It WAS a post about the really excellent weekend I had. Instead, I’ll write for you the story we wrote in Spanish yesterday.

Un día, un gato tenía hambre. Entonces, decidió a matar un ratón.

De repente, el ratón dijo “PARAR!”

El gato dijo “Miau.”

El ratón insultó el gato y corrió a un agujero. El gato estaba muy triste y todavía tenía hambre. Dos días más tarde, el gato murió.

Pero! Tenía ocho más vidas, por lo que la historia es apropriada a niños!

Fin.

Translate if you want.

Miau.

Here he is post battle in the garbage can. That darn mouse should have known better than to hang around!!!!

Play cat and mouse, guys like that!

VS.

Make sure to let them know you’re interested. You don’t want to lose them all together, do you?

WHAT?!?! So it is up to me to show I am interested but not eager…? This sounds like way too much acting. I thought I was supposed to be honest about my feelings? So dating is now a stage play, unfortunately this makes a lot of sense.

The 90 Day Rule

(2 Versions…it was apparently that successful)

Version 1: Ladies, do not give up any “goods” for 90 days

This rule doesn’t bother me, but it doesn’t seem to sit well with some guys. It seems as though there is a silent Occupy the 90 Day Rule movement by certain men. It usually goes in stages. Ladies, I’m here to help lol. This is based on my experience**. First, they measure your reaction to subtle things by dropping little comments and actions here and there. They are feeling you out. Then, if you reacted neutral or positive, to their terrible attempts to measure you up, they attempt seduction. If that doesn’t work, they become argumentative. Swearing up, down, left, and right you are the one missing out. That they are God’s gift to women. You are dumb for not letting them take advantage of you. Obviously, they are full of it! Don’t fall for it, unless you want to. Last, comes the whining. I don’t think I will ever understand why/how men feel so entitled to a woman’s body after treating her to a few meals?

**Disclaimer: This is what I have experienced with a certain type of man. Confident, honest, and respectful men will respect your wishes

Version 2: You won’t really know what type of person he is for at least 90 days

So I have to waste 90 days of my life to figure this guy out? On top of that, I’ve retired my players jersey, so I date “faithfully” now. I have to focus completely on this one person for 3 months?! With these dating stage plays, who is to say he doesn’t have a Star on the Walk of Fame? I have to use my judgement and slightly trust this person to not waste my valuable time.

Now, for the infamous…

3 Day Rule!!

Does the no-contact-for-the-first-3-days rule still exist? A friend of mine said it has been shortened to 1 1/2 days since texting has become more common now. Also, I haven’t experienced this during this round of dating. How many of you remember waiting by your phone, with no caller id, hoping it was the person finally calling you. Then every time you answered, you had to say ‘hello’ without sounding too eager. What a tangled web we weave!

Who comes up with these crazy rules? It is like expiration dates, used for food, but applied to love. Why are guys shocked when I chose to be honest? Honesty should be customary, not refreshing, when dating.

Can we start a movement for easy dating, please? Be honest with what you are looking for. Forget the rules. If you want or don’t want something, just be honest and upfront. Feelings might be hurt occasionally, but so much time, money, and effort will be SAVED!

Think about it and get back to me…

Until next time

testing in wordpress

I’m quite the dandy, blogging blah blah. Spewing noncents for all of us broke on meaning. Feeling real idea-illogical. Playing cat & mouse with a fruit fly. I always try to remember to call them drosophila because that’s what neuroscientists call them before killing them, the same way we call pigmeat pork & cowmeat beef. They kill them to harvest their nervous systems as treasure maps to our brains. There, the drosophile! Bouncing about, feeling out my thoughts. Me, trying my swat & squeeze technique, always thinking this time I’ve got it, keeping my fist clenched there for an extra moment, staring at it, trying to feel the splatter of brainmap. But no, slipped my grip again, like so many words walking the plank freely to the tip of my tongue. It’s odd to think I’m that slow, that my seconds are minutes in the lives of others. What if I had snowywindow wings like them? Could I dodge the hands of grandfather Clock? I bought bubblegum toothpaste yesterday––I used to love it in my babyish days if you’ll recall, before I submitted to the Listerine theory of life. When sweet things were innocent. But it tasted different somehow yesterday. Have I gotten so old as to not appreciate bubblegum flavor? Now that I think about it, it’s odd. I associate you with that red cinnamon gum you were always smacking away at, even in your sleep. That stuff always offended my ears, nose, & throat. Do they make that flavor toothpaste? I hope you don’t find this “terribly cavalier” an update. I’ve tucked every bit as much care into it as your monographic letter. And I topped it off with the courtesy of sparing you the six extra pages of mundane details. The wife & kids are good.

