Tortie Tuesday: Checking In with Serena

 Queen Cat Serena is not, strictly speaking, a "Tortie." Her type of coat is called "Calico." There are other variations on the pattern, as well as classic tortie and calico, but Tortie Tuesday has traditionally been inclusive of all three-colored cats.

Here's a Cat Sanctuary Interview, written through the usual method of translating the cat's nonverbal behavior. The only stimulant necessary for me to write these things is the gift of Irish-American whimsy.

PK: Serena, what's happened to you during the weeks I've been offline?

Serena: A lot of things, some of them very bad. In October I ate a bird in the orchard, the way you're always telling me not to do. It was horrible. Everything kept going around and around. I would try to go out and eat some grass and bring it up, and everything looked and felt and smelled so wrong that I could hardly tell where to set my feet. I heard you calling me, several times, but couldn't follow the sound of your voice. I figured you were on the porch but I had trouble getting from the shed to the porch. Those few bounds became a lot of slow, awkward, difficult steps. I came to understand that it's not just a joke when you humans say "Everything hurts, and what doesn't hurt doesn't work." 

Silver: We tried to protect the human from you, because you were acting so strange.

Swimmer: Just as you always taught us, Ma, serious fighting is not allowed!

Silver: We tried to tell you not to go to her, but you kept staggering toward her, the way the humans did when they were playing zombies.

Swimmer: We tried to tell her not to go to you, but she kept calling your name and holding out her hand.

Silver: How could a human know that you were so delirious that we thought you were likely to bite her hand? 

Serena: Never!

Swimmer: Well you tried to bite me! If you hadn't been so feeble, or if I'd been as slow as a human, you could have killed me. You were not in your right mind.

Silver: Some of these diseases are infectious. You might have spread whatever it was to us! 

Swimmer: You were not fit to be around anybody, Ma. We were sorry.

Serena: No. I knew that. But I also knew that the human keeps that stuff that helps us get rid of things that have made us sick. So I wanted to go to her for help, but it was hard to be sure of anything. The human and the house looked strange and dangerous, spinning around, swaying back and forth, changing shapes. Her voice sounded all wrong too, and when she picked me up in those pathetic bare hands humans have, it felt as if her hands were covered in claws. I felt so bad.

I thought that the office room, where I was born, would be a safe place. I looked for my nest box. It wasn't there. Well, of course it had been moved out for my kittens. I wanted to get to the back corner of the closet. That always seemed the best place to hide, if a person wanted to hide. I wanted to lie down and be sick.

Silver: You never let us make excuses, so don't start now.

Serena: No. There's no excuse. The human would not let me lie on the rug and be sick. I heard her saying she was going to get some medicine for me, but I saw her looking like a huge, horrible, cat-eating monster, or maybe two monsters. I felt even the safe, dry rug sticking little sharp claws up into my paws. Then there was an object behaving strangely. I just knew it was going to kill me. I think it must have been a box, and the human wanted to scoop me up in it, but I didn't know that anything was safe any more. I bounded out of that closet and lay down near where the hot-air fan used to be. The hot-air fan was not there. 

Swimmer: Well, of course not. It was a hot afternoon.

Serena: The air didn't feel hot to me--though the sun did. I heard the human say something about resting on some newspapers, the way Heather did once when she was sick. I thought that newspapers would be cold, and I couldn't bear the way they crackle under you. 

And then she grabbed the back of my neck. I know now that she was only holding on to me, but it felt as if she were crushing my skin and choking me. And she had something in her hand that was hurting the side of my mouth. I know now that it must have been the syringe, because it had medicine in it, but it felt as if she were trying to cut me up with a knife. I kept trying to run away, and she kept crushing my neck and hurting my mouth.

Silver: Time out, Ma. That sounds like an awfully unpleasant thing to remember.

PK: I have here (I know you cats don't actually read English) a reprint of an article by Bob Story that my husband gave me, years ago, called "How to Give Your Cat a Pill." The article is about how much control cats have of their throat muscles, compared with humans. Once humans swallow a pill or anything else, it's hard for us to bring it up again. Cats' digestive systems are much shorter and can bring up things that seemed to be safely down in your stomachs.

Bob Story described a man trying to force a cat to take just one pill from a package of six. He wasted all six pills while the panicky cat did a lot of damage to him, and his property, and his friends. The way you went scrambling around the office, screaming and gasping, trying to scratch or bite anything that got near you, and not seeming to see clearly through your wide-open black eyes, was like the way Bob Story described his cat.  

Does this give us any insights into the way cats often do react to pills?

Serena: Yes. Even if they're as sick as I was, vets should prescribe medicines in liquid form. When everything else feels all wrong, of course pills feel strange and nasty too. And anyone who's trying to sit on a cat and force the cat to do anything, when the cat is as sick as I was, deserves what he gets. He does not deserve a goldfish, which is what Bob Story said he was trying to get to replace that poor sick cat!

PK: Most humans learn, at least from what other humans tell us, about being delirious--not perceiving things the way we normally do, not able to tell dreams and memories from real things around us. A high fever, or some things we use as medicine for ourselves, or some disease conditions like kidney failure or thyroid failure, can cause temporary insanity for us too. There was no question in my mind what was going on with you, Serena. I've never been delirious enough to run and scream and fight people who were trying to help me, but I've had enough experience of fevers and vertigo and pinched nerves that what you were doing made perfect sense--in a horrible way.

Serena: I thought it must really be you, and you must have been saying you were trying to help, but I couldn't be sure of anything. 

Swimmer: You did scratch our human. We smelled and saw the blood. How many times have you told us, Ma? She's only a human! She has no fur!

Silver: You would have banished us for life if we'd ever behaved like that!

Serena: I know. I'm not proud of it. I did have to clean disgusting human blood off my claws. Humans can't help that one reason why we find them so useful for protection is that every other creature on Earth, except for a few perverted creatures like mosquitoes, agrees that they smell and taste about as nasty as it's possible for an animal to smell and taste while it is alive. Those of us who've learned to tolerate human odor like to sit or lie where humans have been because so many nuisance animals, even big ones, will avoid their scent! And I was already sick, and I had that on my tongue.

Swimmer: And it served you right.

Serena: Yes. Well, there's no need to be tiresome about it. I thought I might have died and gone to the Bad Place already. The big black cup she puts the black powder in, and the sound of water being stirred, and the syringe, all seemed strange and horrible. Even when I could feel the medicine diluting the acid inside me, even that made me want to run out and be sick. So when she opened the door I did.

PK: That was actually a reassuring sight. When Heather had food poisoning, instead of becoming aggressive like you she became passive, but the staring eyes, the unsteady walk, the fever, and the germ-fouled breath were all just like yours. When she went out to be sick, the worst of it was over. She got rid of the bad stuff, buried it deep, slept for several hours and was normal the next day. When you rushed out to the sand pit I thought there ought to be hope for you. At least, theoretically, it couldn't be rabies. (And I'm quite sure that, even if you'd had rabies, you would've gone to a Good Place.)

Silver: Nobody gets rabies any more.

PK: Nobody in our part of the world has had rabies lately. The disease still exists. All pets, even friendly wild ones like skunks, should have rabies vaccinations for safety's sake. An animal with food poisoning, which is usually short-term and harmless, or distemper, which is usually fatal, can inflict as much pain on a human as an animal with rabies would. The difference is that when it's food poisoning or distemper, once the skin wounds heal we'll be all right.

(For those who are wondering...no, even in the year when rabies was found within a hundred miles of us, so far as I know nobody tried to take the skunks in for rabies shots. They weren't all that friendly. We just vaccinated the cats, and dogs, that year, and prayed for Pepe and Hepzibah. Humans' reactions to rabies shots seem to be more painful than other animals', although that may be partly because humans can describe our reactions in words. By watching other animals we can imagine what they're feeling, but we never really know. 

Serena: Well, I'm all right now. Say, I know that when I bounced off the computer I "said" something to our readers. What did I say?

PK: You inserted a lot of blank lines into a document. Maybe that meant "Fill in the blanks! What does it look as if I'm thinking?" 

Serena: I was thinking a lot of things. I'm glad I didn't actually say them. I didn't bite you, either, did I?

PK: It looked as if you thought you were biting me, but I'm glad to report that you missed. 

Serena: I'm glad too. If I smelled the same way that other cat smelled, I wonder why I was sicker?

PK: Possibly because Heather let me know right away when she started to feel sick, and didn't spend eighteen hours hiding in the shed. 

Serena: I didn't want to bother you. Nobody would have wanted to smell all the stuff that kept coming out of me.

PK: No, but your feeling better sooner would have been worth it.

Serena: I feel better now. Which of these switches should we play with next?

Eighties Sweaters Are Back: Part I.1

What makes a sweater "eighties"? The true answer is: having been made in the 1980s. That decade saw almost every style of sweater that's ever been invented in the spotlight of fashion. 

One exception is the Ugly Holiday Sweater with a dozen or more little pictures knitted in different brilliant colors, often cotton-ramie, with lots of little knots inside, embroidery, sequins, beads and sometimes bells or rolling eyes. Those whimsical sweaters could become ugly when the colors faded and ran together, the embroidery frayed, and the sequins came off, which often started at the first washing--yet the sweaters remained warm and comfortable, so people continued to wear them, with enough sense of irony to have declared "National Ugly Sweater Days" and Ugly Sweater Contests. Though prefigured by some elaborate pictorial designs of the 1980s, the Ugly Holiday Sweater was a fad of the early 1990s. If you find an ugly holiday sweater in mint condition you might get away with counting it as an Eighties Sweater look, but celebrating the ugly effects time had on these sweaters is a twenty-first century thing. 

