Laurel Massé

Soon to come - Sunday? Monday? - Mrs. Peel's Adventures at Yale.

Casting Shakespeare's Clarence (Richard III)

It's too darn hot to think and type. But it's never too hot to admire. Here is impressionist Jim Meskimen in what I think is a tour-de-force. His skillful impressions have dazzled me, and his cleverness in deciding who gets which lines is delicious. I wish I could be in Los Angeles to see his whole show. If you are in L.A., do go!

 

Oh, the places we'll go!

Once I have loaded my steampunk laptop (see previous post) into the gypsy caravan, along with my sister Babette, her dog, my cat, and a teakettle (of course), this is the map we will be consulting:

Map via danmeth.com

We'll be singing all the way.

Hello, Santa?

I know it's awfully early to be asking, but please, may I have this?

Thank you.

From datamancer.net

Stormy weather

Painting by John William Waterhouse, 1916, Miranda

Project Rushmore Theatre gives a reading tonight of William Shakespeare's The Tempest. The storm begins at 7 PM at Roy Arias Studios, 300 W. 43rd, between 8th and 9th Avenues, Floor 5, The Payan Theater.

Cast includes Jill Ahrold, Matthew Amira, Timothy Carter, Christopher Catalano, Brian Cheng, Tre Davis, Jamison Hollister (fiddle), Laura Leopard, Miller Lide, McGhee Monteith, Verna Pierce, Michael Shelle, Branislav Tomich, Vince Trani, and me, with William Bailey directing.

By the way, bring your umbrella. AccuWeather.com predicts a thunderstorm for this evening... around 6 - 7 PM. Just a little opening act rough magic!

 

Open the door, and see all the... where did they go?

I used to train dogs. What kind of dogs? Unruly dogs.  Unhappy dogs. Misunderstood dogs. I know rather a lot about dogs.

Now that I have a cat, some of my friends assume I know as much about cats, and I will someday. But right now, I do a lot of research. In the course of trying to help a friend whose cat has temporarily renounced the use of the litter box, I found, on the A.S.P.C.A. website, a list of 20 reasons why a cat "lapses" in his or her litter box use.

As I read it, a little bell rang in my mind, probably because of the use of the word "lapse". It was the sound of a metaphor taking shape. Aside from being good cat advice, I think the list pretty much covers why people might stop going to a particular church, or stop attending services at any church at all.

A few suggestions: for box, you might read church. For owner, try subtituting priest, worship leader, minister, bishop, pope, diocese, stake, ward, territory, covenant, or denomination. In general, be creative in your reading. And we are the cat. Le chat, c'est nous.

Finally, please make a donation,if you can, to the A.S.P.C.A.

 
Lapsed Users

  One in every 10 cats will have a litterbox lapse in his or her lifetime. The 20 most common reasons are:

1. The cat is suffering from a medical problem involving the urinary tract.
2. The cat experiences a bout of geriatric constipation.
3. The caretaker does not keep the box as clean as the cat wants it to be.
4. The owner changes the brand or type of litter.
5. The owner changes the location of the litterbox.
6. The owner switches to deodorized or perfumed litter.
7. The owner buys a new box and throws out the old one.
8. The owner cleans the litterbox with too harsh a cleaning product.
9. The location of the litterbox is too busy or not private enough for the cat.
10. The home is too large for just one litterbox.
11. The cat inadvertently gets locked out of reach of the litterbox.
12. The cat is kept from using the litterbox by another animal in the house.
13. There are too many cats and not enough litterboxes.
14. There are too many cats and not enough territory.
15. Stray cats can be seen/smelled near the cat’s territory.
16. The unneutered male cat has come of age and is marking his territory.
17. The unspayed female is in heat and advertising for suitors.
18. Over time, the cat has developed an aversion to the texture of the litter.
19. The cat was never properly trained to use the litterbox in the first place.
20. The cat is stressed by a change in routine or environment, including a new baby, new furniture, work schedule changes, vacations, overnight guests or a move.

 

The cat and the Fiddle and Dance

Hot, sultry breezes ruffling the leaves, neighbors out walking, kids getting ready for the fireworks - it's Independence Day. Mrs. Peel and I have been celebrating our freedoms all day here - freedom to have breakfast, freedom to play with the feather-on-a-string-thing, freedom to take naps. What a country!

I am still savoring the sweetness of Western and Swing Week at  Ashokan Fiddle and Dance Camp, and am a little between worlds, as I always am when I first return home. That this holiday is falling right after camp is a blessing; it gives me one more day before I have to make sentences for humans.

You may remember that I had, at the last minute, lost my cat care person due to a scheduling conflict. I was a little frantic until I thought to ask friends who go to camp every year and live in the area if we could stay at their house. They generously agreed, and so Mrs. Peel had her first long road trip. It's one thing to be in her little crate in the car for as long as it takes me to move it for alternate side parking. She had done well with that. A two and a half hour car ride is another thing entirely, and she made quite a few objections, in the raspy baby voice she usually only uses for yelling about dinner. Imagine Tina Turner complaining in the passenger seat. She was obviously not happy.

When we arrived at the M's house, they were loading their car with camping gear, and getting their dog settled, so there was a fair hullabaloo going on. I took Mrs. Peel up to the guest room and let her out of her crate. She fled under the bed, and stayed there most of the next two days, until she felt safe. Then she started zipping and zooming around the room, exploring at high speed.

I traveled back and forth several times a day, to feed her and play with her, and I slept there at night, and it all worked out. We were both given little revelations. The sunny spot on the floor was a new experience for her, as our city windows don't get any direct light. She liked the warmth, and was entranced by the dust motes that dance in sunbeams. Watching her, I could see for the first time the faint tabby striping in what usually looks like a night-black pelt. There was a dressing table in the room, with three mirrors, each reflecting a cat who looked just like her. How alarming! Much posturing and puffing up and skittering ensued. But when the mirror cats proved incapable of coming up with any new ideas, Mrs. Peel lost interest. She then invented a new game to play: bat the ball hard. She's ready to join a soccer team as goalkeeper. Or, since balancing on a broomstick is as easy as lapping up cream, to be Keeper on a Quidditch team.

She ate well, she behaved beautifully, all this I expected. What I had not entirely anticipated was the effect of being able to bring her, how merry it would make me, even though it prevented me from staying at the camp itself.

On the way home, she voiced her complaints again, all the way to my sister's house, where I stopped in for a glass of cool water and a hug. Babette suggested Mrs. Peel might like Mozart. Once back in the car for the last leg of the trip, I turned on the radio, and found no Mozart, but - to my delight! - a station playing Louis Armstrong records from the 1930s. Perfect music to listen to after such a joyous week, at least for me. At the first sound of that golden horn, she stopped talking. Her ears flicked forward in interest. A minute or so later, she stretched, and yawned, listened a litle longer, and then fell asleep.

I should not have been surprised. Mrs. Peel is one hep kitty. And Pops? Well, he really was the cat's pajamas.