It Takes Two Days to Turn Forty!

Turning forty required a two-day celebration and extravaganza!

Mindy June & I had begun discussing the implications of a zero-laden birthday last fall. She wanted to celebrate with me in whichver US city I chose, since she was going to be in the States for the Christmas holidays - even though we are really just heathens who hate Christmas and instead purposely wish everyone HAPPY HOLIDAYS! just to screw JC out of the attention that is rightfully His. But I digress.

Since I've been saying since about 1992 that on my fortieth I would reenact Eddie's AbFab 40th birthday, Mindy also offered the option of my flying to England so that we could do it authentically. We also considered New York (my current home), Los Angeles (my preferred home), and for about two minutes I considred Minneapolis (my spiritual home) until I remembered the first New Year's I made George attend there - he barfed the entire time and has never really wanted to go back.

Ultimately we decided on Chicago since a) I would already be there to celebrate Christmas with my family, b) it was not as difficult for the handful of Minneapolis friends who wanted to join us, and c) I have a small group of friends there who were up for partying. So Chicago it was!

Christmas with the family was nice and quiet. We spent several days with with my sister in Springfield, and one of the highlights of the holiday was spending time with my very cute two-year old great-niece, Haven.

Haven with Great-Uncle Tom
































Haven in her new Chinese outfit, with Great-Uncle George































After Christmas we had a day in Palatine with my parents, and then we set off to Chicago to start the birthday extravaganza.




<--Waiting for the Northwestern into Chicago

























On the way to party for two days-->





























When we disembarked in the city, we hopped in a cab and rode over to the W Lakeshore hotel, where Mindy was able to book us some great rooms with a view of Lake Michigan.























View of the lake and Navy Pier from our hotel window











After checking in, we headed up to Wrigleyville to have lunch and queer-eye ourselves a bit for the New Year.



Liquid lunch















Before...














...After!













George with our fab stylist, Tina














George & I then headed back to the W to have cocktails with our Evening One party! First we ran into Laurie, one of my old pals from high school whom I had not seen since her wedding day about 12 years ago! (What can I say, time flies!)


Tom & Laurie Whorie, with Steve in the foreground













Then we ran into Mindy, and the cocktail party began. Also present were Lulu, Jane, Steve, Bethany, Sharon, Scott, Tim, Shawn & Christy. Jane kicked off the celebrations with the first of what became the "hourly toast" by welcoming everyone to Chicago.

After sucking down several $15 cocktails at the W, we piled in cabs and cars and headed off to Wicker Park, a young-ish funky neighborhood (and there is no "u" in the word "neighborhood," Min) where we dined at Feast, a fabulous "eclectic" restaurant with South and East Asian twists. More cocktails, dinner, conversation, and hourly toasts.


On the way to Feast















Hourly toast number 4? -->



















George with Scott & Sharon

















Last evening of my thirties














After a fabulous dinner and many toasts, we headed off to a nearby club, the Double Door, a very cool mid-size live music venue with a slightly grungy feel. Going out to hear live music (and not of the orchestral or symphonic kind) was one of my main hobbies in my twenties, and is something I've gotten away from as I've aged. So I made a pact with myself that I would revive that part of my life in my forties, starting with my birthday celebrations - which was to be two nights of live music and other festivities.

I had enlisted the help of Lulu and her friend Sharon to choose the appropriate venues. Sharon has always had music as one of her primary interests in life, and was a great resource for tapping into what Chicago might have to offer. Her initial search (which started in the late fall) didn't, according to her, yield much in terms of live music, although she did say that Liquid Soul at the Double Door could be "mildly interesting." I checked out their website & listened to some sound bytes, and liked what I heard. They are kind of contemporary jazz, kind of funkish, only slightly rap-ish. And the venue was the kind of place I was looking for - somewhere big enough to move around a bit but not overly huge.

I loved Liquid Soul! When we first arrived we were drinking beers & kind of standing around the back of the room until the music started. It was kind of hard to get into them standing so far back, so eventually I decided to move up to the front, bringing along Sharon, Scott, Bethany, Christy, and my friend Marla who arrived late. The rest of the gang headed to an upstairs table area where they were able to sit and converse.

The singer with the dredlocks came down into the crowd and gave me a big hug when he was passing by. He was outstanding.
















I had an unbelievably great time listening to this group. Marla and Christy really liked them too, and I think Sharon & Scott liked them although we haven't spoken since that night so she can tell you herself. I think everyone else was slightly lukewarm, or at least just really tired since this was all happening at about midnight on a Friday - despite my reliving my twenties, we're just not 25 any more. But I felt like I was that night! And I have such nice pals that were willing to indulge me.

