NEW YEAR’S EVE 2010

Meow, meow, meow (that’s cat for my, my, my) it seems we’ve made it to the end of 2010. If you’re reading this, you are indeed a 2010 survivor. Seeing as how tonight is the last opportunity to spread my words of wisdom-ness for the year 2010, I thought I’d best be posting before the old ball drops. Get that last word in, donchano?

While a lot of you have parties and celebrations to attend the other half of us cool cats stayed home and ordered pizza. My peeps did while I enjoyed a plate of ocean whitefish & tuna in sauce…..ahh, good times!

As we look back on the year, and you know we’ll do just that, we’ll recall the good, the bad, the ugly. No matter how bad the bad was and no matter how ugly the ugly was, let’s hope we can pull the good over both and look ahead instead. Yesterday is done so remember... looking ahead rather than back prevents walking into walls so much. Cherish the good memories, keep them in check. Forgive & forget bad and ugly, move on, focus on the now.

The clock’s ticking, the midnight hour approaches,

It’s soon to be a new year for all us cats,

Farewell 2010 and hello 2011...

There’s simply no going back.

So to all I wish a grand new year

Celebrate 2011 and have no fear.

Keep a smile on your face, love in your heart

If life hands you crap, remember where I’m at.

It’s sistervc2@gmail.com

E-mail me your troubles and stay calm.

Nothing too big, no problem too small

I’m here to listen so confess them one & all.

Blessings,

Sister Very Catty

'Twas the Night Before Christmas...

...and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, specially not a mouse!

The midnight hour is upon us and I’m anxiously awaiting Santa’s drive-by with high hopes of some good chow, chow, chow.

So to all out there in blog land we wish you a very merry and all the Friskies you can eat.

Fa La La, La La La La!

Sister Very LovesSanta Catty

GOBBLE, GOBBLE, GOBBLE

Yeah, yeah, gobble, gobble, gobble
It’s once again that time of year
People got people comin’ over
And turkeys runnin’ in fear.

There’s probably pumpkin pies to bake
Potatoes to peel and veggies to steam
Stuffing to make & gravy needs to thicken
Oh, hairballs I think I’m gonna scream.

Amidst this major state of commotion
I plead with you not to forget me
Eat all you want, visit all you want
I smell that bird, don't make me plea.

I’m letting you know one and all
This holiday is filled with gratitude
Let’s all be thankful quickly please
And get right straight to the food.

I pray you drop one simple little turkey patty
In that dish just for Sister Very Catty!
Happy Thanksgiving and to all a good burp!

FOR I AM CAT

A couple canines from Kansas wrote me asking if I thought it was normal for a neighborhood cat to sit right outside their fenced yard, a mere three feet from their noses, calmly cleaning herself. This cat is free to roam the entire area and seems to know we are fenced in the yard. Both of us barking our fool heads off, throwing hissy fits, yet she continues to sit there giving us this "have a nice day" stare. She doesn't seemed threatened at all that she's taunting a large retriever/chow mix and a short, older wiener dog.

Signed,
Just curious, Shorty & Stashe


Dear Curious in Kansas,

Just what part of C-A-T don't you get? You're lucky she wasn't sitting within two feet of your nosy little noses and swiping them with a front claw between cleaning licks.
Haven't you heard? Cats Rule...and I mean the world! They will strut their stuff wherever, whenever. I mean, c'mon now...what better entertainment could a feline have than to sit a spell, calmly bathe herself while watching a couple of barking dogs go completely ape-shit all because of her. My, my, my... all that attention just for little ol' me?

So it's a little bath time at the fence, a little free entertainment complete with sound track, and then a nice stroll off to wherever.

Yes, little doggies of the world, it is indeed normal. All that neighborhood cat is thinking is how it sucks to be you and how it's good to be her!

Blessings!

THE PERAMBULATING BLUES

My in-box brought me quite a plight from a very frustrated female who's only trying to do a healthy exercise by taking daily walks in her neighborhood recreation center. Unfortunately some of the regulars have annoyed her to the point of her having actually nicknamed the culprits. She refers to them as donkeys because they'll walk three abreast very slow, thus blocking the path while holding a gab fest along the way. Some that don't flap their jaws instead are flapping arms that tend to smack other walkers when trying to get past them. After receiving such a descriptive e-mail from this frustrated walker I was inspired to compose the following. Oh by the way, should anyone out there happen to recognize themselves in said inspiration, kindly pull to the right and let others pass. Don't make me blog you again!!

THE PERAMBULATING BLUES

Not so long ago and not so far away
A little walk I take nearly every day.
Here inside my neighborhood rec center
Comfortable in summer or come winter.

Oh yes, it's pounds I'd like to lose
But I've got the perambulating blues.

Around the three lanes we like to go walking
Works just fine 'cept for all the talking.
For three walkers in a row means all lanes blocked
And all they wanna do is talk and talk.

Oh yes, those lanes I'd so like to cruise
But I've got the perambulating blues.

Sometimes my walk finds me behind the Boxcar
A very short, very wide load so I can't get far.
Partnered with Methane and her Mr. Avon
For obvious reasons I really must move on.

Oh yes, I should have stayed home to snooze
For I've got the perambulating blues.

Isn't it enough my feet hurt so bad I could gasp
When Bulldozer steps on them as she walks past.
Next thing you know I dodge a punch to the eye
As I attempt to pass Madame Butterfly.

Oh yes, walking is all I really wanna do
But I've got the perambulating blues.

We've got Mz. Harley and her Sidecar
Once behind them you won't get far.
A true road-hog with her skinny mate glued at the hip
If only to pass them, maybe I should try and skip.

Oh yes, sometimes I may bruise
For I've got the perambulating blues.

And not to forget our little June Cleaver
In her tightly belted dress, she's quite the keeper.
Then dressed to the nines Marlena D, many face lifts and never sweats,
Out to snag her a rich old dude, I'd be willing to bet.

Oh yes, just listen to my clues
For I've got the perambulating blues.

