Look at daily prompt with the perfect Saturday/Caturday morning question.
My favorite cartoon is not a moving cartoon but a cartoon figure.
It all started when my father brought me home a pencil case with her image on it. He had been traveling again, and found this on his travels. I must’ve been four years old, at a time when the brain is impressionable. We also had cats, so it seems like it was a foregone conclusion that this character would become my favorite, and it extends to present day.
Hello Kitty (original design)
Once, I had a cat named Kitty. During the time of her years in my home, there was a TV commercial that repeatedly stated, “Hello Kitty!” It was a rather annoying commercial, actually. But the cat kept hearing her name and turned her head toward the humans in the home as if to say, “What?! I’m right here! Stop this thing saying hello to me.” She was so annoyed. And it was amusing.
Kitty (four pounds of badassery)
If you haven’t guessed by now, my favorite cartoon is Hello Kitty. For many years, I didn’t know Hello Kitty has a twin sister, nor a pet cat (?!?!). She also has a boyfriend named Dear Daniel, but he’s kind of sketchy. He has that tomcat vibe. You know the type: they only come around when they want to see you. They don’t call, they don’t text, they’re just out here on the streets looking cute talking to all the girls. He has that stray cat strut. Mmm, hmm.
Dear Daniel (See? Sketchy.)
I am an adult. And I am not ashamed to say Hello Kitty can be found throughout my home. She’s in my car, hanging from my rearview mirror. She’s on my floor mats. I have several items of clothing with her face on them. I contemplated a tattoo, but never followed through with it. At least not yet.
Chococat, another Sanrio cat, gets a shout out today because he is a friend of Hello Kitty, it’s Caturday, and he’s cute.
As tennis fans celebrate the return of Rafael Nadal to the game in 2024, for what is expected to be his final season, we look back to the year 2006. Rafael Nadal was ranked Number 2 in the world, and had just turned 20 years old two months’ prior. Rafael joined me for an informal interview over breakfast in the restaurant of a hotel in Mason, Ohio, home of the Cincinnati Masters (as it was known at that time).
Many thanks to Rafael Nadal for this interview, and I wish him well in the next phase of his life.
Thursday, August 17, 2006, 9:20AM
This morning I had breakfast with Rafa. Well, he had breakfast, I had water. Originally, we had planned to do a brief question and answer session last night in the atrium of the hotel where we are both staying here in Mason, Ohio, but plans got a bit muddled and a new time of 9:20 a.m. was established.
I arrive at the atrium at the designated time, with my pink notebook, digital camera and Micro RC Racer pen in tote (I demonstrated my mini race car pen for Rafa later. “Yes, I see your car pen,” he humored me.) Minutes later, Rafa ambles down the hall, lugging with him a large cardboard box and chatting on the phone. He points in the general direction of the restaurant, indicating I should follow.
My short legs struggle to keep up with his long strides, but we make it. We are seated at a table near the front and Rafa takes off for the buffet. I sip my water the waitress brings and wait patiently, a bit nervous because I’ve never interviewed anyone before. Rafa arrives with a box of Frosted Flakes and is no longer on the phone. The waitress returns to take Rafa’s beverage order and he surprises me with his answer: hot chocolate. “Funny!” I tell him.
“Read my shirt!” (The print of my shirt reads Yeah, yeah…just give me the chocolate!) “I saw that,” he smiled and laughed. The waitress returns with the hot chocolate and there is no whipped cream. I frown. “You can’t have hot chocolate without whipped cream…” Rafa agrees and asks nicely for some whipped cream. Following Rafa’s consumption of the now melted whipped cream, he then proceeds to pour the entire contents of his Frosted Flakes box into his hot chocolate.
I do a mild shift in my chair. “That’s interesting…” I say. Rafa assures me it is done like this in Spain all the time. The only difference, he says, is that the hot chocolate is made with milk, not with water. We both agree that would taste much better. I’ll have to try the Frosted Flakes/hot chocolate combination when I really need a sugar rush. As Rafa eats his breakfast, the “real” questions begin.
“Do you like this tournament? Do you feel this tournament is helpful to your preparation for the US Open?” Rafa nods, “Yes, I am happy here. I did not play that well in Toronto. My goal is to play well in the US Open.” He mentions to me later on that he has been practicing three and a half hours each day since before this Cincinnati tournament began. I then ask him what his favorite tournament is. He tells me he likes many of them and can’t choose just one. Just about that time, the first fan comes up for an autograph and Rafa diligently signs. “Does it bother you when people ask you for your autograph when you are eating?” I ask. He shakes off my question. “No, it does not. It does not bother me.” Next question: “What’s the weirdest thing a fan has ever given you?” He does not understand me, so he enlists the table of Spanish-speaking men next to ours for help.
