Kitty Literate's Blog

THE REVIEWS ARE IN: MOMMY'S NEW CAT BOOK IS HISS-TERICAL

2012-01-26T15:24:00.000-08:00

Okay, folks, here it is: Mom's new cat book. It officially pubs February 1st. But it's available now from Amazon; B&N.com, and a zillion other on-line stores.

Okay, so after eight cat books, you'd think Mom would run out of ideas. But, then again, with MacDuff, Sinead, and myself around to inspire her, she'll has enough fodder to last a lifetime. So anyway, I may be prejudiced, but this book is hiss-terical. All my friends say it's the best Mom's ever written. Why? Well because for once and for all, it ends the controversy over which animal is the best....not that WE ever had any doubts. But, you know there were some folks out there who just didn't get it.

So Mom canvassed myself and a bunch of my friends to get the skinny on why we feel cats are better. We got so many answers, it was hard for Mom to pare them all down to fit this book.

Anyway, here' one of my favorites:

And there are a lot more where this came from. I just don't want to spoil it by giving stuff away. So. okay, and so here's the link: http://www.amazon.com/Id-Rather-Be-Cat-Official/dp/0736939342. I also have to say that song, you know the one with the lyrics, "I'd rather be a hammer than a nail," got it all wrong. Why, because there are zillions of us felines, who'd rather be neither. We just rather be a cat.

If you're an ailurophile, I just know you're going love, love, love this book. And if you like dogs, well, sorry 'bout that.

It's Red, Small, and It's About Cats.....CAT CONFESSIONS...The Ultimate Stocking Stuffer

2011-11-28T09:58:00.000-08:00

Okay, folks, it's Cyber Monday, and that means you can stock up on Mom's books and probably get a discount. I am NOT going to be so gouche as to say they are the "purr-fect" books (I just hate when people use that adjective....it's like so yesterday.) But I must say, if you like (love) cats, like to laugh, and don't want to spend a fortune, Mom's got some great titles to chose from.

CAT CONFESSIONS: A Kitty Come Clean Tell-All Book makes a great gift,
@ http://www.amazon.com/Cat-Confessions-Kitty-Clean-Tell-All/dp/0736927115/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1322503584&sr=1-1
whether to slip in your favorite cat lovers' stocking .... or as a hostess gift when you go visiting. Then there is PURR MORE, HISS LESS: HEAVENLY LESSONS I LEARNED FROM MY CAT, @ http://www.amazon.com/Purr-More-Hiss-Less-Heavenly/dp/0757306381/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1322502771&sr=1-1 which has can't-stop-looking-at-them watercolors by artist Erika Oller, and of course, you can always pre-order Mom's newest book, which comes out in January...I'D RATHER BE A CAT: THE OFFICIAL BETTER THAN DOGS CAT BOOK @ http://www.amazon.com/Id-Rather-Be-Cat-Official/dp/0736939342/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1322502708&sr=1-1

Mom's got a bunch of other books at her website, @ http://www.alliawrites.com/ ....books for kids, and worriers, too.

Anyway, time for my nom-noms and a nap.Happy shopping....

THANKFUL FOR BOOK LOVERS

2011-11-19T18:55:00.000-08:00

That's Mommy and Peter Conway of Tattered Pages Book Shop. And look over Mom's shoulders....there are all her books about us...okay, based on us...okay, okay, they're about cats...all kinds of cats, but fun anyway.

Mom had a ball signing her new book, THANK YOU GOD FROM KIDS AROUND THE WORLD, plus a bunch of her cat books, and a few of her worrywart books. The first thing she said when she came home was, "Thank God for people who still love real books." Hey, we agree. If it weren't for book lovers, we'd never have treats or catnip toys, or real tuna.

Anyway, a good time was had by all. But Mommy looks green and has been hitting the tummy medicine: too much nibbling chocolate from the candy dish.

Keep the Kids Occupied at Thanksgiving With Mommy's New Book; Come Meet Her on November 19th

2011-11-14T16:49:00.000-08:00

Okay everyone.....I don't have much time... that is before I, like, totally fall asleep. Okay, okay, so here's the scoop: Mommy is going to be signing her brand new book (really relevant for the season, too) THANK YOU, GOD, FROM KIDS AROUND THE WORLD, from Zonderkidz at a really, really kewl place called The Tattered Pages Book Shop in Monroe, Connecticut at 150 Main Street...THIS SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 19th from 11:30 until the chocolate runs out. Mom will also have a bunch of cat books and other various and sundry...(hey, you like that expression? I picked it up from Mommy..."various and sundry"....kewl...anyway, Mom will have other various and sundry books for readers to check out. And of course, you'll want to check out Mommy as well. Careful, though, cause she'll talk your ears off if you let her. But anyway.....sorry, but I'm really nodding off here.......do come and see her and get a signed book to give to kids for Thanksgiving. It will keep them quiet, who knows?, for maybe an hour or more. This book also makes a great stocking stuffer for Christmas, too. Here's the trailer that the publishers did for the book: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dwM2Wq3XdZI. Hey, you can find out all about other neat books you might want to give at Mom's website. So anyway....go, have fun, and ah, night now.

FOUR NEW BOOKS NEXT YEAR!!!!!!! YAY!!!!

2011-10-17T11:53:00.000-07:00

Okay, while Angela was checking out her new cube, sleeping, eating, sleeping, and playing with her siblings, Mommy has been busy.... She just finished her big book, entitled WHATEVER: Livin' the True, Noble, Totally Excellent Life, a tween (ages 7-12 Devotional) from Zonderkidz that we all think girls will go bonkers for, as well as three other new books, which we will give you the scoop on in separate blogs (don't want to give it all away in one fell swoop.)

But Mom still has a bunch of work to do getting the word out on these books, and we're going to help her. Anyway, I've got to go, 'cause I hear the sweet sound of a tuna tin being opened..... Talk later....The Mac-ster.

MOMMY'S NEW BOOK CAME TODAY....WE LOVE, LOVE, LOVE...THE BOXES!!!

2011-08-12T08:41:00.000-07:00

Okay, so it doesn't have a cat on the cover. But it has camels, and ducks, and chickens, and fish, and dogs, dragons, kaola bears, horses, zebras, wombats, kangaroos...and other animals inside. It's Mommy's new book, THANK YOU GOD, FROM KIDS AROUND THE WORLD, and she just got her author copies.

Here's the skinny on what it's about: The book invites readers to visit and see some of the sites and animals that children of different cultures thank God for--incluidng rolling hills, pet sheep, and a music and dance heritage in Ireland, pink patch-work-quilt sunsets, family, and learning traditions in Africa, a kewl ice-cream eating camel named Sethos Abdul Akmehd Mert-ekert Nourbese...."George," for short. Then there are ice castles, babuska dolls...and lots of other stuff we don't want to give away. And the book has suprise flaps too. And it's under $7.00 by a penny.

We have to admit, the books are neat. But we prefer the boxes they came in.

Hilarious New Book Explains Why Cats Are Better Than You Know Who...

2011-06-16T11:24:00.000-07:00

Okay, okay, okay....Mommy admitted it. She confessed she did write that dog book, but it was only to get extra money to buy us new genuine imitation cubic zirconium diamond with organic emerald encrusted collars. So I guess it's okay.

Plus, she wrote this new book on why those other animals will always play second fiddle to us puddies no matter how many of their owners protest.

This new book isn't out until next year....but MacDuff wanted everyone to know Mommy hadn't gone over to the dark (dog) side.

Hey, we read it and it's not only side-splitting, it's all 100 percent true.

That's it.....I hear the treat bag rustling...gotta go! Oh this new book is from Mommy's favorite publisher, Harvest House....

A Trailer for Mommy's New Book

2011-03-28T19:11:00.000-07:00

Okay, so it's not about us, but we love the trailer that goes along with Mommy's new book from Zonderkidz anyway.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dwM2Wq3XdZI.

We hope the next book (the one about us) will have a kewl trailer too. I offered to do the "meow-over" and the powers that be are "considering it." Meantime, me and Harold, my pet rat, are just chill-axing.

A Really Big Book

2011-03-28T19:03:00.000-07:00

Mommy is writing a really big book so she has no time for blogging, but she always has time to stop and take photos of us.

That's me in the basket with Mommy's manuscript.
I'm guarding the finished chapters, so no one steals
them. LOL. Nah....I'm just trying out this basket to
see if it's a comfy place to nap.

I see MacDuff is giving me the eye. If he thinks
he's getting in here too... We'll have some
explaining to do if this tumbles down and the work
goes all over the place.

Mac....Duuuuuffff......NOOOoooooooo!

Me, Helping Mommy Write Her New Cat Book

2011-02-20T10:35:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I told you I was helping Mommy write her book, and here's the proof. Mommy's writing a really really big book now, so I have to make sure she remembers we're here. So that's why I hop on the desk and make myself known.....

This Is What Mommy's Been Doing......Besides Scratching Under Our Chins

2011-02-20T10:25:00.000-08:00

Okay, so now, this is the other book Mommy was working on instead of writing this blog. It's called, THANK YOU, GOD, From Kids Around the World, and it's got a lot of nice pictures in it too. Plus the flaps open for surprises, and there are cats painted inside, though they don't look like us, but then, Mommy promised to do a book just on us...some day... I wonder when some day is?

Anyway, this book is from Zonderkidz and comes out in September.... We read it and gave it four stars..... The good news: though Mommy is pretty busy, she always has time to play wiggle the bug and throw the mousie with us. Oh, and treat time is every day at 4. We love Mommy....

My Mommy's New Books

2011-02-20T10:16:00.000-08:00

Hey folks,been a long time.Mommy hasn't posted since Christmas. We told her we'd help her out. She's been working hard and it's paid off, though: she has a bunch of new books this year and a really kewl CAT book coming out next year. We had lots of input into it...so we're sure you'll like it.

Someone told me she wrote a dog book that's coming out in 2012, but I refuse to believe it....

Okay, okay....so back to this book. It's Mommy's latest and it's from Harvest House. It came out in February (this is February, isn't it????? Sometimes I get confused. I'm a cat, you know). Anyway, so this book is for little kids to learn how to pray the Our Father, and it's got lots of neat picture in it, and word meanings, and it's even got a dance interpretation of this prayer.

Angela, Sinead and I read it and really liked it. We think youze guys will too.

