Auburn Daze

HELLO 2012

2012-01-01T15:12:00.000-08:00

Goodbye 2011. It is my annual New Year's Post, which seems to be the only thing I post anymore. But let's see if we can change that.

Last year was the first and only year ever that I made a New Year's Resolution that I kept. I resolved to quit playing Farmville and I was successful - it was pretty easy to quit cold turkey, I only missed it for a few days.

This year I don't have a resolution as such, but I am remembering what my friend Liz told me years ago: "What you do on New Year's Day, you do for the rest of the year." So, on this New Year's Day, I write. I will endeavor to to write daily, something that I have always struggled with, and lately I found that it is easy not to write when I haven't recently written.

Today I write this blog. Tomorrow I write, though I know not what. I have stories to revise, one book to finish, another book to start, submissions to submit. I will endeavor to make daily writing a habit, because it is more productive to do something daily, and one gets better at something they do daily.

I think it is easier to resolve not to do something, than to resolve to do something, but with last year's success behind me, it is time to tackle the harder things. Right? Right.

The nice thing is that some of the writing will inevitably be blog posts. This is a good thing since I have so neglected this blog.

Recently, having been inspired by this photograph, I have been doing art cups. I find it a convenient and satisfying way to fulfill that urge to create visual art. The cool thing for me is that everyone I work with (all 4, including myself) get coffee at Repast in the Mount Baker neighborhood and she uses plain paper cups. I get to pull them out of the recycling and have a steady supply of "canvas". I am working on cup #8 today which is an homage to Charles Rennie MacIntosh - always a favorite. When I get back home I'll take some pictures of my art cups and post them.

So, as it is the end of one year and the beginning of a new year, I have been looking back a bit. Some highlights:

1) I got to go to Alaska for 3 weeks this year to visit my little* brother and my lovely sister-in-law Lana, and the girls, Sophia and Coco. It was wonderful to be able to spend all that time with them, to see Sophia dance at UA Anchorage, to go with Coco to her swim lessons. I learned very quickly to identify Moose poop, we spent time on the Kenai River and had twice daily visits from a family of Bald Eagles. I saw a glacier and fell in love with the amazing beauty of Alaska.

2) I got to be an aunt again when my dear friend Kellie had a baby girl named Mathilde Dmitryeva Liskin. She brings joy to our lives - It is so much fun to watch her grow to see her smile and personality develop. I am looking forward to many years of joy from that girl!

3) Speaking of new babies - My dear friends Stacy and Andrea gave birth to twin boys on December 19th! I have not yet met them since they live in Boston, but I am hoping that somehow I'll be able to get back east this year to see them.

4) I got a brief trip to L.A this September to help Kellie and Dmitry celebrate their marriage with their family. As a special treat, Melissa and I got to see a taping of the Craig Ferguson show - very fun! And I got to spend a few blissful days in the magical world of Ovid, which is always good for my soul.

5) Tim & Barbie had an impromptu visit to Seattle this summer, which made me sooo very happy. My older brother Jay visited in November, also making me sooo very happy! And, my peeps from Portland had their annual visit in December, making me sooo very happy! Do you see a trend here? If your New Year's Resolutions include making me sooo very happy, then a visit to Seattle is in your future!

6) My favorite uncle had some unexpected health problems, which thankfully have been resolved for the better, but it reminded me how much I love my family and how little I get to see them, even though it was kind of a bonus year for me and I got to see my aunt and uncle twice this year (They were visiting Seattle area, making me sooo very happy!). It would be nice to get to Lexington, KY and see all the family peeps who have found their way there - one trip and I could visit 3 family units - a bargain really. (bonus: I could do a bourbon tour.)

And, as last year, I continue to miss my Rochelle in ways and depths I had not thought possible. Does one ever get over the pain of such a loss? I fear not.

But it is time to look forward and my hopes are simple - to write daily, to love and keep in touch with those people so dear to me, to win the lotto so I can travel all over the world!

Happy New Year to all!

* Little brother? He's my younger brother, but well over six feet...

HELLO, GOODBYE

2011-01-04T11:10:00.001-08:00

Hello 2011, Goodbye 2010. I am definitely ready to say goodbye to that year. It wasn't great for me. Nor was it horrible. I'm just ready to move on.

Only one New Year's Resolution for me this year. I figure it's better to make one resolution and actually do it, than to make 5 or 10 and do none. So this year's resolution is no more Farmville on Facebook. I'm done. It was too distracting. It bordered on obsession, and I kind of pride myself in not being obsessive. So that's done. I don't even have to think about resolutions anymore because I reached my goal 4 days ago when I deleted all FV activity from my FB account. On to the next thing.

The really good part of this past year was, as always, friends and family. The brightest spot was a trip to Laguna Beach, CA for my beautiful niece's wedding. My brother and I searched online for months for a beach house we could rent that would fit the whole family, have plenty of bathrooms and be big enough for entertaining. We found a great house and everyone merged there. For a whole week, we had friends and new family over for dinner or breakfast, or afternoon beers. We spent days on the beach and wandering around one of my favorite towns which has barely changed in 35 years.

The wedding, of course, was beautiful. And fun. Vanessa figured out how to combine elegance and beauty with laughter and a great party! And her man Pat is a real find. I am so happy for her. The family she married into is so nice, (as Jeff has said of others in the past, "far too nice for the likes of us.") I know she will find love and acceptance there.

A bonus to being in Laguna Beach is that my dear friend Tim Link lives there and I got to spend time with him and Barbie almost every day. One night we had a combined birthday celebration for my dad (80), my mom (78) and my nephew Ryan (23). The new In-laws were invited and some of the bridal party was in town so they came and of course Tim and Barbie. We made Szekely Goulash for dinner (major Hungarian comfort food) and every one got to know each other a bit. It turns out that one of Tim and Barbie's good friend's is also a good friend of Joe and Suzanne Carey. Small world.

That trip was also nice because I got to spend a lot of time with my brothers. I flew into San Jose where there was a 3-way meet-up (and a drop off) with Jay, Jeff and myself. It was amazingly smooth. Those kind of things have the potential to go sideways but Jeff was in Petaluma and he rented a car down to San Jose. Jay was out on a weekend camping trip and had to drop his friend Molly O'Neal of at the airport to meet her husband Tom in Colorado. Her flight was about 45 minutes after I got in so it was perfect. Jeff found Jay, then he found me while Jay was rearranging the camping gear in order to accommodate our suitcases and then we were on our way. Spent Sunday in Carmel Valley unpacking and repacking the car and got up early Monday morning for a road trip down to Laguna. Can I just say, road trip with the brothers are the best!

So, that was the highlight of the year. The rest was day to day stuff with good bits like Thanksgiving and finding out that 2 good friends are having babies, visits to and from my good friends in Portland...

I accomplished a few things - I made 2 quilts with my friend Kellie for the Canaday House - transitional housing for the homeless. I finished 4 scarves that I had been working on (and off) for almost 2.5 years, and finally sent them to Anchorage for Jeff, Lana, Sophie and Coco. I started an Etsy shop and have sold a few things.

I guess my prevailing and underlying mood this past year though has been one of sadness... I miss my friend Rochelle, more than I ever thought possible. We always knew she would be the first to go, but I didn't think it would be soon. She tried to prepare me for these things - she had lost her mom so early, she was realistic about life and death. I remember once saying - I don't know what I'd do if my Grandma ever died. - and she said - when, not if. Once, morbidly, I tried to imagine what life without Rochelle would be like. I didn't imagine this. I am lucky. I have many really close friends, but, for whatever reason, Rochelle was the one I could talk to about anything, tell anything, work things out with. I trusted her completely to understand me, never to judge, to always be able to point out another perspective.

On our road trip, my brothers and I stopped in L.A. to get some Guayaba Y Queso pastries from Toch and then we when over to Berda's to visit a bit. Berda was Rochelle's aunt and is like family to me also. She had invited me to come down the previous weekend because they were going to bury Roch's ashes. So here we were the following weekend, and we went to the spot in the yard where they were buried and the grief became so raw and new again.

Anyway, I guess 2010 is the year I started learning how to live without Rochelle. It's been hard.

WHAT ELSE HAPPENED IN 1957?

2010-10-29T01:23:00.000-07:00

I was born 53 years ago today. And, in contemplating how I may celebrate this birthday I was thinking about how much the world has changed in 53 years. So I did some research and found some interesting events (besides my entrance in the world) in 1957.

Sputnik was launched on October 4th - The space age officially began. Wow. That is big. Really big. We then orbited earth, walked on the moon, started the space shuttle program and we now have a space station. No travel to distant planets. No encounters with beings from other planets. Well, none that we know of. We do have Star Trek though, and that's a comfort and joy.

The “Little Rock Nine” integrated a Little Rock, Arkansas high school. Two years before, Rosa Parks refused to sit at the back of the bus. Three years after, President Eisenhower signs the Civil Rights Act. But today I'm thinking about those nine high school kids who had the courage to go to school every day while mobs of angry, nasty, vicious white people yelled at them and called them names. Like walking a gauntlet every day. Eisenhower had to send troops to keep order and protect the kids. I wonder if I have ever had that kind of courage or fortitude. Or if I ever will.

On the theme of civil rights and breaking barriers, Althea Gibson won the Women’s singles competition at Wimbledon as well as the mixed doubles. She was the first black woman to join the tennis national tour and the first black woman to play in the LPGA.

Willem Kolff invented the temporary artificial heart

The Pacemaker was invented by Clarence W. Lillehie and Earl Bakk.

The first non-stop round-the-world flight - it took 45 hours, 19 minutes.

Around the World in 80 Days won Best Picture at The Academy Awards

West Side Story was playing to sold out audiences on Broadway

Dwight D. Eisenhower was President, Nixon was Veep.

And the Iconic '57 Chevy Bel Air was introduced

I share my birthday - day and year - with Dan Castellaneta - better known as Homer Simpson. Good company I think. I also share this day with singer/songwriter Toni Childs, whom I happen to know because she was a friend of my former roommate (and alleged husband) Ovid Pope. I didn't know we have the same birthday until today…

In 1957 one of my favorite writers, James Agee, published A Death in the Family, which was also the first book of his I read. Noam Chomsky was still doing his linguistic thing and published Syntactic Structures. Jack Kerouac published On the Road, a book much hailed by many, but I have yet to develop the patience to get through it.

1957 was also the year we sadly lost Humphrey Bogart and Arturo Toscanini. Joe McCarthy died that year too, but I'm thinking no big loss, eh? Just my opinion, I could be wrong.

