Toxic Waspulinity, Bread Fail, I’m Published in “Purr and Yowl”!

I was minding my own business writing up a grocery list a few nights ago when I started to notice an annoying, high-pitched and persistent buzzing sound. At first I thought I was imagining it, but then I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I figured a fly must be loose in the apartment, and I set my pen down to go investigate. I was shocked to find not a common little housefly, but rather, a huge wasp. In our apartment. In November. How on earth a wasp made it into our apartment remains a mystery. We haven’t opened a window since late August, and there’s an outside door that seals off our front door from a small foyer, which makes it impossible for said wasp to have come in directly through the outside. This led to much pondering, careful observations of the wasp’s flying patterns, surprisingly calm negotiations about the best way to remove the wasp, worried musings that there might be a nest somewhere in the apartment, then finally, deft removal of the wasp thanks to a roll of monk cloth and Mr. Typist’s heroism. In all of this, there was ongoing discussion of the wasp’s gender, which I labeled as male due to his aggressive territorialism and his general menacing demeanor. “He’s obviously exhibiting toxic...waspulinity,” I argued. Once the monk cloth containing the wasp had been securely deposited on the deck for later dealings-with, I expressed immediate concern that it was going to “lay eggs out there,” at which Mr. Typist chortled and pointed out that I just labeled the wasp a male, so eggs shouldn’t be a worry.

The next day when the monk cloth was retrieved, the wasp was nowhere to be found. That is one tough-ass wasp, whatever its gender. It managed to ninja its way into our apartment, and survived not only being wrapped (loosely) in monk cloth, but fought its way out and flew off into the 40-degree night, probably to go wreak havoc on another innocent couple. I have to admire it, toxic waspulinity non-withstanding.

I know I got all excited a few weeks ago about that loaf of bread I baked, and I got a little high on my own supply and decided that I would bake bread weekly. It turns out, I haven’t baked bread since. I got a package of sourdough, and the second I read the instructions, I knew it would be a bridge too far. Wait, I have to knead it and add yeast? I have to cover it and let it sit for two hours? I have to mix it and sprinkle it and let it sit again, and then bake it? Nah, too complicated, too many steps. It seems the bread was a one-and-done, unless I can find another gloriously easy kit like the foccacia. I never claimed to be Betty Crocker.

Folks, I am so, so excited to announce that I have two poems published in “Purr and Yowl,” an anthology about cats! I am super-stoked about this, not only because the editor is one of my favorite people, David D. Horowitz, but because it’s an excellent anthology, and I’m published along with some true literary heavy-weights, which makes me feel both proud and humbled. The publisher, World Enough Writers, put together a beautiful publication, full of humor and horror and joy and anguish--all things associated with owning a psychopathic furball. I received my contributor’s copy a few days ago, and I have been reading it with awe and delight ever since. Hint, hint: It would make a great Christmas present for those cat lovers in your life. You can order your copy here:

Purr and Yowl

I promise you will not be disappointed. Until next time, stay safe out there, and don’t tangle with any wasps!

--Kristen McHenry