This series will consider some authentic Eighties Sweaters trends to look for in consignment shops and, if you're lucky enough to be or know a knitter, to knit. I'll describe each one in the order in which I remember its appearance. 

I. That Earth Mama Look That Grew Out of the Mid-Seventies...

It stayed around into the early eighties. Hippies revived "folksy, earthy, peasant" looks in the 1970s; in the U.S. the Bicentennial in 1976 inspired a trend for "Americana"--more often Victorian or Edwardian than Colonial styles. Part of this trend was an interest in "folk knitting." Most of the colder climates on Earth have inspired people to develop a distinctive style of "folk knitting," but, ironically, knitted sweaters were considered either underwear or at best work gear. Historical specimens of knitting include more sock tops than sweaters. Nevertheless, throughout the Eighties knitters reinvented "folk knitting" techniques into the hand-knitted sweater look.

It is important to note that, although these styles are identified with different cultures, in Eighties sweaters cultural appropriation was never considered a bad thing. Most traditional sweater patterns of the past were simplified for faster knitting in any case. You can wear any traditional-pattern-inspired American sweater as an Eighties Sweater.

1. Guernsey

This little island in the English Channel was regarded as the home of the first sweater patterns on record. In many languages the word for a modern-style sweater sounds like "Guernsey." In English, the distinction between place and garment came to be marked by calling the sweater style "gansey." 

Official gansey patterns exist for many of the sea and canal towns of Europe. There is, nevertheless, photographic evidence that knitters did not keep knitting the same things over and over. Sweaters that featured the official hometown pride stitch pattern often also showed additional patterns knitters had worked out for themselves or copied from other people's ganseys. Alice Starmore described her aunts reminiscing about having stared at sailors "to pinch the patterns" of their sweaters, being teased about whether they were looking at the sweaters or the young men. Traditional ganseys were made of very lightweight yarn worked very tightly. Eighties ganseys usually show simpler patterns, and in different combinations, than old photographs show.

What makes a sweater a "gansey"?

a. In most places, ganseys were knitted in one color. Where they were seen as underwear, the color was usually natural white. (The gansey was usually worn over a cotton or linen shirt, under an outer shirt and/or jacket and/or coat. Still, it was made of wool, and undyed white wool is less prickly than dyed wool.) Where ganseys were seen as shirts, the color was usually dark blue, sometimes red. Fair Isle, the Faroes, and Canada were exceptions; gansey styles knitted there traditionally featured multicolor designs.

b. In most places, ganseys were made of wool. Greece was an exception; Greek fishermen's sweaters, a newer style, were sometimes made of thick cotton.

c. In most places, ganseys were made of as light a yarn, knitted at as tight a gauge, as the knitter could manage. The Aran islands were an exception; Aran geansai were sometimes made of wool as bulky as modern blanket yarn.

d. Many old ganseys had a long lower edge, called a "skirt," that was not always ribbed or shaped, but stuffed down into trousers. Bands of ribbing or other textured stitch patterns are almost necessary on today's pullover sweaters, to control the tendency of most knitted fabric to roll. Old ganseys were shaped by sweat, seawater, trousers and belt, and the almost necessary feature was that they be long enough not to shrink up above the wearer's waist when soaked. A minority of Eighties sweaters copied this "skirt" or peplum style. 

e. Early ganseys were knitted on long double-pointed needles, all in one piece, without seams--a very graceful style to master, if you can. Waists were never shaped until the wool got wet and shrank to the wearer's body. Underarms were shaped with a diamond-shaped gusset. Sleeves were started from the top and knitted down to the wrist, so damaged cuffs could be cut off and replaced. Neckbands were high and tight; at least one old fisherman stated on record that the sweaters his mother used to make had such tight collars that they pulled the skin off his ears. Ear-skinning turtlenecks are optional, though common in old photos; in any case, real ganseys have snug round necklines. 

f. Early ganseys were worn almost exclusively by men, though knitted almost exclusively by women. (Men knitted, but what they traditionally knitted were fishing nets. Women took pride in making all their families' clothes.) Some of the traditional designs form horizontal lines that are unflattering to most women. In the early twentieth century, when sweaters became part of women's fashions, the code of official hometown patterns was quickly lost--probably for this reason. 

Gansey pattern books to look for: 

* Gladys Thompson, Patterns for Guernseys Jerseys and Arans, is the classic study of traditional gansey patterns. It was not written for beginning knitters who want to follow a fully printed pattern. It was written for experienced amateur designers who want to plug stitch pattern charts into their own familiar patterns for making and shaping sweaters. There are lots of notes on shaping, variations, and even a couple of sample patterns for Aran sweaters (which are harder to design on paper since the cables change the shape of the fabric), but Thompson wouldn't have insulted her audience by telling them how to knit a gansey! If you're a beginner, this book can guide your shopping. When you're an experienced knitter you'll be able to appreciate it. 

People who bought the Kindle edition also complain that the pattern charts don't show up clearly on Kindle, so if you buy this book, buy the printed edition. I'm partial to Dover paperbacks--much better bound than competing paperbacks are.

* Michael Pearson, Traditional Knitting Patterns of the British Isles, was bigger than Gladys Thompson's book and included some patterns she missed. Like her book, it was written primarily for designers. (I linked to the book I've read. Pearson released an updated, even bigger, edition in 2015 but I've never seen that book.) 

* Priscilla Gibson-Roberts, Knitting in the Old Way, is another book for the expert knitter or beginning designer. Traditional samples include several "folk knitting" traditions as well as ganseys, with more information about how to design your own versions of the special shaping and knitting techniques, and not one step-by-step pattern for what Elizabeth Zimmermann (they were friends) called Blind Followers. 

I'm not dissing Blind Followers. I myself Blindly Followed a dozen or so patterns for the things I was then able to design. So, later in the Eighties, we finally come to some books that can be used by Blind Followers:

* Gwyn Morgan, Traditional Knitting Patterns of Ireland Scotland and England, was a low-budget production, not reprinted, full of serviceable Eighties versions of British "folk knitting" traditions, including ganseys, fairisles, Nordic styles, and Aran cables. At Ko-fi you'll soon see a swatch for my version of one of these sweaters.

* Madeline Weston, Classic British Knits, includes nice Eighties updates for several Guernsey, Fair Isle, Aran, and Shetland traditions, including a shawl and a few accessories as well as sweaters. Yarns used are much thicker than the ones in museum samples (except for early twentieth century Arans) but still skinny yarns, not always easy to find in colors other than "baby" pastels. I remember the summer Wal-Mart downsized its collection of Luster-Sheen lightweight acrylic yarn, and I gleefully bought yarn to knit several of Weston's gansey patterns, including the one on top of the bin below...

Ah yes, the big-chain department stores regard lightweight yarns as novelties and don't stock many of them, most years. And the things we knit in lightweight yarns take twice as much time as the things we knit with the blanket-weight crochet yarn that fills Wal-Mart, Michael's, Joann's, etc., yarn shelves. But they are much easier to wear indoors, and much less likely to make wearers look fat.

* Eighties versions of gansey patterns appeared in many knitting magazines. A particularly attractive sample, and easy to make as ganseys go, was reprinted by Trisha Malcolm in Vogue Knitting's Very Easy Knits. Some readers complained that the shaping, stitch patterning, and relatively thin yarn make it more of a challenge than what Malcolm was calling Very Easy Knits in issues of the magazine she'd edited. Knitters have been making versions of this simple gansey for years. You'll soon find a swatch for it in my Ko-fi WIP Album, too.

* Well after the eighties were over, Beth Brown-Reinsel wrote her own book on how to make miniature, child-sized, adult-sized, lightweight, and bulky sweaters with gansey shaping and stitch patterns: Knitting Ganseys. She was working out these designs in the Eighties. Few people will know that you used a technique and pattern book that came out later. 

Petfinder Links: Jack Russell Terriers

Frankly, this post is a challenge. (That's why it's fun.) First of all, Google has changed its codes so the pictures don't link directly to the animals' web pages any more; you may be able to click on the URLs below, or you may have to paste them into your browser. 

Then, even though Jack Russell Terriers are one of the classic all-round breeds of dogs that have been popular pets for more than a century, they're not my favorite breed. This is mainly because a puppy of this type stayed with us when I was eleven or twelve or so; because my brother and I didn't know how to train a puppy, he became a miserable little "spoiled brat" of a dog, snuggled and spoiled when nobody had anything better to do, tied to the fence and ignored when anything else was going on, and after chewing up objects, yapping, and jumping on people's legs for a few months he finished by eating my favorite pet bantam hen. If he'd been adopted by an adult who'd given him firm, consistent, loving discipline he might have been a great pet. 

So, eventually I grew up and worked for a very nice 87-year-old writer who lived with a Jack Russell Terrier who had been properly brought up. That dog was as satisfactory a pet as the puppy I'd spoiled was not. He'd go downstairs and lead me up to his human's office, then supervise our work until he felt satisfied that his human was safe. I actually started to bond with him.

