Just Another Manic Sunday

You can't re-set your cat. We moved the clocks ahead, but her hours have not changed.

Truffle began her daily torture ritual at 5:00 this morning, stomping back and forth in my hair near the roots for maximum pain. I covered my head with a pillow, leaving a small opening to breathe and she jumped over me a few times, working up momentum to bite my nose. We engaged in hand-to-paw combat for about an hour until I gave up and fed her. I always do eventually. She knows this. Her tactics have never failed and she could teach those amateurs at Guantanamo a thing or two.

I went back to bed but the cat came back, just like the song says. She gave me the pleasure of her company by resettling in my hair so I could enjoy her hot tuna breath while whipping my face with her tail. Truffle is good at multitasking.

I know where that tail has been, and I know that she either loves or hates me; I'm just not sure which.

There was no chance of going back to sleep. There never is, so I made coffee, played at my computer for a few hours and went for a walk.

Spring brings out the songbirds and the push-up bras, the twin strollers and topiary poodles.

As two girls strutted by, one made air quotes and announced, "I'm having a Britney day."

A 1960 muffler-free white Thunderbird convertible with the top down patrolled the main thoroughfare. A voluntary blond standing on the seat lifted her tank top and screamed, "It's SUNDAY!!"

People at sidewalk cafes cheered. It's amazing what bare boobs can do.

Later, I happened upon an Easter Parade on a street with craft and food stalls, fire engines, cable car rides, a petting zoo and antique cars whose passengers brandished Easter bonnets evocative of Chiquita Banana and the Jolly Green Giant doing weird stuff to each other. Cranky Shetland ponies plodded miserably around a small ring with kicking children on their backs.

There was more disco music than I've heard since the 70's, sounding as bad as ever.

If someone from another planet had chanced upon this event and seen children of every ethnicity screaming in unison, the extraterrestrial would have thought that this was a happy, joyful planet where everyone got along magnificently.

So what's wrong with this picture?

I regret missing the Easter celebration in the famous Castro District which featured a Hunky Jesus contest run by the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence.

In a shocking new development, I didn't win the Lottery. Again. This is getting old.

I am the kind of person who used to be genuinely surprised when I didn't win the Publisher's Clearing House Sweepstakes. I bought magazines to ensure it.

Then I discovered bigger game, the California Super Lotto Plus.

It's my new religion.

When I give them $1.00, I expect them to give me millions of dollars in exchange. Don't they understand that?

In my dark nights of the soul, I have suspicions that nobody really wins these things. After all, does anyone actually know somebody who won a lottery? I think not.

Flip has suggested that I simply throw my dollar in the street where it might do somebody some good.

He says my attitude is wrong, that I shouldn't think of it as a reciprocal deal when I buy my tickets. I always buy them at the corner liquor store from real people with faces because when I win, they will also benefit nicely. I don't believe that anyone has ever won a lottery with a ticket purchased at the supermarket. Besides, Safeway doesn't need my dollar. They are already into me for vastly overpriced bananas, toilet paper and daffodils.

Safeway is the thug of supermarkets with a monopoly in several neighborhoods. They not only price gauge with impunity, their registers are set to add a few dollars to random transactions. They are counting on the fact that most people don't add up their receipts when they get home or if they do notice a discrepancy, won't confront them.

I only check my receipts when they seem horrifically out of line even for Safeway, but they are wrong often enough to make me suspicious. The error is never in my favor.

Still, life gives us consolations.

The wondrous Claudia at On a Limb with Claudia has given me the Blogging Mentor Award, which is funny because I always thought it was the other way around. Claudia is witty, compassionate, curious about everything and extremely supportive of other bloggers, so receiving this particular award from her is deeply meaningful.

She also gave me the Friendly Site Award and the Spreading the Love Award, which I am happy to share with all who visit her extremely friendly site, Everyday Kindness.

Thank you for so much glorious loot attention, Claudia! Your confidence in me gives me much to live up to.

I showed Flip my new awards but he was not impressed. He said he would rather I'd won the '60 T-Bird. So how about it, Claudia?

I am not going to single out anyone for these awards because your sites are all friendly or I wouldn't visit them. I learn from each of you, so you are all my mentors. Therefore, please consider yourselves awarded any or all of these honors, and add them to your sidebars.

I would like to call your attention to a new blog I've just discovered, Gefilte Fish Blues. If Philip Roth met David Sedaris, their love-child might be Jonah K. Haslap. He is a gorgeous writer whose talent is so impressive that I would be wildly envious if he didn't make me laugh so hard. Laughing trumps brooding any day, so please check him out and remember -- I told you so!