Smile and Say “Treats” -- by KittyCat

Bicklesworth--rhymes with picklesworth. That's the cat that beat up on me once. Scared he'd hurt me again, Mom wouldn't let me go outside for a long time. 

One day in a bad mood, I'm thinking, this is too stupid. Mom won't take my picture outside cuz Bicklesworth is out. So she makes this phony fall scene with pumpkins, fall flowers, and stuff, all on a grass-looking rug inside the garage. While she scatters silk leaves around--that's silk, as in fake--Dad is outside mowing, picking up real leaves and dumping them on the compost pile.

Ready to shoot, Mom put me and a treat on a pumpkin—the only real things in the whole scene. Ha, ha. I did a grab and go, and before the camera clicked I was snickering from a high shelf.

Mom stepped into the pretend pumpkin patch, and looked up at me. “KittyCat! I went to all this work to take your picture. Come here! This is so-o ridiculous.” All tempered up, she stomped her foot.

I almost fell off the shelf, laughing.

Ha, ha. Mom’s heel had hit the edge of a dandelion-looking plastic disk. As it flew up, it zapped a cardboard potted plant, and then both got hung up on a piece of wire. The wire you couldn't see before, now stuck out between pumpkins and other props, its leaves looking more like a string of broken lights than fall decorations. Startled, Mom fell backward into the bale of hay—you'd think a good landing place. But, with legs pointing up, she sank right through the “hay bale”—a straw-covered cardboard box.

She got up p-d-q, but the box stuck to her behind and hit this thing called a backdrop. It dropped—but not quite to the floor, cuz Mom was in the way.

I jumped down. All that laughter right after lunch jiggled the kibbles in my tummy and I got cramps. I puked on a pile of silk leaves—a pretty good place, cuz the colors in the up-chucked cat food blended real good with those in the phony fall scene.

Mom groaned like her tummy hurt. She stood the torn backdrop up again, but a paper bird's nest had traded its plastic branch for Mom's head, and a hobby-store sparrow hung from the witch's broom on her Halloween sweatshirt.

I looked at scrunched leaves, a broken pumpkin, the upturned hay box, and props turned everywhichway. Yeah, Mom, I thought, it is so ridiculous

The takeaway? --next time you’re in a bad mood, look around. You'll find something ‘so ridiculous,’ you'll laugh yourself silly.

(c) 2011, Bernice W. Simpson

Cut It Out!

A common comment in the critique group, Dynamic Opinions is “cut it.”

Try this activity from a Topics on Cue writing workshop.

1. Copy Paragraph I, but don’t look at paragraph II.
2. Without losing the essence of Paragraph I, rewrite it using about half the words.
3. Then, compare the paragraphs, including yours. Which one is the strongest? Is Paragraph II too short?

PARAGRAPH I

The timer beeped, and Ashleigh opened the oven door to remove the bread she had just baked. As it had for months, the door screeched. She thought kneading bread would help her get rid of the anger she felt. It had only reduced it a few degrees. When the door squeaked, she got angry with Don all over again, and she slammed the door shut before turning off the oven. The nerve-jarring, high-pitched noise reminded her of all the things he needed to do. He started painting the kitchen last month, but had not finished the job. He said he would replace the broken bathroom window pane, but it was still held together with duct tape. It frustrated Ashleigh when she thought of all the things Don consistently had neglected to do around their home.

PARAGRAPH II

 

At the time-clock’s chirp, Ashleigh opened the oven and retrieved a golden loaf of bread. Kneading it had curbed her fury, but not her anger. When would Don fix the squeaky hinge? She slammed the door shut and turned off the oven. When would Don finish painting the kitchen or replace the bathroom window pane held together with duct tape? When would Don do anything around the place?

© 2011, Bernice Simpson

A Picture Book for Fun and Laughter

OMG! Found on the internet: Ivon Cecil's picture book, Kirby Kelvin and the Not-Laughing Lessons -- $101.35. You read that right: one hundred one dollars and thirty-five cents, plus shipping. New and signed? Maybe signed, but that particular copy is a used paperback.

