I’m not big on posting lots of videos, but this one has made my week. It reminds me of all the best about Buffy Summers, and why even a passing glance at Twilight is all, y’know, like GAG ME. Contrasted with Whedon’s Buffy, Edward’s creepiness outshines even his sparkliness.
Buffy’s not perfect (one of Whedon’s strengths), but when it comes to fictitious role models, I wish my sister had more Buffy Summers and less Bella Swans.
This is my third year volunteering with the Chick Ball. I have a lot of reasons why I volunteer, but the most important reason is because I have seen too many wonderful people beaten and emotionally decimated by loved ones. I’ve heard too many excuses from strong, brilliant people about why their parent, sibling or partner is justified in treating them abominably.
It’s an easy thing to say, “The first time a man hits me, I’m out the door.” It’s an automatic, brainless and rational reaction to the idea of violence, but it does not encompass all the factors that can influence a situation: children, pets, finances, vows, shame, pride, fear and love. It doesn’t take into account the gradual whittling away of self-worth that usually precludes a violent act. The hard-and-fast rule we’re taught doesn’t account for an abuser’s remorse, apologies or promises.
We often focus on the families and aftermath of abuse. This year, the Chick Ball is raising money to help fund an intervention program (the first of its kind in Jackson) to work with abusers who want to make good on their promises of “never again.” Personal change and growth is rough, but it’s doable, especially with help. Studies have shown 15 percent of those who completed an abuse intervention program were rearrested for domestic violence, compared with 37 percent of those who dropped out of the program.
All seriousness aside, the Chick Ball is hugely fun without diminishing the gravity of the issue at hand. We need volunteers in all aspects of planning and execution of the event, and you meet amazing, motivated, formidable women. If you can’t volunteer, please consider donating artwork or goods for door prizes and silent auction pieces, or even sponsorship ($50 is our base level of sponsorship.) Above all, just come and enjoy the fruits of our hard work.
2009 Chick Ball Poster (please print and distribute!)
2009 Chick Ball Sponsorship Sheet
And feel free to repost this little press release anywhere you like!
SATURDAY, July 25, 2009
6 p.m. to 1 a.m.
Hal & Mal’s Red Room
WHAT:
The Jackson Free Press will present its 5th Annual JFP Chick Ball, an affordable night of music, art, spoken word and performance that has raised thousands of dollars in the last two years to honor the Center for Violence Prevention. All proceeds from the door, art auction and direct donations will be presented to the center following the event. Sign up for our Twitter feed @jfpchickball so you don’t miss anything.
This year, the event will be bigger than ever, with dozens of businesses and artists in and around Jackson donating door prizes and artwork for the art auction. Our cause is more ambitious as well: instead of concentrating on the aftermath, we’re going for the root of the problem. We’re looking to raise some of the initial funding for a program to help abusers stop being abusers. This will be the only domestic abuse intervention program of its kind in and around Jackson.
Specifics: Learn more about the Duluth Model, the most replicated woman abuse intervention model in the country.
WHO:
The line-up of female musical, visual and performance artists is headlined every year by a diverse group of women. We’ll be sure to make a big announcement when the lineup is finalized.
WHEN:
Saturday, July 25th, 6 p.m. Admission is only $5 – and only $10 to get your chance at a door prize.
WHERE:
Hal and Mal’s Red Room
WHY:
Because we want to help the CVP works for their important cause – putting a stop to domestic violence in our community.
Sponsorships Available:
Call 601.362.6121 ext. 2, or e-mail chickball@jacksonfreepress.com with questions about volunteering, sponsorships and donations for silent auction.
RIP Zorro Zeta
I’ve been trying to write about this since I got the news on Monday, but it’s been too hard.
Wee, sweet Zeta was sickly last week; stopped nursing, and had to be bottle-fed by her tireless foster family. They thought she’d gotten past the worst of it, but she was just too tiny and sickly. She died over the weekend. Zeta was a beautiful, sweet-natured kittenface, who was content to snuggle against your chest and sleep, preferably with a sibling or two nestled around her.
Pragmatically speaking, it’s a small miracle the other wallkitties are flourishing at all, after their hard start. Personally, though, they were ALL MY Wallkitties in a way; and I’m angry and heartbroken she had such a short life. I’m just glad it was filled with love from all over the place, even the Internet.
Thank you.
On May 2nd, I turn thirty-six. I’m not upset or mopey about it. Honestly, it feels more like turning twelve because ZOMG, we are getting two, count ‘em, two wall-kitties for my birthday.
KITTIES!!! are by far one of the cooler birthday presents I’ve received, but to be honest, I’m not so big on stuff these days. I’m trying to pare down, scale back and simplify my life; stuff holds me back. I’d much rather have your company for birthday weekend festivities.
If you are the sort of person who would normally get me a present, please instead consider donating to In Defense of Animals’ PROJECT HOPE, the organization who helped us in the aftermath of WallCat rescue. Hope Sanctuary is an animal sanctuary located in rural Mississippi. Doll Stanley and her staff/volunteers have doggedly worked to rescue abused and neglected animals in Mississippi and all over the Deep South for sixteen years. LeeAnn Leonard is one of the foster/rescue volunteers with Project Hope, and the foster human to the WallCats and their surrogate mama, Hemi. If it wasn’t for LeeAnn and IDA, this story might not have such a happy ending. I’m not 100% behind IDA’s mission, but Project Hope is a great cause in a state that could use five more sanctuaries.
Here’s a link to IDA’s program-specific donation page. There’s a dropdown menu for “Project or Campaign”: please select PROJECT HOPE.
If you’re more visually inclined, please enlarge the image below.
Of course, you could always adopt Hemi or Wall-Kitty Zeta, which would be a gift for everyone!
