Holy Cow! You guys are wonderful!

Through the RAISE MOOLAH FOR JAMES' WALK WEEK we've managed to raise {insert drumroll here} $345.00 so far!

Thank you so very much, you wonderfully generous people! James will appreciate it! As my sister said on the donation page, James is always amazed at how many people show up for the walk. It blows his mind that so many people want his disease to be cured. So, it's going to doubly blow his mind that people he's never met before---people who live all over America and the world----and who would not have known about him without the internet or the blogosphere would help him free himself from this disease. We, truly, live in an age of wonder and it's so nice to be able to make good things happen because of it!

But...

Just like a pledge drive on Public TV, we're not done yet. If you haven't had the opportunity to donate and would like to support James, you can go here and make a donation. No amount is too small and, believe me, every dime is appreciated!

I should probably add that we've had a wee bit of an issue with overseas donations. If you are, perhaps, in the UK, Canada, Australia---or any other country for that matter---and would like to donate, but are having issues with JDRF's American-centric donation page, please email me. There is a solution to the problem. Email me and I'll let you in on it.

Finally, I would like to thank these fine bloggers for helping me spread the word, and for adding wonderful words of their own to help the cause.

Go and tell them what really cool people they are. They deserve it.

Posted by: Kathy at 04:13 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Is there anything better than a camp song in the summertime? I didn't think so. Remind me sometime to write out the words to "Magalena Hagalena" one day. I still have that sucker rolling around in my head.

Anyway...

Good Morning Ladies and Gents. It is, of course, Thursday, which means it's Demystifying Divas Day. Our topic this week: the best ways to avoid rejection and to deal with it.

Ahhh. The joys of dating. Another reason why I'm very glad I'm not single. I've often told Mr. H., after listening to his stories of singleton life, that I am ever so thankful I'll never have to deal with the dating world EVER again. And other than the fact that men, apparently, expect different things in bed these days than they did when I was single, rejection is the main reason I don't ever want to be single again.

Because it's not fun, is it? Someone judging you by some completely arbitrary set of standards that you, upon first or second glance, do not meet. I got this a lot when I was single. You want to know the main reason men did not flit my way? The fact that I'm nearsighted and wear glasses. Yep. They're really that shallow. Until their own set of spectacles---ones that magically appeared after a few pitchers of beer---got slapped on. Then, evidently, men really do make passes at women who wear glasses. Then I was fair game.

Now, I moaned and whined about this a bit to my friends and they offered a simple solution: get contacts. No one can see your eyes with those things they said. You look so much better without them they said. Ok, that's fine and dandy. I do look better without them. But, and herein lies the problem: I can't bloody well see without them. I need them. And, at that point in time, with the astigmatism in my left eye, contacts would not have been fun. (Hard lenses---yeesh!) Besides, I have this thing about sticking my finger into my eye. That's gross. So, I decided I'd just have to learn how to deal with the rejection. Because the rejection was plentiful. But there were times when I wasn't rejected because I was nearsighted. There were times when I was walked home by a guy whom I considered to be nice, friendly, and attractive...

...and there were times when I dished out my own form of rejection.

There's this thing that some guys did that drove me absolutely insane and I had a rule about it: if you, a man, decided to take my glasses off when you moved in for the goodnight kiss, you would automatically be rejected. Some guys thought removing my glasses was romantic, that this is what Bogie did in the movies---instant makeover time---so, of course, I would appreciate it. BZZZZZZZZZZT! Wrong! What parting gifts do we have for contestant number one, Bob? Well, we've got a long, lonely walk home without having received a damn thing, Fred! See, the thing is, these guys did not realize they were BLINDING me. They were putting me in a position where I had to trust them, quite literally, with my life and limb right off the bat. So, I generally grabbed my glasses right out of their hands and walked myself home. I didn't feel the need to explain. It was obvious I wasn't good enough, as I was, to them because they removed the one thing I'm very much dependent upon in this lifetime. For me it was the equivalent of taking a wheelchair away from someone who is handicapped, and telling them they'd be ever so much more attractive if only they weren't stuck in that silly chair! Would you want to be with someone who did that to you? I didn't think so.

And therein lies the solution---for lack of a better term---to rejection: for every person that rejects you, you're going to reject someone else. It all comes out in the wash. Hence, I don't think you can go out, looking for a potential mate, thinking if you've got everything under control, no one will reject you. There is always going to be something about you that does not ring right with someone else. Sometimes you will be rejected because you deserve to be rejected (like if you have a big hunk of spinach stuck in your teeth, or you have really bad breath or b.o.) sometimes, you'll be rejected for no particular reason that you can ascertain other than that, apparently, you didn't fit someone's idea of a dream companion. Once you take that into account, and adjust yourself to the idea, well, it makes it a. very easy to find the people with whom you'll probably get along and b. it doesn't sting so very much when you are rejected.