The cost of a first class stamp was 3 cents. The Population of the United States was 1.7 million,,,today it is 310 million. Life expectancy was 69.5 years - now it is 78.1 years. The US GDP was 461 billion. Now it's 14,260 billion - which is really in the trillions, right? The Federal debt was 272 billion - now it's 12,300 billion - which again, is really trillions…

Unemployment then: 4.1% Unemployment now: 9.6%

The Consumer Price Index measures changes through time in the price level of consumer goods and services purchased by households (according to Wikipedia). In 1957 it was 28.1. Today it is 214.5. I don't really know what that means, but I think we pay a lot more now for stuff than we did then - but then again, we make more too…when we're employed…which I'm not…much…

So, 2010… no hover cars, no jet pack travel, no going to mars for lunch, but still pretty cool. We have computers and internet. Internet… that is something the old Sci-fi writers never imagined, and it's one of the coolest things we have. I did the research for this without leaving my room and in about 5 minutes. I remember telling a story to someone recently about researching an artist and his work for an employer who thought he wanted to invest in a piece (note to all - art is not an investment - you buy it because you love it). I learned more than I wanted to know about the artist and his work (which I was not particularly in like with) yadda yadda yadda, and when I finished the story, I wondered how in the hell did I do the research - in my mind I did it on the internet - googled it and all, but this was back in 1986 - there was no internet! Hmmmm…

1957 - 2010 There were some great beginnings of things the years I was born. Maybe not all of it went the way we thought, but then what ever does? We have some cool stuff and we've made progress in areas once thought impossible - after all, we elected a black president - that's pretty damn awesome. But we also have global climate change - not cool; pollution, over-population and diminishing resources - not cool; wars being waged around the globe - 2 being started by my country - not cool.

However, I am a cynic with hope (which I think is a good internal balance) and I would like to tie this all up with my favorite new quote which I heard just the other day on NPR…

"The good news is that if everyone is part of the problem, then everyone can be part of the solution." ~ Enric Sala

Sanguineous Tale

2010-09-13T21:40:00.000-07:00

This morning I got up and took the #30 bus down the Adobe headquarters in Fremont because I had an appointment with the Blood-mobile there. I have donated blood at the Blood-mobile before, and I have also tried to donate at the brick and mortar Puget Sound Blood Center. The problem with the non-mobile donation center is that the people working there seem to be newbies, while the folks at the Blood-mobile are veterans. And, the problem with newbies is that they lack the experience - I was poked twice in one arm and once in the other, but they never hit the vein. The trip was in vain. No blood donated.

So, this morning, I went to the Blood-mobile. I happened to have the same gentleman who helped me last time and we were chatting a bit. He mentioned that he liked that I donate regularly and I said that I kind of feel obligated being an O-neg universal donor. "What?" says he, while showing me my official PSBC donation print out. And there it is in black and white: A-pos.

A-positive?!! How can that be? I've always been O-neg!

I felt disoriented, like I had stepped into someone else's body...

"There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call the Twilight Zone. "

I started hyper-ventilating a bit. How could my blood have changed. Through the loud pounding in my ears I faintly heard his voice, "We see this a lot if your blood was typed in the military...lots of mistakes."

But I've never been in the military. Wait a minute... I was born when my Dad was in the Air Force. I had an operation when I was 2 at the military hospital in Tachikawa. Is this where we were told my blood type? Hmmm...

The pounding in my ears is fainter now and I hear him say clearly, "That's OK. We always need A-pos. We are always running low on A-pos."

OK. Reset the self image. The blood is A-pos. They always need A-pos. Everything is going to be alright. No need to panic.

No need to panic, but definitely a need for blood donations. Go to the Puget Sound Blood Center and make an appointment at a blood drive near you.

OPEN LETTER TO FACEBOOK

2010-09-13T08:13:00.000-07:00

Dear FaceBook -

Please stop improving your website. I know constant improvements can justify your place in the universe and provide jobs in a bad economy, but I think your place in the universe is sufficiently intact and needs no justification - just be. If you want to continue providing jobs, then perhaps instead of tweaking and re-tweaking an already viable site, why not set your sights on developing the next big thing?

Because here's the deal - your improvements do not enhance my use of the website. And isn't that the only reason, the Excalibur if you will, of web development? Enhancing user experience? It is. We all know it is. And so, you are treading close to the big FAIL.

In particular, I would like to mention that every time my mouse slides over your page, a pop-up appears - a box with a persons profile picture and buttons to click to add as a friend or to send a message. COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY. We all know how to click on a persons name or picture should we desire to send them a message or add them as a friend. We, your users, are not idiots. These pop-ups, like all pop-ups in the entire world, are annoying. Really, you should know better. Shame on you. In addition to annoying, these particular pop-ups linger, blocking the content I wish to see. Double shame on you.

So to re-cap, you have:

Annoyed me

Underestimated my intelligence

Blocked content

Failed to optimize my user experience (UX)

And, Annoyed me (worth mentioning again, I think)

Thank you for your website which has and continues to re-connect me with people - both those I want and those I don't. But, please stop with the annoyance.

Sinserely,

Auburn-Daze

NECTARINE COBBLER

2010-09-07T18:15:00.001-07:00

In these waning days of summer I had a flat of Nectarines ripening up. But as it can happen, they were all ripe at once and there was no way to eat them all before they went bad. Nectarines + Ripe at same time = Cobbler.

The first thing to do is peel them. The easy way to do this is to boil some water first - when it's boiling you drop in the fruit for a few seconds. After they cool off, the skin separates from the fruit and peels right off.

Cut the nectarines up...

Add the sugar and spice - cinnamon and my fave, cardamom...

Add some flour or cornstarch or quick tapioca and mix. My preferred addition is the tapioca, but I wasn't making this at home and had no tapioca, so I used flour.

Preheat your oven to 350 and put the fruit in to start cooking.

While the fruit is cooking, get your flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in a bowl...

Whisk it together to completely blend...

Add your cut up butter - remember it must be cold...

Use your hands or a pastry cutter to mix it into a coarse meal...

Add 1/2 cup of boiling water and...

Mix until it just comes together.

Remove the partially cooked fruit from the oven...

Spoon the biscuit mix over the top - it doesn't have to be pretty. Cook for about another 1/2 hour.

Et viola! Cobbler!

FLIP FLOP FLOP

2010-09-02T22:15:00.000-07:00

One of the reasons I like warmer weather is because I can wear my favorite footwear: flip flops. Also known as thongs or, as we said when we were youngsters in Japan, zoris. By the way, zoris is not grammatically correct, it should be zori. It's the same singular or plural. Like deer and deer. But I digress into etymology - bad habit.

So flip flops. I switch to them as early in the season as I can, and I try to stretch the summer as long as I can. I am never eager to put away the flip flops. This summer in Seattle has been unusually warm with some bizarrely cold days thrown in intermittently. Tuesday was rainy and cold - I don't think it got above 54 or so. Everyone wondered if summer had gone. No. It's still here. But my flip flops are not.

I fell down today and one of my flip flops broke. The toe thing ripped out. No way to repair it. I got on the bus, one foot properly shod, the other bare. On the way home I stopped at a Walgreens to buy another pair of flip flops, but they were out. It may still be in summer in Seattle, but in Walgreens the seasonal stuff is for October and Halloween. I bought a pair of slippers. The size said large, but I have big Hungarian peasant feet, and I could barely get them on. Still, I didn't have to walk around the city bare foot.

There used to be a time when I could wear any old flip flop, but as I get older, it's harder. My feet, like everything else, need more support. Last year I discovered the Adidas flip flop with arch support. They are fabulous. I can wear them all day without any foot pain. Tomorrow I have to go on the hunt for another pair, but as I rode the bus home I was remembering other flip flops and flip flop failures.

Those of you who know me will not be surprised to find out that this isn’t the first time I've fallen and broken this particular type of footwear. A few years ago in Florida I was shopping at the Wal-Mart while waiting for my cousin to finish her appointment. We had one of those days with torrential rain for about an hour, then sunny skies. As I walked across the Wal-Mart parking lot to my cousin's car, I tripped and fell forward into a giant puddle. I was wet from head to toe, and I broke one of my flip flops. So, I got up and went back into the store and bought another pair.

This falling and breaking flip flops could be attributed to my general clumsiness, but I blame it on one leg being slightly shorter than the other. It's not really shorter, but ever since I had knee surgery 30 years ago, it doesn't bend all the way, nor does it straighten all the way - effectively making it shorter. I like this theory better than the idea that I lack a certain grace.

When I was traveling in India with my friend Kellie, I had my favorite flip flops with me. (Flip flops are really the only footwear needed in India.) They were easily about 20 years old, but they were the type that had the thicker rainbow sole, except instead of rainbow mine went from bright orange to yellow, natch. They also had the super comfy woven thong part in yellow. I loved them. So comfy, so dependable, like a old friend they were. One evening we were on the train going from Mumbai to Arangabad - first class sleeper, very nice - and I took off my flip flops and put them under my sleeping platform thingy. About a half hour before our stop, the steward came by and woke us up. I went to put on my flip flops but there was only one there. Turns out that all down the length of the train the partitions between sleeping cubicles do not go all the way to the floor. Sometime in the night one of my flip flops evidently went skittering around the train. I got down on my hands and knees and looked for it to no avail. I couldn't really go into the other cubicles and look because they were occupied. So I put the single shoe into my backpack and pulled out my sneakers. The next day I bought a pair of Indian flip flops.

Indian flip flops. Definitely made of an inferior grade of foam rubber. In the end I bought several pair throughout our travels because they wore out so quickly. But they only cost about 10 or 20 rupees which is less than 50 cents at most. A couple of weeks later, maybe when we were in Pushkar or Jailselmer, Kellie asked me why I was still carrying around the one flip flop. I don't know why. I didn't want to part with it. Then I realized that what I was hoping was that as we continued our travels, the other flip flop would catch up with us, or, reappear on another train. How absurd. I tossed it. Adios favorite flip flops. India is magical, but it's not that magical.

Keep your fingers crossed that I'll find some great zori tomorrow!

THE FACEBOOK DILEMMA

2010-06-16T20:07:00.000-07:00

I have been on Facebook for several years now, and I really enjoy it. I like seeing regular picture updates of my nieces in Alaska, and keeping up with far away friends that I normally would talk to maybe once or twice a year. I feel much more connected to everyone. And I've been reconnected to so many people that I had lost track of.

That being said, recently I've had friend requests from people from my high school days. I've been out of high school for more than 35 years, so this is a little weird for me.

Now for some people the high school years are wonderful. Filled with great memories. For others, those years are the dark abyss. The time you prayed would pass as quickly as possible. End the misery. I fall into the latter category. Not everything was bad, but overall, it was the worst time of my life. A time I would never want to re-live.

So, recently, a two people from high school connected with me on Facebook, and I was happy to re-connect. Then someone else found me through one of the friends, and while I didn't really remember her, I recognized the name, and it didn't really evoke any nightmare memories, so I accepted the friend request. It helped that she was also a FarmVille player, and all of you who have that particular addiction, you know we always want new farming neighbors, right?