In a little black dress blocking the way it's Granny Goodwitch
Changing tapes in her 8-track she makes me start to twitch.
Along comes Mr. 2nd Amendment displaying wrinkled bare arms
Drooling over Marlena expounding all his charms.

Oh yes, is walking the exercise I should choose
For I've got the perambulating blues.

Mustn't forget Mr. Chippenfail adjusting speed again and again
Barely in a speedo flirting with a chick he'd like to win.
Last but not least say hello to our nautilus man Jack LaPain
Constantly stretching in hopes height he'll someday gain.

Oh yes, I'm afraid it's all so true
No wonder I've got the perambulating blues!

Blessings!
Sister Very Catty

EYES AHEAD PEOPLE!

When did this become a once-a-month blog....what's up with that? So this month's post will be in response to a recent note from one who seems to be at a crossroads:

Dear Sister VC,

I have finally made my way out of menopause only to find myself once again in puberty at the age of 59! For example: developing a crush on someone unattainable; revisiting old childhood hurts!! Please don't tell me to get a pet...I am a world traveler and can't be tied down right now.

Any thoughts?
Perplexed in Pennsylvania

Dear PP,

Curious....who's steering the course on your ship's Tour de Life? Occurs to me, a neighborhood traveler myself, that maybe you need a new route master.

I'm sensing that by making your way out of men-o-pause you temporarily chose a single life and are now entertaining the possibilities of having a relationship.

Puberty at any age basically sucks...get over it. Does the upcoming number '60' bother you? Get over that, too. Absolutely nothing you can do about it and if Cher can't turn back time, neither can you. Maybe puberty isn't the issue any more than menopause.

Did you forget you're the captain of your own ship? As a cat with most of her nine lives still in tact, I'm feeling the need to spell it out, for you who has but one life.

You claim YOU, a woman of free will and sound mind, allowed yourself to develop a crush on someone unattainable. Allowed being the key word here, not crush, not unattainable. Has it not occurred to you that maybe this crush came about with someone unattainable because of that factor? Subconsciously you fear re-entry to the dating scene with an available someone? Face it, should the unattainable someone not be on board with you the ship will never sail anyway.

Concerning the old childhood hurts...ah-hem...you did say you were 59 years old, right? Way past time to don the big girl panties and get over that too! C'mon...old hurts? To the cat box with the scat I say. Huge waste of time on your part to dwell on things of that sort. Besides the fact that if you keep looking back you may very well miss what's ahead. Next thing I suppose you'll tell me you're a recovering Catholic.

Now regarding you're not having a pet....that's just wrong. Where would Thumbs be today if I had not wanted a human? A pet should be your very reason for existence and I highly recommend a a cat!

Blessings & Bon Voyage,
Sister Very Catty

BLESS the REMOTE

Anybody else notice what was on TV this past week? A golden opportunity to watch some real golden oldies, that's what. I'm talkin' bout old black and white episodes of the Andy Griffith Show in tribute to their 50th anniversary. That's right...a fifty day vacation in goofy, sleepy-old Mayberry. What a treat to revisit Andy, Opie, Aunt Bea, Barney, and their quirky small-town pals.

While I'm not going to meow on and on about the good old days, or how things just aren't what they used to be, blah, blah, blah...I am going to squawk a bit about what's happening on the boob tube currently. Of course, nothing stays the same, we all know that. I mean who would really want to remain in the fifties or sixties anyway? Got to keep moving forward...progress, people! It is nice, however, to reminisce from time to time and seeing Sheriff Taylor certainly stirs up some happy memories of yesteryear...you know...when watching television was actually enjoyable.

On the rare occasion a good program comes on these days, its life expectancy is short. On and on they go about the exciting new season opener and next thing you know, four or so episodes later, it's the season finale. Bait you, hook you, and you're back sucking pond-water.

For the most part it seems television has traded the good old days of the hour long variety shows of singing, dancing, and comedy skits for the dislikes of say 'Project Runway', for instance, where you gaze at angry, emaciated waifs sashaying down the runway. Holy cat claws! Who will be our next top model?...WHO GIVES A SCRATCH! (Just once I'd like to see one of those skinny bitties do a diva dive off the end of the runway...stilettos flying...now that might be worth watching!)

Nowadays you've got your choice between the Bitchy Housewives of Wherever, Keeping up with the Kardashia-who's, or a miscellaneous assortment of attention-starved bozos. I mean, seriously, who are these people? Does anyone watch this crap on purpose? If only Deano was still around crooning 'everybody loves somebody sometime'...

I could go on and on, let loose with a few more well earned insults toward the situation, but then I'm only a cat so I'll leave it at that. Instead I give much deserved kudos to The Weather Channel, The Cooking Channel, The History Channel, The Discovery Channel and my personal favorite - Animal Planet featuring Cats 101. Now that's entertainment!

Blessings & Happy Channel Suffering...'er I mean Surfing

MATCHMAKER'S ME-OW

From Sister's in box we have the following question:

Dear Sister VC,

What do you do when you haven't dated in years and your friends keep bugging you? "Don't you want to meet someone?" ...and yet you are perfectly happy. I'm almost 60 years old and could care less. I'm finally happy just to be with myself and a few good friends.

Signed,
Fed-Up Fiona

Dear Fed-Up,

What in Puss 'n Boots name would we do without our friends? Better yet, what would our friends do without us? There's your question. You, being the person of interest, offer your friends something far more entertaining than their own trivial pursuits. Same old caca, different day, but what about YOU? Unmarried and all, you poor lonely gal, stuck at home with her cat. (You do have a cat, don't you? ...if not, get one!)

Two roads to take, choice is yours. On the one paw, next time you find yourself engaged in conversation with these well-meaning buds of yours, take command of said conversation. The minute the chit chat turns to your single-hood, start firing questions off.

For example...BFF #1, when was the last time so and so sent you flowers? Tell me you can remember! Direct the next round at BFF #2 with something like...have you and whats-his-name been out on a date night lately? What's up with that? Then hit BFF #3 with how small your grocery bill was last month and it's so fun to cook for one these days.