And that's all there is, folks. Now run along and see what the other Oh-So-Fine Demystifying Divas have on offer this morning. The blog kid is up at bat in the Guest Diva game today, so make sure to go over and read what Phoenix has to say. Then, when you're done with that, well, flip the coin and see what the Marvy Men's Club---comprised of Stiggy, Phin, The Wiz, and Our Beloved Maximum Leader---have coughed up.

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The NHL Lockout has ended!

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Go watch it.

{Humongous Kudos to Stiggy for pointing that one out!)

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Because someone is outgeeking you!

Go read the article and be amazed, once again, at what people will do to fill the hours.

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...that's choking on the splinters.

No, don't worry. There will not be some overblown bit of discussion about whether Beck is a musical viruoso or if he's just a skinny dork who's managed to con us all into spending money on his records.

I just really like that line.

Carry on. There's nothing to see here.

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We're having a bit of a heatwave here in the Cities currently.

Today it hit 85 degrees before noon.

When I was a kid, 85 degrees before noon meant we would have only a half-day. This was when schools didn't automatically come with air conditioners.

This was, of course, the first thing I thought of when I looked at the thermometer.

I have no idea why I still have that little factoid running around in my head.

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This is just disgusting.

From the outside, Ruth Knueven's Mount Vernon home has real charm: a verdant lawn, manicured hedges, flowers blossoming from fresh mulch beds and, near the front door, a garden ornament depicting two playful cats.

But police said that what lurked inside Knueven's two-story home was hardly so delightful. Hidden behind that garden ornament was a house bursting with real cats.

Animal control officers removed 273 creatures -- 86 of them dead -- after neighbors complained vehemently of odors Friday. Cats were still being plucked from the house yesterday, extracted from the walls and from deep within the brick chimney. Traps were set.

"I don't know how they got in there," Fairfax County police officer Richard Henry said of the hidden cats.

Before leaving, officials slapped a bright-orange sticker on the front door, condemning the dwelling on Ludgate Drive that they said was overflowing with feline feces and urine. Knueven, 82, and her husband and daughter were ordered to leave.

Last night, police said, Knueven returned to the house and ripped down the condemnation order. Animal-control officers found her inside trying to smuggle an additional 30 cats out of the home, bringing the total last night to 303. The animals were confiscated, and more traps were set.{...}

Why on Earth would anyone think this is the kind thing to do?

Disclaimer: I've never had pets. The Cake Eater Parents just didn't go for them. Rumor has it we had two cats before I was born, but they didn't make it past day two. (The cats, reportedly, had a love of cars and traffic.) And forget about owning dogs: my ex-farmboy father thinks it's cruel to keep dogs anywhere other than a place with a field attached.

So, while I will admit I have very little experience with pets, I nonetheless have a REALLY hard time understanding why anyone would be so incredibly freakin' selfish as to keep THREE HUNDRED AND THREE cats in their house. And let's face it: this comes right down to human selfishness. This woman, obviously, wasn't worried about the cats as over eighty of them were found dead. She was thinking about herself as some noble rescuer of unwanted beasts even though she did not have the capacity to take care of them properly. I think it should be a big freakin' clue that when you can't keep up with the kitty litter---and the neighbors are complaining about the smell---you probably have too many cats.

I am very tired of people treating animals like they were human beings. Yes, love your dog or your housecat, or your gerbil or whatever sort of pet you have. These are not the animals/people I'm talking about. I'm talking about people who claim to be serious animal lovers, who will do anything necessary to ensure their survival, yet get in over their heads and don't realize it because they're too busy being righteous about their love of animals. A online community I used to frequent had a sort of virtual church attached to the community: people would go there and post about their problems. It was a wonderful place where they could find support because we were an exceedingly friendly bunch of people. (We had no trolls. It was wonderful.) One time one woman posted about how she'd moved cross country to be with this man, who, as it turned out, was abusing her. She would not remove herself from this dangerous situation---even after the bastard put her in the hospital a few times---because she couldn't afford to cart her horse or her five dogs, three cats and god only knows how many small rodents back from whence she came. She was afraid of what her abuser might do to them if she left. So she stayed until she could afford to move all of them, and, of course, she wound up in the hospital one more time because of her refusal to abandon them. She had plenty of friends who wanted her to leave the guy and who offered to shelter these animals, but she refused them: she didn't want to leave without her pets because "her life wouldn't be complete without them." Ooooookay. They're animals not human beings. You are a human being who's having the crap beaten out of her on a regular basis by another human being. Your best option is to leave. You have to leave or YOU MIGHT DIE and you put the animals first? WTF? It made no sense to me then, and it still doesn't make any sense to me now. It was selfish. And what made it even more selfish on her part is that she refused to invoke her right to self-preservation because, apparently, she was willing to martyr herself for her pets.

