ME + QUINCY + LINDSAY MAKES THREE...?

Quincy, 2 mos. "How pink is my nose?"

Q-Ball, head over heels with her hedgehog!

You know that "stupid heart" of mine I wrote of earlier this week? Well, Dunce-Heart has kicked in again, leaving me wide open to my poor little Quincy's loneliness after losing her older sister Ollie a few weeks ago.

Q's not even a year old yet, and is still very much a kitten. And although Ollie was many years her senior and never a playful cat, they did enjoy a special but short-lived relationship of hilarious cat interaction, something Quincy sorely misses.

Contrary to what many people think, cats are not "loners" ~ they are very social animals and require attention and companionship. With cats, the more you give, the more you get in return. It just has to be on their terms, which is perfectly acceptable to me.

Quincy arrived here at six weeks of age. Ollie was, by cat years, already in her 70s but she gave it the old cat college try and did seem to be amused, if slightly annoyed, by this winsome little creature who only wanted to PLAY-PLAY-PLAY.

When Ollie got pissed off, Q-Ball would immediately go belly-up, little paws in the air, clearly saying, "Don't kill me, I'm playing, I'm only a baby!" at which point Ollie would *sniff* her annoyance and stalk off to my bedroom closet, her sleeping place, shaking her head. The moment she emerged, hours later, Quincy would JUMP her and Ollie seemed less and less annoyed as time wore on.

My vet, Dr. Leno Cedeno ~ a wonderful person who rescues cats and keeps them in his office while trying to find them good homes ~ saw my sadness when I had to let Ollie go. He eagerly introduced me to "Linda" a  one-year old orange tabby he recently took in, and urged me to take her. At the time, I was too distraught to think straight and said no. But as the weeks passed, and Quincy continues to sit by the bedroom door, peering inside, wondering when her old friend will come back out, I had to make a tough decision.

Add another cat (and more expense) and make Quincy (and myself) happy again? Or be practical and hard-nosed about it, and hope that Quincy will "get used to it." But how does one "get used" to loneliness, be it animal or human?

I now await a call back from Dr. Cedeno. Linda (soon to be Lindsay) is still there, and still waiting for a forever home.

And I think Quincy and I will be very, very happy to welcome her...

BLAME IT ON OBAMA!

It's becoming a national joke. Car won't start? Blame it on Obama. Constipated? Blame it on Obama. Stubbed your toe? You know whose fault it is!

Poor President Obama. He just can't catch a break. This country is so screwed up and still so very racist in its thinking, they just can't see past the color of his skin. Their loss, on every level of their pathetic lives.

Congressional Republicans have been in the throes of a 5-year temper tantrum, rendering them incapable of doing anything to make their Commander In Chief look good. Screw the people and pass the ammunition. I do believe they secretly view President O as "uppity" for having the audacity to not only run for POTUS, but actually win. TWICE.

Forget the fact that the guy is brilliant and was a Professor of Constitutional History at Harvard after which he joined a 'white shoe firm' (pardon the expression) as an attorney. When he chose to follow the advice of his fellow attorney Michelle Robinson (who is now our lovely First Lady) and work with the people on their own level, he was mocked for "only being" a community organizer completely ignoring what came before.

Here's a bulletin for those people: Jesus Christ was a 'community organizer' too. And don't even think of making a joke about how that turned out, even though I'm certain there are legions of Americans who would be thrilled to see their President crucified (and/or lynched.)

President Obama could find the cure for cancer and the common cold, eliminate poverty throughout the world, and establish permanent world peace...doesn't matter, not to those 'MURR'KNS who can't see past their own stupid noses (and brown skin.)

When President Obama was first elected, a like-minded journalist friend responded to my joyous e-mail, "This is going to bring out the best, and the worst, of America." And BOY, has it ever.

I was naive enough to believe that his election would be a shining moment in our troubled history, that we had finally evolved to a more intelligent society that could not only elect, but respect our first bi-racial president and his wonderful family. Yeah, right...my idealism withered on the vine the very day of his first Inauguration.

Then the so-called "Tea Party" emerged out of the backwoods of KKK country and the things that were said and "illustrated" about their president made me sick to my stomach, and deeply ashamed to be part of a country that was so obviously demented in their blind hatred.

So, the next time anything bad happens in your life, just blame it on Obama. It's all his fault, dating back to the beginning of time. Did you know that it was he who really killed off the dinosaurs??

'MURR'KA lives on...and the SOUTH SHALL RISE AGAIN! NOT.

MY STUPID HEART!

If I ever need a brain scan, they're going to have a hard time finding one in my head. I was born with a strange disorder that allows my heart to take precedence over my brain every time, regardless of the outcome.