Oh, and Mommy has another book coming out (I told you she was busy), in September, but I don't know how to add a photo to this blog...let's see maybe I try it here: Nope..didn't work....I'll tell you about that in the next blog.... toodles......

A Cat's Twelve Days of Christmas

2010-12-05T12:41:00.000-08:00

By Allia Zobel Nolan (c) copyright, 2010

Gather around the Christmas tree, little ones," I told the puddies today. "Time for caroling." Angela closed her eyes. McDuff went into the basement. And Sinead ran under the bed. "Now, puddies," I said sternly. "Resistance is futile. So you may as well all come out...because Mommy has a surprise."

"Listen up," I persisted, "Mommy's composed her very own version of your favorite holiday song...The Twelve Days of Christmas...complete with a photo slide show. Here, sit, watch, and listen." So they did. It's been a day and a half now. And I haven't seen hide nor hair of them. I didn't think the song was THAT bad. Here, judge for yourself:

On the first day of Christmas, my felines gave to me, a squirrel head in a pine tree.

On the second day of Christmas, my felines gave to me two bottle caps, and a squirrel head in a pine tree.

On the third day of Christmas, my felines gave to me three paper bags, two bottle caps, and a squirrel head in a pine tree.

On the fourth day of Christmas, my felines gave to me four smelly socks, three paper bags, two bottle caps, and a squirrel head in a pine tree.

On the fifth day of Christmas, my felines gave to me...five catnip toys...four smelly socks, three paper bags, two bottle caps, and a squirrel head in a pine tree.

On the six day of Christmas, my felines gave to me six mice-a-squirming...five catnip toys...four smelly socks, three paper bags, two bottle caps, and a squirrel head in a pine tree.

On the seventh day of Christmas, my felines gave to me seven goldfish swimming, six mice-a-squirming...five catnip toys...four smelly socks, three paper bags, two bottle caps, and a squirrel head in a pine tree.

On the eighth day of Christmas, my felines gave to me, eight half-dead spiders, seven goldfish swimming, six mice-a-squirming...five catnip toys...four smelly socks, three paper bags, two bottle caps, and a squirrel head in a pine tree.

On the ninth day of Christmas, my felines gave to me, nine snakes-a-wriggling, eight half-dead spiders, seven goldfish,swimming, six mice-a-squirming...five catnip toys...four smelly socks, three paper bags, two bottle caps, and a squirrel head in a pine tree.

On the tenth day of Christmas, my felines gave to me ten chunky hairballs, nine snakes-a-wriggling, eight half-dead spiders, seven goldfish swimming, six mice-a-squirming...five catnip toys...four smelly socks, three paper bags, two bottle caps, and a squirrel head in a pine tree.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my felines gave to me eleven empty bags of cat treats, ten awfully chunky hairballs, nine snakes-a-wriggling, eight half-dead spiders, seven goldfish swimming, six mice-a-squirming...five catnip toys...four smelly socks, three paper bags, two bottle caps, and a squirrel head in a pine tree.

And on the twelfth day of Christmas, my felines gave to me, twelve kittens purring, nine snakes-a-wriggling, eight half-dead spiders, seven goldfish,swimming, six mice-a-squirming...five catnip toys...four smelly socks, three paper bags, two bottle caps, and a squirrel head....in....a pine tree......

Christmas Blessings....

HOLLYWOOD BASHING CATS....AGAIN

2010-07-30T08:27:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine, and fellow cat writer and lover, Louise Holton, sent me this post. I think it says it all about the way cats are perceived in the media. It says everything I've always thought... but here, read Anne Billson's blog and see what you think: @ http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2010/jul/29/cats-in-hollywood

Mommy's Got a Brand New Book

2010-07-24T12:32:00.000-07:00

Okay, kitties, listen up. Mommy's got a brand-new book. It's from Zondervan and it's filled with fun flaps, and the most eye-catching illustrations ever.

She just got the advance copy and that was the big scream of joy you heard the other day.

Mommy knows kids are gonna love it. But she also thinks adults will really enjoy the stylistic illustrations drawn by our friend, Nadine Wickenden.

So, what's in it for kitties? Well, there's the wonderful story of the miracle of the loaves and fish. You know, when Jesus takes five loaves and two fish, prays to His Father, and they turn into enough food to feed 5,000.

There is also the story of the noisiest boat and lots of fun flaps to open to find out what the animals are saying.

Anyway, puddies, tell everyone you know that MacDuff's mommy hopes he or she picks up a copy and enjoys this new book. We did.

Google Prefers Dogs

2010-06-20T11:03:00.000-07:00

Google has gone to the dogs. A pity since cats are more sympatico. From today's Mashable: "Unfortunately, cats are not quite as welcome. Here’s an excerpt taken from Google’s Code of Conduct: “Google’s affection for our canine friends is an integral facet of our corporate culture. We like cats, but we’re a dog company..., so as a general rule we feel cats visiting our offices would be fairly stressed out.”

Does this look like a cat who'd be stressed out?

The Cat Is Finally Out of the Bag... But Why Was He In There In The First Place?

2010-05-31T18:31:00.000-07:00

Okay, cat lovers....here's a kitty treat I hope you can't resist. We know the cat has finally come out of the bag, and that CAT CONFESSIONS: A KITTY-COME-CLEAN TELL-ALL BOOK is now available at all book stores, both real and virtual (and if it's not, please ask your bookseller/retailer to please stock it). http://tinyurl.com/253lhdr

To celebrate this auspicious occasion, Kitty Literate
(moi) is running a fun contest: Tell me in one or two short paragraphs, what this cat is (was) doing in the bag (luggage) in the first place, and win a chance for a FREE, autographed book, or the grand prize of one loverly piece of luggage which your own cat can have her/his way with.

All entries must be different from what's written in my book and should be left as comments by June 25th.
Any inappropriate posts will not be published. My three cats will be judges, and we'll announce the winners on or near July 25th. (At which point, I will ask for your email addresses so I can arrange for your prizes to be delivered.). We will give away four books and one piece of luggage.

So write away, have fun, and check back for the winners.

Author...Cats...Ecstatic With New Cover

2010-05-12T19:05:00.000-07:00

When the news came, I was a bit rattled. The cover of my latest book, The Dreamy, Fishy, Happy Bible Storybook, would be changed...and it is to pub in August.

How could that be?

Was there enough time?

What would the new cover look like?

Would my hardest critics, my cats, like the new look?

Well, not to worry....

The new cover is out and it's...well, it's...it's...fantastic!!!!!!!

It's one of my favorite spreads from the inside of the book, which was so skillfully and beautifully rendered by illustrator Nadine Wickenden, and so dramatic, colorful, and kewl, that the powers that be decided the drama of it should go smack dab right on the front for all the world to see.

I, for one, love, love, love it.

And given the subject matter, the miracle of the loaves and fish, my four-legged critics couldn't be happier.

It's a win-win for everyone.

I'm hoping kids and parents will share my enthusiasm for this upcoming flap book of Bible story favorites!

Take Time to Smell the Roses....

2010-05-01T10:27:00.000-07:00

But Then, Go Ahead and Eat 'Em

2010-05-01T10:23:00.000-07:00

Fellow CWA Writer's Cats Divulge Secrets in New Tell-All Book

2010-04-21T12:37:00.000-07:00

http://portraitsofanimals.wordpress.com/2010/04/20/my-cats-are-truly-stars-now/

Of course they look guilty....they are.....of having pool parties in their mom's tub when she's away. But
they've come clean and are now in recovery.

That's right, these two gorgeous Georges (actually their names are Jelly Bean and Mewsette) were photographed by their multi-talented Mom, a fellow member of the Cat Writers' Association, Bernadette E. Kazmarski, photographer extraodinare and wondrous painter of animal portraits, an all-around Renaissance woman who lives to paint and take photos of all things, but mostly her glorious troupe of wide-eyed black cats. For a peek at genius, visit some of her many websites and judge for yourself. http://bernadettesmarketplace.wordpress.com/about/.

In any event, with much prodding on her part, Mama Kazmarski persuaded her babies to fess up in my new book, CAT CONFESSIONS: A KITTY COME CLEAN TELL-ALL BOOK. Indeed, the book would not have been as scintilating had she not. So, thanks again, Bernadette. You and your babies are, indeed, stars.

Finally, should anyone be crass enough to ask you if you've read Kitty Kelly's new tell-all, counter with "No, but I've read Kitty Literate's new Tell-All, and it rocks!"

Do visit Bernadette's websites: http://www.bernadette-k.com/fineart/commissionedcats.html and also
at portraitsofanimals.wordpress.com. She is also on Facebook, Twitter, and Linkedin.

(c) copyright photo by Bernadette E. Kazmarski

Cats Come Clean in New Tell-All Book

2010-04-21T12:13:00.000-07:00

Eat your heart out, Kitty Kelly. Kitty Literate has it over you, paws down. Come June 1st,....just 40 days from hence...the most sought-after tell-all book about cat shenanagins will finally hit the shelves (though Amazon's taking pre-orders now....for those who really can't wait).

Ah-yup, with the help of dozens of my cats' compadres--puddies who've wanted to come clean for years, but who've never had the nerve before--I've put together an expose of singular sins, extensive bad habits, and down-right off-the-wall behaviors these repentent cats want to get off their chests.

(For example, cats spill the beans about licking the salt off the potato chips left for guests; or using their dad's toothbrush; or having pool parties in the tub when their mom's away for the weekend; or introducing the cayote to the neighbor's small yapping dog. And that's just the tip of the proverbial iceberg.) It takes a lot of guts to make these admissions, and even more moxie to allow them to go public. Indeed, and I applaud each and every puddie who consented to this book.

Still, we all know how cat-hardic the act of coming clean can be. And I'm happy to say these redeemed puddies can now hold their whiskers high and be an example to thousands...maybe even millions of litters who could now avoid these untoward behaviors which could possibly damage the special bond they have with other creatures, be they two-legged, or four.

So there you have, cat lovers. Be sure to pick up a copy of this searing and at the same time, side-splitting book, and if you email me, I'll send you a signed bookplate.

Squirrel Wants In....Cats Want Out

2010-03-09T19:25:00.000-08:00

The Measure of a Cat

2010-03-02T10:05:00.000-08:00

...the animal (cat) shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours, they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethern, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time.

Henry Beston, The Outermost House

photo (c) copyright Shutterstock

Cotton or Snow?

2010-02-17T09:54:00.000-08:00

CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TURN DOWN THAT CAR?