Well, it seems something of an mini-landslide of high school friend requests have started. (Near as I can tell, one of the "friends" is chairing the upcoming reunion.) I've managed to avoid these people for over 35 years, but now here they are, wanting to be my friend, when most of them didn't give a damn about me in high school. Some of them are fairly benign - I know who they are, though we were never really "friends". Others are people who made my high school life miserable.

I wonder if they know they made my life miserable? I wonder if they've changed?

On the subject of change I have two theories. The first is that we are essentially who we are and the essence of us does not change. The second is that we change as we grow and the people we were in high school are not necessarily the people we are now.

I know those theories are contradictory, but really, is anything in life cut and dry? I guess what I mean is that I think that people can change, but that most don't change.

On the subject of avoidance - I did not intentionally set out to avoid everyone from high school, I just got out of the neighborhood as quickly as possible. I moved to far away places, I traveled, I lost touch in the era of long distance phone bills and snail mail. But to be truthful, I did not miss many people - I was finally out of the misery inducing environment and doing what I wanted to do.

So here is the Facebook dilemma: To "friend" or not to "friend"?

I have been struggling with this for a few months, and I am now accepting "friends" from high school. For the time being I figure, why not, and I can always block them! But seriously, it is really strange. I am so disconnected from that part of my life - 4 years in 52 - less than 8% of my life and the percentage is getting smaller everyday. For some of these people, I guess the high school years may seem closer as some of them still live in the same town, or fairly close by. But for me, I cringe when I am in the old neighborhood, and living thousands of miles away, I don't get there often.

This coming October I will be in Laguna Beach, less than ten miles from my high school. I will be busy with my niece's wedding, and I really doubt that we will be anywhere near the old homestead, but thinking about it gives me the heebie-jeebies just a bit. The reunion is in November, but I will not be attending, I don't need to fly down two months in a row. Besides, it's on Thanksgiving weekend, and Thanksgiving is the only holiday I consider sacred. I will be in Seattle celebrating with friends I met later in life, but friends I will cherish until the end of my days.

A Day in the Cafe

2009-12-08T13:52:00.000-08:00

There are many reasons I like to work in the local coffee houses... getting out of the house, good coffee, good pastries, free wifi, interesting people.

Now that last one. Interesting people. That's a really good one. Sometimes the interesting people are people I know but haven't seen in a while and it is a serendipitous thing to run into them. Most times they are new people I meet, or surrepticiously listen in on, without introduction.

Sometimes there are crazies and that's always interesting too.

But usually it's normal interesting people. Once I met a guy who was in one of my classes at Seattle Central Community College. It was a class that was really 99% lab, so the chances of us meeting in class were slimmer than meeting in public.

One day I met a guy who tutors people in programming and I have his email and will be using his services when I take SQL, MySQL and PHP classes.

Today I sat next to two people who were translating a Chinese novel (it sounded like it might have been a murder mystery). They had the book, a stack of notes and a huge chinese dictionary. They argued over specific characters (Chinese writing characters that is) and the essence of their meaning as well as what they thought the author intended. They would come up with five or six ways to translate one sentence. Very interesting.

Now, at the next table, there is a web designer who is explaining to her customer, his new website, built on the Wordpress content management system (CMS), and as I listen, I realize I have a much better understanding than she does, of what can be done with the Wordpress platform. It makes me feel good, since I am so totally a beginner!

OK - back to work for me.

Friday in L.A.

2009-10-02T18:36:00.000-07:00

Ovid picked me up at the airport and then we went to the Arenas' Barber Shop where DeeDee and Stevie Arenas were doing their hair thing. DeeDee cleaned up Ovid's attemps at cutting his own hair and we all got caught up - it's been 17 years since I've seen either of them, but time doesn't really matter, does it?

Then we stopped for gas and here's Ovid, just being Ovid...

Here's a shot of O's green suede shoes - he always had interesting shoes - I didn't check out his socks, but he is known (at least I know him to) buy ladies socks because they have better colors!

Ovid - up close and personal - there's a twinkle in his eye, even if you can't see it past the sunglasses.

After that we met up with Nathan Stein and Nikki (fromL.A. Guns) and caught the new Michael Moore movie. Pretty soon my awesome neice, Vanessa will be here, and then a good day will be even better.

RUM CAKE PROGRESSIVE

2009-09-23T20:01:00.000-07:00

While vacationing in Florida this summer, we celebrated a couple of birthdays. Those of you familiar with my blog may recall that our family has a special cake for celebrations - the HUNGARIAN RUM CAKE. In all our years of making this cake, I believe this might be the first time we've photographed it's progression... Here it is all put together in the spring form pan:

At this stage most of the work is done - the three cakes have been made and torn apart so that we can layer them with jam, chocolate custard, and simple syrup with Meyer's dark rum in it (dyed red and green of course - like the Hungarian flag!). After it's put together, we drizzle rum (Meyer's dark rum again) over it and put a flat surface on top and then weigh it down - usually with jugs of water, though my friend Tim recently made this cake and he used a rather large rock from the garden as a weight.

Now comes at least a week of drizzling at least once daily with rum and re-applying weight. The result is this:

The spring form pan has been removed and it has been inverted onto the cake plate. You can clearly see the layers and how much the cake has compacted. You can also see my mom, and our dear friend and fine cook, Louis Gualtieri, in the background. What you can't see is that Louis doesn't have his pants on!!!

Next comes the crumb coat. Normally I skip this step and make a simple powdered sugar glaze, but since my brother Jay, the pastry chef, is in town, he's doing the icing and he always does it right - because he's a damn professional!

Which is why he travels with his pastry bag and tips.

Of course, the chocolate that Mom has in the pantry isn't good enough for him to use to write the Happy B-Day message, so we are off in search of yards that have more blooms than ours - but first, we must take a break to make margaritas...

and play with our new toys...

OK - cousins are now trolling the neighborhood, looking for flowers to pilfer...

Et viola - the finished cake:

And the celebration:

THE UNEXPECTED

2009-09-10T07:35:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite things in a day is when I come upon the unexpected. Like these grapes.

I was racing around doing the last minute things I needed to do before I left on my 3 week vacation. One very important thing was to pick up perscription refills, so I was at the 45th Street Clinic in Wallingford doing just that. I found these grapes in their parking lot, hanging over a storage shed. It looked like they were growing from an adjacent backyard and had spread, unchecked.

The day was hot, but somehow, standing near these grapes the air felt lighter and cooler and I was compelled to slow down and find my camera and capture the unexpected.

THEY DON'T MAKE THEM LIKE THEY USED TO

2009-08-29T10:37:00.000-07:00

One of the nice things about being a public transportation girl is that I do a lot of walking and it's easy to stop and take pictures when you see something very cool. This amazing Lincoln Continental for instance:
I was walking down 15th Ave. in Interbay when I saw this beauty. Can you imagine the ride this would give? I think it would be more like gliding than driving. A road trip in a car like this wold be a luxury, except of course, I'd want it to be a convertible. But still... So, here are some detail shots - they don't make them like they used to...

HAPPY DANCE

2009-08-18T11:29:00.001-07:00

Yeah! I love it when I feel this way!
Too bad I can't express it the way Coco does.

FENCED IN

2009-08-13T11:39:00.000-07:00

Sometimes we have to admit failure. I finally did today, and I feel so much better. No longer fenced in by impossible tasks. I took too many classes this quarter, one being a programming class (not my strength). I finally decided today to take a "fail" in the class and re-take it in the fall or winter. What a relief! Headache instantly gone. Schedule not quite as insane. Peace has descended. Well, not quite.

The thing about programming classes is that you not only have to learn a new language - the computer language - but you have to learn the jargon that the instructor speaks. The teacher would ex-plain something and all the programmers say, "OK". The rest of us say, "What did he say?"

Bothered and Bewildered am I. Not Bewitched.

On now to accomplish reasonable tasks and goals... then some working vacation time... hanging out with the family... perhaps some serious drinking, pool playing and body surfing... maybe even some writing...

SUMMER HYDRANGEAS

2009-08-09T19:40:00.000-07:00

For some reason, Hydrangeas always remind me of grandmas...maybe that's why I love them so much. According to Wikipedia, the Hydrangea is native to Southern and Eastern Asis as well as North and South America.

Hydrangeas come in 3 basic styles; the mophead, the lacecap, and a cone shaped flower cluster. The mophead variety is by far the most popular with more than 600 cultivars. It is my favorite, but the lacecap is growing on me. This is a flatter shaped flower cluster with small, fertile flowers in the center, surrounded by larger infertile flowers - much like a lace cap.

Most Hydrangeas are naturally a creamy white but can range in color from deep to light blue, through the shades of purple and into the pinks. The color depends on the PH of the soil: A neutral soil will produce white flowers; an acidic soil will produce blue flowers; and, an alkaline soil will produce pink or purple flowers. Hydrangeas are hyperaccumulating plants, specializing in the soaking up of aluminum ions.

You can change the color of your flowers by amending your soil, however, newer cultivars have been developed to produce specific colors of flowers. You can change these colors a bit or, enhance them with soil amendments, but if you bought a bright pink cultivar, chances are you'll never get it to turn blue. A few years ago I saw a beautiful creamy yellow hydrangea cultivar on Martha Stewart's TV show, but I have never seen it since.

Hydrangeas like a moist, well drained soil and sunlight. They can tolerate some shade and I would recommend afternoon shade. Hydrangeas that have the full afternoon (hottest) sun tend to have faded flowers. Pruning should be judicious - most hydrangeas flower on "old growth" - this years new growth will bear next years flowers. Plants that are severely pruned every year never get the old growth and stop flowering. My favorite way to prune hydrangeas is to cut the flowers for arrangements. If you have a plant with vigorous flower growth, you can easily cut half the flowers in a season and still have a beautiful bush in the yard.
More good news - Hydrangeas are hardy plants and can grow from Nantucket to Florida, from Washington to New Jersey. For more information on hydrangeas, visit the United States National Arboretum.

