TUXY TUESDAY: DAZZLING DOMINO!

Even though the sun is shining, the temperatures are quite a bit colder than just last week. Of course, today is the first day of December so we can't expect anything else.

Domino saunters over to the front bench and tucks herself in against the cold, allowing any warmth from the sun to penetrate her fur. She looks just dazzling in the sunlight, don't you think?



Domino's normally black fur shows tinges of lighter patches when lit by the sun. There's some warm browns in there, too.








Domino is enjoying her brief respite in the sun, and doesn't even notice the evil squirrel behind her. Today isn't a day for chasing, anyway. It's Tuxy Tuesday, and time to dazzle everyone with her tuxedo charm.

Has she succeeded? I'm sure Milo thinks so.

Miles away from Understanding

"With unemployed New Yorkers topping 400,000 for the first time in at least 25 years and their average time out of work hitting seven months, extreme unemployment won't soon disappear. And it's a growing trend nationwide. An estimated 845,000 Americans have been jobless and looking for work for more than 18 months - more than double the number a year ago, according to the federal Bureau of Labor Statistics."

From today's New York Daily News. Isn't this great. Do you think I really want to be in the Vocational Program at WECARE, as if they're going to find me a job. So I can spend month after month sitting in their stupid classes, taking their never ending bullshit. Watching grass grow in concrete. I can't stand that shit. I really can't stand that shit, and that's what they at WECARE's Wellness Program is slanting me to. Back to the Vocational Program. Punishment for not being able to find a job.

This entire program has outlived it's usefulness, especially in this recession. I feel like writing an editorial to the New York Times exposing these motherfuckers and their useless game. Still, it will not do shit, I believe. I don't know, its just that when I read the dismal news about the city and the job situation, I almost feel like giving up. I don't know if I'm going to continue with the Vocational Program when they stick me back in. I just might take them to fair hearing again and demand to go back to the Wellness Program. Still that will be short lived when they grow tired of me doing that every three months. But I know the deal now. If I reply faster than ten days, I don't have to go in at all. It pays to go all through the system, up and down the long ways, so that you can navigate the entire waters. Nothing catches you by surprise any longer.

Awww fuck it. I sit in my little room at 1:00am typing away on everything and anything. I've bled my brain dry. I've blogged, wrote articles, edited my Novel, wrote poetry, Tankas, Haiku and emails. There's nothing else to write. I'm mind weary. I'm too tired to go on. I crawl into bed, and remember my conversation with my mother earlier. She wants to see me thinner the next time I come down to see them. Thinner. Wow. I think to myself. I pull off thirty stomach crunches until my stomach starts to burn. I'm exhausted and pass out, sleeping fitfully for seven hours, waking up at 11:30am.

I get up and get behind the computer again, I got another email from the National Insurance Life company. They liked my resume and have a sales position for me. A sales position based on commission. I suck with sale for commission. I used to be a great salesman when I worked my own company, but I don't think I can call upon these same skills to selling life insurance to old people, under the rules of an organization and under the thumb of a head salesman breathing over my shoulder. I delete the second email from them. I'm not interested.

It sky is overcast, darkening my already dark windows. I hear rain falling against the air conditioner's ass outside. I turn on the only light that I can stand in my room, the microwave light, and it goes out. Son of a bitch. Now I'm really in the dark, and tonight, I"ll be double so. Fuck. I dress and head downstairs to the office and find one of the office workers and ask for a work order form to fill out to fix my problem. The worker gets up and looks around, and around, and around for the forms, and finally finds one. As he fills it out, I leave to return to my room. I walk up the sixteen flights of stairs and I'm completely surprised as to how easy it was to do. I made it to the eighth floor with no problem, barely breathing hard, my legs tight but not actually burning. Wow.

I slip home. That's my plan, not to work out, but to work out whenever the time is appro- priate. Increase the exercise in the day, not exercise all day. I think that I can do. I'm already into it. I might be able to keep it up. And I'm not going to be skipping meals which is another way to pack on the pounds if you can believe it. Not eating causes the body to behave more efficiently when it comes to burning calories, slowing down the metabolism even more.

Lastly, and this may be received with mixed emotions, I've stopped taking my ABILIFY and WELL- BUTRIN, just to see what would happen. They say that many crazy people do this, and then go nuts without even knowing it. But these two are known weight gainers, and they are extremely obvious if something goes wrong. One is an antipsychotic, the other an antidepressant. Together I should be able to see if I need them anymore. If I start seeing people or getting amazingly depressed I'll know that there is a need. Dr. A. believes that I'm being over medicated by the Doctors at ICD and I'm beginning to think so too. It's time that I take ahold of my life now that I've stopped drinking. I think much of my mental imbalance came from unchecked alcoholism. My pink elephants were my psychotic episodes, my depression was based on lowered levels of alcohol in my bloodstream.

Without alcohol in my system for a long as it's been, I think it's time to lose the crutches in dealing with life and my emotions. We'll see. Without these weight gainers, maybe I will be able to melt the pounds that have been impossible to assail before. I hope.