2010-01-14T18:03:00.000-08:00

The cars that go BOOM! No matter where you live, you've heard (and felt) them. Cars with the music on so loud, bass blaring, you'd swear you were caught in a grade B flick. "Quick, Martha, hide in the attic. There's a giant chicken heart ('ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom') coming down the street."

What kind of car has a bass so deafening? Certainly, my Honda is not that well equipped. I got my answer when I stopped for a light one day. I looked over to see a throbbing Pontiac besides me. I smiled at the guys in the front seat, and pushed the power window button up so fast the glass almost cracked. I noticed then that the car's back seats had been ripped out and what appeared to be passengers, were actually two massive, four-foot high stereo speakers.

As they sped away, I couldn't help thinking: How do these guys talk to each other? Do they know sign language? Or do they pass notes back and forth? And what if a fire engine were clanging to a four-alarmer? Or an ambulance, siren screeching, wanted right of way? Could they hear it?
And what about insurance? Do owners of cars that go boom have to pay higher premiums? Do agencies put them in the risk pool because they're a liability...to other people's ears?

Hey, I turn up the dial, myself, when a great song gets me jumping. But not to the point where I cause the earth to tremble. Maybe it's me. Maybe my feminine ears are too delicate. Loud sounds do seem to affect me...especially at the movies, which is why I always wear earmuffs. And when I go to the gym, I tie my head up with gauze and wear a hat. Funny, my husband doesn't seem to mind. When I tell him the TV's blasting, he says he can't hear it.

Surely, for guys in cars that go boom, it's not a matter of not hearing the music. You'd have to have your ears sewn up not to.So why do these drivers turn up their tunes to pitches that puncture?

"It's for you women," my husband's friend said. "It's a bravado thing. Men want to impress you."

Say what?

"Yeah, guys want women to notice them."

I must be getting old. Somehow earsplitting music isn't my idea of a mating call. "Come on baby, let me break your eardrums," wouldn't win me over. Maybe those guys could take a lesson from the peacock. When he wants to attract a female, he just stands there, like a gentleman, and opens up his fan of feathers, quietly, civilly. His dates go wild, I'm told.

Maybe these guys ought to consider an alternative. Perhaps they could honk their horn once, smile, and throw a rose with their phone number on it. That would impress most women I know. In fact, they probably couldn’t dial their cells phones fast enough.

An acquaintance recently told me some states have ordinances on cars that go BOOM. I think that's a sterling idea. People who noise pollute should get a fine. Or at least have their car radio knobs taken away for a month so they can't turn the darn things on.

I know one thing for sure. I've asked my broker to buy stock in companies that sell hearing aids. I have this funny feeling I can make a million.

Huh? What'd you say? Could you speak a little louder?

Are You More Creative in a Tidy or Not So Tidy Office?

2010-01-02T18:11:00.000-08:00

In a recent blog, a friend of mine dis-played a photo of her workspace. There were papers and cats everywhere. I loved it. It was a busy room, full of creativity. And I could sense a whole lot of wonderful things had and would come to life there.

(Other than the amount of cats and the large area), it reminded me of my office. Or at least the left-hand side of my office. See, I made a resolution two weeks ago to start the New Year with everything in its place. Needless to say, I missed the deadline.

It is now day two of 2010, and I sit in a room which is, on the right side, neat as a pin, but on the left side, heaped with papers and files, stuck-on-the-desk affirmations, a cat, candles, and various and sundry things which I haven't found a home for yet.

I've been tidying things up for about four hours now, so I thought I'd take a break.

I look from side to side and I wonder.

Admittedly, the right side looks awesome. It exudes calmness, order, and discipline. Still, the left side makes me feel more comfortable, envigorated, confident. I feel more productive knowing that everything I'm working on, or thinking of working on, or should be working on, or will be working on in a month is closeby, at hand, (at least on the left side), scattered about in the mounds on the desk or in one of the many piles I have on the floor so I won't forget anything.

As I sit here, doubts torment me. What if I put everything in its place, then I can't find the place it's in? What if I throw away something and it turns out in a month, that's just the thing I need? What if I sit down tomorrow and can't write because my creativity craves more clutter?

Hmmm. 'Tis a quandry all right. So I may just leave everything the way it is for now. After all, it took me a whole year and two days to get to this point. I don't want to rush things.

The Best Way to Enter a New Year

2009-12-31T11:49:00.000-08:00

I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year, "Give me a light so that I may tread safely into the unknown." And he replied, "Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God....that shall be to you better than the light...and safer than a known way."

So I went forth. And finding the hand of God, trod into the light. ~by M. Louise Haskins~

A blessed, healthy and happy new year to all.

P.S.: I photographed this lovely gate at Garnish Island in County Cork, Ireland.

You Shouldn't Know From the Snow.....

2009-12-21T13:23:00.000-08:00

Christmas Ornaments Come to Life When We're Asleep....

2009-12-21T13:15:00.000-08:00

Can't Stop Taking Photos...New Camera....Help!

2009-12-21T13:10:00.000-08:00

MacDuff Guarding the Baby Jesus

2009-12-21T13:06:00.000-08:00

We Live Forever Because of Christmas Day

2009-12-16T16:56:00.001-08:00

I have two words to say to people who fear death so much that they can’t enjoy life: Merry Christmas. These words offer hope to a once hopeless world because through the miracle of Christmas, God has arranged it so that no one has to be afraid to die anymore. The Bible says “God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.”

But let's examine how death and Christmas fit into the picture in the first place. "Death came into the world," the Bible says, because of what one man (Adam) did, and it is because of what this other man, (Christ) has done; now there is the resurrection from the dead."

In essence by coming back from the grave, Christ rendered death moot. It was set in motion by sin, and that couldn’t change. But because Christ rose, we now know death is not final. It no longer has a hold on us. It can’t hurt us anymore. It’s lost its “sting.” Our Savior, Jesus, has vanquished death, and the Bible affirms the good news.

Isaiah 25:8 tells us the Lord “will swallow up death forever.” David says “God has delivered my soul from death.” John says, “For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn (it), but that the world through Him might be saved.” Jesus, Himself says, “Don’t be afraid. I am the living one! I was dead, but now I am alive forever and ever. I have authority over death.” And Paul says, “He became flesh and blood to destroy the devil, who has the power over death, and in this way set free those who were (are) slaves all their lives because of their fear of death.”

Because the scary part for most of us isn’t so much the dying—but what comes afterwards: final judgment. Our sins make us fear and tremble at the thought of the Almighty. And that’s the worry that Jesus has done away with. By coming to earth and suffering for us, Jesus has removed the fear because He’s removed the sin. Jesus stood in for us, was judged, paid our debt, and God accepted his offering. In that magnanimous effort, our sin slate was wiped clean, and our ability to say “No” to sin and (spiritual) death were secured.

So if we accept Jesus, following His Word as best we can and begging His forgiveness when we fail, we have no reason to fear God’s wrath—and can stand before Him without quaking. We have Jesus’ promise on that: “I assure you,” He tells us, “those who listen to my message, and believe in God who sent me shall have eternal life. They will never be condemned for their sins, but they have already passed from death into life.”

As if that weren’t good news enough, there’s more. Because our old sinful selves were joined with Jesus and died with him, they will also rise with Him. “For I will live again,” Jesus explained, “and you will, too.”

Okay, but that doesn’t mean the bodies we’re in now won’t go the way of all flesh. On the contrary, we are temporary people. We are destined to expire. The Bible says “Yet, even though Christ lives within you, your body will die because of sin; but your spirit will live, for Christ has pardoned it.” So it’s as though we get rid of our outer casing which was dust in the first place and will decompose back to dust, and free up the other part of us, our spirit, to be joined to the new improved bodies Paul tells us about. Actually, Paul says that getting rid of these earthly bodies is a prerequisite to getting into heaven. He says, “These perishable bodies are not the right kind to live forever.” And if that’s the case, why anguish about letting them go?

Indeed, because of God’s immense love for us, and what happened in that stable long ago, we don’t have to agonize over losing our bodies or our souls. “We will not be ashamed and embarrassed at the Day of Judgment,” the Bible says, “but can face Him with confidence and joy because he loves us…. And His perfect love eliminates all dread of what he might do to us.”

So we can take death—and for that matter, the struggles and pain of life—off our worry list for good. We no longer have to behave like “cowering, fearful slaves,” anxious about living and petrified of dying because Jesus gives us the strength to survive one and has broken the bond of the other. So let’s exchange fear and terror for faith and hope. Let’s rejoice in what Christ’s birth and death accomplished. And let’s never stop thanking God for the gift of Jesus, because as the choirs and carolers remind us each year in their songs of praise: “Man will live forever because of Christmas Day.”

From: The Worrywart's Prayer Book by Allia Zobel Nolan.

“God so loved the world”: John 13:17 NKJV
“Death came into the world”: 1 Corinthians 15:21 TLB
“will swallow up death”: Isaiah 25:8 TLB
“God has delivered my soul”: Psalm 56:13 NKJV
“For God did not send his son into the world” John 3:17 TLB
“Don’t be afraid. I am the living one!”: Rev 1:18 TEV
“He became flesh and blood to destroy”: Hebrews 2:14 TEV
“I assure you, those who listen to my message”: John 5:24 NL
“For I will live again, and you will too.” John 14:20 TLB
“millions will come back”: 1 Corinthians 15:20
“Yet even though Christ lives with you”: Romans 8:10 TLB
“These perishable bodies are not”: 1 Corinthians 15:50 TLB
“We will not be ashamed and embarrassed” 1John 4:17, 18 TLB
“cowering, fearful, slaves: Romans 8:15 NLT

Advice for the Holidays: Don't Worry; Purr More, Hiss Less

2009-12-11T07:05:00.000-08:00

Does this look like the face of a creature who worries?
Does she come off as a flustered feline,running around like a headless chipmunk in a frenzied attempt to get her cards written and all her mice,captured, wrapped, and placed under the tree?

Nah.... My laid-back puddy, Angela, knows better than to worry....She lives in the moment and lets what will happen happen. She knows Christmas is fast approaching, but also knows everything that needs to get done, will. There's no cause for anxiety.

Things weren't always this calm. In fact, Angela used to be a nervous nelly. So how did she get so mellow?

Glad you asked.... Angela read a book her Mama wrote, and it has helped her immensely:THE WORRYWART'S PRAYER BOOK taught this former worrier and catnip addict to, "let there be no crisis before its time," and to realize "God's in charge."