Yours,

Django Fontina     

Yeah Baby... Gimme summa dat mouse!

 My Mamma Makes Mice!  Oooooh yeah and I loves them!  They come crawlin out at night cos I wake up in the mornin and there be new ones I gots to kill every day!  Sometimes they be hangin off the windows, or drawer knobs…

Oooo A NEW Mousy!

Don't call me 'Squirrel'... 'MOUSE!'

 She calls ‘em ‘Pussycat Pompom Mousies’ ~ hehehe!  Yeah ~ & I pom pom ‘em to death!

Later!  Luvs & Snuggles, Mishka. xoxox 

New 3 color hand silkscreened art print, "Naptime". (click to purchase or for more info.)

For a while now I’ve been wanting to try a new layout, a square one, and one that would fit right into an LP record frame. Well, that time has come.

It’s “Naptime”. We all get sleepy snuggly sometimes, and even natural-born enemies can be the best of friends. You just gotta let your softer side rule.

“Naptime” is the first print in that size and layout. From an illustration that I did a few weeks ago while hanging out on a lazy Sunday afternoon off, while we were totally being summer tv heads. Probably we were watching some cooking shows, or Holmes On Holmes (my new obsession) or such like television.

Anyhoo, I also decided rather than waste paper or have a weirdly shaped cast off, as the 12×12 inch size is smaller than my normal print & paper size, that I would run a smaller print at the same, 2-up. (2-up means printing 2 or more designs on the same page at the same time, cutting them down and apart after printing.) So, I did an ode to books for the secondary smaller design, as below, called “I Love My Books”. ‘Cause I do.

New 3-color (with overprints) mini art print, "I Love My Books", hand screenprinted. (click ot purchase or for more info.)

All sunny and warm, just like this summer. Both “Naptime” and  “I Love My Books” prints are now available at my website here and also in my Etsy shop here. And, for some process photographs of the hand screenprinting process, take a look below. Click on any image below to see more & get more info at my Flickr account too.

1st color, printed. (click to see a larger image, more images or for more info.)

2nd color screen taping & prep. (click to see a larger image, more images or for more info.)

Closeup of "I Love My Books" 3-color hand silkscreened art print.

Closeup of "Naptime", 3 color hand screenprinted art print.

Stacy Keach plays a truck driver who likes to play games on the road with his dingo companion in order to eliminate some of the boredom of long drives across Australia. After hearing about a serial killer on the loose who cuts up and disposes bodies all over the place, Keach begins to suspect a man who drives a green vehicle. Since the two stopped in the same area for the night, Keach sees the mysterious potential killer watching the garbage being collected very early in the morning. (As his dog sniffs the garbage bag of interest in an attempt to get food.) Jamie Lee Curtis plays the hitchhiker who Keach picks up and who is eventually taken by the killer. I’ve read from other reviews that Richard Franklin, the director, was a very big fan of Alfred Hitchcock. Being a fan myself, watching this movie was that much more fun for me because I actively looked for certain shots and twists in the story that could reference to Hitchcock’s works. But even if one is not familiar with Hitchcock’s movies, one could still enjoy this psychological thriller because of the suspenseful false alarms and eventual real dangers that the characters had to face. I thought “Roadgames” was very different from other movies about killers on the road (especially American movies of the same set-up). Franklin took the time to establish Keach and Curtis’ characters before really getting into the scares. They talked and formed a genuine connection, so when the two were finally on the killer’s tracks, we couldn’t help but care and wonder whether they really were on the right track and whether or not they would eventually get caught. My favorite scene was when Keach investigated the number of meat in the back of his truck. That scene was done so well because at first I had no idea what he was thinking. But when I finally caught up on why he was so worried, I was so disturbed and I could remember saying out loud that he should get out of the truck as soon as possible. My heart raced so fast because the camera just lingered there as if something was about to go seriously wrong. The scene after that was also very impressive–very Hitchcockian–the way the character got into his own head and trying to persuade himself that everything was alright (which, of course, was not the case). “Roadgames” is now considered a cult classic cat-and-mouse movie and I believe it still holds up today. I wish more people would see this because it did many things that were so unexpected. Instead of simplifying things for the audience, it actually tried to outsmart us which I found to be very refreshing even though it was released back in 1981.