But I still find myself tending to feel that the cutest Jack Russell Terriers at Petfinder are the mixed breeds who look more like something else. I still have to fight this tendency.

The dog breeds called terriers have different characteristic coats, ears, and colors, but they have typical traits in common. They are bigger than cats, smaller than hounds, very strong for their size, tough little predators, famous for hunting and fighting nuisance animals. They can be rough and aggressive, even with friends, if not properly trained. If they don't want to be picked up and treated like baby humans, they'll let you know with a corrective nip. Not all terriers are as aggressive as the breed stereotype but it's not unusual for a terrier who feels neglected or rejected to kill another pet, even if the other animal is bigger, and especially if it's a rodent. When they're well disciplined their strength and tenacity can be useful to their humans. They are well known for solving rat problems. Many terriers are remembered as protectors of children, some even as having been strong enough to pull a toddler out of water or some other danger. Some terriers understand dozens of words; together with their strength, this means that some people have that incredible experience of telling a pet terrier, in an emergency, "Fetch the rope" or "Fetch the knife" or "Bring Tracy," and having the dog actually bring the object or person they need. They tend to be healthy, and live longer than bigger dogs usually do. A hundred years ago, because they are relatively long-lived and cheap to feed, they were the most popular family pets in North America. 

Jack Russell Terriers have short coats that don't shed much. They can be any combination of black, brown, tan, or white. The "pure" look for this breed features square jaws designed for heavy-duty chomping. Crossbreeds can look like almost anything the wide range of dog DNA makes possible. They need some objects they're free to chew up. They usually like an active life with a lot of exercise. 

All three terriers featured below are described as healthy, up to date on vaccinations, and already neutered.

1. Near New York City: Charlie from Pennsylvania

Here's Charlie from northeastern Pennsylvania, a mixed breed whose known ancestors include beagles as well as terriers, currently up for adoption at https://www.petfinder.com/dog/charlie-46268989/pa/stroudsburg/animal-welfare-society-of-monroe-pa539/ . The shelter encourages people interested in adopting a dog to make an appointment to meet the dog or dogs who interest them. Charlie is a little over a year old.

2. Near Washington: Tanya from Pennsylvania 

 

In southeastern Pennsylvania, Tanya is looking for a home. This senior dog is described as sweet, shy, snuggly, and dozy, good with children but intimidated by bigger dogs. 

Shelter staff prefer to deal with local residents only. Seriously, if you've ever advertised anything online and received online responses only from spammers and scammers, you'll understand. They consider D.C. local enough. If you're in Maryland, Pennsylvania, or D.C., click here to meet Tanya: https://www.petfinder.com/dog/tanya-49667637/pa/dillsburg/canine-rescue-of-central-pa-inc-pa255/ . I didn't ask how they feel about New Jersey but I'm guessing that, if you drove to Dillsburg and made a generous donation, they wouldn't even care if you were from Ohio.

3. Boomer from Madison (Georgia) 

Born in 2013, Boomer would be considered old if he were a large breed, but he's only middle-aged for a terrier. Visit his web page at https://www.petfinder.com/dog/boomer-48069108/ga/madison/humane-society-of-morgan-county-ga150/ to learn more...When you're accustomed to living with cats, all dogs seem high-maintenance. When people who are trying to find a home for a dog advertise that he's active, high-energy, not recommended for a home with smaller animals, seven years old and still a "pup" who needs training, that's enough to put me off. People are different. You may be a dog person who wants excitement and a bit of a challenge in your life. If so, this dog is guaranteed to provide it.

(Update: The Sullivan County animal shelter in Blountville, Tennessee, has some dogs of this type who need homes. Do they ever need homes. A private Dog Sanctuary folded and turned forty-some sickly dogs over to the shelter, most in too poor condition even to be available for viewing at the shelter yet, but they need to empty out some cages. Local lurkers, please consider adopting a Sullivan County dog. The mixed breeds really are homeless dogs.)

Long Time No Blog...

Hello, Gentle Readers, how've you been? I'm sure rumors are flying, so here are the facts about my disappearance from my favorite cafe...

1. How seriously the cafe owners are "going crazy" I have no idea, but I know they were required by law to stop serving as the main WiFi hot spot for the whole town. They couldn't seat people for a long time, then they were allowed to seat people at only half the tables, and then the coronavirus actually reached my town and nobody with any public spirit wants to sit in a public place all day. This has all cost them a lot of money--more than they'd get if half a dozen writers all came in and bought cups of coffee all day, every day, all winter. Not that we would. Because...

2. The whole downtown area is now a WiFi hot spot...if your battery will run long enough, and, during that time, it won't rain. I can't take full advantage of the fact that you can now sit anywhere in downtown Gate City and use the'Net all day free of charge. Some people can, and are doing. 

3. I'd been blogging from a friend's basement. The predictable basement problems had kicked in. The corridor that divides the basement meant the friend's son and I kept bumping each other off the Internet and passing each other on the way to the bathroom. The less he was able to work, the more inconvenient I was for him. The suggestion did come from me: I am an aunt, and as such, if it were my nephew, I'd understand that the last thing a twenty-something guy wants is to have to check the corridor for other people's aunts before dashing to the bathroom. Possibly his mother had hoped that this would motivate the guy to find a better job. Hello? In 2020? Find any kind of job?

4. So when I suddenly had the cash in hand, either to rent a physical store for this winter or to rent a van and go to all the open-air markets, come sun or rain or snow...I thought the store would be easy; half the buildings on Jackson Street are empty. I was wrong; the owners of those empty buildings wanted to sell them for what the owners believe those locations ought to be worth, even though the people who are willing to consider those prices are going to lose their shirts.

5. However, no problem, right? I could still go to all the open-air markets and I had a couple of vans and drivers in mind. While those people were still haggling, however, I went to the Friday Market in my own town and checked out the crowd. Let's just say that most of this crowd are not coronavirus bloggers. They are not heavy Internet users. They are not people who believe what they hear on television, if they watch television, which many don't. And they were not making a connection between the trivial little symptoms they had and the Dreaded Coronavirus That Kills People. It is hard to explain the findings of modern immunology to people whose formal education ended before 1960, although Grandma Bonnie Peters was, and Adayahi and Lisiwayu are, exceptions. These older people grew up hearing things like "You had strep throat, your sister had scarlet fever, and your brother died of rheumatic fever," rather than "You had the mildest reaction, your sister had a more severe reaction, and your brother had a fatal reaction to infection with streptococcus bacteria." So, most of them were wearing masks, veils, or bandanas, at least when they approached other people...but a lot of coughing was still going on. People who were ill and knew it were still swarming up to people who were at high risk. For anyone at risk, anyone who was or had been in the market was a dangerous carrier.

6. "No problem for you, right, Pris? You're immune." Well yes, obviously I am immune. I've still not been tested but yes, going by the results, I'm 99% sure I had my trivial little case of coronavirus in August. I had no reaction to being coughed on by COVID spreaders. None. I kept paying bills, and looking for heavy chores to do at home to prevent weight gain, and loving that feeling of being able to work your average town-dwelling student into the ground. 

7. Because most people do seem to be feeling better than we were this time last year. Because the level of glyphosate exposure from the air, water, every kind of food, even paper products, is lower! In 2019, I was seeing puddles of blood-flecked froth beside the road I usually walk into town, continually. In 2020, I've not seen one. I have had a few celiac reactions, but by far fewer and less unpleasant. Humans have made 2020 a very bad year; as if to compensate, nature has made it a lovely one, with an early spring, a mild summer, and a long, long autumn. And people have been free to enjoy it...whenever they weren't worrying about their employers or their business going bankrupt, anyway.

8. But, y'know what, about my case of coronavirus? I apparently got it from someone who was also immune. And that person would also have spread it to Yona, whose last words to me were about an over-the-counter cough suppressant that "really works, but lately I've been feeling just the way I did before I had that heart attack a few years ago." Yona and the mostly young crowd with whom he worked did not take the coronavirus seriously. Because he could still work longer and harder than they could, Yona did not take seriously, either, the fact that he's old enough to be their father. He didn't get it from me but what he's had has been deadly serious. Adayahi's still monitoring a family member's progress day by day, not venturing to report, also. And the loudest, cheeriest coronavirus-fear-denier in town has been on my prayer list since I emerged from quarantine myself, and she said "Oh, we've all had a cough, but nobody's been ill," and then proceeded to sound sicker every day thereafter.

9. I predicted this, not because I'm psychic, but because modern immunology was the hot topic when I went to university. About 99% of all coronavirus, for about 99% of all humans, is not serious; it's "the other cold," "the uncommon cold," the virus that normally doesn't even make people sneeze. But it's still one more way immune-compromised people can die, like the gray-green mold that can grow on their bodies and the harmless little streppy-bugs that can give them pneumonia and several other things most people don't feel a need to think about. People who are immune don't notice the disease any more, but any person, or animal, or object can still spread any airborne disease. Without noticing it.