Which only leads me to believe that I have a brain the size of a raisin, and a heart that could easily be a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade float all by itself.

Softer than a marshmallow (inside a very thick skull,) it has led me down so many unplanned paths, I'm surprised I haven't fallen down Alice's rabbit hole yet.

Or maybe I already have..."We're all mad here!" proclaimed The Cat, something I can certainly claim for myself.

I love animals with all my heart (see?) and cats have always been a weak spot. Let's see, since 1985 I've adopted Francie, Neeley, Joey, Jerry, Gumdrop, Dion-Smokey, Cristina, Nofio, Pasqualina of Arthur Avenue, Ollie and, last September, the only calico I've ever had, Miss Quincy the Quintessential Cat (as she is known on her Facebook page...she has more friends than I do.) Forget the vet bills, just think of the food and litter expense!

Many of them desperately needed medical help, their astronomical vet bills depleting my bank account but filling that damned stupid heart right up to the top. So what if I can't afford ANYTHING? I eased the suffering of beautiful and innocent little creatures who, in turn, provided unconditional love, lots of laughter (and a few bites and scratches) each in their own quirky cat way.

Another time, a dear friend was having a bad day. When I heard her crying, guess what had a meltdown? I had exactly $3.00 in my wallet, the bus fare to get to work the next day (payday.) On the way home, I spent it on a bouquet of flowers for my friend, and then had to borrow money to get to work.

Stupid heart, see?

And forget raisin, a brain the size of a mustard seed!

"I'LL TAKE MANHATTAN..."

"...the Bronx and Staten Island too....."

I'm afraid that this is going to be a recurring theme until I finally (and permanently) find "a quiet place, far from the human race, out in the country" (Paul Williams.) So if you're sick of hearing about this particular subject, please continue to support this little blog and maybe 'someday, somewhere, somehow, when I least expect it'...my dream will come true. And then I shall write you from a log cabin as I look out at my garden and watch the deer, bunnies and other creatures consume everything I've planted just for them!

As for that song? UGH...if ever a song was written that is the antithesis of how I personally feel about NYC, it's that one.

Yeah, "I'll take Manhattan"...along with the rest of the boroughs, and dump them all right into the nearest garbage can, complete with the requisite dog crap, rats, cockroaches and litter-litter-litter everywhere you look. I don't LIKE litter and and I don't LIKE people who don't clean up after their pets. It's an unnecessary blight caused by lazy morons who need to smarten up and start doing the right thing.

Living in NYC has always been like living in a damned pig sty. As if the noise isn't bad enough, we have an ever-evolving generation of slobs who think nothing of popping open a bottle cap, or unwrapping whatever it is they're eating and casting it to the wind, the sidewalk, the street, grassy areas, gardens...I'd like to take those people and just smack the shit out of them. Cell phones glued to their ear-pod heads, they don't have a clue as to what's going on around them, nor do they care. Obviously.

Do I let them know? You bet I do. I can be scary when I'm mad, even though it's mostly bluffing (but they don't know that...I call it psychological terrorism) and my dirty looks are known far and wide. I got that from my father's side. "Just one look" (Doris Troy!) and you know you're in trouble. Even my CATS know 'The Look' and immediately retreat to their respective hidey-holes.

"It's very fancy on old Delancey Street, you know, the subway charms us so, when balmy breezes blow, to and fro..." 

OH.MY.GOD. Has anyone been on a NYC subway lately? Those "balmy breezes that blow to and fro" are DISGUSTING. Ah yes, the sweet fragrance of people eating 3-course meals, garbage, rats, and body odor, that's a real charmer!

"The great big city's a wondrous toy, just made for a girl and boy, we'll turn Manhattan into an isle of joy!"

Be my guest! But you'll need a Time Machine to get you back to the 1900s if you think you're going to achieve that goal.

"DON'T WORRY, BE HAPPEEEEE!"

In 1988, the fabulously talented jazz artist Bobby McFerrin had a monster hit with a simple little tune that caught everyone's attention and instant love.

Titled 'Don't Worry, Be Happy' it contained the simplest (and funniest) of messages to his "little children." Here is one of my favorite parts: 

"Ain't got no cash, ain't got no style, ain't got no girl to make you smile, but don't worry, be happy. 'Cause when you worry your face will frown and that will bring everybody down, so don't worry, be happy now...!" 

So, EXCUUUUUUUUSE me for yesterday's frown and bringing at least one "person down" with my contemplative piece, "Looking Back." I was told that it was "too morbid" and so I have returned with a HAPPY face, sun shining brightly....just HAP-HAP-HAPPY as can be! (Puke.)

