Over the course of the holiday weekend, Jeff and I paused for a while to watch the space shuttle launch. I watched for both prurient and practical reasons. Not only did I want the shuttle to lift off safely, but I also was beginning to exhibit a senior citizen's "get off my lawn" opinion where the shuttle-gawking RV nation was concerned.

I'm at T minus seven.

You, too, can influence the spin of entries presented on domesticat.net!

In honor of my recent hate-mailer, I'd like to announce a call for topics for the "Cynthia Singler Miura presents the Anthrax Writing Week." Topic suggestions should be short, preferably with satirical promise. Bonus points and extra consideration will be given to topics with relevance to the original email.

Extra bonus points and scritchies for topic suggestions so ludicrous that they make me snort out loud and say, "Oh yes, I have to write about that."

Since I believe in letting everyone stand on their own words around here, I'll share what I just found in my inbox. The name and email address are unchanged. I see no reason to obscure the sender's identity.

From: Cynthia Singler Miura <lardgrandmaearthlink [dot] net>
To: comments [at] domesticat [dot] net
Subject: [No Subject]

Every few months, I feel compelled to turn the mailbag over, shake it out a bit, and blow out the crumbs. Every now and then, a letter actually falls out. Most of the time, I forget to answer it; those that I actually remember to answer are rarely answered in anything resembling a straightforward fashion.

I won't sport with your intelligence any more - let's get to the mailbag.

Jay, of parts unknown, writes in response to my rice-rice-baby entry "Turn down the stereotype; we can't hear you":

Welcome to Day Two of Ask Domesticat - the advice column that is neither columnar nor containing any actual advice! [What is Ask Domesticat?]

By popular demand (otherwise known as "five of you asked") it's Ask Domesticat - the advice column that is neither columnar nor containing any actual advice! [What is Ask Domesticat?]

Since I've had absolutely nothing of interest to write about for the past few days, I'm going to open up the forum in a rather dangerous manner. I've been thinking of marking 'cat.net as "out to lunch" for a few days, to take something along the lines of a quickie vacation from daily writings. (Most of you know I do that a couple of times a year.)

There are, however, some options. Just because I'm bored with my standard non-fiction doesn't mean that a couple of my oh-so-disturbing fictional columns can't come back for a few days.

I received the following email this morning, and given its urgency and importance, felt that I should both reply and make my reply available to you, the loyal readerbase of domesticat.net:

Date: Thu, 31 Oct 2002 22:50 -0800

Sorry about not providing the next installment of 'Without Prior Notice' tonight. We ended up getting an unexpected invitation to visit a friend's house, and…how to say it?

Readers, you so got ditched. I know, I know, the suspense has been killing you. I'm sorry to suck all the oxygen out of your reading existence today, but I'm horrible and need to be smacked. So why sit here and write out a different post? Well, because I've discovered another sufferer of the Just Don't Get It Syndrome (affectionately abbreviated to JDGI Syndrome).

Greetings, readers, and welcome to the newest little addition to domesticat.net, known as "Ask Domesticat." You, too, can now have the pleasure of having your questions answered* in a public forum by the one and only domesticat! Our first question comes to us from a severely snowbound reader a stone's-throw from Canada:

Where do you get your "domesticat-esque" impulses from? Or, what makes you so "domesticat-ey" (domestikitty?)

Answer:
The short version: chemical therapy. As many of you know, I spent most of my teenage years completely unable to relate to anything not placed within 0.000005 inches of my own skull. Somewhere around my seventeenth birthday, someone switched my daily drug feed from "self-absorbed teenager" to the mostly-decaffeinated "decent human being" blend.