Yup, after sitting on the book for weeks, she decided to open it,and chew on some of the pages. The difference in her behavior was palpable. She stopped running around in circles, wasting time wringing her paws over what MIGHT happen. She stopped thinking negatively about terrible things (like what if Tom, her boyfriend, fell for the new kitty down the block? Or what if her Mommy forgets she promised Angela salmon on her birthday?). And she didn't let what others thought of her put her in a tailspin. She found peace at last.

So much so, that she decided to pad through another of her Mom's books,PURR MORE, HISS LESS. "It's such a fun book," says Angela.... "and a good mantra for the New Year. I particularly love the advice, 'You can never rub up against a person's leg too often,' and 'when you're angry,hiss, spit, then get over it.'"

"I give these books five stars," says Angela, who says if you're looking for a non-vampire type of gift, these are cat-a-gorically purr-fect." Have a blessed Christmas.

How I Do the Things I Do...Creating Kids Books that Flip, Sparkle, and Pop

2009-09-13T09:54:00.000-07:00

Explain-ing what I do is really the hardest thing I have to do, which is why I don’t do it that very often. I’m not one who keeps to a strict routine. I have no set formula. I can’t account for the fact that at times, I can write a book or article lickety-split; other times, filled with sturm und drang, I sweat and struggle for weeks. What’s more, I’m definitely not one of those authors who sit down every day and the words just pour out. Ye gads! Wouldn’t that be wonderful! Yet, I’ve managed to survive (with help from an understanding husband) as a writer, and have over 170 children’s and adult books, not to mention the odd blog and on-line article, to my name.

Now that I'm participating in a writers' workshop and had to think about my process (which is really as simple as “work like a dog when you have a deadline and work like you have a deadline when you want to walk the dog”), I’m amazed at how much info I have that I didn’t think I had that I can write up and share so other writers can do what I do as well as I can, but hopefully not so well as to put me out of business, so I can continue to do what I do well and share how I do it with others.

So, I am hoping and praying that, since I’ve finally gotten all of this good stuff (20 years accumulation) out of my brain and into seminar form….that those interested in writing your average kids’ book, inspirational titles, Bible Storybooks for kids, or kids' novelty books that slide, pop, sparkle and squeak, (or those looking for a good guffaw, some neat handouts, and free LOL cat books) will mosey on down (or up or whatever) to the Myrtle Beach Hilton this October 23-25 for this tres kewl conference.

Not interested in Kids’ or Inspirational? Not to worry—there are many other
really neat workshops on all kinds of writing with wonderful authors, plus open mic sessions, meetings with agents and publishers (I’m first, though), work critiques, the sun, the sand, the surf…. Go to the South Carolina Writers' Workshop Conference site for the scoop: http://www.myscww.org/conference/

Meantime, I must get back to my piece on helping writers deal with distractions, which I’ve been working on for a month now because I keep getting all these silly emergency tweets from my friends, not to mention a ton of Facebook fan page offers, and well, the cats’ nails need to be polished, and I have to write some more blogs, otherwise when people open this site, moths will fly out. See you in October.

Animals Galaore at the Goshen, Connecticut Holiday Fair

2009-09-07T17:33:00.000-07:00

A beautiful weekend, lots of prize animals, tractor racing, rides, and well, okay, I ate cotton candy, a coconut snow cone, and soft ice cream....

But who were the dudes in the hoods?

Fun at the 2009 International Christian Retailer Show in Denver

2009-07-20T18:33:00.000-07:00

Had a marvelous time at ICRS in Denver this year. Met my favorite author, Philip Yancy. Signed a bunch of books for lots of nice folks, including one Roman Centurian.

Downtown Denver skyline was awesome, and so were the restaurants. To my surprise and delight, there were lots of people and things seemed quite busy. A quick survey of some publishers netted some good news: things seemed to be picking up.... All in all, a great show.

2009-06-30T19:08:00.001-07:00

BEA In Retrospect ... They Came; They Saw; I Signed

2009-06-30T18:59:00.000-07:00

This is me and my publisher's (tiger tales) daughter, Sarah, who acted as my p.r. person for the day. I signed 150 copies of Mrs. McGee's Coconut, and spoke with lots of great fans....including loads of teachers and librarians. A truly great time was had by all.

KittyLiterate Wins Sisterhood Award Despite (or Maybe Because of ) Infrequency of Posts

2009-05-16T14:24:00.000-07:00

Thank you, ladies, gentlemen, and puddies of all breeds, shapes and sizes.

I can't tell you how much I appreciate this honor...and for that, consider yourself lucky. I'm embarrassed that I'm about two months behind in acknowledging this fabulous blogging award, and my only excuse is that I'm in the process of learning to Twitter, so I can get information to people quicker.

Anyway, in true award-winning style, I must first thank Roberta Beach Jacobson, a/k/a, the CatLady for the Seattle Post Intelligencer, for nominating me for this truly wonderful award....thank you, Roberta...and the members of the Sisterhood for passing it along to me, including Angie Hollan Bailey, who has an hysterial (or is it "a hysterical," I think that rule was changed???) life-in-the-fun-lane, but-mostly-about-cats' blog, Eclectic Catladyland. Next, I will thank my husband, Desmond, and the babies, Angela Dah-ling, MacDuff and Sinead for their inspiration....And that's it, actually, as I'm learning that people don't read long blogs and would much prefer a quick Tweet, which I will do just as soon as I learn how.

Now, I haven't a clue what I won this award for, but since I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially if it comes from Greece, I accept with humility and gratitude. My only regret is the pocket on the award was not stuffed with anything vaguely resembling a monetary prize or failing that, attached to a real pair of travelling pants I could at least sell at the consignment shop for two bits and maybe buy a Bud light for a toast to the Sisterhood and their exquisite taste.

Anyway, playing it forward (this is like a chain award), I pass this wonderful award on to....well, actually, there is no one better than I who deserves it...but wait, there's Bernadette Kazmarski's Creative Cat at http://portraitsofanimals.wordpress.com/; and my favorite book blogger, Kim Weiss @ http://helpmewithmybook.com/. So ladies, consider yourself award winners, and, please don't take as long to pass it forward as I did. Bravo, ladies....

My Sleepover With the Lions: Daniel, the Dream Reader, Tells All

2009-05-11T16:36:00.000-07:00

Ta-Da.....Now that Noah has had his say, it's Daniel's turn to get things off his chest, in my new book, Daniel's Diary, the second in the series of Bible-based tell-alls from Harvest House.

Poor Daniel, though. No sooner does he read the writing on the wall for his employer, King Belshazzar, then an enemy storms the palace, sets himself up as ruler, leaving Danny with a brand new boss, Darius the Mede.

King Darius and his cat, Scruffy, take a real liking to Daniel, who swiftly rises up the ranks due to hard work, dedication, and the good sense to let the king win at Go Fish
nine times out of ten.

But jealousy rears its ugly head in the form of two court officials who lure the King and Daniel into a trap...one that pits ruler against lawbreaker...friend against friend...a pride of lions against one pumped-up angel. Will Darius sign a law that will send his cherished friend and card partner to his death? Will God protect his faithful servant from a pack of hungry lions? Will Louie the angel make it from the gym to the den on time?

There's only one way to find out: Reserve your copy now wherever books are sold.

Can I Borrow Your Hand Sanitzer?

2009-04-28T19:25:00.000-07:00

I love book fairs....at least I did until recently. I used to really enjoy meeting new people, talking to them and shaking their hands, looking at the pictures of their cats, kissing their kids.

A thing of the past...at least for the present...and why? Because a bunch of pigs didn't cover their mouths when they said "Ah-choo," and we're left with the consequences: Swine Flu.

Now, Book Expo America is about a month away. And I can just imagine the scene. No hugs and kisses on both cheeks when you meet old friends. Maybe a wave from across the floor...that is, if you have protective gloves on. And at my signing, I guess I'll have to wear a mask (maybe I can get some color-coordinated to my outfits...though the standard blue might bring out the seagreen in my eyes.) Maybe I'll wear plastic gloves as well, and perhaps my publicist can spray and wipe the books before I sign them.

I could just order an infectious disease headgear..you know the ones that look like deep-sea diving helmets, with the glass in the front and an oxygen tank on the back. It would probably set me back a pretty penny. But, hey, I'd be helping the economy and something like that's bound to be tax deductible.

Oh, and instead of offering unhygienic dishes of candy to my fans, perhaps I can find individually-wrapped Vitamin C tablets...or little bottles of Echinacea.

Or maybe I'll just invite book lovers over to my house, and after they've passed through my

disinfectant detoxification shower, I can have my lookalike robot hand them already-signed books....inscribed "with love...forget the kisses."

Open Wide and Say Ahhhh

2009-04-28T18:02:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I haven't blogged in a while. I had relatives visiting. Kids, who needed to be fed and entertained and brought hither and yon....taken to aquariums, and Empire State Buildings and plays like Wicked; they needed pizza, and several trips to Walmart's for chocolates and videos and Dove bars and anything with the name Twilight on it. But it was lots of fun, and I only had one kid throw up the whole time. And it wasn't even from my cooking.

So they've come and they've gone and they got back to Ireland safely. I consider the whole episode a success. Yey, Allia.

But hubby and I are not so lucky. It's our turn to visit and things aren't so easy anymore. Before we leave for the airport, I have to buy masks and hand sanitizers, and some disposable clothes (ones I can burn), so I don't bring home the other epidemic New York now has: bedbugs.

And while we try not to touch anyone, they will be touching us--perfect strangers--not only feeling us up for weapons, searching our toiletry bags (for over-the-limit bottles of shampoo) and inspecting our shoes for bombs, but also asking us to put our heads back, open wide, and say "ahh" to check for the pig virus. (I only pray they don't have those thermography machines...my luck I'd have a hot flash going through and be dragged off to a confinement room.)

So where is it written traveling's supposed to be fun? You want to go to another country (dimension, universe, whatever), you're gonna pay. And I don't mean just the extra $50 airlines now charge for each suitcase. I mean you're going to pay big time. And don't drink the Shiraz...It makes your throat red. Pass me a Valium, will you?

HAPPY EASTER AND PASSOVER!

2009-04-11T12:34:00.000-07:00

The Fish Ate My Homework....No, They Ate My Feet

2009-03-24T17:32:00.000-07:00

Okay, okay....even in these belt-tightening times, a lady has to look her best.