On the other paw, if that didn't send them running out of of your cat box, it's time to pull out the big guns. Turn on your mysterious aura...like the cat that swallowed the canary (pure fiction) only you aren't singing!

You'll be thanking me and the academy soon for your Oscar winning role. Act I begins with you dropping evasive hints that you met someone recently. Bat your eyelashes as you describe this dreamy-eyed tom cat of a man. Work it, Baby! He can be whoever you want. Your very own imaginary Adonis. Drag it on thru several acts, baiting them, hooking them, and then abruptly changing the subject. Curiosity killed the cat (old wives' tale I'm sure) but you remain aloof the entire time...you know...after all, it's merely that love struck look.

Should they start to get too nosy, wanting to meet this imaginary dude...well, simply dump him! After all, that's what I-Harmony is all about, right? (imaginary-harmony and what's that little 'e' stand for anyway?)

Did I mention two roads? There's a third road...tell your "friends" to go stare into a mirror for a switch.

Peace out my sister!

CALLING CERBERUS...

Earlier this month I received an e-mail with some deep concerns over a very serious matter. I did my best to address it but it's a real challenge to find words to cover something so sad.

Dear Sister VC,

There has been a lot in the news lately about drug smugglers using horses to haul drugs across parts of the US border with no more than barbed wire, then the horses are tied to a bush and left to die in the desert. Once the drugs have been picked up by vehicles for transport to northern cities there is no more need for the horse. I realize that this is a hot-button subject, both 'fur' and against things going on right now and I don't anticipate a kitty of the Feline Order to participate in political hash. I am only interested in your animal point of view.

There are rescue groups who try to save them, in fact there is one horse up for adoption, listed several weeks now in the Tucson paper . If I had the appropriate property I would so offer this horse a safe home. Other horses are stolen from ranches along the border, then deserted further north to die in the desert. Sadder yet horses are by no means the only animals involved in this drama. Dogs are also being killed in order to silence their barking as the trespassing takes place across private properties.

Being an animal lover I've been bothered by nightmares about these innocent creatures of both drug and human smugglers. It upsets me that humans can care so little for these creatures. Can you offer me some solace or explanation for such inhumane behavior?

Signed,
Critter Lover

Dear Critter Lover,

Your e-mail reminds me of why I dislike reading or listening to the news so much. Of course, I am a bit prejudice when it comes to anything regarding the animal kingdom, and although it's a rare occurrence, I am almost at a loss for words. Things like this tend to curl my whiskers.

I simply have no explanation for such crude, senseless, selfish behavior out of humankind. Humans..."the paragon of animals", to quote Shakespeare...strange they can be so inhumane.

No animal deserves this kind of mistreatment, if only the tables could be turned. The reality of it is that even if the animal is rescued it has to be trained to trust humans again. Seems to me that if theses inhumane individuals go about such things they should just stick to their own kind and leave the innocent animals out of it.

There was an article written by Carmen Duarte in the July 9th issue of the Arizona Daily Star regarding the rehabilitation of drug smuggling horses. It explained the process of rescuing these horses and bringing them back to a better life. We must be thankful for such rescue groups as they invest their hearts and souls into the betterment of these innocent creatures. The article was titled "Carrying Hope Instead of Drugs" and it was well written with information about the rescue groups.

Speaking of hope brings to mind what I feel would only be fair justice to those guilty of committing such acts of injustice. May they face that gate in Dante's Inferno that reads: "Abandon every hope, ye who enters here". Let's have Cerberus escort the lot of them to about the 7th circle of hell.

So my dear critter lover, I too wish you had the space to offer a kind, loving home to a rescued horse. I'm sure that would be one happy, thankful animal. I don't know that I can offer much solace concerning something so sad but at least know there are many among us who share your feelings on the subject. It wouldn't hurt any of us to at least send up a special prayer each day for all the animals and trust it will be heard.

Blessings!

Keeping Up the Pace

Happy hot July to all! Long time no blog! I could say it was due to unforeseen circumstances...but I won't. I could say you wouldn't believe what happened last month...but I won't. I could say it's hard to get good help these days...but I won't.

Instead let's just go with the fact that my human, "Thumbs", as I like to call her (since, let's face facts, these appendages are what I pay her for!) experienced a wee bit of trouble keeping up the pace. Make her type when she's not in the mood and I guarantee you she goes cranky on me. Lucky for me when she's on a roll and both fingers are flying she never reads what she's typing. Consequently I can get away with a bit of badgering but don't get me wrong, we have an excellent relationship. The main reason she agreed to be my assistant was that typing my blog had to be better than listening to my incessant meowing. Touche!

Anyway, in the meantime, back at the Catvent, we'd like to introduce a new upcoming feature to our little blog. The Notch of the Week is coming your way soon.

From time to time haven't we all run across something that just about raises the hair on our back, rubs us the wrong way, makes our blood boil, gets the whiskers in a bunch? You know what I'm talking about! The things you see when you don't have a camera or a witness!

Then there are other times when something happens that strikes the funny bone, makes us laugh out loud, causes a warm fuzzy feeling or gives you a chill.

So good, bad or ugly, each week I will be on the lookout for something that screams for a whack from Sister's yardstick.

If any of you out there come across something you feel deserves a notch on my yardstick just send me an e-mail at: sistervc2@gmail.com

After all, this should be fun!

Notches Away!

WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SMELL?

The following e-mail just in from a lady who traveled many miles to visit family in Pennsylvania. Their home is located right at the edge of a forest so it sounded like Mother Nature at its finest but perhaps a little more than this 'Nana' bargained for.