Marla initiated the other highlight of the evening, which was crowding into one of those old-fashioned photo booths that spits out a series of four pictures of you & your friends making goofy faces. At the end of the night she crammed four of us in there together - and I would like some of these pictures by the way, to those of you who kept them all!

Mindy drove Marla, George & me back to the W where we collapsed in our respective rooms.

I got up at 6:30 am with a splitting headache and a questionable stomach. It was one of those hangovers where the headache is borderline migraine and you feel like you might be sick if you move the wrong way. Not a great way to start off the actual day of my birthday. I crept into some clothes and out into the fresh air of the city. I knew I had to find some food so that I could down half a bottle of Advil, and the first thing I came across was McDonald's, where I was able to get down about half of an Egg McMuffin, followed by about four Advil. Almost lost it all right there on the table. (Thank you for sharing, I know.)

Then out for a walk in the brisk lakefront air, which put me back to my splendid old self in about twenty minutes. I had a great walk along the water and into Navy Pier. Bizarre observance: Navy Pier has some amusement park type rides including a large ferris wheel with mini gondoloa-like cars to ride in. For some strange reason the park never turns off the loudspeakers inside the gondolas. So if you walk by this ferris wheel at an odd hour (as in 8:00 am on a Saturday in December) you will hear a chipper man's voice telling you about the landmarks to be observed over the lake while you ride the ferris wheel.

Ferris Wheel at Navy Pier during a warmer time of year


















I also sat for about ten minutes in a deserted indoor/outdoor ampitheater and imagined I was a famous director/producer contemplating my next stage hit. I also imagined this is probably where local teens come to do naughty things when it's a little warmer.

When I returned to the hotel, George was just waking up. I called Min & Marla to see what they were up to, and we decided to go to Chicago's Chinatown in search of dim sum for breakfast. We found some, and it was delicious - every bit as good as what we get in Brooklyn. The restaurant people speak completely fluent English unlike their Brooklyn counterparts. They were slightly horrified that we requested oyster sauce with our turnip cakes, but that's how they serve it in New York (as we had to explain.) They complied, but not willingly.


Marla, Tom & Min in the Chinatown parking lot. Mindy's pretending to be a morning person.












We headed back to the W and hung out with Marla for a few more minutes before she had to take off. It was so great to spend some time with her - I don't see her enough.


Me counseling Marla on what it's like to be forty.













Then it was naptime! Before retiring to her own quarters, Mindy came up to make sure our room was up to snuff. I liked the window from the bathroom to the bedroom.


Our hotel room


















Party Evening Two!

The festivities resumed with a 5:00 pm cocktail party at the W, featuring a live reenactment of the "Eddie Turns 40" AbFab episode, the most successful show ever to be produced in the lobby bar of the W Lakeshore! A smash hit, starring:

George, as Saffy (anal retentive daughter)
















Christy, as Patsy (alcoholic sidekick)














Beth, as Mother (senile crow)
















Tim, as Marshall (gay ex-husband)


















Shawn, as Oliver (poisonous odious boyfriend)




















Lulu, as Bo 1 (gold-digging Yankee bimbo)














Jane, as Bo 2, and Steve, as Justin (junkie ex-husband)
















and Tom as Eddie























Directed by the Lovely & Talented Mindy June




















Beth, Lulu, Jane & Steve give it their all
















Jane fairly swoons at Tim's portrayal of Marshall





















Can't keep your hands off second-hand goods!!!!





















Eddie, Patsy & Oliver -->






















Dr. Beth Stover contemplates her character's motivation, while Lulu emotes as Bo





















We weren't quite sure how to approach the whole reenactment thing, so we mainly sat in our bar area reading from the scripts. If I ever do something like this again I will get a large screen TV and do a Rocky-Horror style front-of-the-screen thing. But it was fun, and we amused more than several bar patrons & employees. The bar even sent over a tray of birthday treats when they saw what we were doing.

Next time I celebrate New Year's with Jane, we'll do the "Patsy's Sister" episode where she will portray Bubble! ("I know something....")


We then piled into more cabs and headed off to Coobah, for dinner. Coohbah is another "eclectic" restaurant with a heavily Cuban influence on their menu, along with tastes of other areas of Latin America. I highly recommend it if you're ever in Chicago. I continued my Eddie impersonation throughout dinner, and tortured the server a bit. "Oh, should I clear my own plate on my birthday? Well not much of a bloody birthday, is it Sweetie?"