The answer: “A rock.” I stare at him. “A rock. Somebody gave you a rock.” One of the men at the table piped up to Rafa, “A rock, just like you.” They all laughed. Rafa let out a small chuckle. He didn’t understand my next question either, and I felt badly that I didn’t know enough Spanish to help him. (My goal: learn Spanish for next time.) But it was an important one, I thought, so again, our friendly neighbors assist. “I want to know what makes him laugh. What kinds of things does he find funny?” Rafa responds, “A lot of different things.” I think he said he likes to laugh and I gave him the universal thumbs-up sign for that response.
“So, when you win a tournament, is it the same feeling each time, or is it just a bit different?” Still munching on his Frosted Flakes concoction, he says, “No, no, it is not always the same feeling each time.” And that was that. “Rafa, this is my first visit to this tournament and I notice sometimes it can be…well…a bit boring when there is no tennis to watch. What do you do for fun during tournaments?” Rafa replies, “I have my computer, I play golf…” I ask if he will go to King’s Island Amusement Park.
He scoffs a bit. “Oh, well, maybe if I lose I will go there.” Cleary his mind is on work, not play. My last question before the interview ended was a bit odd, apparently. “Rafa, can you wiggle your ears?” He stared at me blankly. I lifted my hair to demonstrate. Wiggle, wiggle.
He looked down to his cereal, almost disturbed, and clearly flustered. “No, no, I cannot do that.” Oops. I hope I haven’t violated some kind of ear conduct code. Sorry, Rafa! Then the interviewee asks the interviewer some questions. “Where do you live?” he asks. “About nine hours from here, in a place that looks very much like this place – boring! And here I travel all this way to end up in a place that looks like my home.”
He seemed sympathetic. He lives in Mallorca – he should be sympathetic. He is also sympathetic of my severe sunburn, telling me, “Well, it’s hot…” It’s getting close to the time when Rafa needs to leave for practice. One more fan walks up to the table and Rafa grapples with spelling out personalized autographs using English names for the letters.
He perseveres and gets it right. Rafa asks for the check, signs for it and we’re off. A hotel staff member takes a photo of Rafa and me (I poke him in the back and whisper for him to smile – he does), and he says, “Okay, Amy, see you soon,” or something to that effect. He was already on the move, eager to work off those Frosted Flakes on court, I’ll bet.
Yes, I work with them every day. Oh. You mean the kind that live outside? Sure, I see them, too. Now, Daily Prompt, it’s nap time. You’ve been asking questions like this all week and I think you’ve had too much sugar. It’s probably the gummy vitamins. Time to go sleep it off.
Most importantly, I excel at bumping into inanimate objects and asking for forgiveness for my transgressions from said objects. The objects usually accept my apology, but not before inflicting nasty bruises on one of my limbs. Do the objects ever apologize for this bodily harm? Nope.
I am great at singing – in a terrible voice – to my plants, who each have names and who bloom better when they’re spoken to. For example, Chris, Princess Peaches and Penelope are all in bloom right now. They are Christmas cacti. Of course, the blooming has nothing to do with the time of year, it is all due to my singing.
I’m well known for naming my cars and my house appliances. For example, my new refrigerator is named Elizabeth, and directly across from her is Mr. Darcy, the stove. Elizabeth stands there, tall and proud, minding her business. Mr. Darcy stares at her from across the room. He seems frustrated. Maybe that’s because he’s anchored to the wall.
I’m world-renowned for talking too much when I’m nervous, which often gets me into a pickle, which is unfortunate because I don’t like pickles.
Finally, you can ask any of my cat children and they’ll tell you: they each have 10 to 15 nicknames what I prattle off one after the other, whenever the feeling strikes, in that dulcet singing tone I possess.
What is one thing you would change about yourself?
The vitamin manufacturers know exactly what they are doing. They are making very expensive candy. It’s an outrage. Fifty dollars for a thirty days’ supply of CoQ10 gummies?! This supplement, as well as others, are recommended for me to take due to my chronic migraines. Vitamin D is necessary and very important for bone and immune system health. Probiotics are essential for gut health. Turmeric is amongst the most beneficial supplements due to its anti-inflammatory actions. Vitamin B12 is recommended for energy, and a host of other essential nerve functioning processes. Biotin is helpful for hair loss and fingernail growth. I could go on, but I will spare you, because I’m going to run out of space to type if I continue extolling the benefits of gummy vitamins (which is a very weak argument, let’s be honest).
Before you believe me to be complaining about all of this, you should know that when I lay out each of my gummies on my morning napkin, I have an order in which I chew them. Some brands are delicious, and some brands are trash. I eat the yucky ones first. I save the two best for last: the turmeric and the vitamin D. I alternate between these two until they are (gasp!) gone. There comes a point every morning where I reach for one more only to find an empty napkin. With a frown I glance at my white napkin with its yellow stain from the turmeric, and I want more gummies.
