Shaman suddenly demonstrated that he is no longer a kitten but an adolescent cat.  One morning last week, he responded to Schwartzie catnip for the first time and that evening, he bit Willow in the neck.  She tolerated it but he then looked really puzzled.  I know I’m supposed to do this but what do I do next?  Of course, nothing much.  Some cats, particularly males, get suddenly independent at puberty, but not this guy.  He is just as loving as ever and as purry and snuggly.

The independent behavior is because normally at adolescence a male cat would leave the sorority of a cat colony and strike out on his own.  But no every male cat shows that inclination.  Oboe lived in harmony and mutual adoration with his mother for his entire life, and Sugar Ray never changed from his loving kitten self into old age.

We’re pulling the tomatoes as they are no longer flowering and just making little green marbles.  For some reason, the eggplants are still making little eggplants, small but quite usable.  This has never happened before.  My gardens are now fully planted with lettuce, endive, escarole, Chinese cabbage, other cole crops, mustard, cilantro and arugula of 2 kinds. 

Rose haShonah was small but wonderful this year.  I always make a dinner on Erev but some years people we’ve had don’t get it and expect a regular dinner with cocktails beforehand the hors d’oeuvres.  We go straight into the ritual.  I have made a short but meaningful one.  Melenie and I cooked dressing and roasted beets. Woody spit roasted the chicken and make kugel.  Bonnie and David brought honey cake from a recipe out dear friend Norma Simon used to make for Rosh haShonah every year.  Before she died, she gave me the recipe.  It’s the best.

Dale is off on vacation next week, so I’ll have to be my own assistant.  We just went up to Maine and now he and Stephen are going up to Maine for their vacation.  Trees are beginning to turn here, so I imagine they were be far more colorful next week than they were last week when we were there.  I hope they have better weather than we endured. When we’re home, we pray for rain; when we travel, we hope for sunshine or at least gentle clouds.

This morning I read a poem in a group reading for the new issue of the Connecticut Review.  This seems to be a trend, zines asking poets who are in an issue to read their poem in a vat group reading, unpaid of course. So many zines are using Submittal and charging for submissions.  I won’t submit work to any zines that charges me for reading my work.  that has eliminated many zines I used to publish in regularly.  I don’t pay anyone to read my work. Writers are expected to not only do more and more without pay but now to be charged?

Being a writer is so much less respected and less well paid these days.

We have been getting sufficient rain for a change. I’m almost afraid to type that, so I won’t jinx the weather, as if anyone could by writing. But we’re all superstitious.