October 27, 2021--National Black Cat Day
In some countries like the United Kingdom and Japan, black cats are thought to bring good luck, but here in America and in most of Europe, they have been associated with evil. And Halloween. I have never had a black cat. So all of my misfortunes can just be chalked up to plan old circumstance. I once had a neighbor who owned a black cat, though. I remember that every year around Halloween, she would say she needed to bring her cat inside because there were nefarious people about who might mean to do her black cat harm. Or maybe they just thought it would be cool to bring home a black cat for Halloween. That was when we lived in a house with a front porch. It wasn't much of a front porch, but it was more than we have now--which is little more than a covered stoop. I am a fan of front porches, the bigger the better. That house had a covered front porch with enough room for a rocking chair if you edged it in just right, which is of course what I did. It was an old fashioned wicker rocker that previously rocked my babies in their nursery. When it became clear that they had outgrown the nightly tradition, and toys were taking over their space, I moved the chair to the front porch. I didn't really sit out there all that often, but frequently enough to have to knock the neighbor's black cat out of it. It seems it had become one of her favorite resting places. As a matter of fact, that cat and I developed a love/hate relationship. Typically, she was in my rocking chair when I came home every day from work. As I entered the house, I would stop and get the mail from the mailbox which was near the rocking chair. At first, the cat would not even look up from her afternoon snooze. From time to time, I would reach down to pet her, but she was having none of it. She loved my chair, but she didn't love me. After a time, she grew accustomed to my coming home around the same time everyday and disturbing her slumber. Often, I would just call out to her kindly. "Hello, kitty. How are you today? Is my chair comfortable enough? Shall I get you some water, another pillow, a gin and tonic?" No matter my greeting, she would just look at me, bare her fangs, stretch out her sharpened claws, and hiss. And this my friends, I submit, is why black cats have a bad reputation to this day. They take over your space and then complain when you greet them. I imagine a cat would make a terrible roommate. On the other hand, come to think of it, maybe they make the best roommates. They naturally have clung to that old adage, "What's mine is mine and what's yours is mine." There must be some ancient wisdom in that, if not something magical in conducting oneself that way. "Leave me alone," they seem to say. "And what?" we think. "You'll leave me alone?" "No," their green eyes permeate our thoughts and tell us. "I won't hock up a fur ball on your rocking chair." October 20, 2021--Celebration of the Mind Day
by Karen Schwabenland Some of you may be wondering what I've been up to or where I've been recently, as I have not posted a blog in a few. Why I've been to England to visit the Queen, that's where I've been. We sat down to tea, and what we talked about is as good a guess as any. One thing we talked about, or I think we talked about, was the incredible human mind which is what we should all celebrate today. I know a bit about the human mind, as I birthed two of 'em. Both my babies were born with big, fat, beautiful brains. Do you know what that means? It means they both had oversized heads. Their heads were so big, in fact, they could not enter the world in the usual way. As this is the season of Halloween, I thought today's topic should go a little further than just a discussion of the brain. Let's talk about what the brain is housed in--and that is, by and large, a human head. Each time my doctor discovered that my baby had grown so huge that one more spurt of HGH(the human growth hormone) would cause me to go all Sigourney Weaver from the Alien movie, she decided to take matters into her own hands. I have linked the scene (above), but warning--it is not for the faint of heart. Do you know what they do when a human boy or girl child is deemed too perfect to fit through the mother's hooha? Well, they reserve an operating suite for you, that's what they do. The doctor calls all of her friends and relations, and they all gather in a private, secret room deep within the bowels of the hospital. They stand by with their steely knives waiting to carve you up like so many young Turks at your local fall festival's pumpkin carving contest. One of them may drop a knife or two on the dirty floor, only to pick it up and hand it to your doctor. Another one will look at you with a seditious, slimy smile. You are too busy planning your offspring's baptism party and decorating the still unfinished nursery in your mind to worry about any of it, though. What the people in that room do not know is that you have already preordered the hospital provided birthday cake and grape juice, and that you are counting on eating it soon after all of this nonsense is over with. If (as in my case) the doctor sets to work carving you up, and the baby is still too big to come out (as in my case), then there is one more final thing they can do, which (as in my case) they did. And that thing is cut off your legs and bring the infant child out through what is left of your torso. The only problem with this method of delivery is that you can never be sure if they replace your legs with your own original pair, which of course explains "The Pale Green Pants," (link) by Dr. Seuss. "The Pale Green Pants" is an early childhood horror story, like all Dr. Seuss books, except this one has a truly otherworldly, spooky quality about it. For the uninitiated, this uninhabited pair of pants haunts this little furry creature by following it all over town late at night. A little known fact is that all Dr. Seuss books are autobiographical. Word is, Seuss wrote "The Pale Green Pants," after a trip to New Orleans in October where his wife gave birth by leg-ectomy. You see, I am not the only woman who has survived this traumatic birthing experience. All persons with a (insert v-word here) who have children with great, big beautiful minds must endure this method of slaughter. By not harming those perfect heads that house those perfect brains, those children will grow up to be important people, perhaps even crown heads of Europe. Monday, October 4th, 2021--International Zookeeper Day
