I just read your post, (e:Ladycroft) and i can so relate. I, too, have an unusual name, and i remember waiting to hear my name when the magic mirror of Romper Room was held up. When i got older, i just figured their researchers were slackers and didn't want to look into unusual names like ours.

My nickname here is a mispronunciation of my full first name. I prefer to be called Lee, but my given name is Leette (said like Juliette, Lee then ette) and most people see it and think it is said LeeTee. Now that my last name starts with a T, it's become a nickname that people (including my own Mom!!) have adopted.

I was named Leette on a last minute whim. My mom wanted to call me Gwen.. not Gweneth, just Gwen (her name is Judy, not Judith, JUDY!!). But her mom, my late Grandmother had a different idea. You see, in the small Northern Ontario French speaking town she grew up in, Gwen was the town whore some ways back. It became slang for slut, whore, you name it. My Gran would NOT have me be named such a name... threatened to disown my mom or never allow her to visit Chelmsford ever again. All 15 of my Gran's brother's and sisters and their kids and everyone got involved in this... it was the anti-Gwen campain.

So, they didn't think of a name for me until after i was born. Leette. My dad thought he was inventing the name. Turns out, much to his dismay, that it is the mispelling of a French Canadian name, Leite (said the same way as mine). My dad should have called the french branch of our family before doing that, but he was... uhm... hell, i don't know... stoned at the time?

I've met one other person with my name in my lifetime. She spelled it the right way. And like me, everyone called her Lee. At the time, she was in her 50's or 60's, so who knows if she is still alive almost 20 years later. She was the sister of the owner of the hairdressing school i went to, Lorenzo's School of Hairdesign, in Hamilton, Ontario Canada.

Congrats on finding a connection to your name, (e:Ladycroft)!

This morning, i got working on cleaning house fairly early. I'm not much of a morning person, but as i age, i find myself less able to stay up late and no longer able to sleep 'til 3 in the afternoon like i used to.

By 10.30 this morning, with le Tour de France in the background, (e:uncutsaniflush) and i had already moved the grandfather clock from our living room to our sitting room... ok, so the 2 rooms are beside each other, but it still takes effort to move a grandfather clock anywhere. I must admit, (e:uncutsaniflush) did most of the grunt work, but i was his faithful assistant.

We proceeded to remove a couple of solid wood doors that separated a hallway at the back of our house so that the in-law apartment had its own enterance. Since we plan on re-connecting the apartment to the rest of the house, we figured we didn't need them. Hauling them up to the attic was a chore, but we managed.

We managed to get a lot done today... lots of cleaning, organizing and it took a while just to get our garbage ready for collection tommorrow. We bought a lot of things for the house this week, so we had a vast amount of cardbord to bundle up.

For lunch, we had take away from Taste Good (so far, my absolute favorite dish is the vegetarian curry "chicken"), and we began listening to the nooner on 102.1, the edge (i have been listening to this radio station since i was in high school... i remember it when it was an independant station)...

That's when we heard about the terroism bombings in London. And we turned on CNN. Still brings tears to my eyes. So does any war coverage. ANyone bleeding and in pain makews me cry. Then again, i have been told that i cry too easily. I lived in London for a short period of time about 15 years ago. MJy cousin, Gene used to tell me to not take the tube, due to IRA bombings... used to scare the shit out of me just going down into those deep tunnels. I can't even imagine the pure and total fright those people endured. I hope no one ever in any place on the planet, no matter what they have ever done has to endure that kind of horror ever again.

This weekend, my mom is coming to visit. She hasn't been here since the wekend we moved, when she and my dad helped us move in some boxes and the last minute odds and ends after the movers had brought over all the heavy stuff. The last time she saw the house it was full of boxes.

Tomorrow, i want to clean clean clean and make it look as perfect as it can be, but i know that is obsessive so i won't do it. Oh, that doesn't mean i won't clean, i just won't be obsessive. It's not like i feel like i need to impress her; it's just what i do if i haven't given the house a good scrub down recently and we are having a house guest. I tend to be one of those kinds of people that wants everything to be clean always and i fight against that... else i would drive (e:uncutsaniflush) crazy! He's already a very patient man, i don't need to press the issue....

My parents are still married (40 years on July 23rd), but my dad will be remaining at home. He was invited, but he doesn't seem to enjoy being anywhere but in his arm chair night after night. My mom, however, would rather be active and out and social. I have no idea how they have remained married. It sure isn't because they are happy together...