Dear Sister Very Catty,

I've just returned from a wonderful vacation where I visited with my son and his family, seeing the sights nearby and playing Nana to the grand-kids. One sight in particular I should warn others about....if you're ever going to see the Smithsonian in Washington, DC your best bet would be to go by helicopter because there is apparently no visible private transportation parking to be found! So if you want to go bad enough you can try using the public transportation system, a partially above ground, mostly below ground claustrophobic causing train. Time your touristic venture just right and you may also experience the red line, orange line, blue line transfer of mass confusion. For some reason there doesn't appear to be any signs directing you as to which line is which so it's look lost and hope someone comes along and offers help. Then if you get the lucky train you get the boot shy of your destination because it's rush hour and they turn the train around and head it back to the center of the city!

After that excursion we did enjoy a great Memorial Day meal at home and afterward decided to sit on the porch and relax enjoying the view of the forest. Suddenly I spotted a rather anorexic-looking fox racing across the field beside the house heading for the forest. Since the only foxes I'd ever seen were on TV I didn't have a lot to compare with but this was one very skinny fox. Not too long after that the neighbor comes over asking if we'd seen a rabid fox go by. Immediately I thought better of relaxing on the porch, maybe not such a good idea after all...but then I did have food to digest so moving wasn't an option just yet.
Next thing you know we see several men with rifles in several golf carts heading into the woods. Now while that was pretty entertaining in itself it was a far cry from the fox hunts on TV where people get on horses with their big-butted pants and ride off with the hounds to hunt the fox. This poor fox being hunted by men in golf carts...well, that's just an indignity, rabies or not! Last we heard the fox was never found.

Now my actual question to you Sister stems from what happened the day before when Mr. Fox trotted rabidly through the yard. It was a beautiful Saturday so the entire family decided to do yard work. I'm pushing great grand baby around in the stroller and the family pet, a golden retriever is playing in the yard amongst all of us. I might add this is a very smart dog that never wanders off to snoop in the forest. All of a sudden I begin to get a whiff of a very unpleasant odor. I attempted to point it out to the others but no one else seemed to believe me....until we all headed back to the house through the garage. It was a sinus-awakening jolt! Upon looking around we notice the dog has something smeared all over its neck and sides. Now have I mentioned the woods nearby complete with a creek, geese, rabbits, rabid fox, etc.? Turns out this poor pooch has literally rolled in deer poop! Now I know you being of the feline order would never think to do such a thing, and I do love dogs, but do you have any feline interpretation of such dog behavior?

Signed,
Curious in Tucson


Dear Curious,

Sounds like a vacation to remember...uh-huh...remember to pack the aerosol arsenal next trip!

While I'm not the biggest fan of the canine order I have no personal problem with them and my humans love dogs as well as cats, so understand I am not profiling here or anything. It's just that truth be known dogs were actually put on Earth to help the male human counterpart feel better about themselves.

Observing a dog's antics never fails to lift a man's spirits. No matter what kind of BS a man puts up with during the day, no matter how the world has let him down, with a dog in his life he just couldn't possibly stay down for long. Whether Fido or Rover or LuLu is displaying that big sorrowful feed-me-a-treat look, or begging for scratchies, or to play ball, or just performing a round of tail chasing, it is always going to make man feel better about man.

Let's face facts here...dogs are pretty much stuck on stupid and it's common knowledge you can't fix stupid. Seriously, have you ever witnessed a cat taking the time out to bring you the newspaper or your slippers? Ever seen one do the scoot routine across the carpet or chase its tail? Didn't think so. Thus, men are men and dogs are dogs cuz that's how they roll.

Now it seems to me that I have heard somewhere that some of those males out there who possess the need to go out and kill something (commonly referred to as hunting) actually can go and purchase deer urine to do what with I'd prefer not to know. Perhaps smear it on themselves like the dog?

Maybe this golden retriever had a better idea than its counterparts so the reason behind the poop smear could be....

Holy whiskers, I got nuthin'!

Stupid is as stupid does?

Blessings with a shot of air freshener to you!

NEAR-DRY EXPERIENCE

Just where to begin this entry is the question...after a brief and unscheduled absence. Could start with a wise crack about how it's all water under the bridge now but that might not fly since there seemed to be a bit of a "water shortage" amongst us!

How about you can lead a horse (or human) to water but you can't make them drink??!

Let's see a raise of hands here...if we hold up a big tall glass of cool refreshing water in one paw and in the other hold up an ice cold 12 oz. can of Coca-Cola...which would my human go for? Well, everyone that knows my human also knows it would be the can of coke paws down! Unfortunately, had my human been feline I'm pretty certain a couple of those 9 lives would have been spent a couple weeks ago.

Yeah, here I am trying to run a cool cat blog and due to the fact that computers do not come with paw-friendly keyboards I am stuck having to employ the assistance of said human. Now grant you I am always fed on a timely basis, I even get extra if I insist on it, I have yummy munchies available at all times in two locations, as well as, fresh water daily in three locations so my complaints regarding my humans would be very minimal...until recently. You see we had us a little incident occur in our normally quiet, peaceful abode and all due to the simple fact that while I always have fresh water, aforementioned human seems to neglect to partake of said fluids. Consequently when my human goes down for the count bad things can result such as my cat box doesn't get tended to, there's a severe lack of back scratches, my blog gets neglected, and dumb ass human gets a concussion and a black eye complete with stitches. Can we say it's hard to get good help these days?

So while the Coca-Cola flowed freely around here it simply wasn't the right thing to keep my human upright. Lucky for that human to have the other human at home at the time to take care of the situation. Said situation involved a 911 call, a rather uncomfortable ride to a hospital where upon human was forced fluids. Yep, our human was pretty darn dried up in spite of all the Coca-Cola previously consumed.

Finally Dummy came back around and began to once again feel more human but a wee bit disgruntled regarding the entire ordeal. Something about complaining the escort to the hospital in 'that metal box of torture' being very uncomfortable, the intimidation of 6 or 7 paramedics bombarding the scene, and then top it off with having to stay the night in a place this human would rather never know existed. It seems being dehydrated causes one's veins to shy away from IV insertion which resulted in multiple pricks with search needles which resulted in rather large black and blue fields up and down the arms and hands so that was a mite disconcerting. By the time all was said and done my human was actually quite colorful between the shiner and all the bruises. Perhaps someone should warn human not to pass out in the bathroom where it becomes human versus the porcelain goddess. She wins every time but we won't bring that up again, will we?

