Wednesday, February 14, 2007

watch out for the Christmas Cat!

The Christmas Cat

There is a legend, that is 100-200 years old,which says that unless you get at least one new garment to wear for Christmas you "get caught by the Christmas Cat" or "dress the Christmas Cat" as the saying goes. The Christmas Cat was supposed to be some kind of a monster that originally came from the other nordic countries. But still today we talk about it and make sure that everyone has something new to wear on Christmas otherwise you'll get caught. To give you a better picture of the Cat I translated an icelandic poem about this kitty (you''ll have to forgive me but I didn't make it rhyme - I'm not much of a poet).

The Christmas Cat

You all know the Cristmas Cat
And that Cat was huge indeed.
People didn't know where he came from
Or where he went.


He opened his glaring eyes wide,
The two of them glowing bright.
It took a really brave man
To look straight into them.


His whiskers, sharp as bristles,
His back arched up high.
And the claws of his hairy paws
Were a terrible sight.


He gave a wave of his strong tail,
He jumped and he clawed and he hissed.
Sometimes up in the valley,
Sometimes down by the shore.


He roamed at large, hungry and evil
In the freezing Christmas snow.
In every home
People shuddered at his name.


If one heard a pittiful "meow"
Something evil would happen soon.
Everybody knew he hunted men
But didn't care for mice.


He picked on the very poor
That no new garments got
For Christmas - who toiled
And lived in dire need.


>From them he took in one fell swoop
Their whole Christmas dinner
Always eating it himself
If he possibly could.


Hence it was that the women
At their spinning-weels sat
Spinning a colorful thread
For a frock or a litle sock.


Because you mustn't let the Cat
Get hold of the litle children.
They had to get something new to wear
>From the grownups each year.


And when the lights came on, on Christmas eve
And the Cat peered in,
The little children stood rosy and proud
All dressed up in their new clothes.


Some had gotten an apron
And some had gotten shoes
Or something that was needed
- That was all it took.


For all who got something new to wear
Stayed out of that pussy-cat's grasp
He then gave an awful hiss
But went on his way.


Whether he still exsists I do not know.
But his visit would be in vain
If next time everybody
Got something new to wear.


Now you might be thinking of helping
Where help is needed most.
Perhaps you'll find some children
That have nothing at all.


Perhaps searching for those
That live in a light-less world
Will give you a happy day
And a merry merry Christmas.

Monday, February 12, 2007

Vera Bradley Must Die!!


if i see one more of these plush pouches around some thick wristed little woman i will croak. what is the deal with the vera bradley obsession? it's centralized in the south, i do believe. i have never seen a VB bag on the arm of a new yorker or brit. never will, i am sure. they aren't expensive enough to be a status symbol. they were the staple wardrobe accoutrement of every evangelical christian conservative eddie bauer polo shirt wearing girl in my highschool. oh, the days i do not miss of my past. i saw one yesterday in a client's home and cringed, retracted away from the satchel so as not to even let on that i recognize it's existence. if you are not familiar with the VB it is paisley printed, cotton fabric, lightly padded like a quilt and comes in an array of colors. they exude an air of conservatism. of voting for bush. and refraining from sex till your bound in marriage. ugh. they sell them at our local davis kidd bookstore. and women buy them. by the tons. i, for one, will never join da club.