I don't know why certain people have such a problem with a 'face that frowns.' Is it even possible that everybody can be happy all the time? Unless they have manic-manic disorder, in which case we're in the same crowded lifeboat, just at opposite ends. 

So many people feel things but, as Henry David Thoreau observed, "most men [people] live lives of quiet desperation." And after a lifetime of being quietly desperate, I now choose to write about whatever happens to be going on at the moment, good, bad, and everything in between. No big deal. Because that, my friends, is called LIFE, the good, the bad, the ugly, the increasingly insane world in which we live, and if you can exist without reacting to it all, then you are either missing a gene, or one whole color of the rainbow of life.

I always think of the brilliant juxtaposition of scene and song in "Good Morning Vietnam." Hearing Louis Armstrong sing "I see trees of green, red roses too, I see them bloom for me and for you, and I think to myself what a wonderful world" while simultaneously watching NAPALM being dropped on Vietnamese villages...one of the most profoundly shocking realities to absorb. 

The good, the bad, the ugly, it's all out there, and if I sometimes lose my way and give in to feeling sad,I think I have not only the right, but good reason too. If it brings you down, you can always follow the advice I received from a Chinese fortune cookie: "When life brings you to your knees, stay there and pray." Or you can simply choose not to read 

Getting back to Bobby McFerrin's words..."ain't got no cash, ain't got no style, ain't got no [man] to make me smile..."

At this point in my life, just the cash would be more than sufficient to keep me smiling from ear to ear until the day I drop dead. Oops! There I go, being morbid again...

LOOKING BACK...

...on my own road from 'then' to now, I see a lot of bodies kicked to the curb, just left lying there. The count is inordinately high (to me, anyway) and I wonder how much was/is my fault for whatever it was that happened to justify leaving so many people behind?

But I've grown too tired to remember the details, and too old to care much anymore. It's water under the bridge, and too late anyway to do anything to correct past mistakes.

Each person has their own story to tell as to why, what happened, who said what to whom, as well as their own share of hurt feelings, perceived or real "unforgivable"  insults, and all the other nonsense that goes into our daily interactions with friends, family, co-workers, strangers...nonsense that, in the end, will amount to nothing but "a hill of beans" once we leave this awful world, fraught with every kind of danger, heartache and betrayal.

Do I wish I could go back and start over? Yes, oh YES...there are days of aching regret, growing periods of mourning for what could (or should) have been, so many missed opportunities...but if I had the chance to go back, I'd want to stay there and never move forward, knowing the crushing disappointments that lay ahead.

JFK famously said "Life is not fair." And so it is not. As people like to point out "there are people who have it much worse," something I know. These moments of reflection and sadness are not self-pity lamentations, just an assessment of facts about a life not very well lived, and shifting the conversation to "others who have it much worse" is cold comfort when all a person may need is a virtual, verbal hug.

I always loved Sinatra's song, 'Cycles'..."So I'm down and so I'm out, but so are many others..." And Alfie never did answer the question, "What's it all about," did he?

I wonder how many of my generation are still looking for the answer, because I'm still searching, with very little luck.

"INVISIBLE" ILLNESSES...

At Eternity's Gate ~ Vincent Van Gogh

The following is a quote from a new friend, Michael Cripe, who sent me these words in a private message. His words hit home like an arrow to my heart. 

"The worst part is that these are for the most part "invisible" illnesses. I get a lot of "you don't look sick" and "you're lucky you don't have to work" kinda bullshit. Since I never know when I may have a "flare" it's hard to make plans and have had to back out of things at the last minute. Lost a lot of "friends" because of being 'unreliable' and not too many people want to hang out with someone who is sick. I don't look for sympathy from people, just understanding."

The "invisible illnesses" include IBS/colitis, a horrifically debilitating condition that can "flare" up at any time, along with another devastating condition commonly known as bi-polar/manic-depression, or some version thereof, which makes people moody and that creates a lot of nervous people among your circle of friends, family, work mates, et al.

An interesting aside, a link has been found between creative people and this 'chemical imbalance' that causes such severe mood swings. Among its many victims are Vincent Van Gogh, Sylvia Plath, Leonard Bernstein, Frank Sinatra (who once said "I'm an 18-carat manic-depressive") Jonathan Winters...the list is endless. The high points are wonderful, but the valleys are indescribably dark and painful.

Both manic-depression and irritable bowel syndrome can cause friends and family to eventually (and understandably) abandon you, since they usually have no knowledge of the sheer misery these invisible illnesses can inflict on a person who suffers with one or another, or both. 

It's the old "walk a mile in my shoes" syndrome; if you don't experience it yourself, it's not that big a deal. 

As Michael Cripe said: "I don't look for sympathy from people, just understanding."

Understanding, and a lot of compassion...