BACK OF THE BUS

2009-08-07T20:26:00.000-07:00

It's a rare thing to get on an empty bus in Seattle, but that's what happened a couple of weeks ago when I snapped this picture. I call it "Back of the Bus" because that's what it is and because I like the song "Back of the Bus" (by G. Love & Special Sauce.
Chorus lyrics below:

Let the wild rumpus start cause it
just can't stop
And all the cool kids in the back of the bus
Cop a feel
Steal a kiss miss
I hope ya won't regret it
And all of the kids in the back I hope you get it

All the cool kids in the back of the bus
Rubba dubba scrubba bubba
Whatchu talkin' bout gus breakin the rules
I hope we don't get caught sha la la la la la la la la

HEAT ~ WAVE

2009-08-06T01:43:00.000-07:00

Last week all anyone could talk about in Seattle was the heat. It was a week of broken records. There was no relief; no breeze in the evening, no cooling down in the early morning hours, no famous Seattle rain to wash away the sweat. Or the smog. One of the nice things about Seattle is a lack of smog - most days. In the summer when it gets hot, we might see a thin layer, but last week it was thick. For Seattle. But nothing like L.A. in the summer. It made for a nice sunset though, and I took this picture of the needle on Broadway in Capitol Hill, looking down Denny. I took about 7 shots and couldn't get a clear one; I didn't want to use the flash, and my hand is not that steady. But I like the shot anyway.
Looking south on Broadway we have Dick's and all the hot, sweaty people out for a cheap dinner. It's too hot to be inside, and it's definitely too hot to cook. Besides, it's good people watching on a night like this.

Then panning back we have "Moon Over Dick's". Not exactly Ansel Adams, but I like it! It was a nice night, even though I was hanging out on Broadway becase there was a power outage by the University Bridge so the electric buses weren't running, and the driver didn't tell us in time for us to get off and catch the 43 which was going to the same place, only by a longer, less direct, but fully electrified route.
However, if the driver had told us in time, or, if the power wasn't out, I would have never been on this corner at this time taking these shots. So my irritation washed away, I eventually grabbed a cab, and had an interesting conversation with the driver, a guy named Jojo, from Kenya. I sure like Seattle cabbies. And hot Seattle nights.

MORE SIGNAGE

2009-07-28T20:43:00.000-07:00

My friend Dimitri lives in this apartment building. Directions: On 15th, just past 55th, the one with the Viking Ship. Over the years I've passed this building countless times and wondered, "What were they thinking?" But, eventually the quirky ugly stuff becomes endearing. I love this bulding now, not just because of the signage...
But also because the building falls so far short of it's modernist yearnings that it's kind of like Charlie Brown's christmas tree... you gotta love it, poor thing.

Another example of great signage - the sign and the object are the same thing:

BUMPERS

2009-07-27T00:05:00.000-07:00

I don't know why I love this picture so much, I just do. I like the contrast of the rough wood with the glassy-ness of the water, the reflected light, the semi-gnarly bumpers...

THE STORY BEHIND THE PICTURE

2009-07-26T18:12:00.000-07:00

I was cutting through Greenlake last weekend to catch a bus home and I had my camera in my hand - it was a spectacular day and I was really liking the light through the trees and the view of the far shore. As I walked to the edge of the lake and snapped this picture, the kid in the lower right corner stepped into frame. He had been walking on the path with his friend and they were tossing a ball back and forth. The kid you see had tossed the ball behind him and it went into the lake. A disagreement ensued. The kid who missed the ball thought the kid who threw it should go into the lake. The kid who threw it thought the kid who missed it should do the wading.

I didn't stick around to see who went in, but, I have an opinion. I think the kid who tossed it should get his feet wet. He threw the ball blind and the trajectory went right into the water - the catcher never had a chance.

Anyway, I dig the picture. I thought about cropping the kid out, but then it's just another picture of Greenlake. I wonder what story I can make up about this kid the next time...

CHESS LESSON

2009-07-23T20:06:00.000-07:00

Seattle parks are such a great place for people watching. I watched these two playing at the giant chess board at the Bobby Morris Playfield a couple of weeks ago. Well they weren't really playing, he was teaching her. It became obvious fairly soon that this was a chance encounter - they didn't know each other.

NEW FLYER

2009-07-22T14:46:00.000-07:00

I've been looking at signage lately. There are signs everywhere, little tiny messages, giant billboards, but we have a unique capacity to filter most of it out. I remember seeing a photo of La Cienega Blvd. in L.A. - it was taken near the 10 freeway and looking east up to West Hollywood. Practically all that was visible were signs. Hundreds of them. This was shocking because I worked and lived right off of La Cienega, and drove up and down it at least twice a day, and yet I never saw the signs. It was like I had blinders on the whole time - and I did, because when we are looking for something in particular, we have a tunnel vision that edits out all the junk that doesn't pertain. If we were just hanging out, looking at the view from the vantage point of the photographer, we would probably let our eyes rest on the most pleasing part of the scenery - this hills in the background, or a particularly large building, and still not see the signs.

Anyway - the signs are everywhere, even this little gem, which I had never seen before even though it is on all the newer buses in the Metro sysem, and I ride the Metro buses every day.

BLUE PROW

2009-07-21T17:14:00.000-07:00

One of the things I like about living near the water is all the water para-phanalia. Boats and all the boaty things. I also like that I can walk down to the water and out onto a dock and loiter about, listening to the slosh of water against hulls or jettys. I love being on the water. I love the crafts that ply the water. Once again, it's about going somewhere, but doing it in such a relaxing way. Often, on a nice day, I'll catch a ferry to Bainbridge, just to be on the water. When I get there, sometimes I just stay on the boat for the ride back. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon.

THE BRIDGE

2009-07-20T11:11:00.000-07:00

Seattle has water everywhere and bridges to cross the water. These are the struts of the Aurora Bridge - Big, picturesque, tempting, dangerous. I don't know which is bigger, the Aurora Bridge or the Ship Canal Bridge over which travels I-5... Aurora is definitely prettier. I practically hold my breath when crossing this bridge - it has 6 lanes of 2-way traffic with a yellow painted line between them, and a long drop to the water. It's amazing that there aren't more accidents here. It is also the bridge favored by jumpers. Seattle has a high suicide rate and bridges to accomodate - not really a good combination.

I took this picture on a Wednesday evening in mid-July around 7PM when I found myself wandering around the ship canal waterfront in Fremont. Not a bad place to be on a July evening. I've discovered that wandering around Seattle with my camera in my hand (not in my backpack) reveals visual riches, unexpected and delightful.

RAPID TRANSIT

2009-07-16T13:27:00.000-07:00

Going to school at Seattle Central everyday, I can keep an eye on our Rapid Transit progress. Across the street there are several blocks in transition - the old buildings have been torn down and the earth is being moved - all in preparation for the Capitol Hill train station. I can also take pictures of heavy equipment - big bonus for me.

Gaining Entry

2009-07-14T18:16:00.000-07:00

In my many travels I have been known to take an inordinant number of pictures of doors. Doors fascinate me, especially when I'm in a foriegn country - they are mysterious. Where do they lead? What's inside? When traveling, we are always outsiders, there's no escaping it. It's often frustrating to be a tourist, because what I really want to know is what everyday life is like in any particular place, and we can never know that unless we live there... and even if we live there, we may always be considered outsiders, we may never know what is beyond the doors.

SUNDAY AFTERNOON

2009-07-12T19:53:00.000-07:00

A storm rolled in last night and now Seattle is rattling with the rolling thunder. The flash lightning takes us all by surprize. It is raining, therefore Broadway, and other streets are wet. I'm sitting in Chocolati on 45th and looking out at the wet July evening. Coffee. Oatmeal-raisen cookie. Tom Waits singing "Blue Valentine". Not a bad way to spend an afternoon.

Dearth of Posting

2009-06-03T16:10:00.000-07:00

It is often the case that while riding to and from school on the bus, my mind wanders and I start thinking about all sorts of things, and I begin to compose a little essay for my blog.

The problem is, by the time I get home I start thinking about all the homework I have to do and how behind I am on my projects, and then all those other interesting things I wanted to post... go flying out of my brain, never to be retrieved.

I don't seem to have the time nor the mental retention to post whilst in school. I have a one week break coming up - maybe I'll get to something then. Start thinking the esoteric thoughts again.

Apologies to those people out there who click on my blog regularly to see if there is anything new. You are few, but much appreciated, and, thanks to my Sitemeter stats I know that you haven't given up on me!

FOUR WAYS TO LIVE A VERY COOL YEAR, VICARIOUSLY

2009-03-27T00:31:00.000-07:00

When I was growing up in Southern California my parents always had a subscription to the LA Times. Friday was my favorite day, because Jack Smith had his column in the View section. His writing was always witty, sophisticated and insightful and he had the ability to see the humor in every situation. I think the L.A. Times should publish a collection of Mr. Smith's columns - that would make me very happy. Until they do, I'll have to content myself with God and Mr. Gomez.

Originally published in 1974, God and Mr. Gomez: Building a Dreamhouse in Baja was re-released in paperback in 1997, and used copies can still be found at reasonable prices. This book was the first of its type that I had read, and it's a type I have come to love; building and/or refurbishing a house in a foreign country . Jack Smith and his wife signed a ninety-nine year lease on a lot in Baja California and hired a contractor, Mr. Gomez, to build a vacation home for them. Miscommunication, mistakes and hilarity ensue, people learn lessons, and I want to move to Baja. The hot/cold water solution that Mr. Gomez comes up with is worth the entire read. As usual, Mr. Smith's writing is impeccable and entertaining. This is a book that will always stay in my library.

In 1997, as Mr. Smith's book is being re-released, I discovered Under the Tuscan Sun: At Home in Italy, a gem of a book. If you waited for the movie, you did yourself a disservice. Not only is the book so much better, it's also totally different. Ms. Mayes falls in love with Tuscany and buys a home. It's a fixer-upper and she has the vision and heart to do it right, no matter the frustrations. I want to move to Tuscany. I want an olive grove and citrus trees and a field of lavender. I want a stone terrace overlooking it all where I can have my coffee in the morning and my wine in the evening.

I also read Ms. Mayes second volume, Bella Tuscany, but if you only have time for one of her books, choose Under the Tuscan Sun - it is the better book by far.

My friend Tim, with whom I have been discussing books for thirty-four years, recommended Driving Over Lemons: An Optimist In Spain. Chris Stewart is on a trip in Spain and decides to buy a ranch... then he goes home to tell his wife that they are moving. Fortunately, she's a good sport. Of course, the house is in need of much repair and its former tenant is not ready to move out. There is no road to the house - furniture (and everything else) has to be carried over a handmade bridge and up the hill. The neighbors are eventually won over as the Stewart's ease into renovation and ranch life, and, I want to move to Spain. I want to move there anyway, and this book reinforced the desire. I think the lemon scented roads could win anyone over.

Tahir Shah wants to move to Morocco and raise his daughters in a way that is more similar to his childhood experience. He buys a house that was once owned by the Caliph, and packs up his family. You know what's coming, right? The house is in disrepair, it comes with a slew of staff that will not leave, and it's haunted. Despite having grown up in North Africa, Shah has been gone long enough that he is clueless as to how anything gets done in Morocco. He has become too western in thinking and custom, and he has a westerner's desire to control his environment. A delightful story unfolds in The Caliph's House: A Year in Casablanca, as he realizes that only the djinns are in control. And, I want to move to Morocco.

