his lunch back!

*

Paintbrush (because of the white tip on her tail) decided one day when she was a kitten that she loved peanuts!  As fast as I could shell them, she’s gulp them down

*

Chloe went through a phase when she’d eat coffee beans.  I ground them fresh every morning in a hand grinder hung on the wall.  I’d usually spill some on the floor trying to pour beans into the glass hopper.  Clo would be right there, probably thinking they were ’crunchies’  (dry fd) eating them up!

*

Sehkmet was a garbage cat:  literally!  She was rescued from outside and had learned to eat human food - especially vegetables - out of the dumpster.  When my sister would make any veggies, there Sekkie would be.  Her favorite was potato peels!

*

More kitty tales to come! ----->

BEET GREENS:    Caruso, Buddy, Violet and Simi have decided they like beet greens!  As I was putting the greens in the fridge yesterday, a leaf hit the floor.  Crusie was chomping down on it, so I gave him more.  Damn if he didn't eat it!  Violet was screaming for some so she got in on it too.  Then some of the others decided that they had to try.  Well,  I was gonna eat these but I guess if the cats want them......

I have many, at the moment 13.  I’ve had these little critters all my life.  Some people don’t like cats;  my father was such a person.  He tolerated them, just barely. My mom and sister, however, are cat people.

I swear..., my house has a neon sign visible  o-n-l-y  to cats.  It sits on the very top of the house with the words -  "ALL CATS INQUIRE HERE"  Underneath, it flashes: SUCKER, SUCKER, SUCKER !!!

I started out with 4 ’imports’ when I moved from New York.  All indoor cats, spayed (that’s a rule!) I didn’t want or need any others.  Yeah - riiiiiight - it seems that God had other ideas!

A calico (female of course) showed up in August of ’99.  Months went by and no kittens.  Whew!  I lucked out on THAT one, or so I thought.  One morning I happened to look out onto to the tractor road and there Kee Kee was..., uh..., ’doin’ it’ with a gray tiger.  Oh oh....,

Well, you know how this went.  She was going to have kittens.  Obviously pregnant by late fall/early winter I thought she could just have them outside, until we got a series of bad storms (for this area where they think a half inch is the end of the world!) in February.

One morning after the worst bout of winter weather;  18 inches to be exact, I went out to the porch and found her literally buried inside her cat box/bed!  That was it - she was coming inside.  I had all the other cats inside and I didn’t want to mix her in with them fearing that if she had her kittens, the others would surely kill them.  So, I had an empty room upstairs with sunny windows which became her home.

February turned into March.  I swear, even though I have never had kids, I experienced something probably what expectant fathers do:  WHEN?  Every time I left the house I wondered if THIS was going to be the day.  Would there by tiny babies waiting for me when I got home?  Day after day I thought that it had to happen  a n y  time..., where were these little things?  Would I have to take her to the vet to assist?  Of course, I had to remind myself that everything in nature is to nature’s time, not our own.

The first week of March was coming to an end.  I’d go up and spend time with ’Mommy Kee’ as I now called her, many times during the day.  I’d inflated an air mattress so I could sleep in the room with her.

For a few days running, all she wanted me to do was rub her tummy.  I guess the poor thing kind of felt like an overripe watermelon;  that pressure of the babies (three, I’d guessed) was probably getting uncomfortable.

On the morning of the 8th, at about 6:45 I took my coffee up there as usual. I sat down and waited for her to come for a belly rub.  When I tried to rub it, she wouldn’t let me.  Oh.., oh..., this was different!  I tried again and she acquiesced.  In mid rub, she suddenly screamed loudly,  jumped up and ran to the bed I’d made her in the corner. 

THIS was IT!  SHOW TIME!

At about 7:15 the first baby was born; the color so dark, I couldn’t tell.  About 15 minutes later, another one arrived.  Same-looking color.  As she cleaned these little ones, I felt her tummy.  There was still another one in there.

A half hour passed, then an hour.  No howling from Kee, she was busy cleaning her two new babies.  Another half hour, and another.  Now I was getting nervous.  Where was the third?  Was my hunch about having to call the vet right? 

Another half hour went by and she began to howl again.  Thank God - the third one was coming!  After one BIG SCREAM on her part, a HUGE orange kitten emerged!  (OUCH!) There was #3.  I was right - that’s all she would have.

Of course I couldn’t resist;  I had to pick them up.  Still wet from being born and her cleaning, these little things were sooooo tiny.  Squealing with all their might at being lifted into the air and handled, I gently held them in my hands, putting them to my face in a tiny hug. Their tiny claws gripped my fingers as they screamed and screamed!  Mom was concerned but she knew that her babies were safe.

The next day the town’s florist delivered flowers addressed to MOMMY KEE with a note attached:  "Congratulations on the birth of the triplets"

 As I don’t know who was born first, I like to think that the two boys, Gabriel (Gabe) and Pinkerton (for pink toes and nose..., aka Pinky) protected their sister Violet, as she was in the middle.

 Eight years later, Mom and kids are still with me, safe here in the house.  I just wish they all were little kittens again!

 While most of my friends received something from AARP about the time they turned 50, I somehow escaped.  At first I thought,  "GOOD!  I don't want to be a part of the 'old people's' organization - I'm NOT old!"  From time to time, as I heard of things AARP has accomplished, and logged onto the site to see what's going on, I softened my stance.

Well, yesterday I finally DID IT; subscribed to this organization and added my support.  Hey - we boomers need to stick together, right?  There are 70-something MILLION of us.  Not to mention all the other wise ones who are our elders!  We ROCK!

'Course, I am NOTAGRANNY and never will be.  No kids or grandkids, though I do have a lot of 'adopted' kids, neices and nephews.

I drive a red Miata    and probably will till I have to hang up the keys!

I am... NOTAGRANNY!