Hemi is a gorgeous shorthaired, polydactyl blue-grey MILA (Mom I’d Like to Adopt). She was rescued via In Defense of Animals, and soon gave birth to a single kitten, Junior. Hemi must’ve had a larger family in mind because she accepted each and every wallcat as her own, and has been fiercely protective of her litter. If you love Hemingway cats and are interested in an adult cat with a touch of old Hollywood beauty, Hemi would be an excellent choice. Her IDA adoption fees ($75) will cover her shots and her spaying.
Junior is about 7-10 days behind the Wallcats, but he’s bigger by far than any of the others. He’s a polydactyl black-n-white emo kid with a fierce white goatee and fingerless gloves. His head is football-shaped, even Stewie Griffin-ish, and he has striking white whiskers in every direction. He and Puff will be heading to their forever home in mid-May.
Sad Ending to Zeta’s story:read more
Zeta was a beautiful calico with a sweet disposition and a thoroughly endearing habit of sucking on a foot to fall asleep. She was fond of sleeping in impossible, hilarious positions, even with her mouth wide open. We’re told Zeta was more of a cuddle-kitty than a rambunctious adventurer, and that definitely goes along with my personal experience with her (she crawled onto my chest and dozed off immediately). Zeta passed away on April 26.
For those of you who only read my blog, I owe you a story. Until then, allow me to sum up: a crazy feral mamacat climbed 10′ UP along our HVAC duct to bear kittens in our attic. The space would’ve been ideal kittennest, save for the steep drop-off that allowed tiny kittens to fall down into the loadbearing walls in our house. All five were rescued; four on Sunday, one on Wednesday. Our walls are tewtally ghetto-fabulous right now, but what matters most is this story has a happy ending. All these kittens are thriving with a surrogate mama, and all but one (a wee loudmouth dilute tortie/calico, who will come back to her original home) will be available for adoption.
Someone’s already called dibs on the wee Siamese one with a raccoon tail, but there’s a wee tortie/calico (who sucks her/his foot to go to sleep), a grey tabby (first out of the wall, brave explorer) and a brown tabby (so handsome!!) They’re all ridiculously cute.
LeeAnn (who works with In Defense of Animals’ Mississippi program PROJECT HOPE) says that if you choose to adopt a Wallcat, Junior (the black and white) or Hemi (mamacat) via IDA, your donation covers your cat’s spay/neuter, their first round of shots, AND helps needy animals in Mississippi. That’s a crazy deal 
Adoption fees via IDA are
You can contact me at wallcats@birdofparadox.com for more information.
You can check out Project Hope’s blog to see what they do, but warning: there are some really sad cases.
Wallcats from Matthew Glover on Vimeo.
Jack came home with me in the summer of 1992. I fell in love with the little guy when my aunt showed us her cat’s new kittens. He was stubbular, round-eyed and looked like his belly might burst from glutting himself on milk. Even as a kitten, his paws were ENORMOUS. He looked like he was wearing fuzzy slippers. I smuggled him home tucked inside my sports bra, thinking it was far better to ask forgiveness than permission.
Jack would follow you like a dog all over the house, but was afraid of strangers. As soon as the doorbell rang, he would hide under my parents’ bed until the coast was clear, sometimes staying for hours after guests had left. My grandmother never laid eyes on Jack except for pictures.
Jack lived to bite string and wire. He also enjoyed asparagus and fresh herbs. He was a mean drunk when it came to catnip. He liked escaping the house and going on adventures, much to my chagrin. Jack loved being petted: he’d demand attention by body-checking your shins and love-biting any dangling or convenient part of your body. Until his older years, he particularly liked being pet like a dog. He’d dig his claws into the back of the couch for stability, and purr with his mouth open as you aggressively raked your hands from the scruff of his neck to his tail. When Matthew and I got married, we marveled at how similar Jack’s body language was to that of the great cats we saw in Vegas. He was just as regal, slinky, playful and tough as any tiger.
When Mom died, Jack came to live with me full time. He spent two months under the bed, eating and using the litterbox only when I brought them to him. One day, he emerged from his hiding place to rejoin the world, and has been an incredibly personable, even boisterously friendly cat. He soon discovered he loved crowds, and especially women. He particularly liked it when women would drape his cookie-sized paws over their shoulder and allow him to stand on their cleavage. I like to think that was his favorite way to ride around because that’s how he came into my life.
Jack had a wonderful Thanksgiving this year. From the time he woke up in the morning until he settled into the crow’s nest on the cat tree, he was treated like a prince. He dined on turkey, asparagus, cheese, fresh cream and tuna. We bustled through the kitchen more carefully, allowing him to ankleshark as we worked. I even “dropped” a few morsels for him to greedily “steal,” so he would feel like his careful plots to trip us worked to his advantage.
His breathing became rapid Thursday night, which meant fluid was building up around his heart, hindering his breathing. When I woke up to check on him early Friday morning, his breathing was so shallow, we knew the time had come. I’d hoped to avoid the vet, but he had to take one last car trip. He didn’t flirt with the vet techs, which is a big sign of how poorly he was feeling. When we were ready, I draped Jack over my shoulder and let him stand on my cleavage for the last time.
Jack was such a “big” cat, personality-wise. The whole house feels colder and a little empty without him. It’s likely I’ll never have another asparagus-eating, ass-biting, dog-chasing cat. It’s a certainty there’ll never be another cat quite like Jack. He was a fierce defender, a sexy beast, an adept nad-stomper, a gracious host, a devoted omnivore, a jewelry thief, and a mildly sadistic lover of humans. Jack taught me that you get what you give out of a relationship with an animal, and how earning a cat’s trust and respect is a humbling and prideful matter.
Writing this makes me even more aware that I haven’t written about Mau. It’s still difficult to talk about, but I need to do it. Royalty deserve good eulogies.
