DatingGod

The Wilmington Fur Ball!

For the third year in a row, I'll be doing readings for the lovely swanky folks that attend fabulous black tie event The Wilmington Fur Ball. The first year I got a call to work it, The Glorious Hoon has just shed his mortal coil, and in his honor, when they asked me how much I'd charge to do readings for the evening, I said: let it be a gift from the Hoon and I. And each year, we give another gift. Because the way I look at it, the more cash we raise for the animals, the more Yes we get to keep meowing and barking and screeching and singing in the world. And lord knows more Yes in fuzzy form is a beautiful thing.

If you're local and get a chance, come join us for dancing and a pet fun stuff auction and a painting dog and all the sushi you can eat and me (I'll be that chick off to the right of the festivities, sitting with the folks in their sparkling finery, one by one, as they come to hear a little Psychic Whatnot.) If you're not local, or can't come, take a few minutes to google for your local shelter, and send them a few bucks. A great one in our area is: The Pender County Humane Society.  Even $10 is a huge help. (With the economy all wonky, and the humans scared and suffering, the animals need to have their paw held even more . . . )

 

Our Fuzzy Friends

When Katrina hit, I didn't send money to the Red Cross or any of those organizations. I gave money to the Humane Society for their rescue efforts of the pets left behind. And with the devastation in Haiti, same thing. Because when the people are struggling, our furry guys, already many levels down on humankind's consciousness scale of worth and importance, seriously need some help.

All of you know at least a dozen folks who've lost their jobs, their homes, their cars, and most of their identity. And shacking up with the mother in law or in a week-to-week hotel usually means no pets allowed. And so you can just imagine how animal shelters all over are desperately trying to keep these guys fed and sheltered until homes can be found. And the furry guys in Haiti? They are in desperate, desperate need . . .

If you want to do a good deed this week, please let it be this one. Even $10 will help.

Local shelter - Pender County

or

Adopt an Angel (where Baby Malcolm and dainty flower Emmaline were liberated from) adopt@adoptanangel.net 

or

Humane Society Haiti Disaster Response

Spread the love, spread the love . . . we have so much, we are so fortunate . . . share the love . . .

My Coop Rocks Yo

FurBall 2008

I should have taken pics of all the glamourous people, all decked out in their ball gowns and high heels and suits and surprisingly enough, kilts on many of the menfolk. But taking pics would have meant making myself less anonymous, and I enjoyed very much staying in my little cave of a session space, and nitpicking my Jed book (for the hundredth time), when folks didn't stop by for pet readings and human readings.

A little side note: The Fur Ball was held in the lobby and anterooms and black box theater of Thalian Hall, whose main stage is one of the oldest theaters in the U.S. It's seriously gorgeous, renovated, yet still retains all the old charm and design. I grew up doing plays and musical on it's stage, and in a lull during the readings during the Fur Ball, I slipped past the barriers erected for the night, and into the main theater, where nothing was on but the worklights. I stood on the stage, looking out into the seats, like I did so many times when I was a young nubile teen. And as I stood there, memories flooding past of things I did, people I did them with, I thought: dang I was an idiot :) Seriously, I did such incredibly deluded things, believed such insanities about romantic love and fame and Things That Sparkled and Go UP. How did I ever survive??? 

So, yeah, beyond all else, some pics for you:

I Give Thanks For The Buffet

I mean this. Literally. Casey's Buffet. The best southern home cooking ANYWHERES.

It's a family owned and run restaurant, including their preteen and teen aged kids, who work and are actually cheerful about it. And the customers are from all races and economic backgrounds. You'll see buzzed-cut military guys from the marine base up in Jacksonville sitting at a table next to a black family after their Sunday church service, dressed to the nines, the women's hats just spectacular, the men's suits dang skippy art, in colors I've never ever seen suits in before. There'll be tie and jacketed business men at lunch, slickly dressed and coifed ladies who lunch, and dirt and sweated construction dudes fresh off a job site.

The decor is very simple, the kind of worn look you'd expect from a down home out of the way place where the food is the most important thing. And no matter when you go, lunch or dinner, any day of the week, it's packed to the rafters.

These pics are from a couple of months ago. But there are a dang good representation of both Casey's and what I filled up my to-go container with for me and the weasels thanksgiving feast today.