Anyone feeling parched out there?

COMING or GOING?

Ever notice how the days come and go so fast and the months just seem to fly on by? Being Sister VC of the Feline Order, I'm blessed with 9 lives so I can't lay claims to any rat races with time or having the feeling that I'm not keeping up. Usually I enjoy my 18-hour nap, nibble on some Meow Mix from time to time, read my e-mails, blog a bit, life is grand. However, the e-mail below tells of one who is not so sure if she's coming or going.

Dear Sister Very Catty,

I'm feeling a bit out of touch these days like I'm chasing my tail. With my daily commute to the office, I'm away from home 12 hours a day. 7 am to 7 pm only leaves me with a few hours in the evening to eat, read e-mails, get my clothes and lunch ready for the next day, exercise a little, then try and get at least 7 hours of sleep or I'm completely worthless the next day. It's no wonder I feel cramped for time, plus I just turned fifty-five and now I nod off when I try to relax and watch a little TV.

As far as the week-ends I find myself spending a lot of time with my ex-husband. Since I finally made it clear to him via divorce that I can no longer tolerate his whiny negativity, he's become the guy I wish he'd been while we were married. I have no delusions of grandeur here but I do enjoy his company...for as long as he can keep this attitude up.

My time at the office, however, holds a bit of a challenge for me. In spite of having to work with a woman with a most unpleasant disposition, I remain the professional that I am. To top this off I have a wonderful boss, he has great work ethics- just questionable morals. A very pleasant personality, knows the business, a joy to work with but I have to wonder what his wife would think of his putting the moves on me every opportunity he finds. I have been extremely open and blunt about my lack of any interest whatsoever but that seems to have absolutely no bearing on his desires.

Open to suggestions!
Signed,
Tired in Texas


Dear Tired,

No wonder you're tired. Sounds to me like you're not the only one in purr-suit of your tail.

A day consists of 24 hours and you're down by half with the commuting to and from the office. Between the 7 hours you require for sleep, your evening chores, and geez, let's not leave out those trips to the kitty box, doing dishes after dinner much less the preparation, the moments it takes to come to in the morning, rolling out of bed, painting your face, doing your hair...well, that clock just keeps right on ticking doesn't it?

Turning fifty-five has nothing to do with your feeling tired. Trust me...I can see it from here. Take that 12 hours for instance. You must enjoy the job since you tolerate a bit of a time-robbing commute, so let's focus on the actual time spent in the office. Let's face it, it just wouldn't be a complete office without the proverbial, overbearing, anal-retentive personality on board so no real suggestions for you in that direction.

My focus would be steered more towards the bozo chasing you around the desk where the word 'no' does not compute. Hmmm, compels one to inquire as to where on your resume it states you're applying for a position stroking someone's ego? Under objective did you put 'Desperate, willing to settle for some other woman's pain-in-the-ass'? I thought not.

Why is it that certain individuals will continue to bark up the wrong tree time after time when they've continually been denied access? Is it a sense of entitlement because they hold the highest position in the company, or perhaps a part of the male anatomy is doing the thinking while the body is doing the pursuing?

As far as hanging out with the ex, it's familiar territory and no doubt offers comfort after your week in the offices of Bitchy, Horny & Help-Me.

So my dear Tail Chaser, this is where your energy is being depleted but stay strong sister and hope like hell this too shall pass!

Blessings!

What oh What Will He Do?

Recently my in-box held quite an engaging query and I'd like to share it with you. Sometimes it does one good to know there are others out there in the world in deeper caca than one's self.

Confused in Phoenix wrote the following:

Sister Very Catty,
I am a middle-aged, divorced man who has found someone I think I may want to spend the rest of my life with. She is a wonderful woman but my problem is her parents and my past. Her Father is a minister and her Mother has a Doctorate in Theology. They are very opinionated and mostly intolerant of other life styles.

I have told my new woman friend that my wife left me for another woman, and I've told her that my son has undergone a sex change and is now Melissa instead of Mark. Also, I've told her about my two brothers that are serving time for bilking seniors out of the retirement monies and I've even told her about how my mother died of AIDS. But, I haven't told her the most troubling thing of all. Should I tell her that my sister is a Republican Congresswoman?

Dear Confused,

Seems to me the woman's got spunk if she's still around after what all you've shared so far.

Your having had to deal with a child who wasn't satisfied with what nature provided him/her. the bamboozling brothers, your mother...well, we won't speak ill of the dead, and your ex jumping ship certainly should have prepared you for most anything.

So, regarding your new lady's parents...the Reverend High and Dr. Mighty...make it clear from the get-go that you worship at the Most Unholy Church of Idontgiveacrap and for the sake of the relationship, kindly ask your lady to run interception so you can just avoid them at all costs.

Now, as far as sister deal breaker, merely explain that she is possessed and currently on a waiting list for an exorcism.

Blessings to all!

Dear Disciples...

Okay, that word threw me too until I verified that it can also mean followers. Either word...let's not be so formal here, after all, this is a blog not a bible.

So, on that note, instead of having the typical "Followers" section on the right of the page we're going to call this one the "COOL CAT CLUB".

Please sign on and join the club where there are no fees, no meetings, no fund-raisers, just fun. Trust me, if you are a regular follower, you're automatically ordained a cool cat!

Besides, being Sister Very Catty, I need some peace of mind that somewhere somebody out there is reading this blog, therefore lessening the concern I have that I'm just talking to myself...again.

I'll be honest here and confess that I am under the belief that what the world needs is one more advice column so all I want to do is help people get through life's little trials and tribulations...by making little of them!

Simply send me an e-mail and I'll do my best to make light of life's BS:

sistervc2@gmail.com

As you may have read some of them below I do post the e-mails from time to time. Not to worry, bitch all you want because all names are always changed to protect the guilty or innocent, whichever the case may be.

Blessings to all!