1. treehugger.com

2. “Think-make-think”, clinton burt

3. “chester and marissa, marissa and chester” j.tye

4. spider necklace, folksy.com

5. kiddie ride #12, ana serrano 

6. eddie borgo pumpkin making, a vogue halloween, style.com

7. eddie borgo pumpkin final product, style.com

8.chainsaw wall sticker, sprouthome.com

9. Anthropologie.com, women’s ware

source: Dylan Monroe’s Portfolio see: Chaos Magazine [pg. 77]

I love the styling most of all, those masks are FABULOUS! The lingerie isn’t bad either. One can certainly not mention this, without mentioning the models (Ashton Morris) long, long legs/lovely body. Fuck, what I’d give to look like her.

So perhaps I’m trying to figure out a costume for an upcoming celebration.. any ideas?

Perek Shira – 20th Av, 5769

Perek Shira: Me-owch! The Galus is a Game of Cat & Mouse

The Knaf Renanim says that the cat is not a predator by nature. It is quite domesticated. The one thing the cat can’t stand is a mouse. This intense hatred towards a specific animal is unique to the cat among the animals. The mouse he says, although it seems like it only causes damage, that is only when it comes above ground to steal some food. However in its natural habitat below the ground, the mouse serves an important function in the world, even though we don’t know what that function is. Hashem created the cat’s ingrained hatred to keep the mouse where it belongs.

The Knaf Renanim says the Nimshal is Torah. The cat is the Yetzer Hara, the mouse is Am Yisroel and the ground is where the Torah is. I once heard a similar explanation with the Nimshal being the Galus. In Galus, Bnei Yisroel has been thrown to the ground. We are to remain there, absorbed only in Torah and Mitzvos. The big world out there with all its attractions is not for us. We are not invited to the party right now. If we stay underground and out of sight, we will remain safe and protected. When we become “curious” and venture out to enjoy the Gashmiyus the world has to offer, the cat or the “Umos HaOlam” become unhappy that we infringing on their turf. They are Hashem’s messengers to send us scampering back to where we belong.

Sometimes we venture out too far. The cat sees us and we run but we can’t make it back to our hole and we are caught. The cat mercilessly persecutes us and kills us with no chance of escape. The Knaf Renanim says that cat catches his prey batters it and then lets it go. The mouse thinks he has broken loose, but this is just a game. After a few feet he grabs him again and pummels him once more. After a few rounds of this game he finally eats him (I saw this with my own eyes once).

The cat says to the mouse, “Im Tagbia KaNesher V’Im Bein Kochavim Sim Kinecha M’Sham Oiridcha N’um Hashem”, if you choose to rise up to places you don’t belong, I will bring you down. “Erdof Oivai VaAsigaim V’Lo Ashuv Ad Kaloisum” I will chase my enemy and not return until I wipe him out.

When caught the mouse says, “V’Ata Tzadik Al Kol Haba Aleinu Ki Emes Asisa V’Anachnu Hirshanu”; you are justified in all you do. You are correct and we have been wicked.

It’s been a long galus with us buried in the ground. The times we’ve come up we’ve been hunted and killed. Hang in there and don’t leave your place. Our time will soon come and HaKadosh Boruch Hu will say, “Hisnari MeiAfar Kumi”; brush off the earth and rise once again. Bimheira Biyameinu Amein!

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I thought of this when reading another blog. It made me giggle and think of the fun adventure we had a few years back. It’s funny today, but at the time, well, you decide. Ha ha

While living in base housing on Mountain Home Air Force Base (MHAFB), we lived in a single unit near a huge desert field. There was a row of houses seperating us from the field.

Of course, everything seemed to happen every time hubby had to go TDY (on temporary duty somewhere else). It never failed. This particular time was a night mare but hilarious. When I look back and think of how funny we must have looked, I get to laughing.

It was a fall night, we were all nestled in our warm beds, of course minus hubby. When all of a sudden, Smokey, our sweet grey kitty crawled into bed with me making a weird noise. I woke up and noticed he had something in his mouth that looked liked tissue. I went to grab it thinking he was choking, when some little voice said, “No! Turn on the light first.” So I reached over and turned on the lamp, and EEEEEKKKKK!!!!

Smokey quickly dropped what was in his mouth, it was…(ready for this one?) It was a mouse. No, it was not a dead mouse. It was a live, breathing, frightened field mouse trying to figure out where he should run to. Smokey sits there proud as could be after bringing mom a trophy!

