Blogging to blog

Most of the times I only put an entry on this blog when I have some deep thought or opinion that I want to express clearly and somewhere others can comment upon. That's why there aren't nearly as many blog entries as I wish there were! Of course, the kinds of opinions I have are usually sappy leftish mish-mash, so that might actually be a blessing to anybody who ever reads this.

But today I was reading Snarpinions, the reviewing arm of Snarke.net, and just felt so ... lame. I mean, I always think I'm going to do some writing. I have lots of swell ideas. But then I don't. I have turned into a writing blob. Okay, I do have some notes for the mind-body-yoga project, so I don't suck that badly. I've just been slacking a little the last three weeks. Or four.

Maybe I do suck!

People suck

So Kate, my niece, went into a pet store that focuses on reptiles and fish. And they were selling rats--for reptile chow. Now that's something Kate can live with, even though she's a rat maniac, but when she needed to wash her hands after a close encounter with rat pee, she saw in the back room something sad: clear plastic under-the-bed storage tubs crammed full of rats. That's right: plastic tubs full of miserable, sickly rodents. Is that any life for any creature--no matter what its fate will be?

The pet industry is cruel to animals. Do your research before you give your money to people who sell animals and who sell animal products. Don't allow businesses who perpetuate cruelty to make money!

On that note: Don't shop at the Tropical Hut!

The Scent of Luxury

Luxury smells like an herb from Madagascar. It is a light fruity scent, not cloying at all, and according to the Dior company, that aroma plus a Nobel prize will combat 11 of the 20 signs of aging. The other 9 are battled by a combination of other extracts and acids, also available from the brilliant minds back in France.

Luxury feels like a trip to fairy land. It is the gentle brush of kitten fur against your cheek. It is the soft tap of butterfly toes on your eye lids. It is the soft exhalation of a pretty girl looking over her work, and the little burst of giggle bubbles in your mouth as you take the gold-rimmed mirror and see yourself as you have never seen yourself before, as beautiful as an elf-queen.

Luxury is pretty damn great.

But be prepared for luxury's fall-out when you come back from fairy land. Be prepared for the one-eyed beggar girl and her sweet smile. Be prepared for the wave of overwhelming guilt. Luxury is not for the weak. The faint of heart will succumb to luxury's power or cower away from its persuasive touch.

The better option is to hold it quietly in your heart, a secret treasure. A source of knowing you never guessed at before. Luxury transcendant.

And as you give the girl your last fifty cents, she looks beyond the shopping bags and says: "You have a beautiful smile."