Our cab driver had given us a rose. (Ok, so he probably meant for it to be for Beth, but I absconded with it since it was my bloody birthday.) Since Lulu brought her own tiara to dinner, someone got the idea that each of us should don the tiara and hold the rose between our teeth for a photo op - hence the following photo series. (I had forgotten that we did this until I saw the pics. Kind of unsanitary, but fun!)


Land-o-Lulu
















Mindy June -->

Tim -->

Bethany -->





















Shawn -->













Jane -->

































Steve































Beth






























George
























Tom



























Beth & George, sans Rose & Tiara























After dinner we were off to the final leg of our two-day party for some live music at Schubas, an intimate little club in Wrigleyville favored by Lulu. The opening band was Office, whose sound I enjoyed quite a bit. The lead singer was this bald Billy Corgan-looking mothah with a nice mellow voice. And I'm so glad when guys in bands try to clean it up a bit and wear a suit. You don't have to look like you haven't bathed in three years to rock down.

Their gimmick was this girl dressed up like a 1940s secretary who sat at various typing machines and banged out rhythm along with the percussionist, although you couldn't really hear her tapping at all. Sometimes when they felt sorry for her the band would give her a tambourine.




1940s secretary tapping

























Billy Corgan-looking mothah



























Between bands, our party separated. We said farewell to half the group who went back to the hotel to watch fireworks on Lake Michigan while George, Lu, Beth, Jane, Steve & I stayed on to hear the headline band, The Changes. They are a local favorite and were pretty good, though several of us concurred that the first band was better. The lead singer of The Changes had a strong start and a very nice voice, but as he progressed through his first set he started to lose his pitch. The crowd was starting to get drunk & unruly, but we stayed on. My pals are such troupers!























The Changes






























































Flirty Lulu




















Jane would make a good royal






























Beth, still striking after midnight












































I enjoyed The Changes until they started to lose their pitch, which had something to do with it being late, the crowd getting excited and there may have been alcohol involved too. Then, they ran out of original songs and started a cover of "Every Breath You Take" which was our signal to leave, on accounta I have a policy never to listen to that song from start to finish.

The streets of Chicago at 2 am were like a scene out of "Night of the Living Dead," and we were more than happy to wind up safe back in our hotel room.

It was one rockin' New Year's birthday, one that I will not soon forget. Thanks to everyone who played!

New Postings on the Way!

Hey everyone, sorry for the extended absence. I am working on a new posting to recap the holidays, with lots of pictures! It's too long to do in one sitting, so keep checking back - it will be up soon.

For those of you who attended my birthday celebrations, I am lacking pictures of our night at the Double Door. If you have any pics for me, please email them so that I can include them in my posting.

Coaster Punchman's World has some exciting new programs to launch in 2006, so stay tuned!

Oh, and another thing about the strike

I forgot to mention that we were also discussing how slimy the MTA (the employer) is in all this strike business.

The Taylor Law in New York makes it illegal for public employees to strike. It was enacted (I think) after another transit strike many years ago that crippled the city. The MTA has beem making a lot of noise about how what the transit workers did was "illegal." The union leaders were threatened with jail time if they didn't call off the strike.

Meanwhile, the MTA has been pulling their own shady shenanigans for years, cooking their books, lying to the union and public, pretending to be in dire financial straits to justify a 33% fare increase to the public and then "unexpectedly" finding enormous budget surplusses after the fact, effectively lying to and cheating both the workers and the riders. The MTA leaders should have been fired and thrown in jail, end of story.

Meanwhile, they have this Taylor Law on their side and get to threaten the union with jail for taking the only steps they have to protect themselves.

My point is, while this Taylor Law makes sense because we simply can't have the city brought to its knees over things like this, shouldn't the employer have some sort of legal obligation to avert a strike as well? If you remove the ability to strike but don't balance it with an obligation on the other side, you're really putting all the power in the hands of the MTA. And we know from experience that that ain't good. Lying bastards.

Did you like it better when I talked about my cat?

I've revised my position

Hello faithful readers,
George & I made it to Chicago, and barely. It took hours to get to the airport, but thanks to Jim's willingness to pick us up & brave the horrible traffic, we made it in the nick of time.

Jim and I were talking about the strike, and I would have to agree with his point of view to some extent. People are pissed as the transit union for striking, but more because of WHEN they chose to strike (right before the holidays) rather than BECAUSE they chose to strike.