I am a willing participant in this scam that is known as gummies with a bit of vitamins sprinkled in them. I am an active gummy vitamin addict. And I have news for you: I’m going to do it all again tomorrow morning.
Not even the lure of Santa visiting the night before could get this toddler out of bed. Mommy and Daddy had to come gather a grumpy groggy me to see the presents under the tree in the morning. Me, probably: “This is cool and all, but can I just go back to bed and see these in a couple of hours?”
If left to its own devices – which means not needing to work – my body would wish to be a night person. It has been a night person in the past, especially when I was a teenager. But now…I’m lucky if I see 9 PM. Welcome to adulthood. Sleep is interrupted and brief, something is always broken or needing to be replaced, and you have now become an afternoon *person.
*subjective use of the word. May be substituted for caffeine-fueled skin bag with sputtering, smoke-spitting brain.
If you’re a tennis fan, you know that Rafael Nadal has been sidelined by injury for the past year.
Today, December 1, 2023, Rafael made the announcement that he will be returning to Brisbane, ahead of the 2024 Australian Open. Anyone who has followed Rafa on social media knows that he has been working hard to come back for one more year before retiring from tennis on his own terms. It’s not a secret that he – and most tennis fans everywhere – knows this is his final year on the pro tour. At 37 years of age, his body has essentially decided that it’s time to do other things. Rafa turned pro at the age of 14, which is a lot of mileage on a body. But, as one would expect from someone of Rafa’s ilk, he’s making one final push to achieve more. On his terms. I don’t blame him, I wouldn’t want to be forced out of my life’s calling, either.
I first became aware of Rafa Nadal during the Davis Cup competition when Rafa was 16 years old. I sat in my chair in my living room and stared in amazement at my television screen. I’ve been a tennis fan since I was 15 (which was 137 years ago), so I know when I see burgeoning greatness. But with Nadal, the greatness was already evident, the burgeoning had already happened, somewhere, somehow, without anyone seeing.
Since then, I have attended several tournaments where I have seen Rafael practice and play – there is a little distinction between the two, the ball is struck just as hard for a seemingly unrelenting amount of time. The quickness Rafa displayed, especially early in his career, was a marvel to witness. The sheer size of a tennis court doesn’t translate on a television. Sitting courtside, you become more aware, and standing on a court with a racket in your hands, you are painfully aware of the ground you must cover, but I digress. And I may be projecting, so please forgive me. I’m not able to chase down all the balls, but Rafael Nadal is otherworldly. He arrives to the court to battle. To chase every ball down, to attempt to hit every shot. When the score line reflects the opponent is winning, he still fights. The belief never leaves him. Never.
As I mentioned, I have attended several tournaments and have seen Rafa play firsthand. A most fortunate occasion occurred in 2006 at the Cincinnati Masters (as it was called then). I was given the opportunity to interview Rafa Nadal. He is intelligent, humble, funny, clumsy, and gracious. He has the heart of a warrior and his body that is now battle-proven (forget about tested – been there, done that) – is testament to his warrior spirit. But in 2006, Rafael Nadal was a youthful 20 years old, was not yet fluent in English, and I couldn’t speak much Spanish. More on that later.
I’ll leave you with this, for now. If you’ve ever shaken a professional tennis player’s hand, you’ll immediately notice the calluses. The blisters. The evidence of how hard they work every single day is just at your own perhaps smooth fingertips. The feel of hand of a warrior is a bit alarming. At the same time, as a tennis fan and as a less-than-mediocre tennis player myself, the feel of a hand of a warrior is exhilarating. To be able to sense with your own touch the mind, body and soul that goes into being a professional athlete is awe-inspiring.
I’m still in awe, but not about the calluses. I’m in awe at how long and successful a career Rafael has had, and how fortunate I have been to see it evolve. I am in awe of how time flies without realizing it even does. In his final year on the ATP tour, and in all endeavors to follow, I wish Rafael the very best.
In the next few days, I will be posting the interview that I conducted with Rafa back in 2006. It will be my contribution to the celebration of Rafa’s hugely successful tennis career. I’ll take you back to the beginning, as we look now to the end, with a smile on my face, and yes, a few tears. ¡Vamos, Rafa!
I think she did. I’ve told her to stay off the laptop numerous times. Usually she types something like, “bfnthrhfbdvrkihgdbd,” but I see this time she’s given it some thought
Well, it looks like she’s conducting a poll, and will be utilizing this information to convince me to buy the larger size of beef treats.
(She doesn’t know I bought the large bag of chicken-flavored treats, so I hope you understand that your answer to the question will be recorded and used at a later date.)
“It's Amy,” I said. 