Now some women spend boku bucks on expensive creams and collagen treatments. Some have face lifts now and again, and then again and again. Others spend fortunes on hair cuts and dye jobs.

As for me, all I want is for my feet to look human. So I go to the Korean nail place down the street and when they're finally finished with me, I can stop wearing my shoes to bed.

I love this luxury because aside from transforming my Neanderthal feet into something more recognizable, they are always coming up with new ways to do it: a green sea salt treatment; a pink rose exfoliating treatment; a fish-nibbling-your-callous-away-treatment. Say what?

Yup...though it hasn't hit my salon as yet, if I go to Virginia, I can get my feet "done" by dozens of tiny garra rufa carp, which (according to a March 24th article in The Wall Street Journal) like to swim around and eat dead skin off of people's feet. Honest. A salon owner, John Ho, brought the procedure--and the fish--back from China.

Other states have banned the fish due to sanitary constraints. Seems instruments used in multiple pedicures must be sanitized at high temperatures after every use...which in this case, would render the fish better suited for us eating them then them eating us. Or they could be discarded, a prohibitive move given the cost of the feet eaters.

Though I'm game to try new things, I'm not quite sure I would want a bunch of fish, no matter how small, eating any part of me. I mean, who knows, if I'm that delicious, they might want to bite off the "little piggy that went to market," or the one that went "wheeee, all the way home," and I'll wind up with one or two less piggies...I mean, toes.

Still, when my female puddies heard about the new procedure, they were simply besides themselves. And I know what they're thinking: When the new pedicure specialists make it to our local salon, maybe if mommy tips the nice lady really really really well, we can not only get our nails done, but also have fresh sushi for lunch. Oh goodie, goodie, yummy yummy.

What Do I Want to Be....Now That It's Hard to Be What I Wanted to Be When I Grew Up?

2009-03-17T16:57:00.000-07:00

MacDuff will never have to reinvent himself. He will always have one career: being a cat. I, and a lot of my friends, might not be so lucky.

See, nowadays, with people getting laid off faster than you can say "because of this downturning economy," jobs in the careers we do have, or used to have, or were trained to have, are drying up. And for a lot of us, those jobs have gone the way of the rotary phone. Who'd a "thunk" it?

What a shocker! Never in my wildest dreams did I ever envision a world where big-name daily newspapers were dropping like dominos and bookstores both big and small were living on borrowed time. I always thought that writing was a profession with a lot of possibilities. There were always magazines, newspapers, books, p.r. corporate newsletters, advertising...something you could make some money at. Today, a lot of those avenues are gone...or so overflooded, people are actually writing for free (as in the Huffington Post.) And now, of course, with the internet, unfortunately, unless you are a top blogger, the career of "writer" isn't valued as much because everybody does it. Good, bad, indifferent...everybody writes. So it's not just a handful of people who're competing for the reader's tired eyes....it's the whole world..and the whole world's blogs and websites.

So whereas the question used to be: "What do I want to be when I grow up?" these days I have to ask myself, "What do I want to be now that I am grown up and can no longer be what I wanted to be when I grew up?" Or, simply put: "What else do I want to be? And what else can I make a living from?"

It's a loaded question. But one you could have some fun with (in between crying in your beer over your dwindling 401-K). Let's see, if I wanted to reinvent myself.....maybe I could study to be a blimp operator (and get to see all the football games for free), or a personal trainer...and get my exercise for free (and get paid for it). I love animals, so I could study to be a vet's technician, and pet all the puddies all day long (and maybe get my cats' medical visits for free). I could study bartendering (and get my drinks for free--that would save me a lot). Or maybe I could study to be an airline pilot, make a dramatic landing in the Hudson River, save over one hundred people, then sell my memoir for $2.5 million.

Or maybe I could just study to be a cat...and get everything for free.

Hey, this reinventing myself might not be so bad after all.

Ireland Keeps Getting Better All The Time

2009-03-13T17:48:00.000-07:00

In honor of St. Pat's day, here's a diary entry on my favorite place: the Emerald Isle.

Dear Diary:

Husband and I off to admire Erin's southwest pearl--the Ring of Kerry tomorrow.

Cold, drizzly; sky filled with huge fists of clouds. Green fields everywhere with black and white cows scattered like dice on a poker table. Smell of rain, wet hay and sheep who don’t need Metimucil. Outside of Killarney, cars parked in street from one end of village to the other. “Tag sale,” I said and asked husband to stop. “Hurling match,” he countered, in hysterics. Both wrong: turned out to be funeral. Cemetery black with hundreds of townspeople straining to hear the priest. Looks as though Mafia kingpin died, but just ordinary farmer. On the road hours later, another line of cars. “Funeral,” husband and I say in unison, then have a good laugh. Turned out to be wedding.

Stopped at Muckross House, (Killarney). Didn’t go in because what was outside was hard to beat--manicured lawns stretched out like velvet rug, trees the size of the Empire State building, exquisite shrubbery; lake vista and string of rollercoaster mountains. More shades of green than ever imagined possible. Did something always wanted to do: rolled in the grass down an embankment, stuck my face in the earth, and took a deep breath. Smelled great. Freaked Swedish tourists, though.

Day still like underexposed photo, with soft rain and ghost-like mist. Gives scenery eerie aura. Goosebumps at a spot called Ladies View. Rolling hills, valleys and lakes as far as the eye can see. Giants must have walked this way once, leveling it in spots and leaving footprints that wound up as lakes. Could they still be here--posing as hills--asleep under blankets of moss, rocks and bushes they pulled over their heads? Half expect one to turn over and shake me from my spot. Moll’s Gap--more of the same.

Bought a pint for a celebrity in O’Shea’s bar in Sneen--an ancient flushed-faced local who’s pictured in postcards of the place. Got his autograph and a bit more.Pulled me close when we left and gave me a hard hug. “Send her out when you’re finished,” husband quipped. Campsite in town scattered with stone fairy huts, some shaped like cones; others notched triangles with wholes in the middle. Asked resident pixies to join in for picture. Will see if they did when photos developed. Out Portmagee to Valentia Island to stay in roomy B&B with the sea outside window. Light until 10:30! Known as divers paradise and for ruins on Skellig Islands. Must be mindboggling when the sun’s out. Cold, wet weather following us.

Know now why most everything in Ireland painted in bright colors: offsets fierce bouts of gray that can linger for days. Took ferry across charcoal water to Cahirciveen to continue journey round the Ring. Met up with people traveling in red, yellow and black, old-fashioned wooden, horse-drawn caravan with shuttered windows. Folks been vacationing this way in Ireland for years.Definitely not for hyper people. Horse clips clops about 20 miles or so a day, but probably more economical. Grass and hay free--gas around $4/$5 a gallon.

“Catch Your Own Fish,” the sign read. Enterprising local had dug a pond in the middle of a field, filled it in with water and the odd fish, and set up business, much to the astonishment of sheep and cows. Empty, though. Tourists weren’t biting. On scenic drive around Dingle Peninsula saw remains of Dunberg, a (promontory) fort on precipice with sheer drop to jagged rocks and crashing sea. Great defense against nasty invaders; bummer for soldiers who walked in their sleep. Found out why sheep, like Biblical Joseph, have coats with stripes of many colors. Farmers paint different colors on animals so they can keep track of whose ewe is whose.

Had coffee in “The Enchanted Forest,” where a seagull (who was probably a princess in her former life) let me take her picture with the magnificent Blasket Islands in the background. With fingers of phosphorescent white fog tickling them, Islands looked like partially submerged sea monsters. Roads on route, narrow, curvy and two-way, with nothing but a flimsy rock guard and chicken wire between them and crag to the sea. Teeth-clencher when tourist bus coming around the bend from opposite way. Will never be frightened of husband’s driving on I-95 again! No wonder churches so crowded on Sunday. Slea’s Head, another dream-like sea panorama with egg-shell beach and aquamarine water. No sun in sight.

Stopped in Ballyferriter in one of the regions (“Gaeltach”) where Irish language spoken and promoted. Husband who studies and teaches Irish had great “crack” (“fun”) conversing with locals in Irish, visiting Irish-language schools and buying books. In Heritage Center, discovered Blasket Islands produced famous writers, (Tomás Ó Criomhthain, M. Ó Suilleabháin and Pieg Sayers) who chronicled what it’s like to live on sparsely populated rocky atoll in the middle of the sea with no cable or pizza delivery. Islands abandoned in the 50s for safety reasons.

Found nice B&B and then into town for dinner at eatery named after Pieg Sayers. Ate fresh prawns and crab claws cats would kill for. Really tasty but drop in bucket in my stomach. Note to order lasagna and order of brown bread with it next time. Heard traditional footstomping Irish music from artists who played guitar and arm-held bagpipe. Chatted with Swedish tourists staying in hostel and locals who run tours. Fantasized about writing novel of American on holiday in Ireland, then retiring to Dingle and opening up the “O’Zobel-Nolan Pub and Cattery.” Off to Tralee, Limerick and finally Tipperary to see nieces. Plans are to take in some castles on the way back to Cork (Rock of Cashel and Cahir Castle). Uh, oh, out of space already. Note to bring thicker diary next time.

Happy ending, though: Sun came out!

WE HATE DAY LIGHT SAVING TIME

2009-03-04T14:50:00.000-08:00

"Uh-oh, Mommy," moans Angela. "Is it that time again?"

"Yes, sweetie" I answer. "And there's nothing Mommy can do about it. The dreaded DST is upon us, and we'll just have to live with it."

Daylight Saving Time (DST...and yes, it's written just that way... no "s" on Saving) starts this Sunday, and if your cats are like mine, there will be hissing and spitting. They hate Daylight Saving Time (DST). And I must say I totally agree. It’s discombobulating to both man and and beast.

Every year, as a result of this annual right of spring, we have to totally change our sleeping, eating, and napping schedules, [plus every imaginable electronic gizmo that, like me, doesn’t reprogram itself], only to have to change them all back again six months later. No wonder their whiskers (and mine) are out of whack.

Now, okay, okay. I know we do it for the children. But, surely, kids who play Mortal Combat and watch Freddy Krueger movies can’t be all that afraid of the dark. And, as for keeping them safe, maybe designers could come up with some, like really "kewl" glow-in- the-dark type school clothes with matching cool miner-like halogen helmets.