All of these writers combine several elements that fascinate me: Foreign lands and different cultures, architecture and renovation, and the desire to uproot oneself and live somewhere new and completely different. I admire the sense of adventure they all share. The tenacity to see the project through. The easing into a life that is in all ways slower and simpler. And of course, in every case, they know how to tell a story. It's all in the writing.

HELLO, GOODBYE

2008-12-29T21:53:00.000-08:00

In a few days 2008 will be gone and the New Year will begin. This upcoming year is a hopeful one for me. Even though the economy is in the dumps and will probably get worse before it gets better, I have hope. It's strange because I'm basically a cynic, but an optimistic one. A cynic with hope. I think that when people are left to their own devices, often, the worst will come out in them. But not always.

After Greenspan's recent statements, he could have used a dose of my cynicism. He thought banks could be deregulated because he believed they would always act with the interest of the greater good, and not grab all the profit they could RIGHT NOW, and the future be damned. All too soon they found that their future was damned, and the future of lots of smaller real people with real lives and real families to take care of. I don't care that a financial institution like Washington Mutual no longer exists, but I do care that its demise has put thousands of people out of work, and more thousands will lose their homes. I wonder if Greenspan ever heard that there's a little bit of larceny in every heart? I wonder that he thought a financial institution would behave like a human? Yes, it may be run by people, but it is not a person - it is a corporation and corporations exist only to create profits. And we now see that a corporation will do anything for ever greater profits even if it means in the end that it will die of its own gluttony. It's kind of like a parasite or a cancer - it feeds off its host until the host dies, causing its own demise in the end.

Well, all that sounds kind of hopeless, doesn't it? If so, let me say two words: Barack Obama. I have hope because after eight of the most excruciating years of dismal leadership, we now have an incoming president who appears to know how to think, a guy who can see a problem from its many different angles, a guy who has traveled and lived outside of the U.S.A. and because of that I have hope that he has a broader perspective, that he can see the bigger picture.

So, I'm a cynic with hope. An optimistic cynic. Dang, I love a dichotomy!

And here is my list of 2009 resolutions. I post them as I did before, with the hope that public posting will bring greater endeavor to achieve such resolutions. Alas, I don't really have much hope on this score, never the less, I will post, and we can revisit them in twelve months, okay?

1. As it was last year: Finish the damn book! Write, write, write until it is done!

2. De-clutter. As promised, this item has been moved forward to 2009, with hope.

3. Study hard and try to understand this new techno-babble that is web language.

4. Try to 10% more frugal, and get my savings back to a comfortable level.

There you have it. Less ambitious than last year I think, but we all know what happened to those resolutions!

I hope you all find the New Year to be kind and exciting and healthy and a time when you can get closer to those things of which you dream. I dream of peace and love and people living with tolerance if not understanding.

Happy New Year!

WARMER DAYS

2008-12-21T17:11:00.001-08:00

As I sit and watch the snow come down for hours on end, in my mind I'm basking in warmer days...

Hanalei Bay

Ke'e Beach

Another Kaua'i beach but I can't remember which one...

RESOLUTION REDUX

2008-12-21T16:15:00.000-08:00

So, we are getting to the end of December and I was looking back over my posts and I realized two things: A) I did not post much this year, which is weird because I've been thinking about a lot of things… B) I did not reach any of my resolutions for 2008!!! Horrors. I thought that with them being posted publicly and all I would be inspired to keep at least some of them and not be shamed, as I am, shamed.

Let's start with resolution #1 - finish the book. I have to say in my defense that I have made progress on it and am at about the 80% mark. I am also writing a lot on this break and if I don't finish it this year, I will definitely get close.

#2 - De-clutter. Right. Like that's going to happen. I will keep it on the list though. Who knows, maybe I'll move this year and I'll be forced to get rid of stuff instead of moving it.

#3 - Find a job. Well it's true. I did get laid off in February, but then I got into this worker re-training program and I'm going to school full time, studying Web Design/Development. Part of the conditions of the funding for this is that I finish the program and that I do not accept any job which would then disqualify me for funding. They want us to complete and to succeed. Kinda nice, huh? So, no job yet. Hopefully the economy will stop tanking by the time I'm done and I'll be able to get one then, but it looks dismal.

#4 - Eat out less, cook at home more. Well, for the most part, this was not too successful. I eat at home and out in basically the same ratio as before. It's hard when one lives in a university district and has so many options for really good and often very cheap food. Why cook for one when I can go down the street and have a steaming hot bowl of pho at Tran Bros., or a "burrito muy pappas" at the taqueria, or "spicy crispy eggplant" at the Mandarin Chef, or palak paneer and naan at Jewel of India, or a baked potato with broccoli and a pint of porter at Big Time? Why, I ask?

I did however, go on a soup making binge last week, and I have soup to last me weeks if not a whole month, which came in very handy recently with the snow and all, so I have been eating at home almost exclusively this week.

#5 - I did revamp the look of my blog but in the interest of full disclosure, I have to admit I did it before making my resolution list, and then I added it so that I'd have at least one thing to cross off. There I said it. I cheated. Just a wee bit. The other thing to consider though, is that now that I've had my first full quarter of web design, I must say that I did not learn enough to revamp it any more than I already have. And I really want to get rid of those little black corner marks, but I haven't figured it out yet.

#6 - Appreciating my friends and letting them know it. I think this is something that can't really be crossed off, that it is something we must strive to do daily. It takes energy and work to build and maintain friendships. If you lapse, you risk the chance that they will slip away and you'll lose track of them. It's harder to slip away these days with the interwebs and all, but it can happen. So I will continue to love and appreciate and to let you know that I do. (and thank you Brad for your lovely sentiments on this matter.)

That being said - I am thankful for the interwebs and the reconnection to my friend Tom Stanton, whom I have not seen for better than twenty years. And I am thankful that Carolyn Tracy and I connected again as I have not been as diligent with her friendship as I should have been. And apologies to Todd that I did not email him to get together before he took off to Thailand, but I will make sure to make time for him when he gets back. And I'm glad that everyone in my family now has webcams and we can skype each other - seeing them in the jerky motions of skype definitely lessens the great distances between us. I am also thankful for cell phone plans that give free night and weekend minutes and I can have my two and three hour conversations with Jay, and with Tim, and late at night with Rochelle.

SiWC

2008-10-29T11:46:00.000-07:00

Besides this blog, which I update sporadically, I write fiction. Right now I'm working on the first book of what I hope will be a trilogy for "Middle Grade" kids. I never intended to write for this age group, but I had an idea one Saturday morning and I got up and started writing - in my PJ's - until about 3 PM at which time I got dressed and went down to the taqueria for some lunch. I brought my notebook along and continued writing longhand. By the end of the weekend I had four chapters and I realized I was writing a book. So, I guess it's time to get serious about writing. Because now I have about 80% of a book. Hence...

I went to the Surrey International Writer's Conference in Surrey BC in October. It was a three day thing with lots of workshops and networking - there were over 500 people there. Part of the perks of paying the price (nice alliteration, eh?) of admission is that you get an appoint with an agent, or an editor, or a publisher (I also got a blue pencil appointment). I decided that I needed to start at the beginning and get an agent. There were eleven there, and I researched all of them thoroughly before I decided which might be the best fit - I pitched to Rachel Vader from the Folio Literary Agency in NYC. She reps YA writers and likes to find new writers - some don't want to work with new writers, and some had a web presence that was so unprofessional that I wondered how professional they were in the industry?

I did my pitch and she seemed to like it - she asked some questions and then she asked if I had pages for her to see. I had pages because I was having the blue pencil appointment later that day - but I didn't think I'd be showing them to the agent. Anyway, I pulled out my first chapter and she read it and liked it - she gave me some feedback that all made sense and I'm going to make the changes she suggested. She mentioned that it looked like a first draft and I said it was - that I was trying to get through the whole thing before I started re-writing. She said no problem. We agreed I had a lot of work to do still, but she said when I got it to the point where I thought it was ready to send out - to send her the first three chapters.

That was pretty huge for me. I have friends that have been pitching their books for over a year, and no one has yet asked for a partial. So, I feel really lucky. She may still pass on it, but the validation that I needed was that, what I thought might be good, in fact might really be good and not the other option which is: crap!

My blue pencil appointment was with Meg Tilly. She doesn't act any more, only writes books (and raises her kids) and she lives in Vancouver and so, often attends the conference. I originally was signed up with an Australian YA writer, but she was doing pitch practice sessions instead of blue pencil so they rescheduled me with Ms. Tilly. Who was great. Very down to earth and sweet. And may I add, she is the tiniest slip of a thing. When I went to shake her hand she extended what felt like a delicate fern frond that I feared I might crush in my massive Hungarian peasant hand.

It was a great weekend - definitely worth the money, even though my savings are quite dwindled now. I left feeling rejuvenated and validated and like there was a community of writers that I kind of belonged to (which is nice when you consider how solitary writing is).

So, if there is anyone out there who considering attending a writer's conference, I can recommend SIWC. The workshops were very good, the meals were a great time to meet new people and do a bit of networking, and with keynote speakers for breakfast, lunch and dinner, mealtimes were also informative and in one case especially, entertaining - we were led to sing a song about flirting hippopotomi - and it was truly special.

THE THINGS YOU CAN LEARN IF YOU GO BACK TO COLLEGE - AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN

2008-09-29T12:50:00.000-07:00

As some of my friends may know, I have gone back to college, again. By a stingy count, this would be the fourth time. The first was Saddleback Community College in the 70's where I endeavored to get through all the basic transfer courses. The second was Brooks College where I studied Interior Design; the third, University of Washington for Anthropology. Now I am at Seattle Central Community College studying Web Design/Development. (A generous count would have to include Massage school, Italian classes and an Algebra class required for entry to UW.) Speaking of Algebra - I could get another degree in the Web Design but then I would have to take algebra again. Now I bought into all that, "you'll need your algebra" crap when I was younger and more gullible, but I've been kicking about this earth for fifty years now, and I have never needed algebra for any sort of daily task that I can remember. So I'll just get the certificate, thank you very much.

Also, as many of you know, I love obscure trivia and random information so one of my homework assignments last week really appealed to me; research and write about Charles Babbage.

OK, OK, I can hear all my nerdy friends saying, what's so obscure about Babbage? (Or I could hear it if any of them actually read my blog!) So, he may not be new and interesting to everyone, but he was to me, and this is what I learned:

Charles Babbage – 1791-1871
Babbage developed the first mechanical computer, known as the “Difference Engine.” He was a mathematician who sought to avoid the human errors of mathematical tables. The Difference Engine computed polynomial functions, and by using the principles of “finite differences” as seen in this equation: f(x + b) − f(x + a), the need for multiplication and division was eliminated. This machine was the first to calculate automatically. He never completed the machine, but it has since been replicated and proven to work.

