Wednesday, October 08, 2008

Oversaturation

Enough is enough!

When I catch myself saying this about anything, I realize I've reached the point of oversaturation. Today is the day that Christmas has been over-commercialized to the max.

I went to a Home Sense store...today...October 8th...to find the staff setting up the displays of Christmas merchandise. One looked over at me with a vacant sense of futility, and we shared a laugh.

I have increasingly despised the marketing and commercialization of Christmas. The expectations, expense, guilt, exhaustion, competition that has become Christmas has taken us soooooo past the purpose of celebrating Christmas.

In previous years, I've tried to resist the commercialization and I've worked hard to embrace the spirit of the season. I've been reasonably successful in avoiding Christmas vomit. (My sister-in-law loves Christmas decorations with such a fervour, everyone says Christmas threw up at her house, hence the term Christmas vomit)

I've had fewer decorations in the past few years, and even avoided a Xmas tree last year. I assert that I need to avoid investing my energy in Christmas vomit so I can invest it genuinely in Christmas spirit.

Todays premature exposure to Christmas vomit has created a frustration within me. I am seriously contemplating selling my Christmas tree and all its decorations.

This oversaturation has caused me to look at my tree as a big pile of plastic and wire and wood and grimacing nutcrackers and rediculous fat bearded men. I never really have a place to put it, so it sits depressingly propped in the corner of my living room between a desk and a piano. If a pine tree could be a lounge singer in drag, it would look like this.

I used to love my tree. Each year I bought a new decoration. I'd set up the tree ritualistically while my cat would climb into the middle and nest like a bird. Twinkling lights and rich gold beads and velvety ribbons.

*sigh*

I will work to maintain my holiday spirit, but I don't know if I can restore my affection for Christmas accoutrements. Is there a way I can enjoy the prettiness from a distance or am I destined to be covered in puke?

Can one survive a one-person boycott of a commercial Christmas? Will you join me?

Sunday, March 09, 2008

My Lecture to Cat Owners

I'll start simply.

Please, please, PLEASE get your pet cat neutered or spayed. If you are breeding them, then keep them indoors!! For NO REASON should you let them outside when it's -20 degrees. PLEASE, if you let them outdooors, put a collar and ID on them.

I have the cutest little fellow sleeping contently on my lap. Normally this gives me warm fuzzy feelings, but it brings me anxiety because I am looking for a home for this fellow.

I've watched him (I've named him Salem) and his (I think) sister (my husband named her Smudgie...why men can't give pets good names, I don't know) as they grew from kittens last summer. They often came around the yard hunting birds that hung around. They were both playful, chipper, and affectionate...enjoying their summer youth.

Winter came and I saw them less. This is good since it means (I hoped) that they had a home. But I began to see Salem more frequently as the winter progressed. He was not neutered. When I put food out for him, he gobbled it up like he'd never seen it. Driven by the hormones of an unneutered male, he ignores the safety of a warm home and food to find any pussy he can get. Yes, I mean that word both ways.

He had no collar and no way to find if he had a home. But his repeated arrival at my doorstep in the dark cold nights of winter told me I had to do something. Off to the vet for vaccinations, deflea, deworm, and neutering. He gained 5 pounds in 3 weeks because he still doesn't trust that there's food for him whenever he wants.

By the way, I'd keep him except for my allergies and the fact that I already have a cat and she won't allow it (aka sleepless nights)

He's the sweetest thing ever and I'll find a loving home. No bad ending.

Except.

His (possible) sister came around last week. I hadn't seen her since December. She was skin and bones...and clearly nursing kittens. I fed her. There was little else I could do since I don't know where the kittens are and can't risk their lives. Again, no collar. She's still young that I could find a home for her too if I could get her to the vet, but there's no way to know when she's weined the kittens completely.

Flashback to 2 years ago with an unneutered male cat (Rocky since he had 6 fingers on each paw) that lived 2 years (killed by a racoon) and another fellow (Romeo since he howled for my female cat every morning under the window) a year ago that had a home but disappeared because his hormones drove him wild and wandering.

At least I got Salem before the streets got him.

