This Might Be the Coolest Idea Since Sliced Bread!

Wow!  I just saw the neatest idea!  Someone has come up with a vending machine to create custom banners at airports (or sporting events, or wherever).   Don’t you wish you’d thought of it?  Can’t wait to see it in airports everywhere,  The best part will be seeing all the clever banners–it won’t be just “welcome home,”  you can bet.  For now, I think it is only at Amsterdam’s Schiphol airport, but I’m betting it will spread rapidly.

 

Well done,  Thibaud Bruna,  BannerXpress’s co-founder.      MM

Vending machine offers DIY banners at Dutch airport | Reuters.

Mangy Cat

A Feline of Independent Means

Harriet was what is known in the vernacular as a stray.  Indeed, the locals called her  ”that Mangy Cat.”  She, however, considered herself to be a feline of independent means.    Harriet would have found the phrase ‘mangy cat’ offensive had she known what it meant.  For a start, she most certainly was not mangy–indeed, she prided herself on her voluptuous coat, and was ever-diligent in preening it.  On the other hand, the moniker pretty much guaranteed no one would try to take her home and turn her into one of those idiotic pampered pusses with pink bows on their heads.  The mere thought of it made her scratch.

Harriet entertained vague memories of a time when she had had a home, complete with a warm fireplace to sleep by and an assortment of laps to curl up on and have her ears scratched.  They were pleasant times, and she regarded them fondly. She was never a ‘house cat”–never expected to stay indoors all day and night.  From an early age Harriet was accustomed to having daily excursions, only returning home at dinner time.  It was a satisfactory arrangement for everyone. Or so it seemed to Harriet, until she returned home one evening to an empty house.  The people, the furniture, the dinner bowl–everything was gone.  She assumed that her people must be frantic looking for her.  She hung around for days, waiting for the car to turn into the driveway and someone to jump out and scoop her up, murmuring “silly kitty.”  But no one came.

On her daily perambulations, Harriet had discovered an interesting fact:  Not all neighbourhoods are the same.  Now, that may seem perfectly obvious to you and me, but–although cats have extremely potent powers of observation, and an ability to detect the most subtle shift in circumstance or attitude, these amazing powers apply only to those things which directly affect them.  Generally speaking, the nuances of human social interactions and arrangements are of no interest whatsoever to a cat.  In this instance, however, the matter of differing neighbourhoods took on singular importance to Harriet.  What she identified as  the differences between neighbourhoods was the food.  You see, she also discovered oysters on the half shell.  And duck l’ orange.  And she noticed that it was only in certain neighbourhoods that these delights were to be found amongst the table scraps.  Well, it will hardly come as a surprise when I tell you that Harriet — being the perspicacious pussycat that she was–decided this is where she should live.  Those of you familiar with such neighbourhoods will spot the problem immediately:  let’s just say that …ahem…stray cats are not exactly welcome there.  This, of course, bothered Harriet not a whit.  She was, after all, a feline of independent means.  Had she only known, these delicacies were available much more regularly in the scraps outside the caterer’s back door.

As the days drifted by, Harriet became noticed by the residents of The Delectable Table, as she liked to think of it.  Naturally she had no idea what the nighborhood’s real name was.  Nor did it occur to her to care.  She did begin to hear  the phrase “that mangy cat” being used rather a lot, seemingly referring to her.  The tone of voice–and here is where cats are particularly perceptive–suggested that the phrase was, well, unflattering.  Nevermind.  She was finding her new life exceptionally comfortable.  Mind you, there weren’t nearly as many mice to play with, but she had discovered squirrels to chase.  When she could be bothered.  Life, as they say, was good.

Harriet began to notice that the only other cats in the neighbourhood were inside looking out.  They had names like Lissette, or Precious, or Monique, and they had pink bows on their heads.  She knew she had to be very careful to not be caught and taken inside and tortured like that.  The dogs were different, too.  They all seemed to be huge, or tiny.  And none of them looked like regular dogs.  The big ones were either very tall and shockingly skinny, or had huge woolly coats you could hide in.  And there was one really snooty dog that was tall and thin, with a nose out to here, and she was draped in long red hair. At least they got to go outside a couple times each day, but almost always tied to a human.

