Surely My Eyes Deceive Me!

1.  The Red-Headed Kid, after months of absence from Tiny Cat Pants, is asleep right now on my couch.  I feel a little bad about coming downstairs and flipping on all the lights this morning, but I didn’t know he was still here.  On the other hand, I was glad he came over last night, because I was watching the rest of the Spike Lee documentary and the Red-Headed Kid is one of those guys that doesn’t see anything wrong with crying.  Not out and out sobs, but when that old lady was going through her house and seeing that everything was gone, or when the kid talked about being assured his house was empty and then finding his dead mother under the refrigerator, or when the woman was at the funeral for her five year old daughter, tears were openly falling and he was all “That’s fucked up.”

2.  Every day we walk by this house where the old man knocks on the window and waves at us and his dog barks and leaps and scratches against the other window at hard as it can.  Today the man wasn’t at his usual spot, but the dog was at its.  I’ll give you three guesses as to what finally happened.  Yes, that dog finally hit that window hard enough to break it.  I was so startled but I turned to Mrs. Wigglebottom and said, “I guess we should have seen that coming.”

3.  We saw a red tailed hawk sitting in the middle of the street, out front of the house of the woman who always gives Mrs. Wigglebottom treats.  It just sat there, facing her house, head turned to watch us pass.  It was cool.  I wonder if all animals just know to wait outside her house for snacks.

4.  Kleinheider sent me this link to a story about a woman who’s enlisting the help of Jane and its readers to lose her virginity.  I’m not sure I can do this justice.  On the one hand, I think we, as a society, highly overvalue virginity.  Whether or not you’ve had sex is just not that important.  And so I guess if someone wants a magazine to help her get laid, it’s not a big deal.

But on the other hand, this really bothers me.  Is it weird that she’s a twenty-nine year old virgin?

Frankly, yes.

But so what?  Why do we have to see every weird thing about us as a problem to be solved?

That bugs the shit out of me–that message–that your quirks are “issues” that you need to address and fix.  And I hate to see Jane reinforcing that.