Bookmarks and the cat

Ya'll remember Gus, right? As you can see, he is almost large enough to be considered a full sized member of the household - even curled up diagonally, he is still longer than my keyboard is wide. He is a common source of humor and an occasional source of confusion. Prior to the help that he is providing here, he provided a bit of both for me. But to understand why, you need to see my favorite bookmarks.


I love these. In part because I used to always have to find a pen to underline salient points in my books. In part because I used to always lose my bookmarks. But then I found these. It's a pen! It's a bookmark! It clips on the outside of the book when I'm reading! It comes in a million colors! Only a few of them are ugly!

Unfortunately, however, unless they are carefully managed, they are also great cat toys. They fall into the "I want to play with something that you want to keep and then lose it under the refrigerator" tradition of cat toys, which is the favorite of our lovely kitten. If, for example, I happen to leave the tip of the bookmark slightly exposed, this bookmark can provide hours of entertainment just in the removal process. It then makes a fantastic sound when being swatted across the tile floor and into the walls and doors of the foyer during the famous 2 am cat hockey matches. Gus always wins those.

Needless to say, when I picked up my book this afternoon, it did not have this bookmark carefully marking my place as you see here.

I could draw at least 3 different analogies out of this story. One is about the joy found in small things - both for me and Gus. One is about how easily we get distracted from the simplest normal habits when stressed. One has to do with obliviousness to the social environment and how that decreases options (or makes you go back and find your page again instead of just picking up where you left off) when you are least prepared to deal with that.

But I don't think I will tell those today. Today, it is just a story about a cat and his favorite toy. Why that story is so interesting to me is a post for another day. In the meantime, feel free to make up your own meaning!

Let Sleeping Cats Lie

Sometimes it is best to let sleeping cats lie. This week has been fairly busy - both out in the world and in my head - but my brain is relatively quiet at the moment. I've crossed a few things off of my list (thanks for the sanity check, Ommi!) and am feeling reasonably hopeful about the chances of getting through the rest of my weekend tasks. But, other than my to do list, my mind is pretty quiet at the moment. So, I thought I'd let that sleeping cat lie for the moment.

However, I am not thoroughly without a post during this momentary lull. You see, someone has declared April to be National Poetry Month. Hunderds of people are writing poems this month - some of them every day. I am not that dedicated, but I thought that I could at least share a poem that has shown up in my inbox or on my whiteboard more than once. It was written by Jenny Joseph, an English poet, and was first published in 1960. As I am sure that you can see, it was the poem that started an entire movement among women of a certain age (whatever that age may be in your mind). Enjoy!

Warning

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.



...ssshhh. Stop laughing so loudly! You'll wake that cat! Happy Easter everyone!