Refuge from Misery

“There are two means of refuge from the miseries of life: music and cats.”Albert Schweitzer

I have both; also, great good fortune: the cat shares my eclectic taste in music.

Here's an article on Human-Cat Psychology. Also I laughed at this article on The therapeutic value of cats. It's from a scientific journal. If you are inclined to read it, it starts in the lower right-hand corner & continues onto next page. What made me laugh were the comments from a scientist & from one Simon Teakettle the Younger.

I watched this lovely video several times last night. Wicked insomnia. I logged on to Twitter & there it was...I think everyone in the world has seen it but me. I love the East African music, too.

Trying to catch up is not going well but I forge ahead.

(photograph by Leslie)

Bon Voyage, Chiot

Squeal. I cannot resist seeing this illustration over here (it was on Giulia's blog last week). Click here for adorable puppy story & vocabulary/grammar at French Word-A-Day. Are you trying to improve us, you ask? No, I'm certain you do not need improving discipline. I do.

Today is St. Francis of Assisi's Feast Day. This year in Washington, DC the blessing at the National Cathedral was held on Sunday. (I didn't get there, again. Must-do next year.) The retired Catherine of Tarragon's position has been filled. (Though, of course she can never be replaced.) Here's the slideshow & article from DCist. Youpie! We have a new Cathedral Cat, Carmina. (She looks slightly irritable but then she has a lot on her paw pads. Catherine is quite the act to follow.)

Additionally, AUREA has a delightful post about les toutous & Colette.

Update - today is Tuesday (I just told myself). Running a day behind. Eek. And the power has been off, as well. Rain? Storms? Nope. Just the old (f)utility mess.

(French cat by Clare Owens via Audrey Hepburn Complex)

Good Grace

Please excuse the last few goofing-off posts; I really don't feel very well & am still debating Strasbourg & other journeys & revelations therein. A few people de-followed & I regret that you have been offended. (apparently). I know the layout of this blog is offending me at the moment, but there's absolutely nothing I can do about it right now. Meanwhile, I hope to remain in the good graces of others who stop in to say hello. I do like hearing from you. -- Susan

I rented The September Issue to watch the deleted scenes, the extras, & it was worth it. Last month WWD reported that Grace (I cannot call her Ms. Coddington, unless she insists) is working on a memoir. Because she is gracious, it will not be all about her -- though that would be fascinating. Here's a link to a Times Online article last year. Her darling book The Catwalk Cats (with Dider Malige, her beau) was published in 2007. The short video clip is worth clicking to see GC's necklace--wow.

(British Vogue, August 1962 by Carapetian via stylite (dot) com; GC, The September Issue, via Sunday Times, still hunting for the still photographer credit. RJ Cutler directed.)

Look at That Face

Look at that face -
Just look at it,
Look at that fabulous face of yours.
I knew first look I took at it,
This was the face that the world adores.

Look at those eyes -
As wise and as deep as the sea.
Look at that nose -
It shows what a nose should be.--The Roar of the Greasepaint --the Smell of the Crowd*

(*lyrics & music by Leslie Briscusse & Anthony Newley)

I want to get September started. Unwisely, I began by reading September 1, 1939 by WH Auden. (A poem he came to loathe & caused all manner of fuss about--something he was quite good at. Poets are such pains in the rear sometimes. I'm a pain in the rear. Haven't you noticed?) It's a poem included in many services, secular (yes, there are those kind) & otherwise, after September 11, 2001. I read it at one. I defended my clichéd choice on the following grounds: "It's only been a few days. There's still smoke in the freaking air. I can't think of anything else & five people are arguing in the corner about who gets to read "The Second Coming".

With all of that swirling in my head, plus Hurricane Earl chugging up the coast, I thought cute cat faces from this slightly altered Giulia Geranium post would be fun. As if on cue, a big wet pink feline nose is nudging me to hurry up already.

[images here, here, here, & here via we heart it]

Dancing on Wine Bottles

Valued Exposure:17 year old Bianca Passarge of Hamburg dresses up as a cat, complete with furry tail and dances on wine bottles, June 1958. Her performance was based on a dream and she practiced for eight hours every day in order to perfect her dance. Photo: Carlo Polito/BIPs/Getty Images

Via BBC while doing some research. Utterly unrelated to people acting out their cat fantasies. On wine bottles? I'm too tired to make up anything sillier.

Bad Apple

Mille grazie to Maria Caterina di Perugia for a wonderful day at her house. She even picked me up & brought me back; I'm rather tottery lately, so this was a huge help. Lovely lunch. Discussed possibility of trip to Bath, Wales, & Cornwall within a reasonable time-frame (well, you have to plan these things). MCat received a gorgeous red-fabric bound set of collected Jane Austen from the Jane Austen Centre for her first anniversary (yesterday). My haul: three kinds of tomatoes, little peppers, heaps of basil, rosemary, sage, black-eyed Susans, & marigolds. Yay. I look forward to house-sitting whilst they are away at the beach later this month. Birds, two cats (one being My Julie), breezy house, & garden. No weirdo neighbor with secret meth lab. (I'm only half-kidding.)