His next machine was the “Analytical Engine” which was the first programmable computer (using punch cards). Ada Lovelace wrote a program for the Analytical Engine, and is hence known as the first computer programmer. Unfortunately, Babbage never completed this machine either. Strangely enough, punch cards continued to be used for computer programming up to the 1980’s when my friend was in college and required to take computer programming in order to get his degree in Landscape Architecture! (Proving of course, that our institutes of higher learning are often, though not always, behind the times, even when trying to keep up with them.) Fortunately my friend talked the professor into giving him a passing grade so he could graduate and become a successful and published L.A.

Charles Babbage had many other accomplishments. He broke the “autokey cipher”, thought to be unbreakable, as well as the Vigenere cipher. He also invented the “pilot” which is a metal frame on locomotives, which keeps the track clear of unwanted things such as cows – also known as a “cow-catcher”. His concern for railroads continued with his invention of the “dynamometer car” which measured the performance of the engine, and he created the standard railroad gauge.

Insurance companies can thank him for the first reliable actuarial tables, and I’m sure Sherlock Holmes and all the B movie makers of the world are indebted to him for the invention of the skeleton key. We must also thank him for uniform postal rates, Greenwich time signals and occulting lights. I particularly like the occulting lights because I love the idea that a light house can communicate with a ship watchman, warning him not only of a land mass, but of what exact landmass he should steer clear.

My father, who practiced optometry for forty-five years, used an opthalmoscope several times a day, so I’m sure he would thank Babbage also. Unfortunately, Babbage gave his opthalmoscope to a physician for testing and forgot about it, as did the physician. My father might not have used one if Hermann von Helmholtz had not come along and invented it again. Something anthropologists call independent invention (as opposed to diffusion).

In addition to the things he invented, Babbage also came up with theories (some were about god and his wisdom in creating the world, which I will not go into). Notably, he came up with the theory of dividing labor amongst those with different skill sets and pay grades, thereby saving money. It was known as the Babbage principle and was criticized by Karl Marx.

Babbage, for all the good he brought to the world, didn’t seem to like the world, (or maybe just its people) much. He was curmudgeonly, but he managed to get married and have nine children (only three survived to adulthood). He hated music and particularly hated street performers. He was well known for this too, and was constantly harassed by bands and performers who would set up nearby his house and perform solely to irritate him. Quite a guy.

WHAT I DID ON MY SUMMER VACATION

2008-08-28T18:01:00.000-07:00

OK - on my computer it says it is 100 F in Petaluma right now, (it also says it's raining, but there's not a cloud in the sky), however I went (foolishly) for a walk downtown today and the thermometer there said it was 105 F. I spent most of the afternoon looking for stores that had A/C or, at least. a giant fan. On my way home I found a small park with a California Live Oak that may be the biggest I’ve ever seen - it’s diameter must have been at least 50’. (I went back to that tree later that week with the family in tow. My brother Jay walked it off and determined that the canopy was more likely about 90' in diameter! Truly awesome.) I sat in its shade for fifteen minutes communing with the ancient life and dreading my resumed walk home.

At two more blocks I stopped at the grocery store for an ice cold drink. I also stood for several minutes in the cool oasis of the produce department. Up one block, turn right, walk one block. I’m on the sunny side of the street but I can’t cross because there’s a cop writing parking tickets - and though I have walked one block it’s one of those streets that is two blocks long - so to cross, I’d have to jaywalk, and I wonder if there is still a bench warrant for me from a car registration problem that is 16 years old. (I got two tickets for the same expired registration on an old MGB-GT that I had - I got the car registered and sent in proof with the most recent ticket - then I moved to Seattle and three months later an arrest warrant was sent to me for the first ticket. They have an expiration date, don’t they?)

Any way, I walked a few more feet to stop in the shade of a very scraggly tree and have a sip from my drink. I was foundering. A woman walked out of her office onto the sidewalk and I could see the heat hit her like a blast from a blow torch. She went to her car and as she was unlocking the door, she looked at me and said, “Oh my. Would you like a ride somewhere?” I guess I looked close to as bad as I felt. I told her I only had four or five blocks to go, but that I was beginning to question whether I would make it or not, and that yes, if it wasn’t too much trouble, I would love a ride.

She was like an angel sent from heaven (via Georgia). Does this mean I need to rethink my position on god?

There you have it - Day 5 in Petaluma.

I'M PROUD TO BE A CALIFORNIAN

2008-05-26T13:01:00.000-07:00

Though I may live in Seattle right now, I have to say, that more than ever, I'm proud to be a Californian. Kudos to the Californian Supreme Court for finding in favor of gay marriage. It's about time. I could try to write a well thought out and erudite blog post about why this decision was right and try to refute all those people who are railing against it, but it would be redundant, because another blogger, Barry Eisler, has already written it, and he has done a much better job of it than I would have. So, today I give you the link to Mr. Eisler's blog. Check it out - the guy is so smart!

Okay - once again, the putting in a link option did not work, so here is the url, sorry you have to cut and paste:
http://www.barryeisler.com/2008/05/those-crazy-conservative-activists.html

Hungarian Celebration Food

2008-05-21T18:30:00.000-07:00

Our family celebrations are always feasts. There are two staples for a celebration. For birthdays, graduations, weddings or anniversaries, there will always be rum cake. In my family, you feel truly honored when someone makes a rum cake for you. We are Hungarian and we have our own version of this amazing cake. The first thing you must know is that it is a commitment. The cake takes a day or two to bake and put together, and then it requires at least a week of basting with rum before it can be served.

The recipe calls for three sponge cakes; two regular or 'yellow' cakes and one chocolate. Also needed is chocolate custard, apricot jam (extra points if you made the jam in the summer and saved a jar just in case you needed to make a rum cake that year), and two simple syrups – one green and one red.

Usually we bake the cakes one day and put them together the next. The cake has a base and a top and gets layers of broken cake pieces (alternately drizzled with red or green syrup to represent the Hungarian flag), and layers of custard and jam. When the cake is assembled it can be up to eight inches high. During the next week or two or three, we put a board on the cake and weight it down with whatever is handy and heavy enough, usually jars of sour kraut or bottles of water. Everyday a bit of rum is drizzled over the top and the weights go back on. When the cake is done it will have compacted to about three or four inches high.

We have been known to hand carry this cake through airport security and onto planes to travel as far as three thousand miles for a party. If you are lucky, my older brother, Jay, will be present to do the icing and decorations. He is a professional pastry chef and the cake is always beautiful when he's done with it. If Jay isn't around, then my Uncle Bruce will do the icing and decorations – this is just as much of a treat as when Jay does it, though the result will most likely be humorous. My uncle is known for his handmade birthday cards (kept for years and years) and his rum cake decorating. But let it be said, the cake does not need anything special on top – if I have to do the icing I just make a simple powdered sugar and water glaze – usually with some orange flavoring, and smooth it across the top, letting it drip down the sides.

When the cake is cut you see the layers of green and red along with the chocolate and jam and the now very dense cake. We cut it in half inch slabs and newcomers to this cake can usually only handle one slice. The rest of use have a slice and an hour later we're back for more. It's really good for breakfast too.

No doubt you've noticed that I started with dessert first. I could say that I did that because you have to plan so far ahead to make this cake, except that the next item on the menu takes as much pre-planning and preparation time. The main course for almost every gathering in my family is Stuffed Cabbage. My mouth is watering just thinking about these succulent rolls. We start at least a week ahead with our cabbage heads. They are cleaned and we carefully peel off each leaf, keeping it completely intact. These leaves go into a vinegar mixture where they sit for five or seven days. During this time the leaves are pickled and become soft and tender. We make a mixture of pork and rice and spices and when the cabbage is ready we sit around the table making the rolls: a leaf of cabbage, a small handful of pork mixture, roll and stuff the ends inside. The rolls get put in the largest pots, layered with sour kraut and paprika. Add some water and cook on the stove.

I cannot even begin to describe the aroma, so pungent and fragrant. People who know it will walk into the house and say, "We're having stuffed cabbage?!!!" It is a lot of work, but so worth it. We serve the rolls with boiled and buttered potatoes and crusty bread for sopping up the juices.

Just thinking about these two foods fills me with a longing for a family reunion. I suddenly miss my brothers and sisters, my aunts, uncles and cousins and all the noise that fills the house. We are a loud group. The wine flows freely, we eat until we can barely move and we laugh. Sometime after dinner my Uncle Bruce will say, "Who wants to play Michigan Rummy?" and we go scrambling in search of the multiple decks of cards we'll need, and settle in for a four hour game which inevitably includes cheating from all comers.

(Thanks to Catherine Arnold of the February Project for the inspiration and writing prompt.)

UNDER PRESSURE...

2008-05-08T15:15:00.000-07:00

I just read a Reuters article on Yahoo! News about stroke and how more than half the population does not know the stroke warning signs. As a person with (controlled) high blood pressure, this is a subject that is very relevant to me. What many people don’t realize is that this subject is relevant to everyone. Even if you are not a candidate for stroke or you don't have hypertension, chances are that you interact with people every day who are at risk. Stroke is the third highest killer in the United States, only surpassed by heart disease and cancer.

Stroke can hit at any age. If your blood pressure is high and you are not treating it, you can have a stroke at a young age. I knew a guy who was in his early thirties – he had a good profession, was active and vibrant, loved to have a good time, was just married, and had just bought his first house. He was out on the golf course on a Sunday morning and he had a massive stroke. His life has never been the same. He is still partially paralyzed on his right side, and his speech is still affected. It's been about twelve years since his stroke.

So, know the warning signs:

"Stroke warning signs include sudden numbness or weakness of the face, arm or leg, especially on one side; sudden confusion or difficulty speaking; sudden trouble walking, dizziness or loss of balance; sudden trouble with vision in one eye or both; and severe headache with no known cause." Reuters - Health News

The faster treatment is given, the greater the chance for more complete recovery.

If you are unsure if someone is having a stroke, ask the person to smile or to lift their arms. If the smile is lopsided and the person can only lift one arm, the are almost definitely having a stroke. A stroke happens on one side of the brain, affecting the function of the opposite side of the body, so if a person can control one side but not the other, this is a very good sign that a stroke is happening.

Call for paramedics immediately. Don't try to take the stroke victim to the hospital yourself. When the EMT's arrive, they can assess the patient and begin treatment before they get to the hospital. Also, in most ER's, if a patient arrives in an ambulance, they will be seen to immediately. Walk-ins are often viewed as not so critical, after all, they walked in.

Also, have your blood pressure checked regularly. You can use the machines that you find at the pharmacy, (though they are not highly accurate, they will at least let you see if there is cause for concern). You can also walk into any fire house and the EMT's there will check your blood pressure. Controlling hypertension is as simply as taking a pill everyday. Getting my hypertension under control has changed my life.