The tiny dogs were weird, too.  They never sat still.  They were always dancing around the windows, yapping.  Harriet loved to walk past a patio door and start the little dogs going.  They were so stupid–they would jump and yap and scratch at the window until a human would yell “Stop that, Pixie, or Mommy will get angry!”  Sometimes Mommy would look out the window to see what had upset poor little Pixie, but by then Harriet was tucked up in a cozy little spot out of sight.

It was early summer and outdoor dining was a daily occurrence. The aromas made Harriet light-headed.  The table scraps were divine:  barbecued fish and shrimp and steak and chicken…Oh, it was nearly too much.  But even in her–shall we say, her bloated state–Harriet could be a surprisingly astute observer.  Especially when it might benefit her dining arrangements.  What she noticed was that the larger the gathering of humans, and where there were no human kittens, the better the “afters.”  Once she had worked that out, it was a simple leap to recognising the signs that something good was coming.  The most common sign was the appearance of humans wearing white clothes. Sometimes they put up little houses on the grass.  These usually only had a roof and maybe  three flappy sides, and were where the food came from.  This pleased Harriet enormously.  It made her life so easy.

Harriet had a favourite house where there was a big dog–white with black polka dots–who was allowed outside by himself in the big fenced backyard.  Harriet would entice him to chase her, which he always did, and she would escape, which she always did.  It was a game they both loved.  Well, she loved it.  She assumed he did. There was also a small inside dog who was guaranteed to start yapping and dancing around until a human came to see what all the fuss was about, by which time Harriet was out of sight, leaving only the polka dot dog and the little yappy creature to get yelled at..  Then there was the cat.  Harriet could not believe a fellow feline could so demean all catdom like this one did.  It was pathetic.  No, it was outrageous. This cat, who was variously referred to by its humans as Petsy, or Snookums, or Sweetums, was a big ball of white fluff with a bow on its head, and–wait for it–claws painted to match the colour of the bow. On the day in question, they were red.  And Snookums was also wearing a ruffle around her neck. Harriet could barely bring herself to look.

Well, here’s where things get interesting.  When Harriet arrived to play catch-me-if-you-can with the polka dot pooch, she discovered one of the little flappy houses had been set up on the grass in the back yard. You won’t be surprised to hear that Harriet promptly found herself a nice comfy perch from which to watch the action.  Her polka dotted playmate was nowhere to be seen, and no one else was likely to notice her.  Once the humans began to arrive, the smells from the flappy house became unbearably delicious.  Before long her nose began to torment her brain, then her stomach.  How long was she going to have to wait?  As it happened, the wait turned out to be shorter than you might think. Harriet began to pace. Her tail was twitching. The humans were just standing around eating little things from a plate carried around by a human who didn’t eat any.  What was it?  It smelled divine.  Oh, no!  Oh, no!  pâté de foie gras!  What if there’s none left?  Harriet was becoming a nervous wreck.

Finally, everybody but the ones carrying plates sat down at the tables. Harriet  crept closer to get a better view.  She was on a stone wall that gave her just enough height to see the tables, but she was perilously close to being seen by the humans.  Suddenly the smell hit her.  Bowls filled with oysters were being delivered to the tables.  Harriet became reckless. She moved to the end of the wall and crouched next to a pillar where she was in a shadow.  The humans hadn’t spotted her yet, but polka dot dog saw her and started barking from inside the house.  That started the little yappy one, and everyone started looking around to see what they were barking at.  Someone said loudly “Oh, it’s probably that mangy cat.”  People began looking and pointing in all directions.  Harriet seized the moment. While everyone was distracted, looking for her, she disappeared behind the wall and streaked across the patio under cover of a row of planters.  The dogs were going crazy by now, and the humans were totally confused.  She took up a position much closer to the tables, but still out of view. No one could see anything, so they settled down and began to think about their food again. For Harriet it was excruciating to watch them gobbling down her food.  It became clear to her that there would be no table scraps–everything was going to be devoured.  She could stand it no longer.  She made her move, leaping onto the nearest table and going straight for the oysters.  What a commotion!  People jumping up, chairs falling over, ladies screaming.  At one of the tables the table cloth was pulled off–it seemed to be caught in someone’s zipper.  Amidst the chaos, Harriet managed to work her way through one oyster, and grab another in her mouth to take with her.  She dashed off, out of reach, leaving behind a scene of devastation, with dishes and glasses and chairs strewn about.  People were brushing the food off their clothes  and dabbing at the wine stains with napkins.  One hysterical human ran inside, leaving the door open, so polka dot dog and the little happy thing got out and joind the fray.  Polka dot dog was running about in a frenzy, and knocked over one of the polls holding up the flappy roof, which then toppled over onto the food.

