served on a bed of rice with a velvety reduction

The kitten turned off my computer, again.

I have to admit, it's one of the more clever things that she does.

Earlier this morning, she discovered her own reflection in a large mirror I have proped up against a wall. She ran back and forth, along with her own reflection, a million times. Periodically, she would stop to check behind the mirror to see if the "other" kitten was back there. Then she got wise, and backed up (so as to never take her eyes off this other kitten) and ran right into her own reflection.

Really, it was less like running and more like bounding, or something a kangaroo would do.

She's so plastic and light weight that she didn't get hurt or discouraged doing this. Because she did this many times. For about an hour. So, satisfied as I was that she was occupied, I went about my business. I made some coffee, cleaned off the table, looked at my bills. Then I went to check my email. That's when, without apology, the kitten walked over and switched off the computer.

Then she just walked away, like she was bored with the whole thing. Because normally, when she does this, she will wait over by the serge protector for me to arrive (my arrival being fairly immediate) so that, once I'm there (twisted in a position where I can not only see behind my desk, but also get my arm back there so as to extract this kitten from the scene of the crime) she (the big payoff, I believe) will proceed to use her small size and incredible quickness to narrowly escape being apprehended by me. And either run or roll away. Only to hide somewhere. For a duration of no less than forty minutes.

But not today.

It's like she's crazy - CRAZY to the point where one starts to think that it will never end. Then, abruptly (by the grace of God) she settles down to a more reasonable degree of activity. And then it's alright. Then it's like, everything is going to be ok.

Today I need to do some shopping. I need clothes.

It's funny, how I used to buy things at thrift stores because I liked to wear vintage clothes. And, how now I shop there because I can't afford anything else.

I feel as though I wear the same nine or ten things over and over at work. Probably because I do. I got rid of all of my clothes a few months ago. That was back when I still wore a uniform at work. Back when I didn't need so many clothes.

In the studio it is dusty and full of exposed nails and splinters. Everybody there dresses down. And, now, all nine or ten articles of my clothing are dressed-down items. Due to exposure to the studio. Which is fine. I guess I've developed a sort of uniform there, too. The constant being holes, dust and smudges.

I think it's time that I enforce an idea that I had developed years ago. That is, wear only black and red clothing. That's it. Maybe white (but only touches of white, like a bit of white collar sticking out - though, crookedly, like I don't care). That way, everything goes together.

I got the idea from something I had read about Diana Vreeland when I was in the sixth grade. She only wore two or three colors. Of course, she was rich and eccentric. She did this because her jewelry (more acurately sculpture, that is, artifact, bones; maybe pieces of mummies - much of it gifts from various designers and, presumably, archeologists) required a blank canvass of sorts as a back drop.

Of course, my mom wouldn't hear of it.

And, of course, I currently have no need for a blank canvass. Nor anything remotely like a tiger tooth or antler in the way of jewelery. Not that it was ever about that.

I could pretend that I did, but really what would that achieve?

I'm not into deluding myself. Not even in the name of Diana Vreeland. No. Quite the opposite. I like to look right into the ugliest, hardest to confront parts of my mind. And sort of sit there. With a bottle of vodka. And a couple of kleenexes.

I think I'll do it. The red and black thing.

"..becoming a caricature of oneself, that is, reducing the personality (as one might a red sauce) to a tincture of "persona" is every woman's priveledge, if not duty ..especially as she gets to be in her late thiries.. think Bette Davis.. think Endora from Bewitched.. those women didn't get that way overnight.."

So true.

If only I had a penny for each time I've been so instructed.