What some people see as Trump's big mistake--though I don't believe for a minute that coronavirus would have got here if Trump had never existed--was trying to act as if there's one answer to the question "How serious is this disease?" There's a continuum of seriousness for diseases. Even AIDS and rabies aren't 100% fatal, though close to it. Even the strain of streppy-bugs that are sometimes used to process milk into nice digestible yogurt aren't 100% harmless, though close to it. Coronavirus is a lot closer to the harmless end but, like most diseases, it's serious for some people not others. The question Trump had to answer was how seriously to take the fears of the immune-compromised minority. In my county (official reports aren't broken down by town), out of close to 24,000 people, so far we've seen 12 people actually die of coronavirus. How much people want to sacrifice, for 1 out of 2,000 people, is a very subjective decision. Trump's initial answer to that question was Trumpy to the max, but if he'd called for a full lockdown, the virus still would have got here and probably about the same number of people would have died--leaving behind a majority of Americans for whom coronavirus is not and never was a serious problem. Unless that one vulnerable person among the two thousand we know happens to be our favorite one of those people, anyway.

10. So, in my corner of Virginia, the stampede to send kids back to school, have football and basketball games again, sit in restaurants, drop tots off at the library, go back to church, and some people even rushed to drop their masks...all coincided with the arrival of cooler weather and thinner, less Vitamin-D-rich sunlight and lots more non-serious cases of coronavirus. Just as the legal restrictions stopped pouring out of Richmond, those of us who understand what modern immunology has to say about coronavirus went into voluntary lockdown. Meaning, among other things: NO open-air markets for me this winter. I want to maintain my record of not having spread this virus to anyone for whom it might be serious.

11. So I ended up bribing somebody to reactivate an Internet connection that was disconnected for years because it was unreliable, in a private home, on the same edge of town where I live. Meaning I can use the Internet under a roof (well, a leaky sunroom roof, but still...) without walking through my locked-down town. When the weather's just right. During almost the reverse of my previous schedule: now I'll be online mostly in the evening. For the duration. Courtesy of a different founding family, but most of this clan are also Republicans. (I will be online under the roof of a Trump voter. Tweeps, please keep your opinions of Trump reasonably clean.)

12. So I finally got online. It took a long time, because the speed of Dell laptops, generally, has not improved since the Sickly Snail's time, and because this Dell laptop is a piece of garbage (that's its name, The POG), programmed among other things to balk and wheedle for cables even when it's set to work from a wireless connection. I click on the button that says "WiFi" and a message pops up saying "Can't connect to this WiFi connection" until I run a "Troubleshooter" program that reminds the POG it doesn't need cables. I would not have made this up but, at the risk of being a positively annoying blessing-counter, it is primarily responsible for my getting such a good price on this POG. (No need to pop my little balloon about this. I still hate using the thing.) 

13. And then...I have to share this because I find it hilarious. I've been in lockdown mode, right? I walked all the way into town to vote. I made three quick dashes into specific places of business in people's cars to use the drive-up windows. I have not been in a place where I could look at a newspaper to see who won the election, although, going by the number of Biden signs that popped up outside the polls here in the Heart of Kilgore Country, I would've bet it was Biden. 

(Trump wants to sue? How's he figure that? I will tell him, and I'm sure many other Virginians who are Republicans, or at least "Never-Trump" Republicans, or at least they sometimes seriously consider voting for a Republican, will tell him the same thing. If Congress voted for another round of handout checks, and Trump then vetoed that--which was the rumor all over town during the week before the election, though I found no official confirmation of it--then yes, Trump, there is a way to lose Virginia. You should have asked Congressman Griffith about this. I want honest work for honest pay and you can keep the handouts, but I was catching hate for having expressed this opinion on a daily basis when I was in town on a daily basis. Most of my townsfolk do not realize that even the first round of handout checks are coming out of their own pockets, sooner or later. If it's not true that Trump vetoed the handout checks, then he has grounds for a lawsuit all right. If it is true, he should just go back to New York now.)

So today I fiiiinally get online. Two and a half weeks after the election, in Lockdown Mode, I'm still waiting for official election results. I go on Twitter, I look for the election results...and...it's still not over?!?!?! 

Well, I call that funny. I did laugh. I'm a cheerful Irish-American Independent, not one of your grim, hate-spewing partisan-type voters. Actually I think this election was pretty grim but y'might as well laugh as cry.

Some elections held during this century really were close, and the results really were tainted. Both W Bush and Obama should have had to wait for more closely monitored do-over elections before either took office the first time. But if Trump was personally responsible for refusing to give free money to people who vote with their feelings, in a year when even the town richies are wailing about how poor they think they are...nobody would ever expect Trump to jump the net and shake our hands if we'd beaten him at tennis, but nobody's going to believe he didn't know that that veto amounted to throwing the election away. Either he's just become the most grievously slandered human in history, or else he has only himself to sue. 

14. And meanwhile...I am sincerely grateful to the people who wanted to advertise masks at this web site. (Youall know who you are.) This is a general, personal web site that's not really focussed on any product, unless we count "books" or "blogs" as products. As such, it's not SEO (search engine optimized) for consumer products such as masks. For this web site that wouldn't be appropriate. For your web site, if you have one...ah that's another story. Last spring I did a lot of research and writing about monarch butterflies. Google "monarch butterflies," send me your top ten results, and I'll confide to you where I rank at SEO writing for SEO-appropriate sites. After posting my articles, my client's site has been in the top ten. Once I saw it showing above Wikipedia woo-hoo yee-haaaa goodygoodygoody...

This web site's own traffic has hit zero during the second month without an update. I see Web traffic going down generally as people have less money to spend and have to spend whatever online time they have on work or school, but we'll certainly bounce back above that. I have no intentions of changing this site to get daily page views over five figures. It is a real-books-and-writing site, after all, maintained by and primarily for a small group of quirky people most of whom are related by birth.  I can post about fashions, including face coverings. I can link to pictures of flattering masks, comical masks, positively sexy veils, retro bandanas, and of course cozy knitted cowls. 

Here are some topics I'm not particularly interested in writing about: How to get rich quick. How to self-diagnose and self-medicate for anything. How to lose weight by buying anything (most Internet readers don't carry around all that many coins). How to hate any political candidate or party, though I am willing to consider reasons to vote--soberly, dispassionately, appreciating their good qualities and wishing them success at something other than politics--against them. How horrible, unlovable people find True Romance by flopping into bed with people they don't like any more than anybody else ever would. How to feel good about having a lot more money (or a lot more of whatever else, such as time) than your friend has--without sharing. How big totalitarian systems have never achieved anything like real small-scale communism, but even bigger totalitarian systems might (in George Soros' fever dreams anyway). 

That leaves pretty much everything else. Last summer it was butterflies. Last spring, dragonflies. Before that, for most of a year it was a series of SEO forum posts about international studies that went live in some European countries. E-books I've written very fast have been about language, communication, psychology, and religion, which I studied at school and about which I own dozens of classic books. (Most of the time I even remember which book to quote, though that's not to claim that I'll be able to find that book and copy that quote overnight.) Science, history, food, clothes, and travel take more research time, but I enjoy it. Genre fiction usually writes itself fairly fast, for me (except last winter when I was fighting the flu and one mini-novel just dragged); working it up to suit the client can take longer. Small un-cuddly animals became a bit of a theme for this web site because The Nephews were at the age to think they were cool, and remained one because they seem popular with readers.

Investigative journalism, as in Glyphosate Awareness, coronavirus, and other current-events-behind-the-news topics, is a genre I admire, but (1) it's not cheap (I take "legwork" literally) and (2) I've done relatively little of it, partly for that reason. I would love to write a book like some I've read by Dick Reavis, Roger Morris, or Carey Gillam. I would not claim to be able to write that kind of book anywhere near as well as they do, but I'd have a lot of fun trying.

I'm working on full-length, printable books about frugality, glyphosate, and (I think proposing this may have been a symptom of coronavirus, but I'm working with it) knitting, so can't guarantee e-books quite as fast as the ones I cranked out for Guru clients. But I can guarantee they'll get done. E-mail your proposal, mail your money order, and let's write something. My biggest health-related fear at the moment is that the dreaded Retirement Syndrome will start in either body or brain, so please help keep your perky Auntie Pris perking. 

Petfinder Links: Tortoiseshell (Dark Three-Colored Cats)

This week's Petfinder theme is tortoiseshell cats...like our e-friend Mudpie, like our Reigning Queen Serena's mother Samantha Scaredycat, and like our past Queen Cats Heather and Mogwai.

The spots on tortoiseshell cats can suggest caricatures of human faces or imaginary alien creatures. (Mogwai was so called because her face resembled the cute furry phase of the creatures in Gremlins, which were called Mogwai.) This is probably where the story that these cats are "mean" came from. They may stir up old memories of evil characters in cartoons or movies we watched long ago.

What the genes that produce those mottled black, orange, white, brown, and gray coats actually indicate is that the cats are not normal males (very rarely they are sterile males; the vast majority are females). Normal males have only one X-chromosome that produces one coat color, with or without white spots or Siamese-type shading. Three-colored coats indicate two X-chromosomes. If there is also a Y the cat will be a sterile male.

The claim that three-colored cats attract money probably comes from a time when people thought a three-colored male cat was rare enough to be valuable. However, an adorable three-colored "store cat" has been shown to attract visitors to a small independent store!

Three-colored cats do seem to know they're special. If they're mishandled, the way Samantha seemed to have been--encouraged by children to play roughly like puppies, then hit or punished if they play too roughly, so they become confused--their behavior will show this. If they're well treated, my experience has been that a few are jealous or dominant, but not mean. Most are gracious Queen Cats.