To think I gave all mine away. A book is my first choice for a child's gift, so they were not purchased to keep. I wonder if any recipients saved their copy of Kirby... for a day they might sit and read the delightful story to their children.

If you want to put a smile on a child's face, read the book to a youngster, or let your second-grader read it to you. From $4.00 (that includes shipping) or a little more you can find a used copy in good condition.

Ivon taught a course on writing for children at Amarillo College, and wrote a column on the subject for a national magazine. Finding Ivon on Facebook recently prompted me to see what she has written since I saw her last. It seems she is busy with family and a demanding job at present. Hopefully, she'll resurrect Kirby or create another character for children to enjoy when she retires.

(c) 2011, Bernice W. Simpson

Snook, the Brown Tabby -- by KittyCat

Aunt Pen had gone in an airplane to see some grease and a turkey. How smart is that? --we got stores right in the neighborhood. I figured she really wanted some R & R from Snook, her brown tabby. When Aunt Gay goes somewhere in an airplane, Snook comes to our house, and I have to be nice to her. But lots of times, she acts real uppity around me.

She's done stuff like this: Snook saw that I sent a card to this kid, Matthew, cuz I heard he was sick. So she sends a fancier one, just to outdo me, and she writes this highbrow note:

"My name is Snook, more fondly known as Snookie. I learned of your malady from KittyCat, who—hmm—actually my dignity prevents my speaking further of such a ruffian.

I selected this lovely antique card especially for you, and it is sent with a most heartfelt wish that you’ll feel better soon."

Sheesh! Does that make you want to puke, or what?

At home Mom laughs telling Dad about people who say mean stuff. “For a writer, it’s all fodder,” she says. I finally learned what fodder means. Snook gives me fodder, but to make sure supplies don’t run out, sometimes I give things a bit of a nudge. 

I got lots more to say about Snook, but I feel like I’m getting a nudge. Mom turned on the rug-eating monster in the next room. Earlier she plopped sheets and towels in a laundry basket, so guess I’ll crash on top of the dirty laundry.

Confusing Compounds

Sometimes compound words should be called confound words. A word processing program's spell-checker will usually red-line incorrect run-on words, but what about other mistakes? Don't expect its help when you leave out a hyphen, put one in, or neglect to join two words to a compounded one.

Just for fun, look at the sets of compound words below, and circle those that are written incorrectly. Are you cool with compounding? Answers follow. 

1.      Workday, workweek, working class, workingclass.

2.      Otherwise, lengthwise, pennywise, weather-wise.

3.      Windstorm, ice storm, waterspout, cold front, rainfall, weathercock, snow ball, weathervane.

4.      Cash box, money-back, paper money, checkbook, moneymaker, catchpenny, money order, pocket money, moneywort.

5.      Boat-rocker, free spirit, dogcatcher, dog handler, commander in chief, policy maker, fat cat, beachcomber, sleepyhead, pussycat, water rat, darkhorse, kill-joy, big boys, watchmaker, beach bum, catnapper, straight shooter, gadabout, beachmaster, double-dealer, freethinker, birth mother, redneck, blood brother, slimeball, fortuneteller, team leader, schoolteacher, free-marketeers, cattlewoman, blue blood, blue-bloods, Big Brother, office boy, chief executive officer, step parents, godfather, dognapper, cat burglar, cave dweller, black belt.

6.      Bird of peace, bird-dog, side horse, sealion, cold duck, hot-dog, jackrabbit, white elephant, workhorses, snake bite, bird dog, waterthrush, Black Angus, kitty-corner, water bug, bullpen, snake oil, dog days, sidewinder, tomcat, blacksnake, screech owl, tabby cat, KittyCat. 