By Karen Schwabenland Somewhere in the 'Burbs: Today we celebrate what my blog is named after, and that is...zookeepers! More specifically, I would like to inform readers of the reason for the name of my blog, in case they missed it somehow. I am not a literal zookeeper any more. There have been dogs, cats, and birds living in this residence, along with the occasional rodent and marsupial. And while I have both loved and abhorred all of them, the name of my blog actually comes from the musical, "Les Mis." There is a song in that musical titled, "Master of the House." I hope I am a mistress of a house who is better than the one suggested in the song. But I like the vibe the song gives out. I like the energy it creates. It suggests that the singers are simply thieves, only looking to see what they could take from their patrons. I am--while not exactly a thief--always and only looking out for myself. Oh, sure, I am providing a safe place for my family members to unwind, vent, be themselves. Maybe eat a home-cooked meal once in a while. Or have clean sheets and towels now and again. But I would not be honest if I did not admit that I have a foot in the game as well. And all those mom blogs out there with their perfect recipes and homes...well, they are not real, or at least not real in my experience. So here is to overflowing dustbins, the nearly empty cupboard, and the dusty chandelier. Here is to digging clothes out of the dirty hamper when there is nothing left to wear. Cheers to all of the burnt meals and unmade beds! Hungry pets and howling children! Everyone one of us has been there, done that, and nearly died trying to put it right. So whether, you are a master of a house with offspring passing through, a teacher with a classroom full of inmates, or simply a person who takes care of others' needs, may you find a home here. And now I will print the lyrics to the song that I cherish so much that I named my personal blog after it. My comments are in blue: (Also you can find the link here to the performance via Youtube :) "Master of the House" Lyricists: Alain Boublil and Herbert Kretzmer My band of soaks, my den of dissolutes (heavy drinkers and those who indulge in vices) My dirty jokes, my always pissed as newts (giving out poison to predators, and here everyone is seen as a predator) My sons of whores (no, no, no, no not tonight) spend their lives in my inn Homing pigeons homing in They fly through my doors And they crawl out on all fours (probably sick or drunk, but I like to picture the character Kate in "The Taming of the Shrew." After a day in my home, a person could be so emotionally diblilated, they fell like they are walking out on all fours) Welcome, Monsieur, sit yourself down And meet the best innkeeper in town As for the rest, all of 'em crooks: Rooking their guests and cooking the books Seldom do you see Honest men like me A gent of good intent Who's content to be Master of the house, doling out the charm Ready with a handshake and an open palm Tells a saucy tale, makes a little stir Customers appreciate a bon-viveur (hedonist) Glad to do a friend a favor Doesn't cost me to be nice But nothing gets you nothing Everything has got a little price! Master of the house, keeper of the zoo Ready to relieve 'em of a sou or two (coin of low value) Watering the wine, making up the weight (a complicated method of measuring alcohol content in wine) Pickin' up their knick-knacks when they can't see straight Everybody loves a landlord Everybody's bosom friend I do whatever pleases Jesus! Won't I bleed 'em in the end! Master of the house, quick to catch yer eye Never was a passerby to pass him by Servant to the poor, butler to the great Comforter, philosopher, and lifelong mate! Everybody's boon companion Everybody's chaperone But lock up your valises Jesus! Won't I skin you to the bone! Food beyond compare. Food beyond belief Mix it in a mincer and pretend it's beef (never above my standard) Kidney of a horse, liver of a cat (well, maybe not a cat, but still...) Filling up the sausages with this and that Residents are more than welcome Bridal suite is occupied (Because I would take that room for myself) Reasonable charges Plus some little extras on the side! (Oh Santa!) Charge 'em for the lice, extra for the mice Two percent for looking in the mirror twice (Hand it over!) Here a little slice, there a little cut Three percent for sleeping with the window shut When it comes to fixing prices There are a lot of tricks I knows How it all increases, all them bits and pieces Jesus! It's amazing how it grows! (Oh, sorry love Must get something done about that) I used to dream that I would meet a prince But God Almighty, have you seen what's happened since? Master of the house? Isn't worth my spit! Comforter, philosopher and lifelong shit! Cunning little brain, regular Voltaire Thinks he's quite a lover but there's not much there What a cruel trick of nature landed me with such a louse God knows how I've lasted living with this bastard in the house! Master of the house! Master and a half! Comforter, philosopher Don't make me laugh! Servant to the poor, butler to the great Hypocrite and toady and inebriate! (toady--one who puffs up others in hopes of getting something for themself) Everybody bless the landlord! Everybody bless his spouse! Everybody raise a glass Raise it up the master's arse Everybody raise a glass to the Master of the House! |
AuthorKaren Schwabenland--Keeper of a daily blog of written matter, reporter of events large and small, and charlatan extraordinaire Archives
September 2022
Categories |