So, here is our second Petfinder post. Click on the links to visit the web site of the shelter where, at the time of posting, the animals photographed were looking for homes. Verifying that all animals were legitimately placed in shelters, as distinct from being petnapped for resale as "fundraisers," is your responsibility...but that is why this web site favors general color types rather than fancy breeds. Fancy breed pets are quite often placed in shelters by people who become unable to keep them, occasionally even with pedigree papers, but there are also confirmed cases of petnapping. If you click around on Petfinder you will, however, see fancy breeds of cats, dogs, and sometimes other animals.

1. Zipcode 10101, New York 

Ms Tortie is described as young and large. She was placed for adoption when two families' unaltered cats produced a local population explosion. She still has one sibling, Ginger, also adoptable but described as "very shy." To meet her, click or paste into your browser: https://www.petfinder.com/cat/ms-tortie-37545644/ny/valhalla/forgotten-felines-inc-ny35/ 

2. Zipcode 20202, Washington 

See what I mean about the sinister facial "expressions"? Once you get used to the illusion those eyebrow markings produce, the female alley kitten is said to be as lovable as her brother is. They are in Alexandria. It is unfortunately impossible to let cats go outside in Alexandria. To meet this pair, use https://www.petfinder.com/cat/pumpkin-jr-and-stormy-49012884/va/alexandria/rescue-feline-voices-va819/ . 

3. Zipcode 30303, Atlanta 

The black kitten, Acorn, is male and described as the one of his family who's taken the job of meeting new people. The Tortie, Clover, is female and described as smaller and more reserved. The shelter insists you adopt both of them (they're already neutered, so tomcat odor should not be a problem) because kittens need other kittens to play with, and even if they're not social cats a brother and sister usually grow up compatible. One possible problem for some readers: it's a HSUS shelter. https://www.petfinder.com/cat/clover-and-acorn-49181652/ga/fayetteville/fayette-humane-society-ga83/

4. Bonus: Mustard from Knoxville 

Most torties are mostly black, but here's the proof that they can be mostly orange shading to brown. Here's Mustard, pleading for somebody to rescue her from being displayed in that cramped little cage with those clashing colors on that shopping mall! She's said to be friendly even with dogs and children, just not vets. Her worst veterinary experience ever is probably over, though. https://www.petfinder.com/cat/mustard-49099285/tn/knoxville/feral-feline-friends-tn313/

Petfinder Links Return: Tuxies

So, Petfinder links are back, and since the first animal-related content I saw was a post from the lovely French cat Loulou, we begin with Tuxies--black and white cats. Like her.

(The way these rotations work is that, if the first animal-related content I see the next time I'm online is another post from Loulou, I'll ignore that and post pictures of a different kind of animal. Some days it will be dogs, and this web site will not rule out horses, chickens, or rabbits either. And although "the urban hubs of the Eastern States" is a Petfinder theme that seems likely to work for a lot of readers, occasionally we may visit shelter pages for other States and Canada...because they're there.)

1. Zipcode 10101: Shelters Near New York City

Do youall realize how many cats there are in New York City shelters? There was no way I could even scroll through all the pages of adorable black and white shelter cat pictures. This picture was the most adorable showing on page one...page 1 of 247. Many other cats have not had a fair chance so please spread the word and get the list of Tuxies down to a point where this web site can make a reasonable choice of the cutest picture.

Today, unfairly, I picked Donatella...all that cute white fluffy fur! After reading about this lovely old ladycat, I decided to stick with her because she's not the perfect pet for everybody. Which means she's the perfect pet for somebody; I, for example, would probably bond with her if Serena would let that happen, which she probably wouldn't. Serena watches and carefully instructs her own kittens, as well as her friends and fans who stay with us, to be tame but not cuddly--well, other than Traveller, who was a snuggler Serena loved enough to indulge. (Anyway, Donatella is in New York City. Her dream home is probably in the big city too.)

To meet this reportedly shy, sweet senior cat, click or paste: https://www.petfinder.com/cat/donatella-47837626/ny/new-york/k9kastle-ny262/ . 

What makes this picture irresistible (to me): All that white fluffy fur. (Her dream home contains a good vacuum cleaner, not too loud and high suction power.)

What might make you want to adopt this cat, or not: Well, for one thing she's already ten years old, so the odds are against your having a full ten years to enjoy her company. 

But also, she's described as a particularly shy cat. You will want to caress that fur. She will let you, but only as she gets to know you, only on her time and terms. If you try to grab her she'll hide under the bed. If you pet her too long or in the wrong way, she'll hiss. She likes a little attention. Not a lot. She was a stray, possibly a runaway from a sloppily "loving" home, who gradually befriended a human who then put her in a shelter. It might be months before she'd let you really sink your fingers into that gorgeous ruff.

The secret of making friends with feral cats, or unfortunate cats like Donatella, is to let them come to you. I'm comfortable with that...but Serena probably wouldn't let Donatella come to me. And cats with this much fur really do need some human help to groom their coats. Like daily.

So, first you have to force yourself to leave her alone, probably long enough for her to accumulate and hack up at least one wad of fur, and then you have to brush and comb and vacuum up masses of fluff. Probably on her schedule. You'll want to buy and try a few different types of grooming implements since she'll have a preference. If she's like cats I've known who had that type of coat, once she's trained you to apply the right brush or comb in the right way, it'll be "You can talk on the phone, cook, take a shower, sleep, kiss your mate, etc., any old time. I've got a tick! Nowwww." 

You are one of the readers who thought my slow bonding process with Samantha Scaredycat was cute and funny. You would not mind being the personal servant to an adorable animal who is herself in bondage to fears and hang-ups. You can get in and out of New York with a fluffy cat the mere sight of whom would probably make some people on the train sneeze. If so you must go into the city and adopt Donatella.

If not? They only have about a hundred easier cats to adopt. Some of those cats are Tuxies too.

2. Zipcode 20202: Shelters Near Washington, D.C.

The caution here is that the posh Eastern Shore shelter where this little fellow is currently living with his brother sounds overpriced and overcontrolling. Maybe you can negotiate a discount if you adopt both brothers. Connor and Conrad have already been vetted, neutered, and vaccinated so, although obscene, that three-figure rescue fee is probably just paying an existing veterinary bill--a one-time necessary expense, because who'd want to live with two tomcats who had not been neutered at an early age? 

To meet Connor (and Conrad), click or paste: https://www.petfinder.com/cat/connor-49187502/md/chesapeake-beach/mabels-orphaned-angels-rescue-md477/ .

Why you'd want to adopt him: (1) He's an Amber-Eyed Silver Tip, the creme de la creme of familiars. 

(2) You want an excuse to drive out to the Eastern Shore, anyway, while the leaves are colorful.

(3) If you want a tomcat in your house, and this shelter insists you sign an agreement to keep your rescued cats indoors, you want a neutered one who won't constantly foul every surface up to the doorknobs and sometimes higher. If you want a pet who's been sterilized at an early age and will grow up asexual, you want one who comes with a sibling, so they can bounce and pounce and keep each other from growing up fat and lazy. 

Pause for consideration: Three-figure rescue fee. Even if it is just about the amount you'd expect to pay, on the Eastern Shore, for the majority of veterinary care these kittens are ever going to need. Even if, from this point, the rest of their medical expenses should be routine maintenance. 

3. Zipcode 30303: Pets near Atlanta, Georgia 

Narrowly edging out a cat I was tempted to pick just because the photo looked terrible, and no cat should die in a shelter just because its rescuer didn't have a good digital camera or know how to use one...but this cat is in a shelter with kittens, so Georgia readers can save a whole family. And doesn't she have a distinctively cute face?

To adopt Mama Flo and/or her adorable Amber-Eyed Silver Tip kittens, click or paste: https://www.petfinder.com/cat/mama-flo-46070355/ga/atlanta/southern-animal-rescue-ga653/

The deal here is that the mother cat has been spayed, but mother cats usually don't mind sharing their home with one of their adult kittens. (If they're not social cats or it's not a big farmhouse with lots of yard and barn space, they might feel crowded in a household that kept more than one kitten.) At least two of the kittens seem to have black fur and white skin on their faces. One is mostly black, but crowded to the back of the photo, and one looks as if its father were a classic Seal Point Siamese. 

Maybe it's just me, because of Black Magic...I think there's something special about a Siamese-American cat with black fur and white skin. Granted, most of them are not going to be the most affectionate with you, most social with other cats, most intelligent Listening Pets, and also the most efficient hunters you'd meet even if the one who was all those things converted you into a full-time cat rescuer who's lived with a social cat family for years. Most of them are just slim, graceful, lovable little pets. But I've never known anyone who's disagreed with the premise that this type of cat brings good luck: Whatever else may happen during the time you live with one, every day you live with it is a lucky day in the sense that you have a wonderful pet. (And sooner or later, somebody is going to go on television and say that on one of those days person also won the lottery.)

4. A Bonus in Blountville 

Clicking back to my own part of the world, on the general "cats" page I saw several Tuxies in Tennessee, but while the "Tuxedo" filter was open I saw only pictures of cats who seemed to be several hours' drive away. Why? Because people don't always type everything that happens to be true into a computer profile page. The Tuxies at the shelter in Blountville were listed as American Short Hair but not as Tuxies. 