IS IT ART?

2008-04-30T16:43:00.000-07:00

OMG! It's been ages since I've updated my blog. I thought that being unemployed, I'd have plenty of time to keep up with the blog writing (as opposed to the fiction writing), but I have to say, when there seems to be plenty of time, I seem to lose the ability to manage it!

OK – here's the kicker – I can't believe the subject that has got me back to the blog is the damn Miley Cyrus/Vanity Fair cover, but, yes, sadly, that is the catalyst. It started this morning when I tuned in to about three minutes of The View. Of course they were talking about it. Then I was listening to Talk of the Nation on NPR and they were talking about it. Later I heard some people at the coffee shop talking about IT. So I got online and looked up the picture. My first impression was that it was unflattering. My second impression was that it was definitely leaning on the side of inappropriate. Those of you who know me know that I can defend almost anything in the name of art – including graffiti (much to the dismay of some of my friends). But I would have to say that this isn't art. And therefore I have a hard time defending it.

Sarah Phillips also blogged about this picture on The Guardian art & architecture blog here: http://blogs.guardian.co.uk/art/2008/04/miley_cyrus.html
Sorry I can't link it…

Sarah quotes Germaine Greer being quoted in The Guardian as saying, "In western art most of the women portrayed semi-clad or totally nude are children ... When Lucian Freud paints girl children nobody cares ... Botticelli paints the yet-to-be-enjoyed goddess of love emerging from the sea, people come from all over the world to gape at her. The Greeks and Romans liked their goddesses meaty; our preferred Venuses are children. Hardy perennials such as Diane de Poitiers held their sway as long as they did because their bodies never matured. Kate Moss has been able to earn millions only as long as she could continue to project the body image of a 13-year-old."

How about that? I quoted Sarah, quoting The Guardian, quoting Germaine Greer… That's quite a link…

So, may I just say, Ms. Greer, that Lucien Freud is an artist who's work is hung in galleries and museums. Same with Botticelli. Who cares if the Greeks and Romans liked their women zaftig and today the trend is toward thin and infantilized? This is beside the point; a whole other subject for discussion, maybe at a later date. The point is, this picture is not taken for the purpose of art, even though Ms. Leibovitz is an amazing photographer and artist. This picture was taken for commercial purposes – to sell a magazine.

Using Diane de Poitiers as an example of why the depiction of young girls as a sexual object is okay is also not relevant to the point. Mde. de Poitiers was a courtesan of the sixteenth century, and while she was painted in the nude, she was a grown woman, and, once again, it was art.

Kate Moss is also not art, but rather, a model. Her business is to sell clothes. Oh yeah, again, she is a grown woman, not a girl of fifteen.

Let's let the young girls be young girls, they grow up fast enough anyway. Let's not confuse magazine covers with art. Let's stop exploiting children. Let's try to stem the tide of infantilizing women to make them more desirable. Let's hope that in the future, more important things inspire me to write!

DON'T IT MAKE YOUR BROWN EYES BLUE?

2008-02-11T16:52:00.000-08:00

On February 1st, Danish researchers announced that everyone with blue eyes is genetically related going back about 6,000 to 10,000 years ago when they think the genetic mutation occured - before this mutation everyone had brown eyes. After the announcement there were the usual inane comments about anyone with blue eyes being related to Brad Pitt or the Chairman of the Board.

I know I'm a bit late commenting on this, but on February 1st I was being ousted from my job, so I had other things on my mind. Like where to go have a drink. But being unemployed has opened up time for thinking about silly announcements from scientists.

Here is what I'm thinking: My brother has blue eyes. B.P. and the Chairman have blue eyes - so my brother must be related to them (if you follow the blue eye logic). But, as I am related to my brother, albeit with the brown/hazelish eyes, am I not also related to Mr. Pitt and Mr. Sinatra?

What about my sister with grey eyes. This must also be a mutation since they are not brown. What about those people with green eyes?

The thing is, if you go back far enough, we all have a common ancestor. Heck, just a mere blink of an eye backwards on the humans-on-earth time line, Barack Obabma is related to Dick Cheney. Yeah, it's kind of cool that they've narrowed down an approximate time when the blue-eye mutation took place, but, we are all related.

Interesting that the Swedes aren't concerned with the grey, hazel, or green eyes. A bit of ethnocentrism?

Hey, where do black eyes come from? Are there really black-eyed people, or is that a myth? I'd like to know how many people have the amazing violet eyes that Ms. Taylor got in the fickle roll of genetic dice.

NEW YEAR RESOLUTIONS - Part 2

2008-01-02T11:11:00.000-08:00

My new year resolutions have a tendency to fade away and never get accomplished. So for all the world to see and especially to remind myself, here are my resolutions:

1. Finish first book in my 3 part YA series in time to market it at the Surrey International Writer's Conference in October.

2. De-clutter. Sell massage table, books, and anything that I haven't used in the past year.

3. Find a new job. Getting laid off in a month is definitely a motivation.

4. Eat out less, cook at home more.

5. ~~New look for my blog.~~ DONE!!!!!

6. Remember to let my friends know how much I love and appreciate them.

NEW YEAR RESOLUTIONS – Part 1

2007-12-28T10:48:00.000-08:00

So, it's that time of year again – 2007 is almost over, 2008 looms close by – resolution time. I like to do a combination of a couple of big resolutions along with several smaller ones. My thinking is that the smaller resolutions are more attainable – I can feel some accomplishment by at least taking care of them. I may be fooling myself though. Have I ever really accomplished any of my resolutions, big or small? Do I even remember what they were? Did I even make resolutions last year?

This year I will put my resolutions on my blog for all to see and for me to remember. There will be no super-duper resolutions like lose weight or quit smoking. Losing weight is always a given and oh so hard to do. Quitting the cigarettes? Well I already did that six years ago and it wasn't even a resolution. I just got to the point where I no longer wanted to smoke ever again, thanks to those horrible commercials that Washington state put on the TV with their tobacco settlement money.

So, I'll spend my weekend cogitating important stuff and I'll post my resolutions. Any one who wants to post theirs in the comments section, please feel free. Maybe we can all inspire each other.

POLITICS, SPIN, AND THE PERCEIVED STUPIDITY OF THE PUBLIC

2007-12-27T16:02:00.000-08:00

Newly declassified intelligence says that Iran does not have the nuclear program that the current administration would want us to believe it has. In addition, GW says he wasn't aware of the information until late November.

Now really, they expect us to believe that the leader of the United States of America, the man who has been threatening military force against Iran if they don't cease their efforts for nuclear power, was not aware that they had ceased these same efforts? No one told him?

He is the leader of the U.S.A. for christ's sake! Who else is there who would need this information more?

So, there are several scenarios in which G.W. could be telling the truth:

A) They told him, but he wasn't paying attention, so, yeah, unh, he wasn't aware of it.

B) Unh, he knew that the "Nuclear" efforts had ceased, but he's really concerned with the "Nukular" problem.

C) All those countries that start I-r-a… get confusing. Iraq, Iran, which one are you talkin' about?

D) He's the Decider. Only he can Decide what he remembers.

E) He's been lying so much that he wouldn't know the truth if it spit in his eye.

The perceived stupidity of the public: It has long been my feeling that G.W. operates on the premise that "If you say it enough, it will be true." It doesn't matter if it's a lie to begin with, or merely implausible, just keep on repeating it over and over again, and it gets quoted on the evening news and in the morning newspaper, then it's posted on the interwebs and other people cite it as a source and soon the world believes the lie to be true.

Remember Weapons of Mass Destruction in Iraq? Have any been found?

Remember the continual assertion the Iraq had ties with Al Qaeda? Turns out it doesn't matter to the Decider that Iraq had a secular government.

Remember when the Decider said that there was no evidence for Global Warming? Turns out it's politically expedient for him to change his mind on this issue.

So, how can the leader of the USA not know something as important as the fact that the Nuclear issue on which he is threatening military aggression, is a moot point?

How stupid does he think we are?

Christmas Top Tens

2007-12-17T12:42:00.000-08:00

Top Ten Things I Like About Christmas

Decorations
The piney smell
The fact that my work doesn't do a Christmas party
The Christmas bonus
Friend's Christmas parties
White Christmas, the movie – especially the "Sisters" number

and "The Theater" number.

Christmas carolers
Christmas cookies (especially Kifle)
The Franciscan Monks fruit cake
Roasted chestnut panettone
(It's all about the food, isn't it?)

Top Ten Things I Don't Like About Christmas

Shopping
Commercialization
Office Christmas parties
Salvation Army bell ringing
TV commercials
Post Office lines
Obligatory gift giving
Shopping
Commercialization
Did I mention shopping?

Top Five Worst Christmas Gifts

Wool sweater (I'm allergic)
World's ugliest purse
Baby blue coat (I've never worn baby blue in my life)
Another really bad purse
Wool lined gloves (again, allergic)

I tried to think of ten really bad gifts, but I must have blanked some out for fear of being haunted by the memories...

TRUMPED UP JEWELS

2007-12-02T11:02:00.000-08:00

Ivanka Trump carries on the Trump penchant for excess with her new jewelry line. Her pieces endeavor to "bring back old Hollywood glamour" and were inspired by her mother, Ivana. The pieces range from a couple of million dollars to $750.00, "so everyone of all ages can enjoy".

I don't know what world Ivanka Trump lives in, but it is not the same one I inhabit. In my world there are many people of all ages who can't afford to spend $750.00 a month in rent much less on a trinket.

And what is this about Ivana and old Hollywood glamour? When I think of OHG, I think of Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn in Philadelphia Story (1940), Clarke Gable and Claudette Colbert in It happened One Night (1934), Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca (1943).

Ivana Trump, neé Zelnícková wasn't even born until 1949.

I checked IMDB.com, my source for all movie and television information, and found that our Ivana has done some acting… Her first role was in Pan Tau a Czech TV show in which she is billed as "girl" for one episode in 1970 - she was 20/21 – probably playing below her age.

Then there was the First Wives Club in 1996, a movie with Goldie Hawn, Bette Midler and Diane Keaton. Ivana played a itty bitty part as…herself.

After that we have For Love Alone: The Ivana Trump Story from 1998, a made for TV bio-pic in which she plays…herself…

Then last year there was Ivana Young Man, a reality TV genre show on Oxygen, in which she plays…herself…again…

There are twenty-two other listings on IMDB in which Ivana plays her favorite character, herself. I am seeing a trend here. However, a woman who is born in 1949, and plays herself in 25 out of 26 productions is not an actress of any sort, and certainly not the kind of person that brings to mind old Hollywood glamour.

There are two worlds existing side by side – one where people work hard everyday to pay bills and send their kids to school; where the expense of a simple Christmas has to be planned for and sometimes can be overwhelming; where the people know all about the parallel world – they see it daily in the infotainment news – they are, in fact, bombarded with it unless they make a concerted effort to avoid the hype of the rich and famous.