Now, that's selfish, my friends. And what was worse about the whole situation was that she kept posting about all of this and people agreed with her. They offered her "support to get matters taken care of so she could leave." One other woman and I were absolutely flabbergasted at how her supporters had absolutely no common sense where this woman was concerned. Furthermore, we were verbally slapped at when we told her to just pack up and leave, the animals be damned. Her life was the one that counted. Animals were animals; a human being was entirely something else. But she didn't get it and neither did her supporters. Fortunately, she got away from her abuser, but what would have happened if she hadn't? Would the local media have told her story as one of a devoted animal lover who wouldn't leave without her horse, implying that she'd made the correct, albeit deadly, decision?

It's just wrong to think that because you love your pets their lives have the same meaning as yours---a living, breathing, human being---does. Animals can be wonderful, I will admit, but when you're willling to give your life for theirs, when you're willing to adjust your life around theirs, something is seriously wrong with the way you think. You may claim to be a lover of nature and animals and all that jazz, but you have forgotten about Nature---with a capital "N"---and how Nature doesn't really make allowances for your sort of love.

{Hat tip: Victorino at the Galley Slaves, who has some fun with puns.}

*the husband is deathly allergic to cats and hates them accordingly. To his way of thinking, they hated him first by making it impossible to breathe when they're around so fair's fair.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:48 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Make sure to visit the Cotillion Ball before midnight or you, just like Cinderella's coach, might turn into a pumpkin.

This weeks gracious hostesses are:

Posted by: Kathy at 10:56 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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...around here sometime soon. The polka festival ended with a bang yesterday. The folks are now safe and sound back in Omaha. The sheets have been stripped, washed and put back on the bed. The Cake Eater Pad is straightened up. And I had one mother of a nap this afternoon. (Which was lovely, in case you were wondering.)

So, either tonight or tomorrow, or whenever the spirit moves me, life should get back to normal...until the next set of family arrives.

Which would be my mother-in-law, who is sitting over at the airport right now waiting for her daughter to come pick her up. Then my sister and her family show up at the end of next week.

July's turning out to be a busy month, no?

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I sincerely hope the Llamas redesign doesn't suddenly mean I have to kiss their rings.

Because, despite the fact I'm Catholic and have kissed those of clerical poobahs before, the whole ring kissing thing just doesn't sit quite right with me.

But I don't really want the end product of a horse decapitation in my bed, either, ya dig?

(I should also note that the new Llama site design is courtesy of my good pals Phin and Sadie, who have joined forces in the best Wondertwin fashion to form Apothegm Designs. Wanna spare yourself some CSS hell? Well, then HIRE THEM!)

Posted by: Kathy at 09:32 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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1 just a test post to see if comments are working

Posted by: Kathy at July 11, 2005 09:38 AM (QKvIa)

2 Will the role of "Moe Green" be played by INDCBill in this version?

Posted by: Russ from Winterset at July 11, 2005 10:32 AM (ywZa8)

3 yay! ......Wondertwin powers ACTIVATE! My comments are finally normal again, and we are free to use such outlandish language as "..." It's very freeing.

Posted by: sadie at July 12, 2005 03:07 AM (7SNDe)

4 wished she'd stop invoking the Wondertwin powers. The spandex outfit is starting to chafe; I'm thinking it's time for a Wondertwin outfit redesign.

Posted by: phin at July 12, 2005 12:38 PM (Xvpen)

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Tim Pawlenty just lost my vote.

I remember his 2002 campaign for Governor. I remember promises about cutting government spending. I remember promises about no new taxes. I remember these things. I voted for the man. These things were attractive to me then, just as much as they are now.

So, you know, when he can't get the damn DFL'ers (and the Republicans are to blame here, too) in the legislature to stop spending because he's too much of a pussy to strongarm them into cutting spending, what's, apparently, his only course of action?

To raise taxes. Not on corporations. Not on individual income. No, he chooses to raise taxes by raising the cigarette tax by $0.75.

He's calling it a "health impact fee." So it's not a "tax" in his book. It's a "fee."

