Le Monde de Fromage de Kate

I feel the need to preface my latest Holiday Gift Suggestion (Idea #4) with some explanation. I offer, as a tasteful gift option, the “Twelve Dickies of Christmas.” This might sound just a tad licentious, but it is NOT. A “Dicky” (alternate spelling “Dickey”) is:

1. NOUN
2. a.  A woman’s blouse front worn under a suit jacket or low-necked garment.
   b.  A man’s detachable shirt front.
   c.  A collar for a shirt.
   d.  A child’s bib or pinafore.
3. A donkey.
4. A small bird (as in “Dickey Bird”).
5. a.  The driver’s seat on a carriage.
   b.  A rear seat for servants on a carriage.

1. ADJECTIVE
2. (British Colloquial) faulty (as in “I have a dicky ticker”).

(Source: The Free Dictionary)

In case you haven’t noticed, I am providing a valuable holiday service to you – FREE, gratis, complimentary, on the house – you get the picture. Well, actually the picture is over that way:
See “Capitalism Runs Rampant.”

Every day (or so) I shall post FREE holiday gift suggestions that I have gleaned from my Mother’s innumerable catalog selections. This means that you could order any of these thoughtful and practical gifts from the comfort of your own armchair or bathtub! (Perhaps scratch bathtub because of electricity and whatnot.)

Naturally, Grettir fixed the world.  Hallelujah and many, many thanks to him!

Now, feedback please.  The stripes were my idea, and I cannot decide if they are festive or if they add a “Circus Headache” sort of vibe to what was a rather subtle design (with calming blue colours).

In other words, is my bedroom too small for these stripes? (Sorry – that reference is just for Ashley and Charles.)

Yes, I will eagerly debase myself in return for free loose gemstones (genuine jewels – NOT synthetic or “created” ones – I do have some pride, afterall). If you take that as your cue to snort and cynically exclaim, “HA!” please keep it to yourself.

As a matter of fact, I will willingly volunteer to humiliate myself for gratis precious stones. It is, afterall, an unusual opportunity these days.

First of all, I MUCH prefer Crazy For You when it doesn’t involve being in a much smaller, quieter production of A Little Night Music with a BIG ol’ equity cast of Crazy For You thunderously hoofing in the much larger, fancier theater overhead. Also, we got royally screwed when it came to dressing rooms because of them. DAMN YOU, YOU PAID GERSHWIN HOOFERS!!! Actually, I knew some lovely people in that cast, and I realize it was nothing personal when they added festive tap-dancing percussion to, oh, perhaps Every Day a Little Death or Send in the Clowns (if Sondheim were dead he’d have wept in his grave; as he’s alive I’m sure he was blissfully unaware of the whole fiasco). Moreover, it was not their fault that the management paraded through the halls with elderly potential donors while we were trying to do wigs and makeup in the halls (wretched dressing room situation – remember) wearing pretty much nothing but tights and corsets. I cannot decide if this might have provided a sort of impetus to donate money to the theatre or if it was a big detraction to dishing out the loot. I certainly don’t claim to be easy on the eyes corseted and sparsely dressed.

Anyhoo, at the Scera Shell production of Crazy For You tonight, replete with dashing Link Hogthrob – Sorry – it’s Lank Good-fer-Nuttin (or something fairly close to that), I rather enjoyed myself (especially after the elderly “sing-along” couple left – JUST BECAUSE YOU KNOW THE SONGS DOESN’T MEAN YOU SHOULD SING THEM FROM THE AUDIENCE, n’est pas?). And Holy Belt-buckle, Batman! I also got the inside scoop on some of the backstage action from go-betweens, Zoe and Emma. And Emma regaled me with some of the amusing snafus that have occured during other performances. That was very enlightening.

But surprise, SURPRISE – who was standing there after the show – in their very famous flesh (except wearing clothes) clear from New York – my lovely friends Michael and Frank! (True – hadn’t actually met Frank until tonight, but I already considered him my lovely friend because of Michael – you just get to be lovely by association.) It was too, too surreal and serendipitous. Thanks for the memories, Michael! And thanks for patiently bearing with all the memories, Frank! And last, but certainly not least, many thanks to you, Lank, for the belt buckle and all for which it stood. You were tremendous!

I was given a pair of hand-crafted underwear yesterday. They are made of a cotton knit festooned with a cheerful paleontological pattern in primary and secondary colours.

I might have ended up with two pairs, but the second crotch was misplaced. It was found eventually in the dog’s bed, but by then the moment was gone.

SPIDER ON THE COMPUTER DESK RIGHT WHERE I WAS ONLY MERE SECONDS AGO LEANING MY… MYSELF! That is downright SWAGGERING EFFRONTERY! It is simply unpardonable and to be punished immediately by death. *Squish.* Sorry, Jodi!

AND something has bitten me on the ankle! What if it was the bite of the dreaded brown recluse, which has a necrotizing effect on human tissue? My elder sister will forevermore wear on her body a testament to the results of such a bite; she is, I kid you not, missing a little chunk of flesh from her back! And don’t forget the gangrene lady who DIED from such a bite!