It's true that they are already more highly paid than the majority of workers, and they don't currently contribute anything at all toward their health or pension plans. It seems unfair to the rest of us.

But that's why they have a union. Unions serve a good purpose (at least the ones that aren't controlled by gangsters.) And just because all the other workers and/or unions in the US have caved to The Man doesn't mean the transit union has to. They've decided to draw a line, and they're sticking to it. So, ok.

But they finally realize what a PR nightmare they've created for themselves. This strike would have been more effective if they had made noise in the media about seeing New Yorkers through the holidays before going on strike. People would have appreciated that gesture. And so, that is why (in my opinion) they have called it off for the duration of the continuing negotiations.

While we're still on this topic, what is the deal with calling Bloomberg a racist because he called the union leaders "thugs"? Everyone knows the stereotype of unions being run by the mob. I thought "thug" was just a synonym for "mobster." I have never associated that word with any kind of race. When I think of a "thug" I think of one of those big bald guys with five o'clock shadow that you might see in a Mad Magazine cartoon - the kind of guy who grunts out "dis is a stickup!" Since when does "thug" refer to a black, Latino or Asian person? It's quite possible that I'm behind the times with respect to the definition or connotation of this word. Just curious.

Random thoughts during a mass transit strike right before the holidays

1. Everyone in New York now hates the transit union. They have certain beefs with their employer, so they're punishing the public at large. It is just unbelievable what removing transportation has done to New York. I get heartsick when I think of all the hourly workers who can't get to their jobs (and consequently cannot get paid) because they have no transportation. All sorts of stores, restaurants and other businesses have just shut down for the duration of the strike because they either can't get their workers there or they can't get their supplies delivered. It's really despicable that the union chose to do this right before the holidays. They could have just as easily waited until January 2 to go on strike.

2. I hope the courts strictly enforce the $1,000,000 per day fines that they have imposed upon the union.

3. We are supposed to fly to Chicago tomorrow. I've been getting anxious voice mails from my family asking if we'll be able to get there (since there are no good options for getting to the airport.)

4. The problem mentioned in #3 above has been addressed: our friend Jim is going to drive us. Parts of the freeway to La Guardia will be off limits to us because they're only allowing cars with 4+ passengers to use them. Through a combination of partial side-street and highway driving, we should be able to find our way there, though we will be sure to leave 3.5 hours early.

5. My friend Oddrun let me stay over at her apartment last night so that I could make a 10 am meeting this morning. I still had to leave her apartment before 8:00 am to make the 2-mile walk to the appointment. If I had been gimped I wouldn't have been able to go at all.

6. Today, George + Tom = 8 years! We celebrated this evening with Sarah, Ben, Sue & Jim in New Jersey with a lovely pork roast, red cabbage, potatoes, champagne & cake dinner. It took over 2 hours to make the trip to their home, since the transit strike has caused mayhem all over the tri-state area.

7. Did I mention that everyone in New York hates the transit union? This strike had better be over by the time I get back from Chicago, or they're going to have one serious bitch on their hands. And I'm not even talking about what George's mom will do if she can't make it back to the horse races by then!

Strike

The New York MTA workers (subway operators & bus drivers) are on strike now. It is going to take hours upon hours to get to work. And I don't even want to think about what it will be like trying to get home.

I have a ton of sh*t on my desk to take care of by EOD tomorrow, because Thursday I'm supposed leave for Christmas vacation. And tons of stuff to take care of during non-working hours, which I will now have to forfeit because I'll need the time to walk to & from work instead.

The union is striking because these already highly paid employees are now being asked to contribute something to their own health & pension plans, like 99.999% of the other workers in this country, present company included.


Happy f*cking holidays, sh*theads.

This is my own Post Secret

I have told a few people I believe Paul Wellstone was murdered.


I have never told anyone I sometimes believe our government wanted 9/11 to happen.

Happy Holidays from 30 Second Bunny Theater!

The folks who create our favorite reenactments have a new one on "A Christmas Story!"

Watch it here!

Random Thoughts on a Saturday

1. Our new apartment has dimmer switches in every room. I can't stress the importance of mood lighting in the bathroom. When I first get up in the morning, nothing really works but soothing dim. By the time I'm done with my shower & ready to confront my face, I up it a little bit. When I need to do some heavy duty examination, I turn it all the way up and it's like an interrogation room in there.