I'm working on my blog, typing away and then before I know it, something is on my forehead. Small, evenly spaced things that are pressing against my skull like hard fingertips. I blink. It's my keyboard. My head had dipped downwards. I was falling asleep. I sat up and started typing until it happened again. This time my forehead and face went into the keyboard before I had awakened. What the fuck? Wasn't it too late in the day for a Second Morning? I crawl into bed, and before I know it, I am out like a blown candle.

Hobobob

Home sweet home

The dark winter days can be a bummer, but one of my favorite parts of the holidays is decorating our little fireplace. This weekend, we put up a garland, along with a grazing brass deer. Even though the fireplace doesn't actually work, the room already feels much cozier.

P.S. The framed photo is by Anne Hall.

Swedish island wedding

Speaking of weddings, Once Wed just featured the simplest and sweetest wedding I've ever seen...
Johan and MeeSook tied the knot on a Swedish island overlooking a lighthouse and the sea.
They exchanged rings and a kiss. MeeSook's absolutely beautiful dress is from Saja Bridal. Don't you love how it flows in the breeze?
Next, confetti and Champagne!
The guests also looked amazing, including the bride's sister in a dyed silk dress and a baby in a flower cap.
Then the couple waved goodbye to everyone...
And lived happily ever after. xo

(Photos by Mikael Olsson. Via OnceWed)

MANCAT MONDAY: DANTE AND DYLAN MEET AND GREET!

It's Monday and the mancats are outside; one on the front porch, and the other on the bench in the sun and the wind.

Dylan likes to roll around on the bricks first. It's a matter of ritual for him -- and I guess it feels good, too.


Dante's sitting nicely on the bench, eyes turned toward the street watching the passers-by. The wind is whipping his floofy coat into fiery little peaks -- sort of like a ginger meringue.


Dylan sniffs tentatively.


Dante shifts to get maximum sun.


Dylan decides to give me a nice mancat pose, just because it's Monday.


And Dante sits still for his close-up.


Dylan finally makes the trek from the porch to the front patio, and once again goes for a roll on the bricks. These ones have been warmed by the sun, so the feel is completely different.


Dante stands to watch his brofur's shenanigans.


Dylan is all curled up right under Dante's feet.


Dante decides to make the first move and greet his brofur by sniffing his neck.


The two have a brief little kiss. They really love each other, you know!


And with a sudden blast of wind, Dylan's off again, this time looking to go back inside. His shorter fur can't withstand the cold like Dante's can.


Meanwhile, Dante makes the best of this Monday morning and continues his sunbath, wind or no.


What have these two mancats taught us today? I think it's that relatives are important and you should always keep in touch, no matter how briefly. Real mancats have their priorities straight.

Tradition! Tradition!

by Jo Robertson

Yesterday we attended a triple baptism. Two of our grandchildren and one of their cousins was being baptized and combined their ceremonies. The entire affair got me thinking about traditions and the things we do as families, communities, or friends to bind us together – the ties that bind, so to speak.

This, of course, was a religious ceremony, but our traditions don’t have to revolve around religion. Many traditions are tied to family. I've always considered my family my Higher Power. Around sixty people attended the baptism, all but a few of them family members, and although it was quite chaotic, it was also a lot of fun.

One little boy tried to stick his hands in the baptismal font. Babies cried throughout, except for our Emma of course, who behaved perfectly. The piano was notoriously louder than the singers. And all the food at the reception was gone by the time the adults got there! Must’ve been the “other families'” grandchildren.

My son-in-law’s family goes bowling every Thanksgiving Day and they use this opportunity to take an annual family picture since Mark’s sister is a professional photographer and they’re all together. Many of my friends hassle the nightmare that is Black Friday.

You’ve noticed that here in the Lair, we’ve begun to have our own traditions. We celebrate our anniversaries quite uproariously with Sven, the Roman boys, and the Golden Rooster all playing prominent parts. We have a Christmas countdown. Even our invitation to guesting authors is a tradition we enjoy and hope our readers do too.

In The Fiddler on the Roof, Tevye says “And how do we keep our balance? That I can tell you in one word: TRADITION!"

What do you readers do to “keep your balance," especially during the hectic holidays? Do you have rituals, ceremonies or traditions that keep you centered during the year?

Or do you have a favorite holiday recipe you’d like to share with us? Below is one of my favorites for using the left-over turkey and dressing (if you have any!). Thanks to my sis who passed it on to me. Enjoy!

TURKEY DRESSING CASSEROLE

3 cups cooked turkey (or chicken)
1 can cream of chicken soup
1 can cream of celery soup
1 cup sour cream

Layer diced turkey in 9x13 pan. Mix soups and sour cream. Spread over turkey. Sprinkle 1 package herb-seasoned stuffing mix over and pour 2 cups chicken broth as needed over dressing. Bake at 350 degrees covered for 30 minutes and 5 minutes more uncovered.

Borrowing for Favors Alike

"There are times I don't feel like going,"

I remember OBSIDIAN saying about the SHOUT OUT. I get up this morning and that's exactly how I feel. I want to crawl back into bed and call it a month. I'm not interested in moving, I sleep on, and get up at 11:30. That's alright, I stayed up until 4:00 the night before, not good for getting up early in the morning. I get online, answer emails and write my blog.