Easter Blessings to All

Happy Easter!

Here's hoping all those pretty colored little eggs are found today and not six months from now!

Blessings!

Well, Have You??

Recently someone wrote me asking if I had seen the latest TV commercial talking about yet another very personal subject matter. Believe me, it's worth bitching about!

Pee-Ode in Portland writes:

Dear Sister Very Catty,

The other day on television a commercial came on where the announcer asks, "Have you experienced it yet?" LBL. So what the hell is LBL you ask? Well, as unbelievably stupid as it sounds it means light bladder leakage.

As if PMS wasn't bad enough...my complaint is that by the time this latest media dribble flows from every direction, the entire world is going to think that every time a gal laughs, she wets her pants! Is there no end to this? And I thought it was embarrassing enough growing up seeing Jane Russell and her mega sized bras!

Dear Pee-Ode,

You're absolutely justified in your disgust with all the television commercial propaganda goings on. By the time that particular one saturates the public it will indeed seem like a common occurrence that anyone who laughs or sneezes or coughs will experience LBL right there in front of everyone around them. Are they pushing sales for Depends or things with wings?

It is so out of control...what a serious lack of human decency, no privacy, absolutely nothing sacred anymore concerning bodily functions. Let's get it all out in the open and on national TV and shove it at John Q Public every chance possible.

For crying out loud, where on earth do they come up with these ridiculous terms? Who invents this malarkey? Just how scientific does LBL sound anyway? Why not CHI instead...couldn't hold it? Or maybe oops or an ought-oh...everyone understands that without further question. LBL...are we sure that couldn't also stand for light bowel...well, you catch my drift.

What would we do without all the miraculous solutions available for PMS, ADHD, PAD, ED, IBS, occasional irregularity, and now LBL. You can whiten your teeth, grow more eyelashes, trim your thighs, even make Mr. Winky wake up.

Think about it...just imagine for a minute that an individual from another planet looked in on our universe and tuned in to daytime television. What a selection he'll find with a multitude of infomercials or constant interruptions to any regularly scheduled programming.

For example, one channel displays a rather scrawny looking 20 something female in skin tight short shorts moving about on some sort of mechanical apparatus. Skin and bones, my guess is she's exercising to disappear. Where's the fat, middle-aged sweaty dude that could really benefit from such an invention? Let's make it real.

How about those facial creams being shown on what looks to be a 14 year old who's pre-acne skin has barely reached puberty? What a way to not sell a product! Re-wind, back-up, erase those non-existent facial creases so soon she'll look 8. Again, where's the weather-beaten menopausal mother of a litter with real wrinkles she's proudly earned?

Then there's the ads for those over 35, those over 50, the depressed, the I need to quit smoking, and what about Medicare, burial insurance, how's your cholesterol, suffered heartburn lately, oh and for goodness sake, swap insurance companies because breaking up is hard to do and we all need to silence the annoying brunette before she drives the gecko insane right in front of the General! It's no wonder people suffer from IBS. Watching these commercials is depressing enough!!!

Also, for this sex-crazed planet you've got your magical products for erectile dysfunction, or perhaps you'd prefer the extendo-plan and mustn't forget the his and her KY jelly. Don't we all love to see the salt & pepper-haired gentleman sitting there talking to the Mrs. about"kicking it up a notch". Now that's something we all want to hear being discussed on national TV first thing in the morning. How does a parent explain to the kid eating his Cheerios before the school bus arrives? Where did Captain Kangaroo go? Howdy Doody come back!

I realize everyone needs to make a living but don't you wonder what they pay these actors to perform these crazy advertisements? Particularly the woman walking along in an airport telling the other woman, "Yeah, diarrhea, constipation, bloating, that's me!" Not only can she not make up her mind, she has no shame at all.

Now the commercials are one thing but how's about all the wonderful prescriptions out there being shoved at you to help fix these little human problems and complaints? Take at your own risk! Check out the side effects people...that list of goodies is way longer than the benefit list. Don't forget now if itching, burning, light-headedness, forgetfulness, puking, discharge, pregnancy or death occur call the idiot that prescribed it for you immediately so he can give you the 1-800-I-don't-care number.

Best advice...fast-forward to a good commercial-free book!

E-Mail vs The Real Thing

Dear Sister Very Catty,

I’m wondering if it’s just me! Am I merely old-fashioned, behind the times, stuck in old-school? Perhaps unwilling to change or move with the times, set in my ways or just WHAT?

I have friends who seem offended that I don’t e-mail….like this would bother me! So a friend told me about your advice blog and I had her send you my concerns.

My question is why is it that people don’t send real mail anymore? What’s with this e-mail jazz anyway? It barely takes a second to push a button on a keyboard, absolutely no thought process involved in regard to the recipient, and I hear for the most part, it’s just silly jokes anyway. Do they think this counts as hearing from someone? I mean sure it’s nice to know they must still be breathing if they can hit that send button but is that all there is?

Hasn’t everyone gotten excited to see there’s an e-mail from someone they hadn’t heard from in a long time only to immediately feel let down because it’s just another Tiger Woods joke. Is it the 44 cents for the stamp, too much trouble to find an envelope, or just can’t sit still long enough to put a few thoughts on paper?

Signed,
Empty Mailbox


Dear Empty Mailbox,

You’re obviously suffering from letter withdrawal syndrome but be assured you are not alone. I suppose we could campaign to increase the pen pal population but if we can’t get people to write a simple hello-how-the-dickens-are-you-letter, I fear we’re stuck in computer camp.

Many share your plight though. In fact this past Sunday Andy Rooney on 60 Minutes had a very good commentary regarding this very subject . People don’t communicate the same way anymore. Now it’s a scary thing to see people driving and holding their cell phone, no doubt preoccupied with the call rather than the traffic. You have the people walking around looking like they’re talking to themselves because you can’t see their ear buds. Or better yet, have you watched some idiot walk into something because they were so busy pushing micro mini buttons on a tiny object cupped in one hand they didn’t bother to watch where they were walking!? Now that’s funny!