Point is, this constant yo-yoing isn't doing any of us--those with four legs or two--any good. We get disoriented. We get grumpy. We're awake when we shouldn't be and can't sleep when we should. We're a wreck until our bodies adjust then it's time to go back and we're a wreck again.

Still, there is one ray of hope. In Arizona, Hawaii, Puerto Rico, the U.S. Virgin Islands, and the American Somoas, they don’t have DST at all. So maybe I'll take a loss on my house, pack up the husband and cats, and go.

Nah, I can't afford it. So, like my cats, I'll just do the next best thing: Go in a closet, curl up on something soft, put my paw over my eyes, and take a long catnap.

What about you? Love DST or hate it?

My Pop: A Pretty Extraordinary Guy, A Tribute

2009-02-28T10:59:00.000-08:00

February 28 will always tug at my heart. It's my Dad's birthday. And though he's been gone for some years now, I will never get over it. I just get on with it. Here's a tribute I wrote for him when he died. Happy Birthday, Popo.

My father used to irritate me no end. He was the kind of guy who’d talk to a busy signal (when we had busy signals). It didn’t matter who you were--a secretary in a doctor’s office, the paperboy, Osama Bin Laden--should he happen to be next to him on line in the drugstore. He’d be terrified to get up in front of a crowd and give a speech. Yet, if he bumped into you on the steps of town hall, he’d perform like George Burns on the Bob Hope Christmas special. He was a great kidder, my dad, a guy who spoke to anyone and everyone--whether they liked it or not. Most people liked it, though that took me a while to figure out.

For a long time, because his eyes were bad, I went with him everywhere. And, of course, when he’d start telling his stories, I’d get embarrassed, (try to) get him to stop, and rush him along.

Then I began to notice folks’ reactions. Everyone my dad chatted up walked away from us sporting a smile. So far from bothering people, in his own way, he had done two things: made a connection and given away a bit of good cheer. Indeed, this was how he let folks know Al Zobel was here, a little older perhaps, a little frailer definitely, but still with enough of what he called “his marbles” to make you laugh, or give you the scoop on a two-for-one sale of Turkey Hill ice cream.

This pattern of connecting with good cheer wasn’t developed overnight. My dad had it his whole life. But as time took away many of his other pleasures--working, driving, bowling, and walking three miles a day--he held on to this one joy tenaciously, perfecting it to almost an art form. I finally got smart, one day, and put two and two together. I can’t say as I never complained again when he’d tell the same story over and over. But, thank God, I developed tolerance. And as soon as I did, I began to enjoy the whole experience.

I even went so far as to be Dad’s “straight man,” adding to the fun by moaning about being his patient, long-suffering daughter, out for another errand with her crazy Popo. This made folks howl. I started creating my own set of stories. At the supermarket, I’d tell folks how Dad was “just visiting” the food-- not buying it; how he’d pick up an item, compare ounces and pounds and prices and labels, checked and cross-checked ingredients, hold it up to the light, then put it back on the shelf.

And when I'd ask him, "Why?" he'd say, “We don’t need it."

Or I’d whine about having to take him from bank to bank to bank in an effort to get the best deals on certificates of deposit or one-ninth of a point more interest on an account that would make him a dollar or two. “You’d think he was managing Donald Trump’s portfolio,” I’d quip, rolling my eyes up to heaven.

The guys at his men’s club gave Dad some fake business cards once. On them, they had printed his name and the title: “Free, Unsolicited Advice Consultant.” He loved handing them out on our excursions and watching folks crack up.

My Dad succumbed last week to pneumonia. But even in the hospital, during his last days, uncomfortable as all hell, he was still connecting with good cheer, telling stories, trying to make doctors, nurses, blood technicians, even the cleaning woman a little brighter for having come in his room.

He was an extraordinary man who lived an ordinary life. He owned a cab and drove it through the streets of New York, and while he did he listened to people, then he talked to them. He never made a million. There was no Ph.D. after his name. Yet he was as much a success as if he’d been first man on the moon. He shied away from negativity at all costs and touched as many people as he could with joy. He celebrated life by always being of good humor.

Best of all, though, he was an expert at connecting.

Has Anyone Seen My Nose Ring?

2009-02-19T18:20:00.001-08:00

Mention body piercing and Angela can't shut her eyes fast enough. She's very squimish, just like her mother. After the initial involuntary flinch, all I can think of when the subject comes up is the good guy in a ghoulie movie running the vampire through with a stake to persuade him to stay dead.

Still, we all know these days, you don’t have to be a vampire to get yourself perforated.

In fact, ordinary men and women of all ages (I called them “The Pierced”) are getting more holes drilled in them than in a packet of imported Swiss cheese. It’s a fad I can sum up in two words: “Ouch,” and “Ewwww!”

And we’re not just talking ears here. Though that’s a good place to start. Today, real men--from news anchors to corporate types--wear one if not more studs in their lobs. Those with panache don matching sets of kissing dolphins. And it’s not uncommon to tune in the TV to see a linebacker in shoulder pads and grease paint sporting a pair of gold hoops that would have Shopping Channel phones ringing off their hooks.

But that’s not the half of it. The Pierced distribute the wealth evenly. So you’ll notice studs, rings and chains all over their bodies--in their noses, fingers, chins, nipples, belly buttons and/or other places only their wives and husbands can admire. Experts who study stuff like this (yes, there really are such people) say it’s a way for man to get in touch with his primitive self. Either that or he’s watching too many pirate movies.

Okay, men are from Mars, anyway. What’s women’s excuse? Theorists claim women are spiking themselves silly for various reasons: Some for shock value, or just to be noticed. Some because they want to be different. Some to cover up hurt and confusion.

Personally, I think it’s the jewelry they’re after. Women recognize an opportunity when they see one. They realize the more places you have to wear jewelry, the more jewelry you can expect. To them, piercing equals an increase in resources. It means good-bye tiny velvet box with two pearl studs; hello treasure chest of diamonds, sapphires and rubies.

I, myself, wouldn’t lance anything I didn’t have to for all the bling in Liz Taylor’s safety deposit box. But then every generation has its off-the-wall fads. And in fact, far from being a troublemaker, one of The Pierced has actually turned out my helpmate. See, I used to have trouble resisting dessert at my favorite lunch spot. But now that a waitress there has pierced her brow, all I need do is glance her way, and, zap, my chocolate mousse craving passes.

I have to hand it to The Pierced. Their individuality’s not just idle talk. It comes with pain, danger, and a heap of challenge. For instance, I can’t imagine what it would be like talking with a studded tongue. People already say I sound like I have a mouth full of marbles. Would this make things better or worse? And if I had a conversation with a stranger, would I warn him I’m pierced right off the bat? Or would I risk his suing me after he sees the gold balls in my tongue and faints?

What about eating? If I had ice cream for lunch, would my studs stay freezing until dinner? Likewise, if I had coffee MacDonald’s hot, would the rings in my mouth conduct the heat and scald me? Spinach stuck in my studs would be embarrassing. But maybe in time, eateries would offer stud picks right there next to tooth picks. At the airport, would I have to stand to the side and remove my hardware before I went through security so I wouldn’t trigger the alarms?

When it came to romance, could I deal with getting my tongue tangled, my nose locked, or my body entwined in other, more intimate, places? And on the job, could I deal with the squeamish Unpierced who might complain to the boss and insist on a “non-body pierced environment?”

These are quandaries I’ll never have to face since I prefer my jewelry pinned on me not through me. As for The Pierced, who am I to judge? If they want to puncture their parts, far be it from me to needle them.

The Amazing Sisterhood of the Traveling Toys

2009-02-19T17:52:00.001-08:00

There's a secret coven that prowls my house each night. This stealthy bunch makes off with countless toys, stuffed animals, catnip pillows, and on occasion, smelly socks, moving them great distances with no visible means of transportation. Though I've a sneaking suspicion there may be at least one male member, for wont of a better name, I call them the Sisterhood of the Amazing Traveling Toys.

Here's what I've been able to piece together. Every evening, on or near the stroke of twelve, and it could be later, Sisterhood members meet in my sunroom. There, under cover of darkness, members rummage through a very neat basket of toys as well as a pile of specifically-arranged stuffed animals, and commandeer one, two, and as many as four of the unsuspecting items, which they somehow levitate to certain prearranged spots in the kitchen, hall, up the stairs, and in front of the bedrooms.

When the toys/stuffed animals are in position, each Sisterhood member lets go a plaintiff cry, in combination with a magic chant that sounds something like, "Zowiee, Meowiee," and the items drop. Sisterhood members then perform a cleaning ritual that would make a contortionist proud, after which they shake their heads violently, and disappear into the night.

It was extremely dark when I made my discoveries, so I can't be certain who the culprits are. All I know is they had very long tails and their eyes seemed to glow in the dark. My husband thinks I'm watching too many murder mysteries. He says it's just the cats, trying to ingratiate themselves with us by sharing their toys.

What do you think? Let me know if you have a Sisterhood/Brotherhood in your home.

Hey, Barbie, Fifty's Not So Bad....

2009-02-17T13:49:00.000-08:00

It had to happen sometime. And I guess March 9 is "D-Day" for her nibs. The inimitable Ms. B is turning the Big Five-Oh. Poor baby.

Still, being 50 is hardly anything a plastic doll should worry about. I mean, it's not as if she'll get wrinkles, and her conelike breasts will never sag, so no problem there. Actually, the only thing she has to worry about is if a knock-off of herself, some new upstart like Ms. Bratz and the like, overtakes her to become the next doll icon. Still, that's not likely. Ms. B. is so ingrained in our culture, it's kind of hard to imagine any other doll taking her place.

I, myself, never had a Barbie doll. I had stuffed animal cats....lots of them, 'cause my mom didn't like felines. But I know dozens of women (and men) who had one or more Barbies. And I think it's safe to assume there are millions more across the globe who adore her. So all you Barbieophiles...listen up. You guys have only 19 days to buy your favorite doll something really kewl to celebrate her entrance into middle age.

And I have just the thing: The Joy of Being Fifty, a hilarious little bit of a book written by yours truly, and illustrated with hysterical artwork by New Yorker cartoonist, Roz Chast. It's small enough that Barbie can stand and read it, (just make sure it doesn't fall on her and break a boob), and it will fit neatly on any shelf alongside her, so if she wants to pull it out and read it again, she can.