2. We have a cool medicine cabinet that has another mirror inside the door - you can open it up and do minor surgery on yourself. (This next part is really gross, so if you're disgusted by bodily things, stop reading.) I had a soreness in the back of my throat last week and it seemed kind of odd, so I turned up the bathroom lights & opened wide to see what was what. I discovered I had one of those annoying little canker sores (fever blisters) on that flappy thing that covers your windpipe when you swallow! Yuck! Couldn't exactly get any cold sore medicine back there. So I had to endure the stupid thing being aggravated every time I swallowed for about a week. It's better now.

2. Ok, that was TMI. Sorry.

3. I'm turning forty and I get to behave however I want on my bloody birthday, Sweetie, house rule.

4. Certain people that I work with are big liars, and I'm not afraid to point this out to them when they try to dick me. I'm becoming more of a New Yorker every year.

5. I'm writing Christmas cards again this year after missing 2004. If you are not normally on my list and want to receive one, you should email me your address.

Post Traumatic Etiquette Whore Series: Miss Manners sticks it to the Bride

My favorite Miss Manners columns are the ones where someone writes in all upset about some social gaffe they imagine to have been inflicted upon them, only to have Miss Manners side with the purportedly rude party. She slays me.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: My boyfriend and I announced our engagement four months ago. We have not set a date yet, as we are still trying to figure out the details of our wedding. We told everyone that it would probably happen in the fall of 2006, but we weren't certain.

My fiance's closest sister, who is older than he and is not married, was happy for us when she heard the news, but also a bit jealous. You see, she has been living with the same man for 10 years and she very much wants a family and he has yet to commit.

Much to everyone's surprise, she suddenly announced that she, too, was getting married and the wedding would be this January! I am very upset because I feel that she is being inconsiderate by not waiting for my fiance and me to set our date and now their family has to attend two weddings in one year! What is the proper etiquette, if any, that she should have followed in setting her wedding date?

GENTLE READER: Are you suggesting that since she has waited 10 years for a husband and children already, she might as well wait another year so that you can have the spotlight all to yourself? Or rather, that she should do so out of courtesy to the poor relatives who might face the hardship of attending two weddings in a single year?

Miss Manners finds it imprudent of you to have brought up the question of jealousy. Let us assume that your prospective sister-in-law is getting married because she wants to, as you acknowledge, and because the gentleman is willing, which you oddly fail to acknowledge but is surely a prerequisite. Let us also assume that she sees her marriage as living her life, rather than trying to top yours, and that she wishes you and her brother well, which she has indicated.

Miss Manners is hoping to hear that you can manage to behave as if you had the same attitude.

I'm damn mad. I'm talking Mommie Dearest mad.

My blood almost boiled over when I read the following NYT op-ed piece on the subway this morning. The IRS (an agency of a completely right-wing Republican-controlled government) has decided to go after a notoriously liberal church for daring to overstep the church-state line that the Republicans have been working so hard to abolish. I'm so upset over this that I don't even know what to say. Therefore, I am delegating the assignment to blog our collective outrage to the lovely & talented Mindy June, editor of the blog-o-punditocracy known as I'm a Liberal and You Should Be, Too. That is, when she has time.

Meanwhile, see the op-ed piece reprinted below. I used to attend All Saints periodically when I lived in California. I have several friends who are faithful attenders, and the priest there is/was outstanding. I believe he was one of the first to get in hot water for blessing same-sex unions.

New York Times
November 22, 2005

Editorial

Taxing an Unfriendly Church

Shortly before the last election, a former rector at All Saints Episcopal Church in Pasadena, Calif., gave a fiery antipoverty and antiwar sermon. He did not endorse a presidential candidate, but he criticized President Bush's policies in Iraq and at home. Now the Internal Revenue Service has challenged the church's tax-exempt status. It's important to know just how the tax police have chosen this church - and other congregations - to pursue after an election that energized churchgoers of most denominations.

I.R.S. officials have said about 20 churches are being investigated for activities across the political spectrum that could jeopardize their tax status. The agency is barred by law from revealing which churches, but officials have said these targets were chosen by a team of civil servants, not political appointees, at the Treasury Department. The I.R.S. argues that freedom of religion does not grant freedom from taxes if churches engage in politics.

That should mean that the 2004 presidential campaign would be an extremely fertile field. While some churches allowed Democrats to speak from the pulpit, the conservative Christians last year mounted an especially intense - and successful - drive to keep President Bush in office. Some issued voter guides that pointedly showed how their own religion was allied with Mr. Bush's views. Several Roman Catholic bishops even suggested that a vote for John Kerry would be a mortal sin. Since the election, Republicans have held two openly political nationally televised revival meetings at churches to support Mr. Bush's judicial nominations.

