Thank you, Thank You Very Much

This past week, I celebrated what's commonly referred to as a "milestone birthday."

Denise's Surprise

Figuring there must be some perks to aging, I've granted myself a week off from writing in this space. For those of you who see my blog pop up in your FB feed and think, "What on earth is she blathering on about now?," you can consider this a birthday bonus from me to you.

And for those of you who wished me well on FB, sent me flowers (Denise) or cards (Diane & John, Linda & Stan) or snazzy water bottles (Joe & Jill), I thank you. 

Carry on!

Gratuitous Cat Pic, Apropos of Nothing

Kitty Not Kitty

The character Hello Kitty is not a kitty.

Hello, Kitty!*

Did I just blow your mind? According to the Washington Post, there are folks out there who don't know this – or who have heard it before and are in denial.

I learned the backstory about Hello Kitty in my prior job, when we were writing copy for Charmed Memories, our line of Pandora-like bracelets that featured Sanrio's iconic character. We were provided with an entire list of dos and don'ts, one of them being that Hello Kitty was to be referred to as a little girl, in spite of her catlike visage.

For those of you who aren't familiar with the backstory, the Kitty of Hello Kitty fame is a third-grader named Kitty White, a Londoner who likes making friends, eating cookies and traveling. (No mention of piña coladas, getting caught in the rain, etc.) She has parents (was one a cat? you may wonder), a twin sister called Mimmy and, to further confuse the issue, a pet feline called Charmmy Kitty. 

Don't be fooled by her youthful appearance, however, Hello Kitty was born in 1974, meaning she's got milestone birthday coming up (aka, "The Big 5-0"). How does she maintain her kittenish good looks?

While the folks at Sanrio, who came up with the concept, are adamant about her heritage, like any character, people are going to see it how they want, whatever the real story may be. 

Which is fine when you're talking about fictitious characters. Maybe not so much with real-life people.

But that's a subject for another day.

*Naturally, I couldn't use an actual photo of the subject image without permission, so here's a cute cat waving at you. And here's the attribution: GPS 56 from New Zealand, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

Blackberries for Barb

We're about halfway through July. so you know what that means...any day now, they'll fire up the back to school ads.

a modest sampling

Ugh.

Back in the day when anyone who mentioned the "s" (school) word got smacked down, summers seemed to stretch on forever. 

Endless games of tag and kick the can and treasure hunts and roller skating and bike riding and playing in the garage when it rained. And, in spite of all these activities, the inevitable, "there's nothing to do" followed by Mom's refrain, "I can give you something to do," followed by a speedy retreat.

One of our yearly activities was blackberry picking. There was an area along Rockside Road that was still wild (alas, no longer) where you could find blackberries aplenty. We'd take buckets and pick away, careful not to get too scratched up or bug eaten in the process. We'd bring home our spoils, and Mom would bake them into a fabulous pie. 

This memory returned hard and fast when I discovered that the modest blackberry bush that snuck into the side yard last year had become the thing that took over the place this year. Initially, I was delighted. Who doesn't love fresh blackberries? But soon my delight turned to chagrin as I realized how bountiful this beast was.

So, what have I been doing this summer? Picking a crap-ton (or is it a shit-ton?) of blackberries. I've frozen enough now for one pie (or maybe two or ten) but there are still plenty out there.

If you're driving by and have a hankering for blackberries, feel free to pick to your heart's content.

Just watch out for the prickers and the bugs. 

Happy (what's left of) Summer!

P.S. Kudos to those sharp-eyed readers who observe such things: My title riffs off the name of a favorite childhood book, Blueberries for Sal, by Robert McCloskey.

All Fired Up

Another 4th of July has come and gone, but the fireworks linger on.

attribution below

My neighborhood FB group can be counted on every year to bring up the topic of fireworks. There are two camps: those that shoot them off and those that hate those who shoot them off. 

Maybe it's my perception, but it seems that over the years, shooting off fireworks has gotten progressively more obnoxious. I can recall a time when they were only being shot off on the 4th. Nowadays, activity begins the week (or two) before and will continue for the week (or two) following. Also, it seems every patriotic holiday requires celebration by fireworks. That never used to be a thing.

While I don't place myself entirely in the camp of anti-fireworks, I'm clearly not a fan. Yes, I put up with them, and I don't really mind the little "pop pops," but I never understood the allure of the "BOOM BOOMs." Maybe it's because our kitty cowers, but it's also because i get tired of bouncing up in my seat every time I'm startled by one of these nasty explosions. 

Also, I think there should be a curfew. Anyone caught shooting them off after 11pm should be horsewhipped. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who has to work the day after, but even if I didn't, I wouldn't want to be awakened half the night by loud booms. There's one inconsiderate jerk who shoots them off at 3 am. Not cool, dude.

What I find somewhat hilarious is how so many people are complaining about food prices, but they clearly have a ridiculous amount of money to spend on fireworks. 

Just sayin'.

Thankfully, we have air conditioning, so we can keep the windows closed. That helps us (and kitty). 

Before you know it, summer will be over and we'll be marking it with Labor Day. 

I know, let's celebrate with fireworks.

Yay.

PSA: For those who shoot guns in the air instead of fireworks, here's a little science lesson: What goes up must come down. Bullets return to earth. And hurt people. You're welcome.

Photo Attribution: National Archives of Sweden, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons. It's an 18th century design for a fireworks display. More interesting, I think, than a photo of fireworks.