There’s a major recall of canned cat and dog food manufactured by Menu Foods. Go here to see the extensive list of pet food brands that are being recalled.
Menu Foods press release on this issue begins with this:

As my luck would have it, I feed my cat one of the recalled brands. She also eats dry cat food. But she’s been acting kind of funny lately — as though she’s not feeling well. You know, hiding under the bed, throwing up, not drinking much water…..
The cats who have been reported as ill from eating the cat food in question (some of whom have died) have all experienced renal failure.

I threw out her canned cat food, and I’m keeping an eye on my Calli. Of course, she’s not hard to miss; she weighs almost 20 pounds!

If you read this blog, you know how much I’m enamored of mythology and how easy it is to trace just about all Christian myths to more ancient sources.
It’s St. Patrick’s Day, and you might not know that the purported St. Patrick was born in Scotland of two Roman parents, which makes him actually Italian.
It’s St. Patrick’s Day, and the following statements are excerpted from here:

And, to have some fun with St. Patrick trivia, go here.

Three inches of snow already. No going out today.
Instead we sit by the window and watch what seems like every bird in the neighborhood gorging in anticipation of also being snowed in. Or snowed out.
So much for revving up for spring.

Thanks to Doug’s Dynamic Drivel for pointing me to this.

My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Sister Spikey Mace of Patience.

Get yours.

The need for this Jihad is being promoted by Jon Carroll at SFGate.com, where he posts the first communique from a group calling itself Unitarian Jihad.
Included in the communique are statements such as these:

Put your tongue in your cheek and go and read the whole thing.

One misty moisty morning
when cloudy was the weather
I chanced to meet an old man
clothed all in leather.
He began to compliment
and I began to grin.
How do you do?
And how do you do?
And how do you do, again.?

It is that kind of morning, and I sit by the window outside my mother’s bedroom and think of that nursery rhyme I used to sing to b!X when he was a toddler. I don’t know where we first heard it. On Captain Kangaroo, I think.
This is the kind of day I always loved as a kid. I could curl up on the couch and read and nap all day. I could just lie there and let my mind wander, create those magical lands to which I could escape.
Although it is misty and moisty, it is not that kind of day here.
My mother had a bad night last night, tossing, turning, wrapping herself in her blanket. A hint of shroud.
She tends to sleep on her side, and she puts pressure on the nerve bundles at her shoulders. Her bones are fragile, and we can’t help wondering if she fractured something. She hurts at that spot at the tip of her shoulder and down her arm. We prop her up in bed so that she can lie on her back, put pillows under her knees. Her hands and feet are cold, and we turn on the electric blanket. I heat up the mirowaveable packs I made (filled with millet) and place one on each shoulder. We give her tea with honey. I think she’s dehydrated. She falls asleep.
I’m supposed to start my exercise program at Curves tomorrow. It’s the one thing I really need to do for myself. I really need to do that.
Her breathing is so shallow that I have to watch very closely to make sure that I can see her chest rise and fall.
I sit by the window on this misty moisty morning. The snow has melted everywhere but on the lake. I notice that we have a few new finches stopping by the feeders. The squirrels, annoyed that we have put a baffle above the bird feeder, have taken to climibng up the window screen to get to the suet cage. I look up and one is splayed, belly to my face, across the screen. They are supremely persisent.
Yesterday, I started going through my seed packets, hoping to get a head start on spring.
Today I sit by the window and envy the persistence of squirrels.
I hear a noise and see my mother standing in the doorway. She looks better. She has the persistence of squirrels.
Not relevant to anything here, today is the Ides of March.

Check here for links to sources and for more scary news.

caught between changes — time, season, care. cold in head. warm on mountain. need to sleep. need to care. sleep wins. care always there. caught between.

You might have seen this already, but I just found it.
Posted on Blog for America is Allan Schnaiberg’s (Professor of Sociology & Faculty Associate, Institute for Policy Research at Northwestern University) psychiatric assessment of our afflicted president.

Yes, I know. The expected subsequent word is “curves,” and I was going to post about having an appointment tomorrow morning to sign up at “Curves for Women” so that I can get myself on an exercise program.
But that was before I checked over at a blog from Saudi Arabia written by an American woman who lives there. If you haven’t found Sand Gets In My Eyes yet, you’re missing out not only on some excellent writing, but even more important, on a perspective on that country that is both honest and personal.
Her post Is Phyllis Chesler Right? is infuriating because it’s so honest, so correct (although not politically), and links over to an even more infuriating article in the Times Online by Chesler entitled How My Eyes Were Opened to the Barbarity of Islam.
Now, I have been a fan of Chesler since I read Women and Madness at a time in my life when I was both mad/angry and wondering if I were going mad/crazy. That book helped to launch me into the heart of feminism.
Just as I can’t understand how savvy, smart women can tolerate the demeaning attitude toward them from the Catholic and other “Christian” churces, I have never been able to understand how anyone with an ounce of humanity in them keep finding excuses for the way women are treated in so many of the Islam-based cultures. I find it infuriating.
And so do Lori of Sand in My Eyes and Chesler of the long list of
publications challenging women to stand up and men to wake up.
I’m not going to quote from either of them here because both of their pieces (see third paragraph above for links) should be read whole.
I continue not to understand why the most “religious” people totally ignore the Golden Rule.