Personally, I think Barbie will love, love, love this book. Rather than a negative "you're over the hill," attitude, this happy-go-lucky book extols the benefits of reaching half a century, things like:
People will understand if you fall asleep at dinner.
You won't need an excuse to take naps with your cats.
People will assume you know everything.
You don't have to hold your stomach in..if you don't want to.
No one will tell you to grow up anymore.
You can talk to yourself all you want..or not at all.
People will understand if you forget why you came into the room.

Hey, and I'm sure Ms. B. wouldn't mind if you took a peek through before you wrapped it for her. So Happy Birthday in advance, Barbie. Welcome to the club.

Mr. Obama...Before You Do Anything Drastic...Consider the Cat

2009-02-15T08:51:00.000-08:00

Dear Mr. President:

I admit it. I’m a woman who loves cats too much, (is that possible?) So I’m writing to you on their behalf in the hope you will reconsider substituting this savvy, serene, supremely intelligent animal for that other four-legged creature as your choice of First Pet. Indeed, putting a puddie in the White House will not only save you time (cats are low maintenance, no-walk animals), but also help you create a calmer, more thought-provoking, no-bark administration.

Now, I realize you made a promise to your girls. However, before you do anything drastic, please read and consider the fine points of this incredible animal so you and your daughters can make an informed choice. And, yes, I do agree both species have their strong points. It’s just that the cat has more of them. Indeed, not only is he the superior animal overall, he is the superior animal for the job. Here’s why:

Cats are peace-loving. They do not use aggression to get their point across. They don’t believe in macho shows of bravado. Nor would they ever bark loudly, bare their teeth, or bite anyone (especially a reporter) who tries to pet them.

Cats are discerning in their allegiance. And while, granted, that other animal is noted for his loyalty, the difference is cats are judicious and focused. They are not at the beck and call of any stranger who lobbies them, nor are they easily swayed by anyone who gives them a pork belly.

Cats are independent thinkers. Unlike dogs who live for approval, cats don’t base important decisions on the approbation of anyone else. They are not influenced by the crowd. (This highly desirable characteristic has been touted by the opposition as being snooty and aloof, when in reality, it shows courage of conviction.)

Cats are the epitome of patience and restraint. They are superior strategists who wait and watch before they pounce, if, indeed, the situation calls for pouncing at all.

Cats are savvy conservationists. They do not expend energy--especially their own--on trivialities such as fetching or shaking hands. What’s more, like Winston Churchill and other noted dignitaries, cats know how important naps are to a statesman’s well-being.

Cats are never greedy. They don’t believe more is better, and unlike dogs who gobble up everything in sight, they consume only what they need to survive. Cats also take great pains to share--particularly mice and garden snakes--with their constituents.

Cats exude civility. They have a gentleman’s manners, are impeccably groomed, and make the best of impressions. They handle themselves admirably at state dinners and would never dream of rolling in the mud before meeting with a foreign official. What’s more, you’d never catch them begging for table scraps.

Cats are super-intelligent. They’ve been branded by campaign smearers as dumb because they do not jump when someone calls. However, like all good politicians, cats just know how to turn a convenient deaf ear when they’re not interested.

Cats are extremely budget conscious. They are low maintenance animals whose constituents pay about $304 a year for them as opposed to the $416 they shell out for dogs.

Cats are good at routing out rats and other vermin—perfect for a new admistration.

Finally, despite centuries of being in and out of favor with the masses--felines have catapulted over that other animal as America’s favorite house pet.

So why not America’s favorite White House pet?

P.S. Thanks to Rachel Warren for the photo of Dakota, a registered Democrat.

Love Is More than a Bottle of “Catnip Nights” and a Diamond and Ruby Cat Collar

2009-02-13T12:53:00.000-08:00

“Mommy, what’s ‘romance’?” my cat Angela asked me this afternoon. She had seen some Valentine’s Day commercials on TV and was all in a twitter lest she miss out on something.

“It has nothing to do with cats,” I replied. “It’s an idea humans have devised to make money in February because the weather is cold and people don't shop as much especially in a recession.

"What else, Mommy?" Angela persisted. So I pulled up a chair and gave her my take on the subject. “You see, Angela,” I continued, “somewhere along the line, human females were led to believe that the amount of happiness and fulfillment in their relationships was directly related to the amount of goo-goo eyed, hearts-and-flowers, Bridges of Madison County type romance they experienced.

“And if we accept everything we see and read,” I said, “this ‘romance quotient’ is measured in certain quantifiable, demonstrative displays—such as how many times the male wines and dines the female (with candles and minimum $21.99 bottle of Merlot; in your case it would be fresh shrimp and warm milk); and how much and how often he compliments the female, and professes his undying love.

"Romance is also supposedly measured by the amount of gifts the human male showers upon the woman, high among which are bon-bons from Godiva (a Whitman Sampler in a pinch); expensive fragrances with names like “Longing” and “Take Me,” lots of jewelry; long stemmed yellow (red is out) roses, expensive Iphones, and at least one impulse get-away trip to a Caribbean island, or because money is tight, a weekend in the Amish Country or a day at the Bronx Zoo.

"If any of this is missing, Angela, the human females are led to believe this thing called romance is finis, because the human male is either taking the woman for granted, bored to tears, or just plain doesn’t love her anymore. Even worse, since romance is reportedly the glue which keeps relationships from falling apart, then it is only a matter of time before said human male will take off in search of this romance in the arms of another human female in a late-night Starbucks where they’ll plan to spend the rest of their lives (when they’re not on-line or at the gym) kissing and calling each other “sweet-ums” and “honey lamb.”

Mommy thinks this is poppycock. She thinks it's what is responsible for unhappiness and divorce, too. She doesn't believe that romance is the same thing as love, that there is no love if you don’t have romance, and that the romance a woman does have should be equal to or more than her neighbor’s, and as electric as the day she and her partner first decided to become an item.

Then, too, though romance is nifty,Mommy doesn't believe it’s the be all and end all of a relationship. And if, as the song bemoans, the human male doesn’t “bring flowers” anymore. So what? He pays the mortgage or maybe does nice things like rakes the leaves, empties the dishwasher, takes the kids to the mall so the woman can have some time for herself, or plays “Mousie” with you guys—actions which—while they may not categorically be considered romantic—are just as meaningful a sign of love than any diamond and ruby circle pin.

Angela, if I had a human daughter, I’d teach her to separate love and romance as soon as she stopped crawling. Love, I’d tell her, is a permanent, real-life, reality-based bond that allows partners to cherish each other—warts and all—while they experience good times and certain life challenges, such as recessions, house alterations, cats, kids, job losses, death, differences of opinion, diets, hormone changes, hair transplants, aging, and the like.

Romance, on the other hand, I’d say, though it is thoroughly enchanting, is merely a lot of fluff and stuff.

"Okay, Mommy," said Anglea. "But can I still have the fresh shrimp and warm milk?"

Dead Man Walking

2009-02-08T14:18:00.000-08:00

Layoffs, reorgs, restructuring, whatever you want to call them are the pits, that's for sure. I've been through them, and they are truly devastating. And even though your logical self says "it's not my fault; it's nothing personal; it had to be done; there are people worse off than I am," your emotional self feels as though the rug has been pulled out from under you, you've landed on your kiester and everyone is staring and pointing at you.

The process is inevitable, given the state of things. But I, personally, think we have to make it more humane. I think human resource departments (if there are any of those left) ought to come up with a sensitivity training web class. They could name it: When One of Our Own Gets the Axe: Five Simple Things We Can Do To Make It Easier.

In the class, experts could teach people some simple steps that would help those leaving go out the door with a semblance of their dignity, instead of feeling they were carriers of a virulent type of bird flu and were in imminent danger of passing it on. For example:

1. Don't look down, away, or close your eyes altogether when you pass a person who has been laid off and is still working at the office. Instead, greet the person as you would have before you knew they'd gotten the axe. If you have to interact with these people for any length of time, try to act normal--not like they have the plague.

2. Acknowledge what has happened. Make it your business, especially if you've worked with these people for eons, to approach them, tell them you're sorry this stinking economy has caused them to lose their job, (or some equivalent thereof), and that you hope they come out on top of this whole mess. This might be uncomfortable for many of us. But this isn't about US. It's about THEM.

3. If you worked closely with this person, get his email, and offer to write him a reference, or shoot a notice if you hear of any job openings.

4. Even if the person let go is not one of your top ten favorite people, be gracious, and wish her well.

5. If you go to lunch with the person, be a good listener. Let HIM/HER do the talking.

While folks "left behind" are bound to feel awkward around people who are on their way out, perhaps we can all try to imagine ourselves in their place, and think about how we would want to be treated.

Finally, if you're a praying person, keep these people in yours.

Oh Yippee! Here Comes Mrs. McGee

2009-02-05T09:56:00.000-08:00

There once was a lady named Mrs. McGee

who purchased a coconut in Tennessee.

"I'll open it for you," the grocery man said.

"No, thanks," said the Mrs. "I'll do it instead."

At home, the Mrs. tries everything, including a five-iron to whack, thwack, and crack open her culinary delicacy to no avail. And soon, the coconut takes on a life of its own bounding out of the house and on a riotous romp that has McGee in fast pursuit.

I must say, I rather love, love, love this book and Peter Cottrill, the illustrator did a fab job bringing the Mrs. to life. Anyway, the good news is Mrs. McGee's Coconut has just been released and is online and in stores, just waiting for you to pick her up and bring her home.

This is my first jacketed picture book, and I must say, (at the risk of being called bold and pompous) it's a real keeper. And you can get it in paperback as well, if your pocketbook, like mine, has months in it.

In addition to the humorous, spot-on watercolors, each spread has a cliffhanger that keeps you turning the page for more. Though a mother isn't supposed to have favorites, I must admit Mrs. McGee is really special. She hopes you like her, too.

Can I Interest You in Some..Um....Squirrel?

2009-02-04T16:54:00.000-08:00

For those Yuppie grey squirrels considering a vaca on the Isle of Brits this year, you might want to book a cruise to the Carribbean instead.

That's because, due to a glut of your kind throughout England, Scotland and Wales, hunters have open season to cull you guys. As if that weren't insult enough, many of you are winding up in Farmer's Markets and thereafter in squirrel souffles, squirrel sandwiches, and squirreliscious pate.

As reported in a January 7th edition of The New York Times (I know, I'm a bit behind on my catablogging), some Brits have recently developed an appetite for you cuddly creatures, and not simply because of the "taste just like chicken" factor.