The “easy” identification of the brown recluse is supposed to be comforting. There is a violin or “fiddle”-shaped marking on the cephalothorax of these spiders (which is why they are often referred to as “fiddle-back” spiders in the South), but this marking can be faint (arbitrarily), especially if the spider has just molted. Thanks. Ever so helpful.

But wait:

The most definitive physical feature of recluse spiders is their eyes: most spiders have eight eyes that typically are arranged in two rows of four but recluse spiders have six equal-sized eyes arranged in three pairs, called dyads. There is a dyad at the front of the cephalothorax (the first main body part to which the legs attach) and another dyad on each side further back. (Thank you, University of California Statewide Integrated Pest Management Program. You seem to think you know a lot even though the Brown Recluse DOES NOT LIVE IN CALIFORNIA.)

What in the hell are you supposed to do precisely? Nicely ask the possibly deadly spider to hold still so you can get up RIGHT NEXT TO IT and count its little eyeballs – one, two, three, four, five… – and see if they are in the appropriate pattern of three dyads? That’s so reassuring to those of us who are myopic. PHEW! Eight eyes! It’s just a Hobo Spider…which…which also has a horrific necrotizing bite…RUN AWAY! RUN AWAY!!!!!!

Hello, my name is Kate and I am an arachnophobic.

But can you really BLAME ME? We have such festive spiders here (I forgot to mention the Black Widow – hurrah – and the Yellow Sac Spider, Tarantulas, and MORE). And the most treacherous ones prefer to lurk in piles of things or hide in your laundry or sneak up your bedskirt!!! If you don’t think that’s quite disturbing enough, please take a look at this article from the American College of Physicians. Apparently, there was enough confusion that the ACP-ASIM felt the need to help doctors tell between the bite of the Brown Recluse and CUTANEOUS ANTHRAX. Good grief – don’t tell me spider bites are nothing to worry about when a major health organization includes them in a discussion of BIOTERRORISM. By the way, take a look at photos (which I will not be posting); I think you will agree that cutaneous anthrax looks a lot more innocuous than the spider bite.

Henceforth, I shall bud asexually.

My Mother receives a lot of catalogs. Okay, that is a significant understatement – my Mother receives almost every conceivable catalog in the Universe. On any average day – during a non-holiday season, mind you – she receives an average of five to ten catalogs. This certainly enables her to find unusual gift items. But just reading the catalogs can provide hours of entertainment.

In a recent bunch, I found a real corker. Before I show you, let me tell you that this is a catalog that had no less than SIX items based on the hysterical and timeless wit of “faux flatulence.” Included in the, shall we say, “fart fun” items were a CD, a key chain (a “pull my finger” hand), a doll, a card game (?) and a toilet paper cover. The toilet paper cover – OHHHHHH – what a treasure! This item not only emitted a big ol’ fart noise – spelled “Rrrrrrp,” in case you wondered – it had the added the utterly sophisticated humor of being shaped like buttocks. But, here is the gaseous item for which I developed a particular fondness:

Farting Salt & Pepper Shakers

The description was awfully clever:

Farting salt & pepper shakers will ruin any dinner!

Don’t let the sleek, modern design fool you: these salt & pepper shakers are as crass-and as funny-as can be. Hear an outrageous fart with every shake! Great for party or picnic.

Thank the heavens, I’ve been looking for the perfect item to “ruin any dinner.” And – how thoughtful – it needn’t be my cooking.

But I must show you the pièce de résistance. I have a feeling that Grettir might consider this item a Sign of the Apocalypse, but the person who predicted that the end of the World was today seem to have been mistaken, so it’s difficult to say.

WARNING! (Almost) Complete Non-sequitur and Incredibly Embarrassing Confession: My family is related on my Mother’s side to that half-baked doomsayer (Mr. Jeffs) who has been such a media darling recently. Boy, aren’t WE proud!

But I must show you the item du jour! Let me preface its appearance by saying that I think we should define it as ART, rather than just some run-of-the-mill gag gift or kitchen utensil; it is useful AND aesthetically pleasing. Without further ado:

Egg Separator

Gross-out egg separator adds fun to your kitchen!

It ‘snot a mug (sorry we couldn’t resist!) Crack an egg into the ceramic head, then tilt to pour just the whites out through the nose. Disgusting! (Yet efficient!).

I assert that the separator is absolutely perfect in conjunction with the Farting Salt & Pepper Shakers. After all, if you plan to “ruin” any meal, it seems apropos to create the feast with a snot-emulating implement.

Anyone win the lottery recently? I just thought I would offer my services (it’s certainly within my skill set) as someone who can help you get rid of all that pesky extra money. It wouldn’t be any trouble at all.

These are the kinds of things I do for my friends.

NOTE: People at the bank, when they ask if they can “do anything else for you” are not usually amused by my lottery humor. Maybe they just don’t understand its cleverness.