Harriet, meanwhile, was off to one side, under a bush, enjoying her oyster.  When she saw the roof topple, she could see everyone scramble out from under it, leaving all that wonderful food unattended.  She managed to sneak under a corner of the canvas, where she couldn’t be seen, and settled down to enjoy the spoils of the day.

Later, after all the humans had gone, and the flappy roof and all the food things were cleaned up, and the house was dark, Harriet strolled back to the patio where the polka dot dog and the little yappy creature and the cat with a stupid-looking bow and collar were all sitting by the glass door, looking out into the dim patio light. When Harriet walked up, no one barked. No one yapped. She could hear a low growl as she sat down in front of them and began to slowly and meticulously wash her face.

You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger

Carmelita noticed the little yellow PostIt note stuck on the velvet table cloth in front of her chair. Her mountainous bosom began to shake and rumble as she threw back her head and laughed, but the tinkling of miniature reindeer bells on the door halted her laughter abruptly.  Giving her whole body a shake and fluffing out the layers of her skirts, she sat down in front of the table. She carefully lowered her veil and arranged her shawl before announcing softly but firmly,  “Come.”

There was a moment of hesitation before the curtains parted and a slender young woman stepped into the room.   Her long black hair was as shimmering as the satin lampshade hanging low above Carmelita’s table. She was modestly dressed, with no sign of a tattoo at the edge of her jeans.  “Madame Sophia?” she asked breathlessly.

Carmelita nodded, and with only the slightest gesture she indicated to the girl to sit down.

Maria didn’t take her eyes off Madame Sophia as she took her place at the table.  The woman’s face was obscured by a veil, but Maria could feel the intensity of her eyes, even though she couldn’t see them. Maria sat stiffly, her hands knotted together as if they had to save her from falling into an abyss.

“Why have you come?”  Madame Sophia’s voice was sonorous, almost accusing,

Maria was startled by the question, and even more startled by the sound of it. “Why…why I came to have my future told,” she said meekly.

“And why do you think I can tell you that?”

“Isn’t that what you do?  I thought that’s what…” Maria’s voice trailed off. She felt confused and embarrassed.

“Yes, I can sometimes help people to see things about themselves that can enlighten their path.  But, my dear, the future can be frightening.  Why do you want to know about yours?”  Carmelita had softened her voice and was studying the girl’s face closely.

Maria lowered her eyes momentarily. “Because I have difficult decisions to make and I’m not sure what I should do.  I thought it might help to talk to you. Perhaps this was a mistake.”  She looked around, as if she were about to leave.

“No.  You have done the wise thing. Tell me about these decisions that worry you.”

“But isn’t that what you are supposed to tell me about?”  Maria blurted out. She suddenly felt more stupid than confused.  Madame Sophia had just confirmed what she had always believed:  that these so-called fortune tellers were just con-artists—tricksters—who got you to tell them enough about yourself that they could make some good guesses.  Damn.  Why did she let herself be persuaded to come here?

“No, my dear. I don’t need to know what those decisions are.  Only why they trouble you so.”  Madame Sophia gently reached across the table and put her hand on Maria’s knotted fists.“

Something in Madame Sophia’s voice, and in the softness of her hand, made Maria relax.  “Well, it’s just that I have been given a wonderful opportunity to study at the university.  It has always been my dream to do that, but I always knew my family could never afford it so I just let be my little fantasy.  Now I really can do it, but it would mean I could not continue to help my mother with the younger children.  It would be so selfish for me to do that.”  She could feel the tears threatening to spill over and flood her with shame.

