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Kitty Wigs.

That is all.

Blogging sure has changed since the last time I had a website. In the olden days, in addition to having to walk barefoot to the internet cafes in the snow uphill both ways, most people just didn’t notice what I was writing. And those that did were internet people, not real life people. I could talk about pretty much whatever floated my boat at that particular time and, with a little nominal obfuscation, the subjects of my blog posts would be none the wiser.

Now, I don’t know if it’s WordPress and its clever tagging scheme or the robustitude of Google or the ubiquity of the internet or what, but even with a quiet little low traffic anonymous blog, people find me. This was brought to light when the Dog Fish Head rep that I talked shit about a few posts back stopped by to call me out on my shit talking. It had never occurred to me that he’d find this, or even look for it. I’m used to assuming that the majority of people I meet on a daily basis check their email or maybe read MSNBC or whatever news portal is the manufacturer’s default homepage on their browser and that’s the extent of it. To my chagrin, I find this is not true.

So I’ve been thinking a lot about what I am comfortable writing about and what I feel like needs to be off limits, just in case. And there’s a lot that I really feel is off limits. The only person that I know in real life who knows about this website is my husband, but most of my friends are super internet savvy so how long before they find it? I wear my politics on my sleeve, and it’s pretty clear to any body who has seen me in person in the last six months that I’ve accepted my fat, so it’s not the mere existence of these things that I would be loathe have my friends to discover but the depth of my feelings about them. Some of the things I write about are not open for debate or discussion with friends.

Basically, I worry that people are going to read my blog. But then see, I’m also worried that people won’t read it.

I’d decided from the get go that I would not blog about my job, the organization where I volunteer, the details of my personal activism, organizations of which I am a member and with whom I occasionally do interesting things, or any leisure activity thats description would suffer for lack of detail if adding the detail would be likely to alert someone to the presence of this blog and my identity. That basically leaves meals, cats, crochet (which I’ve not been doing much of lately), fat issues, and what I watch on TV. For example, here are some things I’ve wanted to blog about REALLY BAD but felt it prudent not to:

  • My friend’s documentary opening at a well-known local theater.
  • My friends’ bands playing at various venues.
  • My friend’s stage debut at a very well known Chicago theatrical institution (although not her stage debut in general).
  • My friend’s new dance number, and her dance troupe. (And yes, I have some f’n amazingly talented and beautiful friends!)
  • My love of and frustration with the organization that I volunteer for as they struggle for funding and I struggle to create boundaries around my free time and avoid having a nervous breakdown.
  • A yoga class that I signed up for and dropped out of because the teacher passed out weight-loss materials to the students.
  • Some neat new developments in my professional life.

I’ve been unmotivated to post about political issues, too, for a couple of reasons. For one, I think other bloggers do it much, much better than I ever could. For two, I want to do these posts justice, to give them the attention and detail that they deserve and I rarely have the time or energy to do so. And for a special bonus reason, while I still read the news and the blogs and strive to be informed and aware, because that is almost literally the least I can do, processing that information and really thinking about what is happening in our world… well, it’s depressing. I mean that in the literal sense – sitting at the computer ready to write and then WHOOSH here come the waves of despair and I just want to go watch cooking shows on television.

I had something else I was going to write but I forgot what it was, so here is a picture of my cat, post vet visit, coming down off her kitty Valium that we have to administer to keep her from eating the vet’s face, because I am confident that she does not read the internet:

This is your cat on drugs.

I, along with my kitties, believe that every day is Caturday, but regardless…

Three cats in the window.

Three is the magic number. Sunny days, happy cats.

Cat in the sink

In the six years that I’ve known her, she’s never curled up in the sink like that before. Normally she just drinks out of the faucet. I guess an old cat can teach herself new tricks. That one-eyed Popeye face is courtesy of a cat cold she’s getting over.