I froze for a brief moment then went and found the hammer and chased that mouse. Up my clothes in the closet he scurries, (long house coat got him there), across the hangar bar, up the wall. Oh my gosh, how am I going to catch this little guy. Smokey is trying to help too needless to say. “Look out mom, let me get him for you.”

By this time the kids are up wondering what all that racket was about. Of course they freak and scream. I get them settled down, and then it becomes a fun game. Until…daughter sees it coming out of the closet. Then it’s shreaks and scampering feet of every kind.

At this point I’m thinking, why is it only when he is gone? Smokey, you brought me a trophy, but a normal cat will kill it’s trophy’s. Why do you have to be the abnormal cat and do this when dad is gone? But then I think, hey, you fit in with the family. None of us are normal. {:<( Hee hee.

The chase is on. Down the hall, into the kitchen. Where are you, then I spot him heading for the laundry room. He hides under a stool, or so he thinks he’s hiding. “Okay Smokey, no way, you had your chance, he’s mine now. I’m fighting the cat to get to the mouse to get rid of it.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I could kill an innocent animal. You see, I’m an animal lover of all kinds. Hurting an animal just isn’t my nature. Especially when looking into their eyes. I know, I’m a sap! But what else was I going to do. I sure wasn’t going to sleep with it. I couldn’t have it running amuck in the house. So bam, down with the hammer, then it hits me. A mouse is tiny, I have a hammer, I smash it, ugghhh, it’s going to splatter. Whew, spared the gore! Thank you Lord!

Then comes another struggle, Smokey still wants to claim mousey for his own. He scoops it up and snarls at me. So the chase is on once again. Mousey has gone to mousey heaven now, but Smokey is still claiming it. “Ah come on Smokey, it’s late, the kids & I have to get up early, while you can sleep all day! Give me mousey PLEASE!!!” Finally catch him still growling and hissing at me. I get the mouse, throw it away and off to bed. Ahhh, yes finally.

Wahhhh, I can’t go to sleep now. How many more of those little critters is he going to bring into bed with me. Is there more? There must be, cuz where there’s one, there is more. Whyyyyyy??? Oh come on, quit being a sissy and just go to sleep. Finally sleep comes. But…the story does not end here. Oh no, not now. This is just the beginning. The best is yet to come. Down the hall on the wall, bump, thump, thump bump… Oh sorry, this isn’t a Dr. Suess story.

Oh that’s right, hubby reads my posts. Sorry baby, but you have to admit, this was pretty funny. I have to share, it’s for lifes best medicine. We all need laughter.

Any way, we go through this several nights before hubby gets back. He thought it was funny hearing about it. He he he…Well, turns out Smokey was not going to leave hubby out of the picture. Oh no, he had to get dad in the fun. After all, dad deserved a trophy too didn’t he? Oh yes he did. Mom shouldn’t get all the awards. Uh-uh, no way. Dad was his pal! Uh-huh. Yes he was. Smokey loves daddy!

Middle of the night, Smokey jumps in bed, and I knew that sound all too well. Hubby asks what the problem is, I turn on the light and holler he has another mouse. (I’m sitting here laughing thinking of this all over again). Hubby stands up in bed, starts running in place (mind you, we had a water bed at the time) hollering, “get it, get it.” I stand there floored, thinking, I’ve dealt with these buggers for how many nights now, and you are running in place, on the bed, telling me to get it. Augghh, okay, chicken little, I’ll get the hammer and take care of it. Geesh. Of course during this time, up the clothes in the closet, back down, and Smokey’s on it.

Hubby is still in the bedroom not knowing what to do. Finally get it and squash it. Poor guy, claims he was in shock, hadn’t woken up completely, he wasn’t scared, just didn’t know what to do. That’s my hubby. I love him so though. That’s okay babe, I’ll let you off the hook this time. mmmwwwaaaahhh love you.

Needless to say, we finally found where the buggers were coming in at. I thought it was under the stove, and set traps there, of course never caught them. Or perhaps the laundry room. Set traps there too, but to no avail. They were coming in through the utility closet. Smart little farts. Here was a rather large hole in the floor where the gas pipe came in. Grrr. Why in the world did they leave a whole in the floor. We fixed that rather quickly, and thus that ended the mousey problems. Whew!!! Our fun ended. Thanks to hubby for figuring out there entrance and closing it off!!! My hero. XOXO