I’m offering an original drawing to anyone who gives a whole animal on heifer.org. Just forward me your confirmation email (delete any sensitive information, as I don’t need it), and send me your address! All drawings (except the flying bee) are india ink on 8.5×11 inch cotton, pH neutral archival quality paper.

Whatever whole animal you fund, I’ll send you a drawing of it (or another animal, if you prefer). First come, first serve. But these are not the last drawings. I plan on doing more. Click on the goat above for more pics of other beasties!

UPDATE: if you’re having qualms about spending a whole animal amount, we can work something out if you’re only buying shares of a few animals to give in some of your friends’ names.

Look familiar?

I was only 6 years old, but I’ll never forget Iron Eyes Cody’s very beautiful 1971 “Keep America Beautiful” public service announcement. If you’re too young to remember it yourself, click on the image for the video.

Get Iron Eyes Cody’s book, “Indian Talk” from the Akta Lakota Museum and Cultural Center, here.

As for Thanksgiving, I give thanks every day, thank you! (See?)

(Here’s the legal link to two versions of the PSA in case the link to youtube has been taken down again for copyright violation. Unfortunately, it only works for people with Windows Media Player, not for Mac.)

(and yes, this is a semi-repeat of last year’s Thanksgiving post, because I never tire of this PSA).

I’ve been wondering what I’ll wear in the winter when my summer thongy birks or slide-ons won’t do anymore. Another winter of painfully throbbing feet I am not looking forward to! So I’ve designed myself a couple of booties. A girl can dream! The bikerbirk (above) would look great with skinny jeans or with black winter shorts and black woolen tights.
And the suede bootie:

(above) would be very cool under the right skirt with very thick woolen tights, or bare legs if you can take it. The suede booties could also be in fake suede for the vegans. And I wouldn’t be averse to wearing a knee-high version as well as the calf-high. In black, of course.

So, Birkenstock people? What do you think?

(Front of bag/back of bag)

Just for fun (and not much profit), I’ve opened a CafePress account, where anyone who wants can buy themselves a newyorkette-themed mug, tote bag, or organic t-shirt. Check it out, here!

NB: If you’re a close friend or relative of mine that’s too broke or too cheap to buy anything, just let me know, and you’ll get something from the shop for Christmas (or Channukah) (or whatever I decide the excuse will be!)

And I let him know it! I put this sign on the front door for him this weekend. After all, it’s been months! He told me I was the only one in the building who wanted him, which explains the…. er, BUGS!!

As for the mousie that’s been in my housie of late, I spent all weekend discovering and patching holes I never dreamed existed, infusing steel wool with expanding polyurethane foam (when I told the exterminator about this tactic, he smirked, looked at me with the now-familiar look I get from everyone that says: “only an insanely determined nut like you would think of that” and declared: “yep, that should work!”).

Then, probably feeling like I’d never judge him for having a crazy idea, he said I wouldn’t believe it but mice like to eat cement powder mixed with rat poison and rice, in case I locked the mouse in, instead of out after all my work.

Cement powder? What is he, crazy?
But that would explain why the mouse hasn’t been into my fresh fruit on the windowsill. He obviously only likes junk food and comes here on the off chance I’ve brought home some McDonald’s, or cement powder laced with DeCon.

This is the cartoon I gave to the exterminator for Christmas last year.

Go vote! Make history! This is a big one!

If you’re not sure where to vote, check this link, here.

(A mannequin is helpful, but a real live person, like me, is better!

I have a second life as a mannequin. A living, breathing mannequin called a “fit model.” It’s a fun job most of the time, because it not only relies on my bodily measurements, but on my technical knowledge of patternmaking as well. My “day job” is helping technical designers make sure that a designer’s clothes fit right for who they’re designed for. I’m a size 6, but we fit models come in all shapes and sizes, from petite to 18W, even including kids and pregnant women.

So you see, there’s a fit model out there for everyone! (And contrary to what some people seem to think, one size fit model does not think she’s better than another size fit model—we’re all perfect for our size, which is why we get the big bucks! Get over your preconceptions, skinny-biased ladies!)

Anyway, the other day I received an endorsement from Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives Nancy Pelosi! An indirect one: I was told that one of the shirts I fit for a friend was purchased by her in every color! So, I guess I did my job right!

If you want to know what women are really fighting these days, have a look at the idealized body in this Prada animation. (This is not what a fit model looks like at all.)

(I don’t know what color this is, but this is the color of one of mine! It comes in ten colors.)

You may have noticed the new “adverlita” in the sidebar! (You have to be on newyorkette.com to see the sidebar.) It’s for Chico Bag, which I have just discovered. Adverlitas, I hasten to remind you, are unsollicited “ads” for things I appreciate, such as Heifer International, Mulchfest, and Opera Mini. Things I like and use or ascribe to or practice.