To meet Burrito, click or paste: https://www.petfinder.com/cat/burrito-48586204/tn/blountville/the-animal-shelter-of-sullivan-county-inc-tn894/.

They don't come much cuter than that, and he's already been vetted and neutered. And although the web site doesn't mention his being from Kingsport, he just has the look of that fantastic family of social and/or Listening cats who turn up in Kingsport alleys and sometimes get put up for adoption in Blountville. If you think the things I've reported about my resident cat family had to be fiction, the Blountville shelter can't guarantee you a cat who will understand words and/or adopt kittens and/or protect your resident cardinal just because you're fond of it, but it's a good place to look. 

These little outbursts of cuteness are being brought to you...by you, Gentle Readers. As long as I keep revisiting pages a week or two after posting a cute animal picture, and seeing links broken because the animals featured here have found homes, I'll keep posting the cutest shelter animal photos in the Eastern States. Sharing these pictures and links on social media sites is encouraged.

Weirdness at the Department of Motor Vehicles

Only in a bureaucracy could this happen...and when it happens in a democratic country, it's time for a vote to dismantle the bureaucracy...

Every few years Americans traditionally renewed our drivers' licenses. Through most of the twentieth century, the focus of this exercise was on updating the pictures of our faces, which typically look different after five or ten years have passed. My last mugshot was extremely, and deliberately, unflattering; my weight hasn't changed since it was taken but the few people who've seen it have always exclaimed that I must've lost a lot of weight. There is a consensus that the mugshot before last still looks more like me than the last one does. I was willing to give the D.M.V. a chance to take a more realistic-looking picture.

This year, though, blaming the coronavirus, the letter from the D.M.V. said they weren't renewing pictures, and were asking people just to indicate whether the basic information on the license had changed, stick a money order into an envelope, and mail it to them. (Or, if they were anti-American enough and stupid enough, type the information into scannable, hackable, spyware-infested electronic devices which, if linked to "our secure web site," would compromise the security of that web site--on the presumption that most evildoers would at least find it easier to steal identity information off the fools' cell phones than to steal it off the D.M.V. database.)

The amount of the money order was not exactly made clear in the letter. Apparently there were at least four different possibilities and, each time I read the letter, it sounded as if a different one was applicable. I called the one phone number that had been set up for all D.M.V. questions for the entire state. Not surprisingly, I didn't get any information there. I finally looked up the information online, although of course the information the D.M.V. uses must never, never, never be transferred, no matter how secure they think their web site is, through the Internet outside the D.M.V. site, where it is not secure. That the D.M.V. web site is set up to encourage people to type that information into their own computers--or even their "smartphones," spare us all--is a crime that ought to get several idiots in the D.M.V. banned from employment in any job where they might have access to a computer, for the rest of their lives. Anyway, the web site mentioned only the cheapest of the four different fees the letter had mentioned. I liked that answer and decided to send them the amount the web site mentioned.

Well, first I waited through the quarantine thing. Then I waited to convince an older relative that I was disease-free enough to do an odd job to earn the money. Then that person had to do the quarantine thing. Then I waited to borrow the money from someone who was feeling poor and grumpy, which is probably a symptom. This person uttered fighting words, in the presence of a person of Irish descent who was worried about a sick relative, and instead of snapping back I just sat there thinking "Oh mercy, this person is older than the one I was supposed to have been working for this weekend, and probably this one ought to be doing the quarantine thing." I am getting older but that's still something in the snow-on-the-fourth-of-July category that nobody should plan on ever seeing again. But I finally got the cash, in time to mail it in before the end of the month, so this morning I tucked the cash into the envelope and headed out to the post office.

The post office occupies one half of one block in my town, and the D.M.V. occupies the other half. People who are new in town often park on the D.M.V. side when they are going to the post office.

So on the way into town I was offered a lift, and we got to talking about where we were going, and without even thinking about it the driver pulled up in front of the D.M.V. I got out and started to walk across the parking lot to the post office.

But wait! What was going on? The D.M.V. was not closed. A person who was going in said "Do you have an appointment?" I didn't. "I don't either," the person said.

Well. Why would anybody spend five dollars to buy a money order and send it by certified first class mail when they could just open a door and hand the contents of the mail around the door?!

I opened the door and showed the envelope to an employee...and the employee said, with genuine fear, as person held the form and the amount of money requested in cash, "I'm not allowed to process the payment while you're here! I have to set up an appointment! You have to use the web site or the one phone line for the entire state to set up an appointment!"

We the people of these United States need to take a stand. Government employees have to respect the valuable time of the taxpayers on whom they depend for the food they eat. Any time anyone who is being paid out of our tax money dares to suggest that we call someone else, go somewhere else, or come back another day, as distinct from saying "Please may I go and do that right now, just to make sure that this is done correctly today so that I won't be asked to interrupt your valuable time to correct any mistakes I might make," there needs to be some major adjustment in that government office. We are the employers. Government officials are the employees. We need to stop paying them for presuming that, if granted an audience with us on one day, they can expect to take up any more of our time in their current lifetime. It needs to become automatic:

IF A GOVERNMENT OFFICE NEEDS ANYTHING FROM US THAT CAN'T BE TAKEN CARE OF IN ONE DAY, IT MUST REFUND OUR TAXES, OR IF NECESSARY SIMPLY DEFUND ITS OWN BUDGET, TO MAKE SURE THAT WE RECEIVE US$100 FOR EVERY ADDITIONAL DAY THAT OFFICE'S FUNCTIONS OCCUPY OUR TIME.

We need a law to that effect. Low-level government officials tend to seek a sort of emotional relief from the stress of dealing with their co-workers by hiding in uselessness and demanding that the taxpayers use up more time to talk to other people. Very well, let them have it, if they have been trained properly: Any suggestion that a taxpayer who has already taken the time to talk to them might spare even more time to talk to anyone else begins with the payment of a fine from the employee to the taxpayer, on the spot, in cash. First the $100 bill, then the whine about something needing to be done using any other minute than the one in which the employee is speaking.

The thing every government employee should be trained to fear most is that a taxpayer might, Heaven forbid and fend, make another phone call or go to another office or even think about whatever transaction is taking place, today, after today...the obligatory result of which will be that the first government employee is fined and, in normal circumstances, fired! I think that may be the most valuable reform that can be made in the direction of making our government more cost-effective. It would eliminate unproductive employees from government offices without even using up pink paper, much less requiring supervisors to make studies of which employees most need to be dismissed.

Only legislation will have this effect, though. Several people have already documented what happens when an honest, ethical person takes a job in an office infested with time-wasters and pledges not to waste the taxpayers' time. What happens is that the time-wasters actively hate that person and show their hate by becoming even more useless than they have been, until, since the system makes it hard for all the time-wasters to be thrown out of the office, the head of the office caves in and gets rid of the efficient worker because that person "was not good for morale."

The appointment system has advantages--for years the D.M.V. was chronically full of impatient people, all breathing one another's germs and building up hostility--and I didn't want to discourage that. In order to avoid wasting taxpayers' time government offices must, however, correct the appointment systems they've been trying to set up by keeping all identifying information about people out of electronic devices. Instead of collecting people's names, the appointment setter should give each taxpayer a password, which can be printed off a computer, written down after a telephone call, or mailed out with requests for forms and fees. "You may use the D.M.V.'s 'secure' computers to set up an appointment," I said, "but the real name of any living person is just too valuable to the enemies of this country ever to be transferred through the Internet. That won't happen."

I was considering my alternatives here. Virginia being a relatively literate and affluent State, we do not have the problems some inland States are reporting with people having drivers' licenses, voter registration cards, and similar identifying documents. Many people keep such things in their cars or in their trench coat pockets. This made it much easier for those who wanted photographic identification for each voter to get legislation to that effect, which reportedly some States still don't have. Virginians are typically proud of our identities--dangerously so, in this Information Age--and happy to whip out proof that we are the Tracy Lee Doe of "Doe Hill" every time we drive a car, use a bank or bank document or credit card, fill a prescription, sign a contract, take a class, or vote. I've had neighbors who wanted to offer me a lift show me their drivers' licenses just so they would feel Properly Introduced. And even though I've also had drivers' licenses printed out with incorrect information on them, so I know that drivers' licenses are not actually proof that someone's not an enemy spy, and think respect for privacy should outweigh concern about illegal voting...in real life I'm as proud of my identity as anyone else is.

But, as a mature, stable, frugal adult, do I actually need a current driver's license? I don't drive, except in emergencies. I seldom pay other people to handle money for me, and when I do it's the post office, which handles cash and therefore has a system as secure and reliable as cash; I don't need proof of identity for banking purposes. I don't travel and don't plan to sign any contracts to pay anything over time. I'll be greatly surprised if the Ponzi scheme known as Social Security still exists when I'm seventy; I certainly don't expect to depend on the small share of a small income I've paid into it. I don't use prescription drugs. I've been looking forward to taking some of the classes many colleges offer free or cheap to older people, but I have lived all these years without the benefit of those courses. I used routinely to fill out I-9 forms on jobs, but the corporations that use those forms don't hire people over age 50. Although I receive mail through a post office box, some companies insist on adding names and home addresses to their correspondence, so if I ever needed to prove it, as it might be for claiming  a share of whatever may remain of the McFilthy oil money, I could still prove that I am the Whoever of Wherever I am in real life. All I'd have any real trouble doing, without official state identification, would be voting. I think voting is a valuable civil right everyone should exercise, but plenty of people don't vote, and they seem to lead reasonably satisfactory lives in their lazy, irresponsible, public-spirit-challenged way.