Personally, I don’t think anything can ever replace going to the mailbox and finding a handwritten envelope addressed to me from someone. A welcome surprise….someone took the time to write and I can’t wait to read it.

Next it’s what shall I do….grab a couple seafood treats and curl up in a sunspot on the living room carpet...or grab my reading glasses and me and my letter head for the cat box, you know, do a little time in the “library”! It’s all about how to savor the moment.

Like Andy said Sunday evening...what about the Post Office...people aren’t buying newspapers because they can read all about it on the internet. People are also not buying postage stamps to mail these letters they no longer write because they have their noses stuck on the internet! Holy Crap, what happens when we have no post office? Good grief, what would we have to bitch about without the post office??!!

Now there’s a threat the post office may cease Saturday deliveries. I can understand the cutback and I can see the positive side...this means no windowed envelopes with an enclosed envelope wanting money, it can mean no junk mail to recycle, no unwanted periodicals or catalogs, but most of all...one lost opportunity of getting another personal letter.

These are definite thoughts to ponder and I vote we all pick up a pen and paper and write someone somewhere today. You don’t even have to lick the stamps anymore people. Post it!

A Chocoholic's Discovery

Have you ever heard of Nutella®? Pronounced “new-tell-uh”?
This is hardly my first trip around the food bowl but this was something new to me and my humans. Made with just three simple ingredients—hazelnuts, skimmed milk and cocoa, it has this wonderful chocolate flavor and spreads like peanut butter. In fact, it’s in the stores right next to the peanut butter.
Now being of the feline persuasion I really don’t do chocolate but my humans love it so consequently this led to some research on uses for this heavenly tasting spread. It was created in the 1940’s by a gentleman named Pietro Ferrero, a pastry maker. At that time in history there was very little chocolate to be found because cocoa was in such short supply due to World War II rationing. So Mr. Ferrero used hazelnuts to extend the chocolate, which were plentiful in the Piedmont region of Italy. It made a wonderful spread for pastries.
Once again our experimental kitchen goes in to action and this time around we’re talking chocolate factory. None of this obviously resulted in any yummy munchies for me but after awhile this place really smelled good.
Seems we found us a brownie recipe using this fantastic spread along with a bit of peanut butter, cocoa, etc. Wow! If only I could be human long enough to consume such treats. Oh no, all I get is chicken, beef or fishy flavor treats! These brownie perfections were fudge-like in the center, absolutely melted in your mouth, probably a sin somewhere to eat them. And we don’t talk calories around here so if that’s a concern you better just blog off!
Yes, brownies were a huge success but the story does not end there. Once the brownies all disappeared there was a chocolate withdrawal happening so back to the internet in search of yet another recipe using this new-found spread. Alas, a recipe for homemade cupcakes was printed out for trial and error...resulting in mostly unexplainable error. Very simple, short and sweet list of ingredients for yellow cupcakes adding a dollop of Nutella® to the center of the batter swirling it into the batter with a toothpick and bake.
The instructions couldn’t have been any easier and were followed carefully, yet the “batter” was more like a thick yellow spackle. So to add that dollop of spread and swirl it throughout ...well, that just didn’t happen since the consistency of the Nutella® was almost as stiff as the spackle…’er, I mean batter.
In fact, these cupcakes went in to the oven looking as ugly as they did when they came out. There was no light and fluffy to these babies. I’d bet between the dozen that were baked they must have weighed a pound or more. There was one attempt made to eat one and we’ll refrain from further description. They were laid to rest the following morning in the garbage.
But wait, not wanting to declare defeat a second attempt was made and this time using a cake mix so the dollop of spread actually could be swirled into the batter quite easily.
After 25 minutes they came out of the oven looking picture perfect. Lovely golden yellow light and fluffy cupcakes. However, those yummy dollops of chocolaty flavor that was so carefully swirled into the batter mysteriously wound up as a chocolate blob stuck to the cupcake paper underneath the cupcake. Comments were heard to how good they tasted and what a nice surprise at the bottom of the cake. I’ll say surprise alright.
Maybe the world of baking is trying to tell us to just stick to spreading this stuff on pastry and just let it go people!

Hot Dogs in the Desert

Baking Soon in the Desert wrote:
Dear Sister Very Catty:
While taking my pooch FiFi to the vet I noticed one of your cards at the front desk and thought I'd send you a line.
FiFi and I have a big problem. I am an older traveling lady - since 1999 I've been traveling around the USA with FiFi - working seasonal jobs in order to see all of the United States - supporting ourselves as we go.
Well, FiFi and I now want to settle down and we've chosen a great little community to move to on the central coast of California. Right now we are wintering in sunny Arizona while I am doing a seasonal assignment and FiFi hangs out in the RV.
There is an absolutely perfect job for me in our new home community - however due to the current statewide hiring freeze - the job just isn't open right now. FiFi and I just can't bear the thought of a summer in this desert heat (120 degrees!!!) So...do you have any ideas on what we can do??? It's already March and we've got to have a plan by the end of May!

Sister VC answers:
Dear Baking Buddies:
Not sure what it's going to take to thaw that freeze but I'd suggest having a back up plan in place just in case. You mentioned seasonal work...and California...hmm...what about earthquake season? Are you sure you've seen all 50 states?
While you wait for the thaw how's about dressing FiFi up in a hot pink fluffy skirt, hook up a tiny accordion to her, and let her dance for coins on the corner? Post a sign saying you're working your way west? Everybody falls for a pooch in a pink skirt!
Meantime hang tough...that's keep the faith in layman's terms.
Blessings!