Despite the fact that the State of Minnesota and Blue Cross Blue Shield settled a lawsuit against the tobacco companies for SIX BILLION---WITH A 'B'---DOLLARS. They sued because of "increased health care costs due to smokers." The problem with this scenario? The legislature can't touch that cash. Why? Because, after they paid off Blue Cross Blue Shield and these guys, the remaining cash is earmarked for SMOKING PREVENTION PROGRAMS. Meaning the legislature can't spend dime one of the settlement. That's gotta sting, don't you think? All that money and they can't spend it. Sheesh. Talk about hell for legislators, eh? Sort of like Paul Simon being stuck in an elevator for all of eternity being forced to listen to Mrs. Robinson on Muzak.

So, there's a budget shortfall. They need cash to make up the difference. And, let's face it, kids, where do you think they're going to go? Why, to the smokers! Tally-freakin-ho! Smoking is eeeevil. People who smoke are pariahs. Why shouldn't they pick up the tab? After all, they're perfectly willing to pay x amount of dollars now...they'll keep paying it. They're addicted. Of course they will. So, you see, we smokers are easy targets. We're---apparently---asking to take it up the ass. And, boy, when state government CAN'T GET ITS SHIT TOGETHER, we're the ones who, of course, have to pay for it all.

So, my devoted Cake Eater Readers, despite the fact I'm a registered Republican, you will perhaps understand why I am henceforth declaring war on Tim Pawlenty. You will understand why I will do everything in my power to mock, ridicule and, in general, screw the man over as much as he's screwing me over because he hasn't the balls to keep the promises he made when he ran for election.

UPDATE: And Pawlenty, reportedly, likes Bloggers so much he invited a bunch of MOB'ers to the Governor's Mansion. I wonder if I'll get invited sometime in the near future. One can only hope!

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Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes: the car wreck you just can't stop yourself from looking at.

{Hat tip: Jonathan}

Posted by: Kathy at 08:39 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Go read. Really and truly. It's required.

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Oh, For Fuck's Sake. Oliver Stone's been hired to direct a movie about 9/11.

{...}NEW YORK - Nearly four years after the collapse of the World Trade Center, Oscar-winning director
Oliver Stone will direct a film based on the story of two police officers who were trapped in the rubble on Sept. 11, 2001.

Nicolas Cage, who won a best-actor Oscar for "Leaving Las Vegas," will star as Port Authority police Sgt. John McLoughlin. McLoughlin and fellow officer William J. Jimeno became trapped during rescue efforts after the collapse of the twin towers.{...}

From Ollie The Drink Trolley's press release:

{...}"It's a work of collective passion, a serious meditation on what happened and carries within a compassion that heals," Stone said in a statement Friday. "It's an exploration of heroism in our country — but it's international at the same time in its humanity."{...}

Great. It's international in its humanity. Does that mean Ollie's going to bring a bit of Asian flair to it? After all, it's not really an Oliver Stone film without bisexual Macedonian princes on horses, readying their troops for battle, or pretty Vietnamese women with those funky straw hats, is it? Is his "exploration of heroism in our country" going to show a wonderful buildup to how, I'm sure, he believes we brought 9/11 on ourselves? Because, you know, heroism always has a price attached to it. It makes for better drama that way, doncha know?

{Insert repeated slamming of head on desk here}

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Courtesy o' the Llamas

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The world keeps turning, and even though there is horrible news coming out of London, The Fraters would like you to join them for a beer this evening down at Keegan's to support Soldiers Angels.

What is Soldiers' Angels all about?

Well...

Within a few short months, The SoldiersÂ’ Angels Foundation went from a mother writing a few extra letters to an Internet Community of over thousands of angels worldwide and growing stronger with the addition of new members daily. With more and more merchants donating services, money and items for packages, the Angels reorganized as a 501 c 3 non-profit foundation.

SoldiersÂ’ Angels currently supports thousands of American Service Members stationed wherever we raise our CountryÂ’s Flag and the number is growing daily. We also work tirelessly supporting our Wounded Soldiers, with transitional backpacks, personal visits, phone calls, etc. Additionally, we send our thanks via letters and email to the military of Great Britain, Poland and Australia who serve by our soldiers side in Iraq.

Soldiers' Angels are 100 percent volunteer run and dedicated to ensuring that our military know they are loved and supported during and after their deployment into harms way.

A community of Angels volunteer daily to provide aid and comfort to our military and their families. Join the many SoldiersÂ’ Angels to ensure that no soldier goes unloved.

Timely, no?

So go down to Keegan's at eight tonight if you're in the Cities and give them all your cash.