I like the Chico Bag, and find myself using them (I store two in my regular handbag) all the time, mostly when I’m on my way home and decide to spontaneously drop in at my local supermarket. The thing I like about them is that I’m not tempted to sling them over my shoulder, which usually results in a very sore shoulder. These bags are very comfortable to hold in the hand, or slip over the arm in a very twee way as one gets one’s metro card out of one’s pocket. They don’t dig into your hand the way plastic bags do. I hate that feeling!

My stash of canvas bags, which rarely see the light of day—even the pretty Whole Foods one and the stylish Fairway one— are very jealous. Is it my fault they’re too bulky to carry around in case I might need them?

NB: the only thing you have to remember is to unpack them from their little attached carry-sack (which comes with a key chain attachment, that’s how small they are when packed), before you get to the cashier, so your bags are open and ready to receive your groceries as they come down the conveyor belt. I always forget and annoy my cashier with my nervous fumbling.

If nothing else, check out the funny plastic bag monster video on their site!

And to all a good night!

PS - if you still have gifts to buy and don’t know what to do, get a goat or a cow or a sheep for someone in the name of the person who already has everything, at Heifer International! You get a free e-card, too.

(Brighton Beach, August 2007)

There’s a reason for this repeat image above. I just read Norah Ephron’s “I feel bad about my neck,” and this is all I have to say: I will never feel bad about my neck. Not even if it one day hangs down to my knees. I want to be just like these ladies above. Notice, they are not only wearing bikinis—one is even wearing a tanga bottom! I think they’re beautiful, and I don’t think they feel bad about anything, except, possibly, their husbands’ necks.

In fact, if Norah were ever to hear about this comment of mine, I’ll be happy to make a gift to her of my Coney Island Venus, in honor of glorious, ageing womankind. It’s my favorite, but for a good cause, I’d part with her.

(That was my public service announcement to womankind. )

UPDATE: For some correspondence regarding this post (with name removed to protect the privacy of the correspondent) click here:

On Dec 25, 2007 12:47 AM, [person who wrote the below email] wrote:

Subject: bathing beauties…not sure I agree with you.

One must strike a balance between pride/self confidence and a sense of who one actually is. These proud, but obese and sagging women seem to think that they are twenty and flawless. It is as sad as the paunchy, balding 55 year old man driving the corvette with a bimbo on his arm.

Not knowing who you are and wherer you are in life is a sad thing.

In any event, Merry Christmas. I enjoy your blog.

Thanks, [person who wrote the above email]

Dear [person who wrote the above email],
I’m glad you enjoy my blog, even if you don’t share my point of view!

The way I see it, nobody has anything to be ashamed of, and I think
these ladies have every right to be as proud of themselves as they
are. Western puritanism seems to be constantly on the lookout for
people happy with themselves, eager to shoot them down. Look at your
words themselves—they are so castrating and mortifying! You talk
like a preacher, or like someone who would “put someone in their
place.” It’s as if one thinks that anybody who is happy with what
they’ve got is gypping everyone else! You’d cut these ladies down,
would you? I’d say that’s why they are showing you their wrinkled old
asses. And that’s why I’m showing you them showing their asses.

You can feel “sad” for them as much as you want—they don’t care and
are happy while you’re sad! Here’s the sad thing: look at you,
uselessly feeling sad for some perfectly happy women.

You think that fat balding man with the corvette and the bimbo on his
arm is the same as a few middle class Russian women enjoying
themselves at Brighton Beach? Where is the extravagance in these
women? When do you think they discarded an older man in favor of a
younger, more pretty man to drive around in their Corvettes with them?

I could also have put the pictures of the Russian men, with their
proud paunches, wearing speedos, walking around quite breezily. I
like them too. They aren’t pathetic either. They’re not in mid-life
crises. Their Western European culture simply makes them unashamed of
their aging bodies. And I feel happy along with them.

“One must” are not words I invite into my life, in any case. Preachy
words are for the pulpit, and I don’t go anywhere within earshot of
pulpits if I can help it.

Me, I’m a size 6 fit model, in quite good shape (if I do say so
myself, and I am actually quite competent to say so, and therefore see
no reason not to), in case you think I’m defending the old and “obese”
on behalf of my possibly old and pathetic self. I am simply a person
who loves the human body in all it’s shapes and sizes, as long as it’s
cherished by the person residing within.

I’m sorry, but I don’t agree that it’s anyone’s job on earth to put a
happy person “in their place.” Surely not a photographer, if that’s
who you really are. [Editor: The person who wrote the email above signed the name of a photographer, but there’s no guarantee that’s who he really is.]

-newyorkette