♥ especially for jules
Zombie cupcakes by jamieanne/flickr.
Happy Halloween!
*This post is brought to you by Fall-derol.
Copyright © 2010 Jama Rattigan of jama rattigan’s alphabet soup. All rights reserved.
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the cats are coming! the cats are coming!
Holy Catnip!
The alphabet soup kitchen is crawling with tail swishing, paw swatting, head rubbing cats! And I’m running out of milk. Yeow, mew mew, miaow, scritch scratch all day long.
Yes, your Majesty. No, your Highness. Another serving of tuna, your Excellency?
Gulp. I feel so . . . inferior.
If you’d like to meet some crazy cool superior beings, join us this Friday, October 29th, when we celebrate National Cat Day! I’ve rounded up some crazy cat people from the kidlitosphere. Some are absolutely crazy about their cats. Others are crazy because of their cats. The rest are just crazy, period. (I cannot claim any responsibility for their catastrophic behavior.)
Stay tuned for fun, folly, felines, and mega-fur. Why not post a picture of your cat on your blog or Facebook profile on Friday?
Meanwhile, help yourself:
A Mouse Race (like a Rat Race, only tastier).
So, what are you looking at?!
*Winchester, pictured above, lives with author Candice Ransom.
*Mouse Race by two moon sky/flickr.
Copyright © 2010 Jama Rattigan of jama rattigan’s alphabet soup. All rights reserved.
friday feast: meowish metaphors
“A dog, I have always said, is prose; a cat is a poem.” ~ Jean Burden
I’ve just slipped into my black cat suit so I can channel my inner feline. So far this morning, I’ve batted the air, leapt to the top of the refrigerator, took several serious naps, and s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d good, l – o – n – g stretches.
Are you impressed by my grace and agility? My stealth moves and “aren’t you lucky to be in my presence” cattitude?
Oh, I am sooooooooo sleek. You may pet me.
*admires whiskers*
Yes, Halloween is coming, but did you know National Cat Day is exactly one week away, on October 29th? Of course we’re going to celebrate here at alphabet soup by featuring several uber-cool cats, along with the authors and/or illustrators who live with them. Me-ow!
But for now, let’s paws for a bit of purrfect poetry.
f is for fox
It’s always a good day when we spot one of our favorite "yard pets" enjoying himself on a lazy fall afternoon.
This is only the second time in 11 years that I’ve been able to snap pics of Fuzzy the Fox. He’s very camera shy and mostly nocturnal, but I guess he just couldn’t resist sunning himself, taking a brief nap, and savoring the change of seasons. I wish you could have seen the way he closed his eyes and turned his face up to the sky with an expression of sheer pleasure.
How often do we take the time to be still and feel ourselves in the world?
For as long as we’ve lived here, we’ve had the privilege of observing fox families. Fuzzy is one of many descendants of The Great Reynaldo, the first fox we became acquainted with — a dashing fellow with thick red fur and black stockings, who carried himself with a decided air of aristocracy and discerning tastes. These days, the others speak of Reynaldo in hushed tones, still in awe of his incomparable flair, rugged good looks, and finely honed hunting skills.
But today we have Fuzzy (who is likely female, but we refer to all the animals as "he"), who thinks he’s a dog. Len has trained him to come for his supper (leftovers and puppy biscuits), by opening and closing our kitchen door (loud slam), and calling his name. Fuzzy must have read the book about the "fox in the hen house," because he’s mad about chicken (dem bones, dem bones, dem fowl bones). We love that he’s not a picky eater — it’s fun watching him slurp up long spaghetti noodles, puzzle over sushi, nibble up blueberries, and gather up bits of bread to bring back to his kits.
Fuzzy photo of Fuzzy.
We often wonder what Fuzzy thinks of us, besides free food. Strange people living in a big box, watching the leaves turn.
*This post is brought to you by Foxes, Forests, and Feeling.
♥ More F is for Fall 2010 posts here.
Copyright © 2010 Jama Rattigan of jama rattigan’s alphabet soup. All rights reserved
friday feast: robert louis stevenson in hawai’i
Robert Louis Stevenson at age 7.
I’ve been thinking how different poets speak to us at different times in our lives.
Take Robert Louis Stevenson, for example. “My Shadow,” from A Child’s Garden of Verses, was the first poem I truly loved. I picked it out of a library book when I was 8 or 9, and was convinced it was written just for me.
I memorized the poem and never took my shadow for granted ever again. She was much better than an imaginary friend, but what a copycat! ☺
When I had lunch at the Wai’oli Tea Room recently, I was fascinated by a picture I saw of Stevenson with King Kalakaua (the “Merrie Monarch”). I knew that Louis, as he liked to be called, spent about three years (1888-90) sailing around the eastern and central Pacific, visiting the Marquesas, Society Islands, Tahiti, etc., with an extended stay (5 months) in Hawai’i, before purchasing 400+ acres and building a home in Samoa (where he is buried). I wanted to know more.
RLS and his wife Fanny in the Gilbert Islands.
After a little digging, I stumbled upon an online exhibit at the Edinburgh City Libraries website, featuring a scrapbook of Louis’s South Sea adventures which belonged to his stepson, Lloyd Osbourne. What a treasure trove of goodies!
Jama's Alphabet Soup 