I drink strong coffee until 2:00pm and then hop into the shower, letting the water screw my head on right. Paula is home, playing her television at an obnoxious volume. I can hear it clearly through her door as I walk past, although once I get through my solid door I hear it no more. I dress quickly, get back online and write more before it's time to pack up and leave. I leave at 3:00PM on the nose and head for the Way. Soon, I'm at First Avenue, with a half hour to go. It's not the greatest day in the world so I stay in the subway, reading a book, waiting until 4:00 before going to Otto's.

Once there, I turn up the stage, set up the mikes, and make ready to start. I cop a beer from Cyndi Lauper and it's on. I start the show, which as my personality dictates, no matter how hard I try, stays pretty sedate. The audience is large, and the feature does an excellent job. Still, I can't get a rise out of the audience. One of the more boisterous poets tries also, and finds them to be a limp noodle today. I'm not feeling bad now. At the closing I read a dirty limerick:

There once was a man from Spire
with his dick he could put out a fire
When the firemen came
they would sing out his name
and now he's a firetruck for hire

This went over well, the audience laughed heartily and applauded, and I used this rousing chorus to close the show, thank the audience and thank the Feature. Everyone cheered. It was the end of the show and everyone claimed that they had a great time. I was just grateful to get a rise out of everyone before the end. I only wish that I could keep up that level of intensity through the entire SHOUT OUT. Maybe I should read a naughty limerick before and after each show. I usually read one of my poems before, why not just throw in a limerick.

OR maybe even a dirty poem. Well, my poems are not dirty, they're rude. I don't think rude goes over as well as dirty. They are similar, but different in delivery and intent. I talk to a few people, break down the stage and say my goodnight, rushing headlong to Kennedy's Fried chicken and getting 15 chicken wings. This is not for one night but hopefully for three meals. I hop the trains back uptown and stuff and pack into trains and crowded corridors, expecially at 96th street, where the construction gentlemen feel that the people are best served traversing through tighter and narrower passageways.

I make it home, set up my computer, take my clothes off, make a plate of chicken covered with hot sauce and watered down kool-aid. Just in case you are wondering, the reason why I drink watered down kool-aid, and let me explain this too. The kool-aid is straight from the packet WITHOUT sugar. So many of you may think that Kool-aid is packed with sugar, you could not be farther from the truth. Straight from the little packet there is no sugar, so it's as bitter as brine. To counteract the bitterness of the taste, I put it in a quart container, even though it's designed only to flavor half that, thus diluting the Kool-aid and removing much, but not all, of it's bitterness. The reason why I drink watered down Kool-aid? I hate the taste of plain water after awhile. And I'm always drinking water because I'm a borderline diabetic. So why not drink water that has a little flavor to it.

It's not that I'm too poor for sugar, or sugar kool-aid, although with sugar we're talking about three times than the cost of the little packets which are at best three for a dollar. Not bad when you drink as much water as I. So I eat and drink and retire to my computer. I fall asleep early, around midnight and wake up at 3:00AM. I get the Sunday New York Times, which has an interesting article in it.

"MARTINSVILLE, Ohio — With food stamp use at record highs and climbing every month, a program once scorned as a failed welfare scheme now helps feed one in eight Americans and one in four children.

It has grown so rapidly in places so diverse that it is becoming nearly as ordinary as the groceries it buys. More than 36 million people use inconspicuous plastic cards for staples like milk, bread and cheese, swiping them at counters in blighted cities and in suburbs pocked with foreclosure signs. Virtually all have incomes near or below the federal poverty line, but their eclectic ranks testify to the range of people struggling with basic needs. They include single mothers and married couples, the newly jobless and the chronically poor, longtime recipients of welfare checks and workers whose reduced hours or slender wages leave pantries bare."

Well finally someone has the guts to admit it.

"With most of his co-workers laid off, Greg Dawson, a third-generation electrician in rural Martinsville, considers himself lucky to still have a job. He works the night shift for a contracting firm, installing freezer lights in a chain of grocery stores. But when his overtime income vanished and his expenses went up, Mr. Dawson started skimping on meals to feed his wife and five children. He tried to fill up on cereal and eggs. He ate a lot of SPAM. Then he went to work with a grumbling stomach to shine lights on food he could not afford. When an outreach worker appeared at his son’s Head Start program, Mr. Dawson gave in."

I see others have resorted to SPAM for survival. Not a bad turn if you ask me. It kept the soldiers in WWII going, so why not families in the great recession of 2009?

"Unemployment insurance, despite rapid growth, reaches about only half the jobless (and replaces about half their income), making food stamps the only aid many people can get — the safety net’s safety net."

I just wanted to share that. It's just putting in print what I could have reported my damn self. Social Services is the lowest rung on the ladder, and those rising from the gutter will reach up for it first, and those falling down the ladder, it's the last rung before the streets. Here is our transition place. Here is where we cross paths. I just hope I'm rising out of this, finally going up this damn ladder and not down.

I've been below the last rung. I'm tired of that shit.

Hobobob