It ain't all pizzas and cream

Day 304: Adoptee

They usually find us. The strays, the starving, the damaged doggies and bent cats. On freeways, in state parks, in back alleys. They always find us. The last time I bought a pet, it was a fish, and I was 12. Fish, after all, don't usually follow you home.

But today, 12 days after our dear Hammer left this world, we broke with tradition and went out in search of a dog. Being parents, we no longer have the luxury of bringing any stray into our home untested. So we went to the local PSPCA's Animal Care & Control Team to try and make a difference for one dog. Sarah (sadandbeautiful) and her daughter were kind enough to come along to make sure we didn't let infatuation get the better of us.

We met several candidates: Bo, Boomer, and Remi...all of whom were sweet and energetic. A bit too energetic for us.  And then we met Ben, a pit-basset mix. Yes, pit-basset. Imagine a pit head and body, loaded on basset legs, and you get the idea. Here's his rap sheet: He' s 3 years old, and had been the house pet at a drug & alcohol recovery house. He's mellow, indifferent to other dogs, good with cats, good with kids, and has no food aggression issues. 

So we filled out the paperwork, got the leash from the car, and brought him home.

 

So far he's fitting in well. He hasn't paid any attention to Annie, our salty old cat, and has been respectful of boundaries like "out of the kitchen." He's also a born couch potato and LOVES to cuddle. Right now he's asleep and snoring, with his head on Cecily's knee.

We're still working on a name. My favorites thus far have been Tank, Groucho, and Angus. In that order.

Day 303: Halloween, Culture, and Racism

I've spent much of today reading about racist Halloween costumes, both for people and, yes, pets.  Racism in America is certainly not new. But one can still marvel at how insidious it can be, hiding in places as seemingly innocuous as Halloween costumes. So, I figured I'd list a few of my finds.

* "Mexican Man"

This costume amounts to a poncho, a sombrero, and a cartoonishly large black mustache. This is probably the quickest, most lowball racial stereotype imaginable.  Add to this the idea that a "Mexican Man" should somehow be frightening. Honestly, on the scare scale, this costume rates somewhere near "Guy from Buffalo."  Funny tho, you never see a "Book-Burning Redneck" costume. 

• "Pocahottie"

This mini-skirted Pocahontas packs a double punch. It's racist AND misogynist. And not so subtly hidden in the name is the sentence, "Poke a hottie." I'd hate to have to explain that one to my 3-year-old daughter. 

• "Pup Shalom" dog costume

I'm not even going to bother telling you how much is wrong with this. You can see for yourself by clicking the "pets" link above.

• "Illegal Alien"

Comes complete with: jailhouse orange jumper with Roswell alien mask, and yes, a green card. Which doesn't really make any sense. But the message is hateful nonetheless.

And then there are the run-of-the-mill racist costumes... Geisha Girl, Rapper, Indian Princess, Sheik (with scimitar), and of course Bandito.

I understand that dominant cultures tend not to mock themselves, but rather those they have firmly under their boot heel. You never see "AIG Executive" costumes. But you do still see the occasional "Hobo," which could easily be interpreted as mocking the poor. After all, hobos were most prevalent during the Great Depression, as men roamed the country in search of work.

Next, come the historical cultural costumes (Gladiator, Cleopatra, Greek Goddess, etc.). I'm not sure these qualify as racist, tho they tend to trivialize other cultures. Odd you never see "Disreputable Pakistani Convenience Store Clerk," tho somehow The Simpsons has managed to get away with Apu for decades. 

And last, there are a few that were mentioned by other sites, but that I don't think are particularly racist: Samurai and Ninja. I group these with Cowboy and Hitman. They're more occupations than cultural stereotypes. I don't think anyone believes all Japanese people are either Samurai warriors or Ninja assassins. And that WERE true, nobody would be making fun of them. Frankly, both rate far higher on the scare scale than "Mexican Man." 

So let's hear your thoughts on this...

Day 302: My 15 minutes of fame

So yesterday I mentioned a TV interview...

This morning I met with web reporter Nicole Brewer and her camera tech Eric for a quick discussion of my other site, Trulogy.com. The piece is scheduled to air Wed, Nov 4th in the Philly market on The CW (Ch57) at 10 pm, with a follow-up broadcast on CBS3 the next morning. It will also likely appear on the stations' respective web sites on those days as well.  