If the I.R.S. is pursuing any of those churches, we certainly have not heard from them about it. All Saints in Pasadena has released copies of the letter from the I.R.S., along with tapes of the sermon and a defense of the church's antiwar mission going back to the days when church leaders protested internment of Japanese-Americans during World War II. The I.R.S. letter stated that the agency had "concerns" about a sermon by the Rev. George Regas that The Los Angeles Times called "a searing indictment of the Bush administration's policies in Iraq."

Church leaders have hired lawyers and refused to agree to a settlement that requires them to admit that the sermon was over the line drawn by the I.R.S. The Rev. J. Edwin Bacon, the rector of All Saints, told parishioners that the church would continue to resist the government's efforts. That sounds right. With the feverish courting of religious voters these days, the I.R.S. does have the daunting task of separating politics from church policy. Still, it would seem to be hard to justify picking on a church that has a long record of opposition to wars waged by leaders from both parties.

Cuter than Sh*t Series: Cute doggies

Mindy June once told me she's not into "puppies & kittens" - meaning, essentially, "don't baby talk at me or show me all sort of cute sh*t and expect me to be happy about it." (Although I'll welcome comments from MJH if I have that wrong.) Of course, being who I am, I now find it necessary to forward her as many cute-as-sh*t pictures as possible just to annoy her a little bit. I should really stop that kind of behavior before I end up in Hell. Nonetheless, I'm now inflicting this on the rest of you, my loyal readers.

My friend Greg has always been deathly allergic to mammals, but somehow was able to get along just fine with his boyfriend's dog, Foster. (Which only strengthens my resolve in insisting that these "allergies" to animals are mostly psychosomatic, and that if you love someone enough you'll take Benedryl and buck up.) Anyway, Greg grew to love Foster sooooo much that his boyfriend bought him a new puppy dog to go along with Foster. Even the crustiest among you will have to admit, this picture is Cute as Sh*t:


Foster & Spencer 

This next one is a picture of my friend Joan's dog, Buddy, who is sitting happily next to his gurlfriend. Apparently he gets all happy & giddy whenever she's around, and in this photo he is actually smiling:


Buddy smiling 

Now if that's not Cuter than Sh*t, I don't know what is!

Neuticals

Ok, now I HAVE seen everything.

You have GOT to be kidding me.

This is really disgusting

The python that ate too much 

My friend Jen at work likes to track bizarre news stories, which she often forwards to me. This one is really disturbing. An enormous python in the Florida Everglades swallowed a six-foot alligator whole, and then busted a gut - literally.

Might be something to keep in mind as the holiday season approaches....

Read the full story here.

Serious Time Waster

See this link:

I'm usually pretty good about not blogging at work, but I thought you might need to make use of this tool sooner rather than later. Thanks to Vincent for the head's up.

I like to make him do the splits!

Oh puhhhh-lease

Some conservative groups are worried that Harriet Miers won't be right-wing enough to sit on the Supreme Court. Bush has known her for ten years, and has worked with her for the past five. Who in their right mind could ever think he'd pick someone who won't send women back to the alleys & elevator shafts? Even Cheney says "Trust me!" to those who would be concerned. Sends shivers down my spine, and not the good kind.

Fun link

We used to do this kind of stuff to Betty, but never took pictures, unfortunately.

I didn't get scared until

right before I went into the haunted house, when my mom said "remember, it's not real." Something about her saying that freaked me out, and so I walked close behind the big kid in front of me the whole way, holding onto a wrinkle in his shirt so gently that he never knew I was there.

Ma vie sans chat

This will be the first time in 15 years I have not lived with a cat. As I got out of bed today and walked to the bathroom, I kept watching my feet to be careful not to step on a cat eager for her breakfast. Although I've noticed that before during periods when Betty was staying over at her Aunt Oddrun's, it was especially poignant this morning. Then this afternoon I sat down to watch TV and had to keep myself from calling her to join me. (We both loved lazy TV days sometimes.)

George and I had a nice quiet little "service" for Betty. We laid her to rest in a quiet spot in our backyard. We buried her with her hand-made kitty bowl (since food was her favorite pasttime), an old t-shirt of mine, a few of her toys, and pictures of me, George and Oddrun (who was her sometimes-mommy). Then we lit a pretty citronella candle holder that looks like a miniature gazebo, some other candles and incense sticks, and sat at her grave for about an hour sipping tawny port wine. It was very healing.