“Tell me, my dear, how did you happen to be given this wonderful opportunity?”

“My teachers recommended me for an award, and the award included a scholarship.”  Maria felt herself begin to blush.

“I see.  Now, let me look at your hands, my dear.”  Madame Sophia took each of Maria’s hands into her own and turned them over slowly. As her hands were being studied, Maria began to feel calm.  She still didn’t have any idea what she should do, but she no longer felt so worried.  Madame Sophia glanced up at Maria and smiled.  I think you are no longer so frightened about the future.  Am I right?Maria smiled and shrugged.  “Yes, but I don’t know why, because I’m no closer to knowing what to do.”

“Let me tell you, then.  What I know is hat very soon something important, something wonderful, is going to happen that will help you to know what you should do.”

“What is it? What will happen?  How will I know?”

Madame Sophia chuckled. “Slow down, girl. I will tell you what I see, but first I need more information.”

“What else can I tell you?”  She felt the earlier doubt start to creep back.

“No, no. You do not need to tell me anything more.  I will find the truth in the cards,” she replied as she began laying the tarot cards on the table.  Her eyes brightened as she turned each one over.  At last she looked up at Maria and beamed.  “You have a beautiful future, my dear.  Not often do I see such cards.  And it comes very soon.  Very soon.  Maybe even today.”

“What?  What will come very soon?  Is it money?”

Madame Sophia allowed herself a good belly laugh. “Oh, no, my dear.  Money only brings trouble.  Your future is not one of trouble.  You will find LOVE.  True love. Very soon,” she repeated.

Maria’s eyes grew wide.  “Love?  But I don’t even know anyone I could love.  Or who would love me.”  Her excitement vanished as quickly as it had come.  The whole thing was preposterous.  She’d known it would be.

“You don’t yet know him, but you will meet him very soon.   You will know.”  Madame Sophia began gathering up the cards and said, “Trust me.  You will know.” The change in her voice and manner seemed to indicate that the session was over.  Maria didn’t know what else to do, so she stood up to go.  As she turned to leave, Madame Sophia said to her, “You will be happy.”

Her session with Madame Sophia bothered Maria’s brain for the rest of the morning.  One minute she was tempted to believe it would happen as Madame Sophia had said; the next minute she would scold herself for being such an idiot.  Walking back home from the grocery store she was still doing battle with herself over the matter.  With her mind thus occupied, she wasn’t paying attention to where she was going, and suddenly found herself taking a detour along the street where Madame Sophia’s parlour was.  Feeling sheepish about being so silly, she turned around to go back the normal way when suddenly she bumped smack into a young man coming toward her from the opposite direction.  The groceries went flying, and she barely managed to keep from falling herself—thanks mainly to the steadying hand of the young man.  They both bent down to gather the scattered vegetables, bumping heads as they did, both blurting out effusive apologies, then both erupting into laughter.

It took a moment for them to gather up all the groceries, and to compose themselves, but as soon as he could do so, the young man held out his hand solemnly, saying, “I’m Tony Bennetti.  I’m very pleased to meet you, but I’m also extremely sorry and embarrassed to cause you such trouble.”

She offered her hand in reply. “I’m Maria Campo. You needn’t apologise.  I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.  Is your name really Tony Bennetti?  Like the singer?”

“Yeah.  I get asked that a lot.  My mama is a fan.”

Maria laughed. “Well, you’re much better looking.”  She immediately turned scarlet as she realized she had spoken her thought out loud.

“Why, thank you, Maria,” he smiled.  “Hey, can I buy you a cup of coffee to make up for bruising your vegetables?”

“Yes, why not.  That would be nice,” she replied.  Madame Sophia’s words were echoing in her head, “You will know.”

A few minutes later, while they waited for their coffee, Maria excused herself to go to the Ladies room.  Tony used the opportunity to make a quick phone call.

As Carmelita sat down with a cup of tea,  she took the crumpled PostIt note out of her pocket and read it again.  “This is the one, Mama. Please–”  She smiled to herself, wondering if it would work out.  Just then her phone rang.  She looked to see who was ringing.  It was her son.

“Thank you, Mama.”

The End