Nicole is a rock star... informed, prepared, professional, warm, and easy to work with. I'm hoping the interview will give Trulogy some added exposure, especially if the segment gets picked up by sister stations outside the Philly market.

Will post links when the segment hits the web.  Thanks to all who've extended well wishes.

Day 301: Hold my place, I have to take a leak

This is gonna be one of those posts. A place-holder. So go have a sandwich and a beer. Come back tomorrow. Teaser: I have a TV interview scheduled for the morning....if all goes well, will advise of the air date and/or URL.

PS - After rescuing the SLR from the pawn shop, it got damaged while on a road trip to NYC. Looks like a substantial repair will be needed. So into a shoe box it goes until money issues get resolved.

Day 300: Only 65 to go.

Can't say this was a stellar day. And believe me, I need a stellar day. Tori was up at 6am, which is early, even for her, and the middle of the night for me. I contacted a client to ask about some work I was scheduled to receive and was assured 22 articles were on the way. Then a few hours later was told by the same person that the work had been given to another contractor. 

Some hope: I am under consideration by a potential new client. Would be steady freelance work too. I should hear by Friday.

Cecily's in NYC this evening at a blogger dinner and won't return until the wee small hours. So I'm on solo kiddo duty. Fortunately, Tori's a rock star and a self-proclaimed "Super Pottier" (at first I thought she said she was Sidney Poitier, but we got that straightened out).

My task today, trying to figure out how to come up with car inspection money by Saturday. (Oh to live in a non-inspection state.) Good chance Ruby will be our primary ride for a few weeks.  Or back to the pawn shop I go.

My other site, Trulogy.com, is struggling. After a very promising start, submissions and hits have slowed to a trickle. If you've been considering submitting, please do so. I believe wholeheartedly in the concept and that it can be a success. I just don't have the reach, influence, or people skills to jump-start it alone.

This sounds like alot of bitching, and for that I'm sorry. I'm not fishing for attaboys or hang-in-there's. You can't encourage a depressive. And no need to call suicide hotline. Just out of ideas. Side note: I have to laugh at myself. Twenty years ago, I was convinced that I'd be a famous (or at least self-supporting) poet by now.  Talk about a one-in-a-million shot.

Well, maybe 2010 won't suck. Just gotta get thru the next 65 days. 

Time to go sing "Five Little Speckled Frogs" with the kiddo.

Day 299: Can this month just end, please.

Five years ago today, we lost our dear boys. For a long time I thought of them as adrift at sea. Of course, that's just my mind's own cruel joke. Each year, the anniversary is marked with sadness, tho tempered by the joy of watching Tori grow from an infant to a fierce young girl.

Then of course, there's Hammer. Whose loss is so recent and keenly felt. I catch myself setting aside table scraps, filling his water bowl, or calling ahead to trail hikers that the dog is friendly.

Today was not lucky for me. Lots of small failures. To cap it off, I found the back door swollen shut by all this fucking rain, and when I shouldered it open, I broke a pane of glass. Can't afford to fix it right now. So got out my hillbilly home repair kit (scissors, cardboard, and glue) and did what I could.

The image seemed to speak to loss.

 

Day 298: Keep on dancing

Therapist: Seems like a long time since we've seen each other.

Me: About two months.

Therapist: So, what's been happening?

Me: Well, I had surgery, my daughter fell and had to go to the ER, we're broke, the dog died on our wedding anniversary, and tomorrow will be 5 years since we lost the boys.

Therapist: Any depression?

Me: Ummm...

Day 297: Death, you cannot

 It's been a hard year, a hard month. I used to love autumn. But it's been roost to so much death. My dad (Sept '79), my grandparents (Sept '87 and Nov 2000), our dear boys (Oct '04), Misty in '99, and Hammer last week.

Time to take it back. Death, you cannot have these autumn days. Take your boot off my throat.

So we decided to get back on the trail today. Hiking boots, bottle of water, snacks. The outdoors: fall foliage, chipmunks, berry bushes. The afternoon sunlight like a flame-drunk moth flitting among the calico of beech, maple, oak, and poplar leaves.

 

Day 296: Retrieved

Bought the digital Rebel back from the pawn shop man today. Puts us back in sketchy $$$ territory, but hey, had to do it. Hope I won't have to hock it again next week.

Day 295: Easy Street

Had a downtown errand today and even managed not one, but two legal parking spaces. Thought I'd show you a few old haunts....

The apartment building where I lived during the height of my drunken poet phase...

The deli where I worked as night-shift beverage manager and janitor...