Thanks to everyone for all the very sweet phone calls, emails and notes on the blog entry. We are sad, but compared to the other two deaths we have dealt with the past few months, at least this one wasn't tragically early. It's the difficult part of having pets - having to say goodbye at the end of their lives. But we know what a difference we made to Betty, having saved her off the farm and giving her 14 years of food, warm beds and love. And she returned it all tenfold (at least the love part of it.)

We're going to be pet-free for a while until we get settled into our apartment after it is rebuilt. At some point after that, be prepared for a blog entry to introduce you to our two new pets: a French bulldog for George and a new kitten for me. We're going to raise them together, and also bring them over right away to meet Oddrun's cats, Clarence & Lucy, so that they can all be pals and have sleepovers together.

Betty

There's a new angel in heaven.  

In the fall of 1991, when I was still living in Minneapolis, I decided to get a playmate for my cat Shirley, who had recently moved in with me and away from her step-brother, Atticus. I was doing that stupid thing where you assign human emotional norms to your pet. I figured, Shirley is lonely and she misses Atticus! She needs another cat around to keep her company while I'm at work! Only later did I discover from Shirley's previous owner that she HATED Atticus, and couldn't wait to get away from him.

So, in keeping with my stupid human plan, one chilly Sunday morning my then-boyfriend Mark & I drove out to Vasa, Minnesota, where my friend Aimee's parents lived on a large country estate with lots of random animals, including a pack of barn cats. The most recent litter of kittens had been born just a few weeks earlier. Autumn is late in the year for kittens to be born on Minnesota farms, where the early cold can make it hard for a non-house litter to survive. So I knew that whichever kitten we chose was going to be one lucky cat to be able to go home to a nice warm apartment.

I really wanted a grey kitty. There were several that I thought were really cute, but they were already a bit long in the tooth to be handled by humans, and kept running away from us as we tried to catch them. At one point Aimee did grab hold of one very pretty grey tabby, who subsequently bit her finger almost clear through to the bone. We let that one go.


Betty with prey.  

After a while Mark said "look at this little orange and black one. She keeps following us around." I looked down and saw the tiniest little tortoise colored kitten in the world. She was only about as big as one of my fists, but she was plenty feisty, walking around on all fours, mewing up a storm. When you looked at her she would return your gaze and head straight for you, meowing as if to say "Pick me, pleeeeeease, pretty please, pick me!!!" I wasn't that fond of her coloring, and besides that she had a pin head with a strange orange stripe running down the length of her forehead. I kept on with my search for a grey kitten.

But she would have none of it, and would not leave us alone. Finally Mark said "well Tom, I think this one is choosing us!" And I had to admit, something about her insistence was really endearing. She was clearly very intelligent, which I figured would make up for her strange appearance. I decided to take her home, and the second I picked her up she started purring.

I drove home, and the new kitten slept on Mark's lap the entire way. "What should we name her?" I asked. Mark suggested the name "Stripe" because of the orange stripe on her forehead. Hmmm, not really my style. I've always preferred old lady names for my female cats: Shirley, Lucy, Samantha - that sort of thing. I never wanted to name a pet something that might be confused with a beer commercial mascot.

"How about Sabena?" I replied. Mark was of German descent, and I thought he would appreciate it. "Sabena? That's weird. Let's think about it some more."


Betty was an avid connoisseur of house plants. 

I took the kitty home that evening, and set up a tiny little bed for her in a corner of the bedroom. (Shirley, who had not reacted well to the kitten's entrance, was banished to the living room for the night.) I didn't want the kitten sleeping in my bed because she was so tiny, I was afraid I'd roll over on her and not hear her meows. So I put the kitty in her bed, got into my own bed, turned out the lights - and then about 10 seconds later heard this little scratching noise. Then I noticed the comforter moving slightly - and up appeared the kitten, who climbed up the comforter into bed with me. After several attempts at putting her in her own bed, I had to let her sleep with me. And we succeeded - she curled up on a pillow next to my head where she was remained safe from possible suffocation.

The next morning I was talking to my friend Laurie, and we were reminiscing about an old joke of ours where we thought it would be really funny if we started calling our friend Beth "Betty". It was really, really stupid, but for some reason it just made us laugh uncontrollably. My friend Sarah had always gotten a kick out of that joke as well. Later I started thinking "Betty. Why not name the cat Betty?" I made a mental note to speak with Mark about it. I also called my friend Sarah and left her a message to tell her about my great idea for the cat's name.