I could be sufficiently provoked just to stop paying the D.M.V. a few dollars every few years. Anyone looking at the last picture they snapped of me would probably agree that that picture, alone, was sufficient provocation to withhold money from them forevermore. I do think it's everyone's public duty to oppose the pernicious idea of using individual identity rather than cash to pay for things, which puts any country where people are stupid enough to do it one step away from The Handmaid's Tale, and the case might be made that just having a state-issued identification document is supporting that very, very bad idea.

Anyway, the employee near the door went into a back office and get a superordinate employee to set up an appointment using the D.M.V.'s very own computer. Seeing three people who could stand witness enter the office, I made sure those people could see that the envelope the employee took contained the form, and the cash, the employee needed to process right then and there.

In literally less than two minutes, out popped the superordinate employee. This was a young woman whose long black hair and drapey black veil made an especially effective combination. If she were found to be the source of the idiocy operating at the D.M.V. this morning, she could probably earn a fair living, whether she has any sense of rhythm or not, just showing up at parties impersonating an Arab dancer. Or a native of several other countries that have recently been at war with ours. Not that people like her and me are necessarily always going to be at higher risk than people with paler hair or darker skin or folded eyelids, but currently, though the young woman might not have travelled enough to realize it, our identities happen to be especially valuable to evildoers.

Had she simply filed the form and the money? She had not. She had brought back an official printed form authorizing the bearer to bring the same form and the same money back in October.

I might have made that up in science fiction (I think there was something like it in a movie called Brazil) but I was surprised to see it, in real life, in a country that's still classified as a democracy. I had to wonder whether, in an election year, in a State that's legislated that drivers' licenses be used to identify voters, someone was hoping to discourage as many people as possible from voting.

Anyone up for election this November needs to stop pouring money into silly, low-content campaign advertisements and break out a serious plan for restoring common sense to the D.M.V. Which should include making it impossible for the identity information the D.M.V. has traditionally been allowed to store, in filing cabinets, to be transferred to the D.M.V. via the Internet. Instead of trying to encourage people to type D.M.V. information into computers and transmit it electronically, the new D.M.V. must begin with a recognition that computers with modems are not secure and never will be...so, rather than encouraging people recklessly to link their computers to "our secure web site" and hand their driver's license data directly to evildoers, the D.M.V. should stick to the traditional system whereby people fill out paper forms at the local D.M.V. office and hand them directly to employees. The web site could be used to process requests for exemptions, which could allow D.M.V. employees to visit locations where they could fill out paper forms on behalf of people with disabilities.

Phenology: The Other Orange Butterflies

This summer I wrote several anonymous articles about monarch butterflies, Danaus plexippus, and some other species of butterflies. There’s a reason why those articles are anonymous. They are not examples of great nature writing in the usual sense. They are examples of one genre of Search Engine Optimization: writing readable, only slightly strange, sentences around the maximum possible number of phrases that search engines use to select the first articles they recommend in response to specific search terms. If the article is about monarch butterflies it needs to mention “monarch butterfly migration,” “monarch butterfly eggs,” and so on down a list, to persuade the computer that it is the article that people looking for information about monarch butterflies want to read. Well, writing this way is an honest living, and educational.

During the writing process, a revolution took place in the way we think about butterflies. That revolution was a fascinating bit of cultural history.

It started when a clueless Californian posted pictures of what person thought were monarch butterflies. They weren’t.

“Those are Painted Ladies,” commenters agreed.

“But they migrate in masses just as Monarchs are supposed to do,” the Californian insisted, and some entomologists at universities in the Western States checked this claim and found it true.

Monarch butterflies are the world’s undisputed champions of dramatic annual migrations. Though only about one-quarter of all Monarchs actually do it, these butterflies flap leisurely, in great flocks that probably get some lift from the air currents generated by each other’s flapping, all the way across the Gulf of Mexico every year, in the autumn, and then again in early spring. They spend the winter hibernating on fir trees in Mexico. Most years, a Monarch who flew to Mexico just after emerging from her chrysalis, spent most of the time between November and February sleeping, and was able to digest some flower nectar along her way, will make it to the Cat Sanctuary and flap around laying her eggs on milkweed sprouts in March. The odds are against those eggs hatching, but a few do.

Monarchs are “sole rulers” of the fields where they flap and graze, although you might occasionally get to watch a courting couple flying together, racing and chasing and play-fighting before they mate. There is a reason for this. While a male Monarch might choose to travel shorter distances and romp with more females, the female Monarch instinctively knows that each of her eggs needs to be placed on a separate milkweed sprout so that each caterpillar can spend its whole juvenile life eating milkweed leaves without damaging the plant.  And she may lay anywhere from two to eleven hundred eggs. (She will lay her eggs over the course of a month or two, and the caterpillars that hatch will probably have paternal DNA from two or more different males.) So, although hibernating and Gulf-crossing individuals appreciate the safety of numbers, once they start breeding Monarchs like to spread themselves as far apart as possible. If an egg laid in March hatches into a female caterpillar, and that caterpillar isn’t killed by a late frost and becomes a butterfly in May, she won’t want to find a mate and lay more eggs at the Cat Sanctuary. She’ll head north in search of milkweed plants that sprouted later and have not yet been used by Monarch caterpillars. She’ll travel through Pennsylvania, New York, maybe up into Canada by June. 

Some years, like this year, I do see “our” Monarch of the season laying her eggs in May, which means that cold weather interfered with her mother’s generation getting here in March. Butterflies can smell where other butterflies of their kind have been, and female Monarchs won’t lay eggs on recently used plants if they can help it. 

So you rarely see more than one or two Monarchs in a season. Allowing for some overlap there are basically four generations of this species every year, and each generation can be said to migrate, following the weather and the milkweed plants’ growth cycle, making a four-generation cycle between Mexico and Canada. For people who recognize them, this butterfly species creates emotional drama all across the continent. All people of good will love them and are glad to see them.

So, if the summertime Monarchs, who don’t cross the Gulf and hibernate, can still be said to be part of a multigenerational migration cycle, can’t the same be said for the less melodramatic butterflies who merely “migrate” to warmer and cooler places during the summer?

Why, yes, of course it can. In California the Monarchs don’t cross the Gulf of Mexico; they do migrate toward western Canada in spring, back to southern California in the fall, and masses of them migrate in eucalyptus groves on the Southern California coast. Smaller butterflies, like those Painted Ladies, don’t hibernate but some of them do migrate in considerable numbers. Places like Sacramento, which are far enough north of the Monarchs’ hibernation sites that people there see only one or two Monarchs in a season, can indeed celebrate the Return of the Painted Ladies, when flocks of pretty little orange butterflies flutter through town at about the same time each year. People who pay attention will probably be able to identify multi-generation migration patterns for other species in the next few years.

Americans tend to like whimsical, picturesque names for butterflies, like Painted Ladies and Mourning Cloaks. British butterfly watchers call the latter species Camberwell Beauties, celebrating a year when several of them stayed in Camberwell, though they’ve not stayed there every year since; and Europeans call the former species Cosmopolitans, because either Vanessa cardui or a closely related, very similar-looking species is found in almost every temperate part of the world. (Some people, especially in places like Virginia where we see both V. cardui and V. virginiensis, call this whole group Vanessas. The genus Vanessa includes some species that look different from V. cardui as well as some species that only experts using microscopes can sort out.)

In addition to the orange species in the genus Vanessa, in Virginia we also see orange or partly orange butterflies known as Checkerspots (including Maryland’s rare iconic species, the Baltimore Checkerspots, whose black, vermilion, and white wings display what Marylanders call the Baltimore colors), Anglewings, Fritillaries, Coppers, Buckeyes, Commas, Question Marks, Metalmarks, and also the Silver-Spotted Skippers. While many orange butterflies are primarily pollinators who live on flower nectar, Silver-Spotted Skippers are primarily composters who fly up to warn us if we might be about to step into wet mud or nastier stuff.

We don’t see most of these butterflies every single year. Baltimore Checkerspots have probably always been rare. Not actually looking for them, but only noticing them because their Baltimore colors are so conspicuous, I’ve seen this species only once, in Virginia, in my lifetime. The ones I saw were caterpillars, bright red-orange caterpillars with black bristles, not at all camouflaged on a weed they were devouring beside a creek, depending for survival on a strategy of trying to look like baby stingingworms. (Baby stingingworms are also red-orange with black stinging hairs, and travel in groups, at the tops of oak trees.) Since their bristles don’t sting and they’re not all that poisonous to the birds that eat them, their survival strategy has probably never been enough to allow very many of this species to survive. The butterflies are distinctive, though, and pretty.

I’ve noticed several butterflies this year. After several years of germ warfare against the dreaded gypsy moth, which reduced the numbers of all moths and butterflies in the Blue Ridge Mountains, the animals are finally starting to evolve resistance. What really helps our orange butterflies, however, is reducing the use of “herbicides” that kill their host plants. Nearly all butterfly caterpillars live in a healthy, sustainable balance with one or more of the wildflower species stupid people call “weeds.”