All clean & tidy & happy-ish, claws sheathed, I logged on to see (as I did this a.m.) where/why iTunes had not downloaded the second episode of Mad Men (yes, it is a priority...you should read & look at the stuff I have to, then you'd know why). Thought it was me; no it was not. That was no small sum I paid for a season pass. Bad Apple!

Hope you had a great Monday. If you're a Bachelorette fan, Joanna at Cup of Jo is holding a series finale confab, here. (Me? No, but have a good time.) See ya in the funny papers.

ciao-meow

[Natalie Portman photographed by Ellen von Unwerth, 1996 via bohema tumbr]

Week's End - Be Cheeky

Like this duo. Will be back before I take off. Huh? It's been that sort of day. Hence, silly photograph. Ciao from Julie the Cat's abode. (Take a look at her week's end, Très Charmant - Hanna Rides to the Sea.. I'm trying to convince people that the video I posted here is darling. It is.) Now, I must go; I have a date with Richard Burton.

[a coupla kitties via obscure objects tumblr]

Cougar = Cat

"The cougar (Puma concolor), also known as puma, mountain lion, mountain cat, catamount, or panther, depending on the region, is a mammal of the Felidae family, native to the Americas. This large, solitary cat has the greatest range of any large wild terrestrial mammal in the Western Hemisphere,^[3] extending from Yukon in Canada to the southern Andes of South America. An adaptable, generalist species, the cougar is found in every major American habitat type. It is the second heaviest cat in the American continents after the jaguar, and the fourth heaviest in the world, along with the leopard, after the tiger, lion, and jaguar, although it is most closely related to smaller felines..."

Use the word 'cougar' around me referring to a human female? I'll rip your head off. It won't be pretty. You thought maybe I was nice & had a sense of humor? Yeah, I am & I do; however, this is war. (I can't believe I just used a Wikipedia page.)

Matisse/Mattress

Just so that I don't miss a day. I know, weird, dumb. Exhausted. I have to be to allow that title to run...

Moans all over DC (& elsewhere) today due to lack of invites to last night's WH poetry/jazz evening. I know a few who were there & they were very surprised to have been invited. I figure four (8! 8!) more years for a chance..though I'm not working it at all. Should I start now? I really don't feel up to it (I mean Washington-workin' it...totally up to going).

Some upset folks are really pretty young & they feel so left out; I do understand & feel sorry. But I wanted to say: how do you think so & so feels? They've toiled this soil for years before you were even born. But that is never a compelling or comforting thought, I know. Hurt feelings, hurt feelings. Everywhere you turn.

Looking for a silly photograph, like the goofy sleep mask photo in 'running on empty' & up pops my friend Henri in bed. (in Nice)..still working. And what do I espy in the slightly too-dark print (by Dmitri Kessel/LIFE archives)? A darling tabby. So of course, it was meant to be. In the notes to the shot, it says that Henri is sculpting a nude female figure. But of course...that scamp. [You can't click on a lot of these photos because I get "feedburner" alerts about the html code; for close-up, go here.]

bacini

Pussywillow

"Once there was a farmer who had a cat. One spring, the cat gave birth to a litter of kittens. The kittens were too many for the cat to nurse. The farmer decided to throw the kittens into the river, since there were too many to feed. The mother cat, however, was devastated by the loss of her kittens. The cat went to the riverbank to rescue her children, but she was not strong enough or able to rescue them all. She began wailing in grief, and her cries were carried by the wind throughout the river valley. The kittens also cried in their struggles to survive in the torrent. The willow trees along the bank heard the cries of mother and children. Each willow dropped its branches to the water. As the kittens washed through, the willows scooped them up into their saving branches. Today we see each spring the reminder of their saving ways. The image of the kittens nestles in the bows of the pussywillow." (from The White Willow)

As a child & teenager, a few sprigs were often in a vintage jar on my nightstand (before the lilacs bloomed). Like any child, I'd pet them & pretend they were kittens. I spent an inordinate amount of my childhood accompanying my mother to all sorts of wild places with her "plant knife" (an old paring knife) & tiny pruning shears; she kept these in her purse always because, as she said, "you never know.'"Reeds, pussywillow, cattails. It sounds better than it was...lots of scraped bare legs (mine, not hers; she directed the action).

I almost brought some willow into the apartment this weekend but the temptation to Julie the Cat would be too great. Even with marbles in the vase, it wouldn't be enough to prevent upending & yelling (that would be me). We had an unfortunate forsythia situation last year; I tempted poor Julie not once, but twice with long fluffy branches. The predictable happened & I yelled. Then I hated myself; she was puzzled & full of hurt feelings. Until I have some sort of concrete urn on the floor, we shall admire branches in nature & in photographs. (The photograph is an especially elegant arrangement from a Domino Deco file & yes I hit the 'saturate' button in Picasa. I cannot help myself, it's a sickness). As usual, computer problems, so I hope to see you tomorrow.

PS: Working on cherry-blossom-in-DC-time but awaiting a photographer's permission for his beautiful on-the-spot pix. The festival officially began yesterday. The pink-blooming wild cherry outside my window is lovely & ethereal against the morning's fog.