It's cold comfort to me, since yesterday's snowstorm (1 foot of snow) brought 'Thomas' to my door. He's an unneutered male homeless fellow with battle scars all over. I've seen him around for more than a year, but he's too untrusting of people to let me get close enough to help.


Thomas sat outside my door covered in enough snow to look like a yeti. The tips of his ears and tail are bleeding from frostbite. For the first time, he came indoors to eat, but didn't trust me enough to allow me to close the door, but had that 'thank-you' look in his scarred eyes for the chance to shake off the snow and eat some food before heading out again.

Salem has a chance of a good home since I got to him early enough. Thomas has little chance. Perky little young cats that purr and paly and snuggle find homes. Mangy, scarred, earless old tomcats get left behind.

I'll do my best to find a safe haven for Thomas, but I'm not hopeful. All that I'm hopeful for is that someone will read this and it will make a difference for another cat out there. I can only hope and pray.

Tuesday, January 08, 2008

IKEA sadism

One would think that an outing to IKEA would be simple when one knew exactly what they wished to purchase. Guess again.

Last week, I realized that the people who designed the IKEA store have a sadistic sense of humour.

IKEA is laid out like a maze. And it is a brilliantly designed maze.

If you make the mistake of entering the showroom, you must negotiate the entire maze. You can be tricked into thinking that there are shortcuts (magical spots in the maze where if you look left or right, you see a number of doorways in perfect alignment with neon exit signs that beacon a way out). These shortcuts always appear at the exact moment when you have reached a point of futility. They give a glimmer of hope. With renewed vigour and confidence, you set your sights on the most distant exit sign and run. Alas, you reach the sign only to find a wall and an arrow painted on the floor pointing in the direction of more IKEA maze. *sigh*

You must survive the showroom maze at all costs. You must retain a glimmer of energy. Why? Because you don't really exit the showroom maze. The exit is actually the entrance to the marketplace maze. The marketplace maze has all the same exit sign tricks as the showroom maze but they're more difficult to find because of all the marketplace clutter.

Again, you must survive the marketplace maze at all costs. You must retain a glimmer of energy. Why? Because you don't really exit the marketplace maze. The exit is actually the entrance to the warehouse maze. The only difference here, is that you can retain a shopping buggy to wearily lean against for support. You can do this for about 30 seconds until you realize the buggy has a wonky wheel and you have to pull left with all your might to keep the buggy straight.

The warehouse maze is the cruelest maze of all. When you look for aisle 15, don't look between aisle 14 and aisle 16. Don't look across from aisle 14 or 16. You must look in the least logically place, that is, across from and down about 5 aisles. There. Somewhere in the middle of the dark and cavernous aisle you'll find the item you're looking for. This part is easy. Just look for the bin that is at least 6 inches above your head in a box that weights at least your own body weight.

This is the self-serve section of course. The muscles that you build tracking the buggy will come in handy here. Slide the box off the shelf on to the buggy. You'll know you have the box positioned correctly to slide onto the buggy when you feel the fabric of your coat being chafed away and you feel the warm moist sensation of blood dripping down your shoulder.

By this time, you're too tired to care about the long checkout line wait. You just join the other maze rats with corresponding blank stares until you swipe your credit card and you're off!

At the exit, the pedestrian crosswalk is not paved with asphalt. The IKEA designers have one last laugh with the teeth-jarring cobblestone. Brdrdrdrdrdrdrdr. And of course the weight of the box on the wonky cart makes the cart spin sideways. That's because the crosswalk also has to be sloped.

Package successfully stowed in the car, you think the worst is over and you can head home. Wrong. Urban planning is the IKEA designer's best weapon. One must exit IKEA left on a busy street with no traffic light. If you don't die of old age during the wait, you get to at least watch your hair grow as you turn left and immediately are stopped by a train at a railway crossing. It's always a long train.

Home at last, you eagerly open your package and count and catalogue all the bits and pieces to make sure you have all the bits and pieces before beginning assembly. If you don't do this, you will surely run out of bits and pieces and have to return to the dreaded IKEA.

Don't worry. It's not all that bad. At least you'll have enough cardboard to burn throughout a cold Swedish winter and entertain your cat for months.