I don't think it's a coincidence that as "Roundup" (the popular glyphosate product used in the United States) was pulled off the market for medical reasons, I've seen more butterflies each month. All the big, colorful butterflies shown below live on "weeds."

Raising Painted Ladies is a fairly easy science project many elementary school students choose. The caterpillars are so hardy that it’s possible for suppliers to guarantee that three out of four will become butterflies—a much higher survival rate than can be expected with most moths and butterflies—and the butterflies are so cute and harmless that nobody minds if you release more of them into the world. As caterpillars Painted Ladies eat thistles. There are a few other “roadside weeds” they can eat, and the ones sold in kits survive on a synthetic food paste. They live faster than Monarchs. If you can build a “sleeve cage” around a thistle plant to keep off birds and put a Painted Lady caterpillar inside it, in a few weeks you’ll probably be opening the cage to release a butterfly. Though they will travel as the weather changes, Painted Ladies don’t need as much space as Monarchs, so they’re not compelled to move on as fast. Children who rear Painted Ladies can usually watch their “pets” flit around the garden for a few days, maybe a week, before they move along.

Most butterflies are harder to rear in captivity than Painted Ladies, but if people stop killing their host plants, they do a pretty good job rearing themselves in the wild. (Baltimores are one of a minority of species that might benefit from professional help. Some of the Fritillaries are others.)

I’ve seen several orange butterflies flitting along roads in Virginia this summer. We all know how butterflies are. You can stand still and watch them warm their wings in the sun, sometimes for ten or fifteen minutes on a cool day. Then, the minute you take out a camera, off they go. Good butterfly photos usually feature dead butterflies. Fortunately this does not mean that nature bloggers need to kill butterflies; it merely means that our blog posts lag behind the actual phenology of the butterflies’ lives. Butterflies live only a few weeks. Generational cycles for several species are similar enough that at certain times of the year you’re likely to find several butterflies with near-intact, healthy-looking wings, dead or dying of old age. These butterflies all expired in early September. I’d seen them and their relatives flying in August. Some of them have heirs that are flying now, possibly further south, and some will have heirs that will fly next summer. 

I'm guessing this one has the species nickname of "Question Mark," though a few other species look similar. When it's resting with its wings up over its back, it displays a faint white mark that often looks like a ? on the underside of the hind wings. The hind wings are drab and camouflage the butterfly as a dead leaf. Only its intimate friends, and those who happen to see it either spreading its wings in the sun to warm up or lying dead on the ground, see how colorful it is.

This one would be a Buckeye Butterfly. 

And this one, I think without looking it up, would be one of the dozens of Fritillaries, most of which look very much like the others. You really need to have a guidebook handy when looking up these things; I didn't.

Here, thanks to the Internet, are decent-quality (Wikipedia) pictures and fun facts about the species I did and did not photograph…

The iconic Monarch, photographed by Kenneth Dwain Harrelson. Nothing else really looks like this one, close up; several other orange and yellow butterflies get some survival advantage from looking a bit like it at a distance, but nearly all of them are smaller and all have different patterns of markings. (In fact, even males and females have consistently different patterns, though the main difference is usually not visible even when the butterflies spread out their wings--males have an extra white dot along the front edge of the hind wings, which is usually covered by the forewings.) 

The most obvious mimic of the Monarch is known as the Viceroy, Limenitis archippus. It is smaller and has a different arrangements of spots and stripes. Some years Viceroys have been abundant in the Blue Ridge Mountains; I've not seen one this year. They eat willow, poplar, and cottonwood leaves, and in places where the less common species of Danaus are found they may resemble Queens or Soldiers more than Monarchs. This specimen, photographed By Benny Mazur from Toledo, OH - A Viceroy ButterflyUploaded by berichard, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8630237, resembles a Monarch.

The Queen, Danaus gilippus, photographed by Korall, is thought to be a fairly close relative of the Monarch. It is basically a Central American species but is often found in the southernmost tier of the United States. This one was caught pollinating the same milkweed plant a Monarch caterpillar was eating; Queen caterpillars resemble Monarch caterpillars about as much as the butterflies resemble one another, but at all stages these are obviously different species.

The Soldier or Tropical Queen, Danaus eresimus, here photographed in French Guiana by By Didier Descouens - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=19043652, is basically a tropical species but is sometimes found in southern Florida and Texas. 

The Giant Swallowtail or Orange Dog, Papilio cresphontes, here photographed By <a href="//commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Dger" title="User:Dger">D. Gordon E. Robertson</a> - <span class="int-own-work" lang="en">Own work</span>, CC BY-SA 3.0, Link , is the biggest North American butterfly, bigger even than the Monarch. As you might expect from its size, it's found only in Florida, where the alarmingly large caterpillars can be a nuisance in citrus groves (they eat citrus leaves). How is it possible to confuse this animal with the Monarch? If you've only ever seen them in books, maybe...

Some now consider this pale Tiger Swallowtail to be a separate species, the Appalachian Tiger, presumably a hybrid of the Eastern and Canadian species of Tiger Swallowtails. Photo credited to Joe Mueller - from original description: The Taxonomic Report, Vol. 3, No. 7, 15 Jn 2002, Attribution, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1208507. A paler, browner shade of yellow is its most distinctive feature. I saw one flying this August. To me, it was possible to wonder whether it was a Tiger Swallowtail, but not to mistake it for a Monarch. It takes all kinds.

Tiger Swallowtails have three distinct looks. Males are always bright yellow with black stripes. Females can be yellow with black stripes and iridescent blue spots, or black with iridescent blue spots. When I've seen pairs the females sometimes looked smaller than the males--size can depend on the conditions in which individuals grew up. This is the state butterfly of Virginia. It's about the same size as the Monarch, though wing proportions vary. 

This is probably the world's most typical type of Painted Lady, Vanessa cardui, as photographed in Belgium By Jean-Pol GRANDMONT - Self-photographed, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=27747981 . There are distinctively American and Australian species; they can have typical looks that are slightly different from V. cardui, but enough individual variation exists that where the species' ranges overlap with V. cardui only experts can tell them apart. 

Question Mark, Polygonia interrogationis, photographed from above by Derek Ramsey. 

Typical specimen photographed from below, showing an imperfect ? on the hind wing. This photo was donated to Wikipedia By John B. - Flickr: Question Mark, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=16219753

But they can be more colorful, even below. This gaudy specimen, photographed By Judy Gallagher - https://www.flickr.com/photos/52450054@N04/25097157843/, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=54632796 , shows a general pattern similar to the subtler markings on the gray individual above.

As caterpillars they eat elm, hops, and nettle leaves. As butterflies they are primarily composters but sometimes sip flower nectar. While some female butterflies travel great distances to place each egg on a separate food plant, female Polygonias tend to drop their eggs where they feel like it and let the caterpillars find their own food as best they can, which probably helps prevent overpopulation. As a species they seem to complete a multigenerational migration with some individuals flying to Canada in summer and some to northern Mexico, though not across the Gulf, in winter. 

A similar (group of) species are the Commas, which typically have the white crescent but not the extra white dot on the underwings. This Eastern Comma, Polygonia comma, was photographed by By Aaron Carlson from Menomonie, WI, USA - Eastern Comma (Polygonia comma), Chippewa Co., WI, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=47375024 . It is typically found in the Eastern States; there are other species of Commas around the world. They can look darker, with all black hind wings, if exposed to cold weather, or mostly orange all over if they've basked in warm weather all their lives.

Commas are also primarily nettle eaters; several species also eat tree leaves. They circulate, and can be said to migrate to some extent, into the edges of other Polygonia species' territory. The northern species, P. gracilis, sometimes eats currant leaves in New England and Canada, and there's a species in the Western States and Canada that eats gooseberry leaves, but these butterflies are not numerous enough to become pests. 

There are different species of Buckeye butterflies, and individuals within the same species can look fairly different as well.

This collection of Junonia coenia was photographed By Meganmccarty - Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5017961 . 

This group, photographed by Alan Schmierer, https://www.flickr.com/photos/sloalan/20835897802/, includes several different species. Junonia butterflies are found on every continent except Antarctica. As shown here, they neither seek out nor avoid the company of other Junonias of their own or different species...though some individuals claim private territories and try to chase everyone but their mates away from those.

Baby Buckeye butterflies eat several kinds of weeds--not the buckeye tree, whose nuts, like the spots on the butterflies' wings, resemble deer's eyes. Plantain, toadflax, and wildflowers in the genus Ruellia are the favorite food plants of the North American species in this genus. (Several larger and more colorful species in this genus are found on other continents.) 

Speyeria cybele, the Great Spangled Fritillary, photographed By MONGO - Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4570414, is a large, showy, fairly representative fritillary. Females tend to be darker than males, western individuals tend to be brighter than easterners, and they all look quite a bit like a few other species of Speyeria. Caterpillars seem to eat violets more than anything else and to be distributed in good proportion to their food sources. 

Finally, here's one Speyeria that's unlikely to be found in the Blue Ridge Mountains, but I had to mention it because there is an egregious web site at which someone has stated, erroneously, that female Monarch butterflies are blue. No Monarch butterfly is blue. Female Speyeria diana are, however, blue, and bigger than the male photographed here by Megan McCarty. These butterflies are found mostly in Arkansas, where they are the official state butterfly.