No, the push for a squirrel in every pot has a nationalistic theme as well: You vacationing North American grays have stayed too long and, due to prodigious reproduction, have become a threat to the indigenous British cute patootie: the pointy-eared red squirrel.

So grays, that's just a head's up, 'cause the puddies and I don't want anything to happen to our buddies. Of course, if you can't trade in your tickets, I suggest you get a sunburn, some fake Spock ears, and some "How to Acquire a British Accent in Ten Days" tapes for your Ipod. Then maybe you can fit in. But if I were you, I wouldn't chance it.

After all, even though you dig a million holes in the lawn, spill all the birdfood out of the feeder, and gobble up the tops of my chrysanthemums, you are welcome here at Che No-lan, and though the kitties might tease you, neither them or I would ever eat you.

Beware of Hubbies Bearing Kidneys

2009-02-04T12:14:00.000-08:00

Cats don't believe in divorce. But then, they don't generally marry, so the issue is moot. Still, when I told the puddies this story, they could hardly believe their tufted ears.

Seems about a month ago (Sorry, I'm a little behind on my blogs....deadlines 'n things) the net was ablog with news of a lovesick doctor, who, in order to save his failing marriage, and his wife's life, donated his kidney....yes, you read right...his kidney to her when the wife's previous transplants failed.

After a successful surgery, the wife felt so good, she returned to her normal life with vigor....a little bit too much vigor her husband alleges. According to him, she began an affair with a therapist, although this is the husband's claim, and has yet to be substantiated. Still, the kicker is the two are now getting a divorce, and as part of the settlement, the hubby doesn't want the jewelry he gave her, or the living room set, or even the house back: He wants his kidney. And obviously, since that's not an option, he wants money instead...to the tune of over a million smackaroonies.

That's a lot of money, I thought, and it got me wondering if that's the price he would charge someone else, if assuming he could do the impossible and get his kidney back, he put it on the market on eBay? Or was that the "Revenge Price?" After all, the kidney is eight years older than when he donated it to his wife.

Then, of course, if the husband wins the suit, will that set a precedent, and will everyone who has ever received a donated kidney have to fear that the donate-ees will change their minds, track them down on FaceBook, and demand money? Is there no sort of release paper one signs that says "No returns, with or without receipt?" on these sorts of gifts. And if he were able to get his kidney back, would he "re gift" it if he fell in love and into a similar situation?

My mind swirling with these unanswerable questions, I turned to the puddies for an animal's perspective on the matter."Well, now, puddies," I questioned the babies after setting them up with this moral conundrum. "What three things can we learn from this?"

MacDuff thought a while, then he raised his paw excitedly.

"Don't be an Indian Giver," he said.
"Beware of husband's bearing kidneys, and....ah....
"be careful who you give your heart to on Valentine's Day."

I gave him two extra treats.

ALERT, ALERT, ALERT

2009-02-04T11:16:00.000-08:00

Yes, the world needs more "lerts." But now that I have your attention, I must announce a fun event that can help parents ward off the “We’re-bored-Mommy-Valentine's-Day-Blues."

It's a nifty idea those energetic Indies came up with called, Kids Love Authors Day, and it's taking place on Feburary 14th (natch) all over New England; however, the event you'll find moi at is at Books on the Common in Danbury.

That's right, yours truly, along with six other authors/illustrators, will be at the store from 10:00 to 12:00 to sign our books, talk with the kids, eat all the candy meant for the customers, and answer kids' questions. There will be free Valentines' Day goodies, (unless I've eaten them all), a free raffle with a bunch of the authors' books and a $25 store gift certificate as the prize, plus discounts, balloons....yada, yada, yada.... You get the picture.

The bottomline is: 'twil be something to do with the kiddies on a cold day to celebrate literacy and love. And here, I must give credit to those energetic Indies..... You guys come up with the best ideas! That's why authors love Indies. They take the time and energy to put things together—like kids, authors, and books. What's more, in this instance, they’ve created their own local literary stimulus package. You’ve got to love that. And you've gotta love them.

For more info: Books on the Common is located at 109 Danbury Road, Copps Hill Common, Ridgefield. Call (203) 431-9100 or email info@BooksontheCommon.com HOPE TO SEE YOU THERE.

A Princess With A Lot To Lose Learns A Lesson

2009-01-05T10:12:00.000-08:00

"Tell us the story about the Princess and the Pizza Mommy," Angela begged. "We all ate so much over the holidays, and we really need incentive to take some pounds off." "Okay, puddies, here goes:

Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess with the initials AZN. When she came to be five decades old, a miscreant ancestor cast an evil spell upon her so that whatever she ate immediately settled as huge clumps of fat on her legs, waist, arms and bum. Soon, none of her beautiful gowns fit. Worse still, she became known as “Her Porkness” behind her back.

“Hark, I must do something about this,” she told herself one day. “Or I will become the laughing stock of the court.” So the beautiful princess tried a liquid diet. She drank three chalice-fulls with each meal. It didn’t work. She switched to an “Eat All The Kumquats You Want and Lose” plan but got stomach cramps and had to quit. Sir Atkins suggested she sup on nothing but mutton; then nothing but fish, but that only made her spend the day on the throne. So she hung her head and cried.

To cheer her up, the princess’s cousin, Lady Bunns, of Steele, came to visit for a fortnight. After breakfast one morning, she suggested the princess join her for a chat as she walked around the court. Bear in mind the princess’s usual day consisted of eating, sitting, napping, writing poetry, spinning, some crewel work, and listening to the court minstrels. In other words, she spent a lot of time in her quarters on her keister. So getting out of the castle proved exhilarating--especially since it was summer, the air was fresh, and flowers were in bloom.

“I take these jaunts often,” announced Lady Bunns. “Thou art welcome to join me.” So the two started walking regularly. And as they did, they spoke of many things. Her Porkness--I mean, the beautiful princess--poured out her heart to her cousin, who in turn, confided that she, too, had been plagued with a similar fat spell.

How can that be?” cried the princess. “You eat like an ox, yet art slim as a jousting lance. Tell me, Lady Bunns,” she pleaded, “that I might do the same. How did you break the spell?”
Lady Bunns leaned in closer. “Well,” she said, “thou must eat moderately.”
“Oh, but I already do,” wailed the princess. “In fact, there are times I practically starve myself.”
“But there’s something else,” said Lady Bunns. “And you must do it not just for a month or six, or a year, or two, but ever after.”

“Tell, me. Tell me.” the princess cried out even louder.
“Well, if thy must know, it’s called ‘exercise.’
“Exercise!” the princess blurted. “I’d rather be boiled in oil.”

Still, when Lady Bunns returned to Steele, the beautiful princess decided she had no other alternative than to do the dreaded exercise. She walked around the court twice a day and joined a spa in the next village. Slowly, the fat melted off her, and six months later, she had lost 30 pounds. The same folks who had given her the porcine label now chided her “Thou art too thin,” to which the princess retorted: “Eat thy hearts out.”

When two years had passed and the princess was able to maintain her Gweneviere-like physic, she knew the spell had truly lifted. In fact, she noted, as long as she pumped iron at least three times a week, she could splurge on mead and sweetcakes now and again.

Sadly, Lady Bunns, of Steele, did not follow her own instructions. These days she is somewhere in Idaho modeling “big mama”gowns for women of substance.

Worrying Is For Sissies

2009-01-04T08:55:00.001-08:00

Have you ever seen a cat worry? It's just not in their nature. They never lose sleep (God forbid!) over things such as the economy ("Mommy, what's a recession?"), who will publish their next book, or where their human will get the money to keep them in sweet creme sardine parfaits and designer kitty litter.

Cats are more trusting. Take my cat, Sinead, here. She doesn't need to know what's going to happen tomorrow, or next week, or even ten minutes from now. She doesn't waste time planning and figuring, "Well, if this happens, I'll do this, or if that happens, I'll do that." Sinead, and for that matter, all cats could teach us a lesson: We should be more trusting, too, which segues me into this poem by M.Louise Haskins my friend sent me. I read it often, especially when I'm afraid and want to time-travel into the future for assurance, instead of living in the here and now.

"I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year, 'Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.' And he replied, 'Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God. That shall be to you better than the light and safer than a known way." So I went forth and finding the hand of God, trod gladly into the light."

Lions and Tigers and...Spiders!

2009-01-02T17:40:00.000-08:00

"Now, puddies," I told my babies, trying to get their attention. "Mommy's going to read an excerpt from her new book, NOAH'S NOTEBOOK, and she wants your full attention. No yawning and no droopy eyes, or there'll be no boned white fish tonight." Here goes:

"The wives had a bit of a shock today. While the boys and I were out buying more wheat, the women stayed on deck rearranging barrels, puffing out pillows, and making sure we had enough air fresheners. All of sudden, the ground starts to shake.

"Don't look now," Shem's wife tells her mother-in-law, "but two elephants, two water buffalo, a couple of camels, and some giraffes are coming this way."

And as if that weren't bad enough, she says, "Oh and how cute. Look, two spiders are walking behind them."

My wife screams to high heaven: "SPIDERS!" Then she runs away and hides behind some bags of barley. You should have heard the uproar when I got home.

"A FEW animals, you told me. Some cats, a few dogs. MAYBE an elephant," she yells. "YOU NEVER SAID ANYTHING ABOUT SPIDERS!"

"Don't worry," I reassure her: "They can bunk in Ham's room."

"That was great, Mommy," MacDuff said. "But if I were Mrs. Noah, I'd just have eaten the spiders and been done with it."

"Yes, McDuff, and that's why Mommy loves you."

Happy Mew Year

2009-01-01T13:00:00.000-08:00

KittyLiterate here. Happy Mew Year and welcome. I resolved to myself (and the puddies) to get my blog up and running for 2009, and voila!, here 'tis. I can't say everyone is as excited as I am, but then Angela Dah-ling had a late night. I'm sure she'll perk up when her Mommy starts writing about her. The other two, the devastatingly handsome and big-boned (not fat) 23-pounder, MacDuff, and his sister, the full-bodied, but shy, Sinead are off somewhere napping as well. Hopefully, my catablogging won't have this effect on everyone.

The buzz for today? Two new books being shelved in bookstores as we speak: NOAH'S NOTEBOOK, a hilarious first-person account of Noah surviving the flood, and THE TEN COMMANDMENTS FOR LITTLE ONES. Do check them out, and KittyLiterate's blog, whenever you can.