December 5th, 2007


(no subject)

Ben sits atop the low bookcases and watches me work. His striped grey form is framed by duck decoys, a green glass doorknob, a small framed box containing an African locust. Eventually he turns away and hunkers down, watching the titmice fight over the feeder. Still Life with Cat, except for the tail, curled between the duck decoys, flick flick flick.

Eventually, bored by both birds and human, Ben stands up, puts a paw on the wall, and stretches to his full and impressive height. He reaches around the corner of the wall, to where a small mask of the Lord of Infinite Compassion is hanging. He glances over to make sure that he has my full attention, then shoves the mask with a paw.

"BEN! Leave Ganesh alone!"

The damn cat has found one of my great psychological weaknesses. I am a straightener of art. He has learned that if he shoves a painting askew, while I watch, I am physically compelled to get up and straighten it. The photographs in my bedroom are particular prey to this when he wants to be fed. There I am, sleeping the sleep of the reasonably just, and I'll hear "pat...pat...scraaaape..." And I will rise, half-dead with sleep, to straighten the abused art. Then I'm up already, and he leaps down, runs to the hallway, and looks at me beseechingly to indicate that he's been fighting ninjas half the night and if I don't give him something to restore his health bar, he can't be held responsible for the consequences.

Bloody cat.

The Sweater

I was out mailing the latest armload of prints and picking up groceries this afternoon, and being in a good mood, I decided to swing my favorite little local clothing boutique and check out their sales rack. (Full price there is dire, but the markdowns are often fabulous, and the proprietor knows who I am and can usually be relied on for a chat.)

And I found this sweater.

It is a lovely sweater. It looks good on me. It was on sale. And I'm vaguely wondering if I'll have the nerve to actually wear it in public.

See, it's one of those that combines the turtleneck with the v-neck, leaving a framed diamond of bare skin from collarbone to cleavage.

Ironically, it's not all that low cut. I have a dozen shirts that show more décolletage, which I wear regularly and without a second thought. (Hey, the area between the breasts is known anatomically as the intermammary sulcus or intermammary cleft*. I didn't know that! Thank you, wikipedia!) The thing is that by having fabric as a framing element on all sides, the intermammary sulcus in question is suddenly a Lot More Obvious. It's like wearing a sign saying HELLO WORLD, I HAVE BOOBS!

I'm a D-cup already, so believe me, that was never in question. (Unless I stand next to Carlota, of course.)

Funny, I worked at a frame shop for months and told customers all the time how framing really made something pop. I just never considered that it might work with clothing too.

Oh, well. I'll just wear it to the grocery store a few times until I get used to it, and play who-makes-eye-contact-above-the-collarbone bingo while I shop.

*My stepmother would occasionally carry a rat in her intermammary cleft when she happened to have a rat on her and needed her hands free. (This happened rather more frequently than you'd think.) My stepmother is cool. The rats never complained either.

(no subject)

To the very nice person who got me an Amazon gift certificate, which had no way to send a reply--THANK YOU! That was very sweet! (Hot damn! I can replace some of those books that got lost in the mail!)