Fennel Gets a Bad Rap

Still catching up on my emails and will soon post a select few. So many problems, so little time to answer but keep the faith people and try not to screw up!
Meantime I’ll share a tale from the CasaBlanca experimental kitchen about a recipe that called for something my humans had never tried before...fennel.
Occasionally an unfamiliar ingredient is required in a recipe and I am here to bear witness that we braved it through a fennel experience. Learning that this produce called ‘Fennel’ or “Anise’ had a licorice flavor to it...well, that automatically ought to vote it off the island. And since my super charged sniffing ability can bring me out of any 18 hour beauty sleep in a snap I feared that a horrible licorice smell would soon filter down my way. Sure I could go nap some more but why risk missing out the possibility that something good might hit the floor? Bummer is that more times than not it’s for human consumption only so another dinner of ocean whitefish it is but at least I enjoy the aromas erupting from their experimenting.
Okay, I for one, feel licorice is the single most disgusting flavor on earth. Can’t stand the smell of it, even the thought of the taste will cause a hairball, therefore do not want to see it anywhere near me. Well, in comes this almost hairy looking green thing with a whitish round end on it... the fennel had arrived and I feared the worst.
Surprisingly enough this is why fennel gets a bad rap….people should not assume it tastes bad at all just because it is ‘supposed’ to have a licorice-like flavor. Not only did it not have any hint of licorice, my humans claimed it tasted really good.
Seems they roasted a pan of cauliflower, brussel sprouts & slivers of fennel on a cookie sheet, drizzled with olive oil, salt & pepper and it was delicious beyond belief! Of course they didn’t share it with me but I could tell they were quite relieved at the outcome.
So my followers, believe me when I say that from what I witnessed everyone should give fennel a chance. It’s has an onion texture, very tasty, very pleasant surprise!
Try it...you might like it! Blessings!

Recipe Ruby seeks help

Recipe Ruby writes......
I'm finding myself in dire straits and need advice. Due to the current economy, an unbearable bitchy boss and the age factor I have recently found myself enjoying a new-found state of retirement. Unfortunately, I am now facing a dilemma commonly referred to as downsizing. Since space may soon be a factor all eyes seem to be focused on my small cookbook collection. I only have slightly over 1,000 books some dating back to the turn of the previous century. It's positively a priceless collection and I have treasured it for years. The subject of an RV is in the air, maybe even a townhouse...OMG, what am I to do?

Dear Ruby,
Part with your cookbooks? Are you missing ingredients here?! Read the recipe on the wall, baby...you keep those books, every single one. Simply dump hubby's tools since he won't be needing them on the road and buy a Bookmobile, install a bedroom, bathroom and kitchen and load up those books.
Bon Voyage
Sister VC

Lost in CyberSpace?

First it was just Tuesday, then I lost Wednesday too! The only way I can account for having lost two whole days is to blame the internet. All I wanted was a cool looking background for this Blog. You know, just a little bit of research, no big deal. Next thing you know, it's Thursday.
Too many choices, too many websites to see, topped off with having to follow installation procedures....what have I gotten myself in to?
I finally decide on a nice design, really pretty, colorful...this was the one. I endured the installation process, hit the save button, I'm almost there, I can feel it, I just know we're home and bingo...it did not compute! C'mon now, I do not speak computer! Not to mention the fact that I was cross-eyed by the time I went back and forth between the Blog, the instructions, back to the blog, and I'm not even Siamese! Do you have any idea how tricky it is to use this keyboard with two paws?
Anyway, the search has come to an end and at long last I have successfully installed the background you now see. Hope it was worth it.
You know the web really should have warnings pop up whenever one is about to go into a search. Like for instance: Researcher Beware...this could take days out of your life! Or say every 15 minutes: Halt Research...Eat something...save Yourself!
I see we have some e-mail to answer, people with real troubles needing my comments so on to the real task at paw. Remember you can e-mail your concerns to me at: sistervc2@gmail.com
I'll tell ya how to get over it?!
Blessings to all!

Day two of Blog Central?

Since this Blogging jazz is pretty foreign to me I do hope my readers (both of them)will forgive me as I struggle thru the learning process. If I'm doing this correctly, this will land under what I wrote yesterday. And if I'm not doing it correctly...who's gonna care?
Today was a nice rainy day, perhaps dreary to some but get over it! We get way too many darn nice sunny days! Boring!
Speaking of a weather event, let's have a word regarding our dear weather channel announcers. How many viewers out there can't wait to see Jim Cantore and his stories get blown from the Atlantic to the Pacific? Why does he think he needs to stand out in the blowing hurricane conditions to report the weather to us? How soaked does he need to be before he thinks we can tell it really is raining? And pardon my asking, but who invited Al Roker anyway?
Well, for tonight's services we are delighted to have our little "choir" at practice. Prior to having my ear drums blasted to kingdom come I now hide out in the back room while they practice. Curling up in the base drum is not advised. The CasaBlanca Cuisine kitchen has a crockpot full of yummy meatballs with their special secret sauce and potato torte squares.
Blessings to all. Keep those cards and letters coming in...

SAY WHAT

Sister Very Catty resides in an off-campus type convent that houses a small scale in-house specialty kitchen. The CasaBlanca Cuisine is probably more of an experimental kitchen for therapeutic purposes for the chefs, although all visitors seem to go away quite content with whatever they were offered on a plate.

As this blog travels thru my day to day life not only will I play a good listener to your troubles and offer my thoughts, I shall also share with you some of the fabulous creations that come out of this kitchen. Should anyone out there ever desire to have a recipe I’m sure the chefs will share. You must realize that everything I witness is usually from ground level...unless I catch a break and get away with jumping up on the kitchen stool. The cooks frown on my possible shedding. Imagine that! Doesn't everything taste a little better with cat hair in it?!

Today’s feat consisted of a beautiful 4-tiered chocolate cake made from scratch topped with yummy chocolate frosting made with sour cream. Taken from one of the Bon Appétit magazines it looks divine. Only downside to the recipe was the fact that the round cake pans were to be only 5 inches round rather than the typical 9 inches and I don't eat chocolate unless it's on tuna.

Yet to be attempted this evening is homemade ravioli...well, if homemade counts using won ton skins.
Stuffing with ricotta cheese and spinach. Sounds great and I’m praying for an opportunity to sample that cheese! Dear Lord, please provide a small accidental spill on the floor.