Answers:

1.      All are correct except workingclass. Working class is a noun. Adjective: working-class.

2.      All are correct except pennywise. No hyphen when wise acts as a suffix to help a word express in the direction of or with regard to. But penny-wise which means good penny management, is hyphenated. Similarily weather-wise refers to one who is wise in forecasting—weather or the outcome of political issues. The following sentence is incorrect: “Weatherwise, last month was as balmy as May.” Most compound weather words are joined: windstorm, waterspout, rainfall, snowball, raindrop, snowflake, and even weatherman. But to confound us, correctly expressed as two words are ice storm and weather cock.

3.      Depending on the dictionary you use, all the money words are correct, but older word processing programs may disagree with moneyman and moneywort. In Canada, the moneywort question is moot. There, the moneywort's common name is creeping Jenny--logically expressed in two words.

4.      This list of people (yes, it lacks political correctness) is too long to make you strain. Although dictionaries differ in some cases, all are correct. But can you define the words? For example, what is the difference between a dognapper and catnapper? Why is Big Brother a proper noun, while commander in chief isn't? Are there cave dwellers in New York City?

5.      Correct--the verbs hot-dog (to perform stunts) and bird-dog, (to watch or follow carefully). Also correct is the noun, bird dog. Snake oil is correct, but if zapped by a snake, you have a snakebite. Joined, Seal plus ion do not make a word. Perhaps that is why sea and lion are separated. Three dictionaries refuse to recognize kitty cat, and especially not as a proper noun. But, KittyCat exists. See? (= ^__^ =). And I suppose he'll post something tomorrow.

Panhandle Writers’ Network

On Thursdays, look for Cat in the Corner to showcase Texas Panhandle writers. Their talent and publication credits are as varied as pollen swirling in the region’s autumn air.

If you heard pro-life activist, Mark Crutcher, on You Tube infer that nothing moves except air in this part of the country, don’t believe it. The Panhandle Professional Writers, one of the oldest writing groups in the United States, meets bimonthly in Amarillo, Texas.

Check back next Thursday for an article about or authored by one or more of the region’s writers. Will that be someone famous? Perhaps, but maybe not. Someone interesting? Of course.

© 2011, Bernice W. Simpson

A Party for Henry -- by KittyCat

There’s so much stuff I just don’t understand about humans, but I’ve never been as confused as I was –well, still am—about Henry. Jessica (that’s a human cousin, sort of) called and said we were invited to a party for Henry (another human cousin, sort of).

Later, Mom said she was going to the grocery store, so I jumped in the car faster than a cricket hops to a hiding spot. I didn’t know exactly how I was going to do it, but my plan was to buy Henry a nice juicy raw chicken for his birthday. But guess what? Just as we got there, Mom saw me, and said I couldn’t go in the grocery store cuz I’m a cat. It beats me. I get to go (sometimes that’s want to or not) to the pet stuff store, and they got groceries. They also got big dogs who would chase me all over the store if they could get loose from their leashes.

Anyhow, back at the house, I licked my boots and jabot so I’d look real spiffy for Henry’s party. I was right at Mom’s heels by the door as she opened it, ready to leave. She pushed me back, saying I couldn’t go with her—it was “a just for ladies” thing. Then when I heard her tell Dad good-bye, I got really confused, and I still am. They talked for a minute or so, and said something about a shower, and talked about how Henry was not even born yet. If not even born, how can he take a shower? Why would a bunch of ladies go to his shower? –Like do they stand around and watch? Gee, you’d think a guy could have some privacy. 

So I felt real bad, for me and for Henry. When Mom goes to visit him, I’ll figure out a way to put a dollar in his toy box. In a year or so, Henry can to go to the store by himself, and buy his own chicken.  And I hope he gets to have a real birthday party someday, and it’s super nice. If it’s hot out maybe he and his friends can play with water toys or splash in a wading pool. I hope he gets to invite who he wants. I’ll bet it will be lots of kids and cats and friendly little dogs, but no old ladies.

(c) 2011, Bernice Simpson