Friday, October 24, 2014


Daisy teaching me her napping skills.
TODAY IS the first day of my trans-species treatment, and it's coming none too soon.  This morning, before I knew better, I had the TV on and heard Chris Wallace, one of those news guys who analyze what's happening for the rest of us dummies, say darkly, "This is a whole new threat that we have to be terribly worried about!" 

He may have been talking about Ebola, or ISIS, or the guy who attacked some NYC cops with an axe, or perhaps the recent shootings in Canada, I wasn't really sure. In any event, instantly my already high blood pressure shot up. My head started pounding, and I could hear a loud thumping in my chest. I looked over at my two cats stretched out on the bed; neither one of them seemed the slightest bit alarmed. "That's it," I thought to myself.

I scurried to the kitchen and opened a can of Fancy Feast, had a few laps of water, and curled up on the sofa. After my nap I chased a ball of tin foil around the living room, stared out the window for a while, and did my nails. I feel much better, especially after the catnip.

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Humans Are So Last Week

Will I still need glasses?
It's late 2014 and things are awry. Young people who lack nothing but something to rebel against have chosen themselves. That would explain the whole transgender movement, in which people decide they don't like the container in which they arrived on planet Earth. I admit to being stymied by this. However since it seems to be politically correct, in fact all the way to admirable, to reject one's own reproductive organs and secondary sex characteristics and live life as a He-She, I figure it might be okay to go one step further. Therefore, I have decided to become a cat.

I am sick of being human. In fact, I have never been 100% comfortable as a human and identify much more closely with felines. My husband is a great guy for a man, but my heart really belongs to Lurch, my Maine Coon. He really gets me. We share so much. I just wish I could go out with him at night and kill mice, or whatever he does, and not feel stuck in my role as a person, going out to dinner and the movies when all I want to do is roll around in the grass and climb trees. I love napping and bright, shiny objects. I enjoy having my tummy rubbed. Fish is my favorite food, and lately those cat treats are starting to look damn good. Then, too, there are those nine lives, no small perk if you ask me.

I am currently seeking an open-minded surgeon who will begin this exciting journey with me. Until then, while I am transitioning, I would like to be called Puddy Tat.

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

When Doughnuts Kill

Now that's more like it!
Maine voters have an issue they can really sink their teeth into this election year: Just how fat can we get our bears before we kill them?

Bear-hunting around these parts currently allows recreational hunters three methods of entrapment that many people, myself among them, consider to be hideous and obscene: chase them down with dogs, mine the woods with painful bear traps, and bait them with jelly doughnuts. God must be cracking up over this. Jelly doughnuts? How about German Chocolate Cake? Or maybe a nice Linzer Torte? Personally I can resist a doughnut whereas I am powerless over pumpkin cheesecake with a dollop of whipped cream. I mean, do they want to catch bears or not?

Governor LePage
In a test of the quality of the doughnuts being used to attract the bears, all three gubernatorial candidates have been stuffing themselves with various kinds to see which is the most effective. Last night they gathered onstage--the candidates not the bears -- for a political debate, and showed the results of their scientific studies. The incumbent Paul LePage was by far the fattest, and so he will probably win re-election. Next fattest was Independent Eliot Cutler, who has doubled in size since he lost last time, coming in third. I guess he heard that obesity wins in Maine. And the Democrat, Mike Michaud, while tubby still looks like he could fit into an airplane seat, so he will likely lose.

Anyway, all three of the candidates look like bears, which I guess is only fitting when you are running for office in Maine.

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

A Sign from Above

Last week I was hit on the head by a heavy wooden placard (see photo) that was an integral part of the signage at both my first and second, now-defunct, art galleries. Perched on a transom over a doorway in my home, it fell when a slamming door dislodged it. (I was calling the cat in from the rain.)  The flying object cracked me on the bean with such force that I was sure my head had been split in two. It had not, thank God, because that would have been a mess, but the blow did cause a concussion.

The only fix is rest and less computer time, like none. So Call Me Madcap! is likely to be MIA for a few days -- or weeks. On the positive side, since the injury I have no sense of taste or appetite and have already lost a few pounds. Who knows, I may even fit into a pair of skinny jeans before this is all over.

I am left wondering whether the pursuit of FINE ART is for me anymore. I mean really, talk about a sign from above....

Monday, October 20, 2014

Still Searching

There are so many sad things in this life, it's hard to stay upbeat. One way to do it is to watch funny movies, read funny books, and see comedians perform. Last week I saw the comic Kevin James in concert at Portland's Merrill Auditorium, Maine's only link to the real world. He was so funny that my face hurt from laughing afterwards.

After 90 minutes of side-splitting humor the show ended. The funny man exited the stage to wild applause, and within seconds I realized that my regular life was waiting for me in the parking lot. I forget what we paid to see Kevin James, but whatever it was, he earned it. We got our money's worth, which is more than I can say about so many experiences.

At this stage of my life, certainly Act Three, former thrills no longer cut it. I have eaten all the pizza I need to eat. Shoe shopping seems redundant, foreign travel is a pain in the ass, and jewelry seems just plain silly. So for something new and different I'm finally going to try some of those things that supposedly will calm my roiling insides, like meditation and yoga. I'm not looking forward to it, but it's worth a shot. I just hope they won't make me do that stupid Downward Dog thing.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

Guess What I Think

My son recently posted a flattering photograph of himself on Facebook, and one of the comments it received from a good friend of his was "creepin." Now I don't know about you, but creepin sounds like a negative to me. I guess it was meant as a compliment, not sure. I looked it up in the Urban Dictionary and read several definitions and I'm still not sure, which is in itself creepy.

Our language has been and continues to be destroyed by today's youth. Nothing means what you think it means, or what it meant in the past. "Sick" and "ill" are both good. "Chill" has nothing to do with temperature. Don't even get me started on the word "word." I could go on but I don't know enough. It's funny how they still use "love" as a positive condition. (I think, maybe not.)

It's bad enough that different cultures and countries use different languages, adding to the confusion of a world full of problems, but when our very own citizens of different generations do the same, successfully communicating what one thinks about anything to anyone is nothing short of a miracle.

Friday, October 17, 2014

The Root of All Evil

When I opened my recently closed art gallery last June, I spent about $1,000 on three signs, two out on the road and one over my front door. I paid to have them made and the manufacturer installed them as part of the fee. Now that I have gone belly up, they'll have to come down.

Today the landlord's representative called to say that if I wanted my signs back I would have to pay to have them taken down. Otherwise, they would take them down (anyway) and throw them in the trash.

Me: You mean you will take them down either way, but if I want them back, since I own them, I will have to pay you for them?
Them: Well, someone has to pay for the cost of the labor to take them down.
Me: But if I won't pay then you will take them down anyway, right?
Them: Yes, but we will discard them.

I believe this is the root of all evil.