Guest Blogger: Maggie

Greetings to Mama's hew-min blog friends. This is Maggie, and Psalmist is my new Mama. I thought it was time to come introduce myself.

First, let me clear up something. I'm not a Munchkin cat. Mama thought so at first, because one of my foss-tur mamas told her so, and because I stayed hunched down low to the floor when Mama met me and when I first got to our part-mint. I even inspected the bottom of the loveseat for most of the first two days there, so it took Mama a while to find out that my legs are normal length for a cat my size. I'm just very pet-tite, Mama says. She picks me up and says I'm a feather-weight. Well, duh! A tiny cat like I am isn't going to weigh very much, now is she? Silly Mama!

I'm starting to like my new sister-cat, Molly. Molly wasn't too nice to me at first, though, despite all the grand promises she made here. That was before she found out that Mama would hold and pet me a lot. She had Mama all to herself for a while and she didn't like sharing her. But Molly's better about it now. I know how she feels, because I think Mama needs to hold and pet Molly less and me more. I'm tinier, and I meow softer, and I'm the new kitteh here. Don't you think that makes me deserving of more Mama time?

Speaking of Mama, she has got to get herself to the cat food store and get us some GOOD food. Molly and I are on a hunger strike. No more of this hard kibble for us. Mama said we needed to eat it, that it's perfectly good food. Nuh-uh! Not this fancy feline, nor Molly either. We're fond of Greenies, but cat doth not live by Greenies alone. We'd prefer Fancy Feast or Sheba or some other smelly, 'spensive wet food. We've told Mama this. She needs to heed our wishes.

I keep Mama quite entertained with a game. It's called Keep-Away. When I don't feel like cuddling, I sidle up to Mama and meow at her, tail all up in the air and all, as if I can't wait to be picked up and petted. Then, as soon as Mama bends her pudgy self down to pick me up, I prance away. If she comes after me, I run behind the loveseat. Then, a minute or two later, I start it all over again. Heheheheheh . . . Mama falls for it every time. She says I'm a sassy girl. I wonder what her point is.

Well, Molly is over there, looking kind of scruffy. I think she needs some grooming. So I'll finish up this greeting and go do my sisterly doo-tee. 'Bye for now, hew-mins!

Love,
Maggie

RevGalBlogPals Friday Five: It's All in the Look

Gosh, I haven't done one of these things in ages! This one seems like a great one with which to jump back in.

Sally , as she cleans her wardrobe (what we Americans call our closet), pauses to ask:

1. Are you a hoarder, or are you good at sorting and clearing?
I'm most definitely a hoarder; look up "hoarder" in the dictionary, and there's liable to be a photo of me to illustrate it! I am good at sorting and clearing, I simply don't do it nearly often enough.

2. What is the oddest garment you possess and why?
I'm not certain this really qualifies as a garment anymore, but it's a simple A-line evening dress that looks like it came from about 1972, floor length, short sleeves, jewel neck, and made of an oddly beautiful fabric that features a black background covered with small gold, blue, and green medallions, woven in brilliant metalic thread. (Scratchiest fabric ever conceived, I'm sure.) I've cut a few pieces out of it over the years for craftsy projects, but most of it is still there. And since the fabric is some sort of "space age" acrylic stuff, moths and other destroyers never seem to touch it. I've owned it for over 20 years. It will probably still be intact 500 years from now.

3. Do you have a favourite look/color?
I favor simple, classic feminine lines, being 50, short, and plumpish. I alternate between liking pinks and purples, and blues, and have both in my closet. And since I get compliments every time I wear something red near my face, I try to do that at least once every other week or so. We who bear the "curse of the Celts" (ruddy complexion) seem to do well in the one color that is ruddier than we are, I guess!

4. Thrift/ Charity shops: love them or hate them?
I don't get to them often, but I do like them. I tend to find more decorating items (vintage hats, gloves, hankies, embroidered linens) than clothes that fit me, though. And given my hoarding tendencies, that's mostly a good thing.

5. Money is no object, what one item would you buy?
A custom-made, superbly tailored navy or gray suit, with both slacks and skirt. (And if that counts as three items, I don't care.) We shorties of the plumpish persuasion simply cannot find good suits that fit well on the racks, no matter what store we try. (And no, the Lane Bryant wrinkle-in-a-second separates marketed as suits neither fit well nor look good. A coworker of mine proves that nearly every day, poor dear.)