I'd be there, but I don't think my mom is up for barhopping with the MOB. Have fun!

Posted by: Kathy at 04:19 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I'm way behind on this one. What can I say? My parents are in town and I had to drive my dad to his polka festival.

Life does, indeed, go on.

Great roundups can be found here, here, here, and in the case of the llamas, well, just keep on scrolling for some of Churchill's greatest hits.

UPDATE: Jonathan has some thoughts that are well worth reading.

I, too, was very proud of President Bush this morning. I was struck, after hearing his remarks, by just how much the shoe is on the other foot this time around.

The morning of 9/11 Bush was flying around the country, dodging what turned out to be non-existent threats. He wasn't around for us at that point in time. We were left to the devices of a hysterical media, who then thought it would be nice to show us the footage of West Bank residents whooping and hollering. (Thanks!) Tony Blair, however, was around. And thank goodness for it. He propped us up when we needed it the most. He had our president's back. This morning the situation was reversed, with Bush giving a wonderful statement while Blair was flying to London from Scotland.

I, for one, am glad it was President Bush who was allowed to return the favor. It seems fitting under the circumstances.

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So, an auspicious start to Thursday Diva action, eh? Hmmm.

It almost seems wrong to ponder on something so freakin' trivial as jealousy on such a day,but perhaps, even if I'm not in the mood to write something new, someone needs a pick-me-up and would like to read a golden oldie...sooooo, I'm reposting this bit I wrote back when we had Divas Sez, our incredibly successful attempt at starting an advice column.

What makes a Diva jealous in a good way. What makes a Diva jealous in a bad way. Is there a difference?

Now, personally, given how I feel after I've had a visit from the little green monster, I don't think it's possible there is such a thing as "good jealousy." It's all bad, and as I will explain, even the least likely thing can set me off.

The husband, God love him, is absolutely, 100% secure in our relationship. He doesn't worry that I'm going to leave him for someone who doesn't play MMORPG's. He doesn't worry when I start chatting with males, because he knows that, for the most part, I would prefer to chat with men because they're not talking about, well, men all the time, which is something I find a wee bit tiresome at this stage of the game. So, if we're at a party, he doesn't worry. He has no need to worry. And he goes on about his business, blissful in the knowledge that no man will be able to tempt me away. This, I believe, has something to do with the fact he is the King of Logic. Logic is always the bottom line. Emotions, he would argue, while nice, are a drawback because they get in the way of logic.

I, on the other hand, am a freakin' drama queen. (I am a diva, ya dig? This makes great sense in the scheme of things.) I love my emotions. I feel {insert Tony the Tiger voice here} they're grrrrreat! I feel they're the truth about who we are as human beings and logic, while it has its uses, is pretty goddamn boring. As such, I can get very jealous, at the drop of a hat, and, most of the time, it's for absolutely no good reason other than the fact I have a very good imagination. Picture the a couple at a party, split up, talking to two separate groups of people. The woman (me) notices something might be amiss out of the corner of her eye. He just touched her on the shoulder? What does that mean? Does he think she's hot? She's a blonde, for chrissakes. He doesn't like blondes! Goddamnit! What's she got that I haven't? What makes her so appealing that the husband, who is not mr. touchy feely, just touched her on the shoulder? Aiiieee. He's cheating on me! He's leaving me! I know it. I know it. Well, that's just NOT happening, ya hear? I'd better go over there and intervene!

And all of this is because the husband noticed a spot of lint on her black sweater clad shoulder and, living up to his worst OCD tendencies, couldn't stand to see some small bit of white marring all the blackness.

Jealousy is our insecurities at play in the fields of the Lord. It's the two-year-old inside of you who screams MINE! and starts hitting even though Mommy told them they shouldn't. It's your worst fears, laid out on the table, for all to see, because you're too angry and hurt to pull back and look at things in a rational manner.

Now, I'm not denying jealousy has its uses, because, ultimately, it does tell that special someone in your life that you do, indeed, care enough to send the very best of your own particular brand of insanity, but how healthy is that? Not very, in my opinion. Relationships are hard enough without a little green monster horning in and offering up its two cents worth.

Now, go and read what the other marvelous divas have to say. Make sure you give Divaesque Lady Joan of Seven Inches of Sense a warm "howdy." For the male perspective, please go and read what the marvy men's club---Stiggy, Phin, The Wiz and the Naked Villains---has contributed.

{Ed note: Yes, I did fiddle with the time stamp on this post.}

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But amazingly enough, you can find a ball, The Cotillion Ball to be precise, at these fine blogs.

Go read and get in touch with your feminine side.

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