We figure Friday night, we will go to Knox Albright. On Saturday morning, we are planning a trip to the zoo, since my mom REALLY wants to feed the lorikeets at lorikeet landing, and we learned the other day that earlier is better (they birdies get full by the end of the day!). My mom wants to go book shopping, so i reckon we will have to find time to do that... I was thinking that perhaps Taste of Buffalo might be a good thing, too... depends on what we all feel like doing.

Today, we ordered the housewarming gift my parents are giving us. We looked everywhere for nice and comfy chairs for our front porch, and at Target we found the best we could... they wouldn't take "we can't find any" as an answer. Here's what we ended up with:

Yesterday, (e:uncutaniflush) and i were disappointed to find out that OLN channel wasn't a part of cable here the way it was when we lived in Knoxville. Then, we were even more disappointed to find out that our basic digital cable didn't carry it either. So, today, we decided to order and upgrade to the next level of digital cable... and watched what remained of the Tour de France.

It also included some film channels. Tonight i watched a British film on Sundance and then decided to go exploring.

I found the LOGO network airing Torch Song Trilogy (Harvey Rules!) and i nosticed a lot of gay friendly advertisements. So, i thought i would look them up online. I had heard that one of the MTV channels was turning into something called LOGO... and what i found out makes me go 'yay!'.

From their site: For the first time ever, Gay America has a home on television where we can go to see ourselves. On LOGO you will see more than 200 lesbian and gay films, an ongoing documentary series, newscasts tailored for a gay and lesbian audience and quality original shows and specials. Programming that reflects our lives. Programming that tells our stories.

I saw her birth, and i saw her death. I miss my cat, Diamond, sometimes more than i think i still should after 8 months.

She was born in my friend Tracey's apartment on the corner of Spring and King Streets in Hamilton, Ontario on May 23rd, 1986 at about 1 in the afternoon. I told my friends to call me once the deed was done; i have such a weak stomach. But i made it just as the kittens were being born. Tracey noticed one kitten had a "half diamond" on her forhead, and thus, she was named Diamond.



There was only one other kitten born, a shorthaired orange tabby that looked so much like his dad it was weird. Since my family had an orange tabby when i was a kid, i really wanted the other kitten. But Diamond had other ideas. She would follow me around and i would tell her to get back to Ocean, her mom... but i guess she adopted me. Scot, Tracey's roomate really liked Diamond and he had a bit of a hard time letting her go. I even offered for him to keep her, but they already had 2 cats (and i both of them were fixed shortly after these kittens were born!). Scot visited Diamond for a while, but we lost touch.



When Diamond was about a year, she began having digestive problems and i spent more money than i had for her surgery. I sacrificed the way any good mom is supposed to. I went hungry to pay her medical bills. And she made it through ok. With a fairly strict diet that thankfully wasn't expensive.

We moved around a lot... within Hamilton, and she moved in with my parents for a while when i was ill, and then when i was in England for 18 months, and from one coast of Canada (Hailifax) to another (Vancouver), and then back to Ontario. She even moved to the US of A with me when i married my sweet hubby.

Shortly after that, she adopted him, too.



She surprised him a few times... like when she made the most horrific noises at a cat at the glass door in our basement in Knoxville. She surprised me when she killed her first mouse, too... she seemed so mild mannered. She became a very poor mouser in her old age, however. We had to practically throw her on a field mouse that got in our house in Knoxville, and she still didn't manage to catch it.



Sometimes, she was very uncatlike. She made good friends with all the other animals i brought home including a rat, a mouse, turtles, fish and her bestest buddy, Oscar the rabbit. Named after Oscar Wilde, but he wasn't so wild himself. She would play with him, chase him around my apartment, and then, she would run from him chasing her. When he died, she wouldn't get out of his cage for a couple of days. I understood how she felt... i missed him, too.

When she got to be about 16, i noticed a bit of a change in her... i could see she was slowing down, even if i did not want to admit it. On my 35th birthday, when she was 17, we were supposed to be away on a holiday, and instead we spent the day fretting over her medical tests... more digestive problems. That never went away. She had a muscle problem that resultied in her not being able to poop out what was in her body.... she had to have enemas regularly and it was torture for her. Then, one day, she tried to jump up on our bed, and missed. She limped slightly on and off for a while, but this was worse, The vet thought she might have had a stroke, and the problem with her digestion could be part of it, since it was exellerating. I made the torturous decision that she should not be tortured any longer.


On October 25, 2004, she took her last breath. She never got the chance to live here with us in Buffalo. I wish she did. I miss her. I would tolerate her long white fur up my nose and on all of my black clothing right now if i could.

This is the last picture of her that was ever taken...