Normally I would have wanted my boyfriend to like the name of my new pet. But as fate would have it, Sarah called me back later that day, before I had a chance to see Mark, and left me a message on my answering machine: "Hi Tom! Hi Betty! So how is Betty enjoying her new home?" It seemed too much like fate that the cat was already getting answering machine messages addressed to her by her name, "Betty."


Betty was a notorious cover and pillow thief.  

A few hours later I talked to Mark on the phone and told him why I had decided, finally, that the new kitten would be called "Betty." "Betty?" he said. "How about Sabena? I guess I really like Sabena!" I detected downright panic in his voice. But it was too late. Betty was already becoming known in my circle.

Betty was nothing if not a charmer. She was very bright, and had a distinctive and sometimes rambunctious personality. When we lived in West Hollywood she used to sit outside in the front yard of my house and greet all the passers-by. Sometimes I would sit out front with her and complete strangers would walk right up to us and say "Hi, Betty!" She had more friends in the neighborhood than I did.

Betty loved food almost more than anything else. I used to call her "Concentration Camp Kitty" because if left uncontrolled, she would eat as if she'd been intentionally starved for months. Those early days on the farm without enough food for all the cats must have made a strong impression. I remember the first week that I had her home as a kitten in Minneapolis. I was having my dinner, and Betty was sitting on my lap while I ate. She was obsessed with trying to taste all the food on my plate. I let her sniff a piece of meat before I put it in my mouth. She wanted it so badly and she actually reached up and stuck her entire little paw in my mouth to try to get it.


Betty's religion considered it a sin to let humans eat alone.  


Probably my favorite thing about Betty was her love of cuddling. I used to call her the "Teddy Cat" because she would cuddle on demand. If I was in the living room watching something sad on TV, sometimes I would decide I needed Betty to come keep me company. I would call "Betty! Come see me!" and in about five minutes she would appear from whatever she had been doing to join me on the couch. I'd never had a cat so willing to drop everything for a cuddle. She was an absolute sweetheart. She would also sleep right next to me in bed every night, letting me clutch her like a teddy bear.

There are too many Betty stories to share right now, as we mourn her passing earlier today. I had her for fourteen wonderful years, and George enjoyed her company for eight of those years. I will write more Betty blog entries as the thoughts come to me. Meanwhile, we drink a toast to the life of this remarkable and wonderful cat.


Betty 1991-2005 

Is John Roberts a Total 'Mo?

Maybe Souter won't be the only closeted justice on the Supreme Court. See this link for details.

Traitor 

My new summer drink

One of the best things about being a transplanted Midwesterner is that everyone thinks you're some kind of genius just because you know how to mix a drink. It just doesn't seem to dawn on people that if you grow up surrounded by drunkards you have to learn these skills at a tender age.

I'll admit that I'm not always that swift in the kitchen. I can manage just fine, but I'm not always the kind of cook who knows how to add "just enough." I like measurements, approximate if not exact.

But when it comes to drinks, I do it all by feel. I just know when I've got the right mix of vodka to orange juice, for example. I can tell by the smell of the lime how much sugar I'll have to add to make that cocktail delicious instead of too tart or bitter. I know how to eyeball a jigger, even if I'm a bit heavy handed (another Midwestern bonus.) It is a proven fact that my mixed drinks are so delicious and deceptively strong that I can put an entire dinner party under the table before the first course is on the table. (I've learned, the hard way, to give the chef half strength drinks to avoid having your dinner ruined before it's served.)

With that, I will share with you my latest summer cocktail advenure, Planter's Punch.


 

Squeeze the juice of one lime (or 1.5 limes if you like it tart) into a collins glass. Add sugar or sugar syrup - up to a tablespoon's worth (more if the limes are especially tart.) Mix well. Add soda, about twice as much as the amount of lime juice. Add a bunch of ice cubes and stir until the glass becomes frosted. Throw in a few dashes of bitters, and fill the glass almost to the top with light rum (a shot or two.) Add more ice, then top with grenadine (I like to see the grenadine drizzle down over the ice cubes.) Garnish with lime wedges & whatever other fruit you have. DELICIOUS!

Advice from my mother

One time when I was a teenager I was complaining to my mom that people don't automatically like me because I don't smile enough. She said "so do you think you should walk around like you have a mouth full of shit?"