The other world is that of the rich and famous, where people think a $750.00 price tag makes a trinket affordable for all. Where mothers can be reinvented as old Hollywood glamour and no one calls them on it – certainly not Julie Chen of CBS. It's a world that is self encased. We know about them, but they are clueless about us.

I think I'll boycott Ivanka Trump's jewelry line. It'll be easy since I can't afford it anyway.

Note: Ivanka quotes are from her October 16th appearance on The Early Show with Julie Chen. (CBS)

TAKE A FUN IQ TEST

2007-11-30T11:49:00.000-08:00

I took this test - it was fast and fun. Those of you who know me well will look at the math result and be shocked - but I have to admit, I guessed on at least one math question. Also, this wasn't timed, and the time it took me to figure out the answers for some of the math problems was rediculously long. But as the disclaimer says - it's for fun. It confirmed what I already knew - good with words and trivia, bad with math and logic.

Your IQ Is 125

Your Logical Intelligence is Below Average

Your Verbal Intelligence is Genius

Your Mathematical Intelligence is Exceptional

Your General Knowledge is Exceptional

A Quick and Dirty IQ Test

CH CH CH CHANGES

2007-11-16T13:25:00.000-08:00

Generally speaking, I like change. Stir things up a bit. Bring in some fresh faces. In the past I have often instigated change. If I become bored, or the landscapes gets too familiar, I'd make a change. It came easy for me - growing up we moved a lot and I got used to it. Of course, up to a certain point, I was relegated to live where the parental units chose. I didn't always like where we lived (especially that long stint behind the Orange Curtain), but I made the best of it. When it finally came that I could be master of my surroundings, I admittedly made some dubious choices, but I had my reasons and I have no regrets.

I finally settled down in Los Angeles for about ten years, and even then I lived in four different places. But I was dug in, I had finally put down some roots. I had a large and varied social group and we had our routines - weekend breakfasts, pool and coffee at the Bourgeois Pig, art parties, poetry readings, the occasional 3-D slide show featuring wild mushrooms of South America, Thanksgiving at my place. I was really happy. Very settled.

Then change happened to me. A best friend moved far, far away. She was a girl I saw everyday. She lived across the valley - I was in Echo Park, she in Silverlake, and we could flash our kitchen lights at each other. We worked together, played together, sharing everything. She was and is a sister of my soul. When she moved, (for a M-A-N - whom she eventually married so it's OK), my world was torn in two. It was physically painful to be in L.A. and not have her there. I kept on in my life but there was such a void. Letters and phone calls helped, but it wasn't the same as sitting on the sofa together and laughing at the antics of my roommate, or driving to the polo grounds in Malibu with the top down and the wind playing mix-mastah with our hair.

After a while, I just couldn't do it anymore. I moved to Seattle. It was to be a temporary move. I never viewed it in a permanent way (or permanent for me), but I've been here for fifteen years now. I left many other people that I loved - one of them is another sister of my soul, whom I have known since I was eleven! Still, I moved. It helped that a pair of best friends moved to Seattle at the exact-same-time. They have been my rock. I wonder if I would have lasted this long if they weren't here. Now I'm dug in. I've put down roots - again.

And... change is happening to me. Again. One of my best friends - yet another sister of my soul - will be moving soon. Where? We don't know the answer to that question yet. She just finished her PhD. and is looking for a job. She sends me updated excel spreadsheets of her job search. She has 45 jobs she is applying for. I send her my feedback: where I absolutely don't want to live, and, my top choices of places to move to. She in turn indulges my fantasy of moving to where ever she moves to. Before I go on, let me clarify: I am not a stalker. I just figure, if I'm going to move again it might as well be where one of my best friends live, right?

Here's the deal - I think it's harder to make the 'big' change as you get older. This is the second place I've learned to call home - will the next place ever feel like home?

Here's the other deal - I wonder about my reasons for moving. Yes, I'm feeling restless. Yes, for me it's pretty normal to do a big move every so often. But am I forcing a change in reaction to the change happening around me? Is this a legitimate reason for moving? I know that when my friend leaves, I will have that same heartache I had in Los Angeles. I also know that if I move I will miss people in Seattle as much as I still miss people in L.A. fifteen years later. But if I hadn't moved then, I would never have met these people whom I love now.

Here's one more deal - I have a tugging deep inside that pulls me towards India - I really want to go back to live for awhile - maybe a year or two. But that's a whole other issue. huh?

LEFT BRAIN / RIGHT BRAIN

2007-10-30T16:03:00.000-07:00

Here is something interesting to do - Go to the webite below and there will be an image of a spinning lady. Which way is she spinning? Clockwise or counter-clockwise? Can you see her spin in the other direction?

http://www.news.com.au/heraldsun/story/0,21985,22556281-661,00.html

(Sorry - you'll have to copy and paste - I tried three different ways to imbed a link, but it's not working for me today!)

Which way you see her first spin depends on which side of your brain is dominant. I am right brain dominant and severly so. I cannot see her spin the opposite direction.

We did this at work and 4 people saw the counter-clockwise spin, and 2 people saw the clockwise spin, but, I was the only one who could not eventually see it spin both ways!

CULT OF THE RIBBON

2007-10-26T13:08:00.000-07:00

Ribbons used to be something you wrapped around a package, tied in your hair, cut at an opening ceremony. Pretty things. Things that denoted a celebration of sorts. Something that prettied up celebrations. Pretty or celebratory, and sometimes both.

Ah, those were the days.

Now ribbons are symbols. It all started with the yellow ribbon. If a loved one had gone off to war, you put up a yellow ribbon somewhere; the front door, the mailbox, tied around a tree. Now that we are four years into a war, we've all seen these ribbons. The yellow ribbon also works for people who are missing or kidnapped (especially if the kidnappers are terrorists). These people, as well as the soldiers, are most often referred to as "hero". These ribbons stay up until the "hero" comes home.

Now I have nothing against heroes. I just think that the word gets thrown around a bit too much. Sometimes a soldier is just a soldier. If they were all heroes, they'd all be getting the Congressional Medal of Honor. Sometimes, the soldier is just the guy or gal who is loved and missed and stuck in a place called Iraq. I also have nothing against ribbons per se. They are pretty things. They make me happy. What I wonder is, has this bedecking with yellow ribbons become obligatory? Would your loved ones feel less loved if they returned to a house bereft of ribbon? Perhaps your community may think you are not supportive, or worse, not missing your hero? Some people don't have a family member making a personal sacrifice far away but they can put up yellow ribbons in support of those who do. Anyone can put up yellow ribbons - for their heroes. Or someone else's hero. Yellow ribbons say "I support our troops". Sometimes they say, "I support our troops even if I think this war was a mistake from the beginning and I'm still an American and I love my country, so don't think I'm not patriotic."

Next, let's examine from whence came the concept of the yellow ribbon. I do this for the benefit of those younger than myself; those who did not grow up with the dulcet tones of Tony Orlando and Dawn. "Who?" you ask. Precisely. Tony Orlando & Dawn was a pop group from the 70's – a musically weird decade where the still relevant driving rock of Led Zeppelin had number one hits alongside silly pop tunes like "Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree".

More commonly know as "Tie a Yellow Ribbon", this is a song about a guy who is getting out of prison and he sends his girlfriend a letter – he will be on a bus that goes by the house and he'll stay on that bus unless she still loves him and wants him back. Now they need a sign…a yellow ribbon! Tie it around that ole oak tree out front (if you want me that is). If I see it, I'll tell the driver to stop the bus and let me off! If I don't see it, well then, sorry, and hey, have a good life.

That's where we get the yellow ribbon. When it changed from lawbreakers getting out of prison – you know, ex-cons – to heroes returning from someplace they'd rather not be but went to any way because it's their duty and if the didn't they'd end up in prison, I don't know. But the change happened and now we have yellow ribbons all over the country.

From the yellow ribbon we slid easily to the red ribbon. The red ribbon says: I support people with HIV/AIDS. I support finding a cure for HIV/AIDS. I support not ostracizing or marginalizing or discriminating against people with HIV/AIDS. These are all very worthy sentiments. I support all those sentiments and the people who have them. And by support I mean I agree with the sentiment but, like most people, do not support with actual money. And, I do this without ever wearing the red ribbon. Wait, what happened here? We don't tie the red ribbon around the ole oak tree? No. Now we wear the ribbon on our very person. But not all the time. And not everyone, just the high profile people - musicians, actors, directors etc. - you know - all those people who would be walking a red carpet at a premier or awards ceremony. Now this red ribbon can't be any style of ribbon. For instance, a guy can't show up in a tux with a cumberbund made of woven red ribbons and call that his "red ribbon"; and a lady can't show up in a black gown with red ribbons streaming from her shoulders and call that her "red ribbon". Nope. Now you must have a very specific, understated and stylish red ribbon that is pinned to what ever you are wearing. This is what I call the "Meta Ribbon". It is the form that all signatory ribbons will take, from now on. Until the end of eternity. No other style ribbon is acceptable.

Now we also have pink ribbons. These are to support the cure for breast cancer. Or, at least to support the idea of supporting finding a cure for breast cancer. Once again, a worthy cause. All of these causes are worthy, but, when did we become so obsessed with wearing our heart on our sleeve. Or, the idea of wearing our heart on our sleeve. Because we don't really, do we? When was the last time you saw a celebrity sporting the Meta Red Ribbon on the red carpet? It's been years hasn't it? When was the last time you saw anyone actually wearing the yellow, red or pink Meta Ribbon? I can't remember that far back myself.

What I do see are people sporting images of the Meta Ribbon. An icon of the symbol, if you will. These images come in all sorts of forms, the current most popular being the car magnet.

We also have the yellow ribbon/American flag combo magnet.

And the yellow ribbon soldier memorial magnet.

The yellow ribbon stamp...

The yellow ribbon interpreted in chysanthemums....

The yellow ribbon with flag pin, as well as the yellow ribbon charm bracelet...

And the always useful Meta Ribbon patch - you can cover a hole or just put it on you favorite jean jacket with all the other patches of things you love...

There are keychains, cufflinks, and nail appliques...

Fancy pins or, shoes!

So many ways to wear your heart on your sleeve, or feet, or car, or coat... And none of them are actually ribbons anymore.

I've been thinking about this for a while now. The first time I spoke of these things I was going somewhere with a friend, and we passed a car that had all sort of Meta Ribbon magnets on it. I said something like, "I hate those damn ribbons!" and my friend asked why. I related all of the above to her and she was: A) surprised at the Tony Orlando song connection, having miraculously lived her entire life without every having the agony of hearing that song (she's a bit younger than I), and B) obviously influenced by my rant, as I discovered some months later that, as a form of protest, whenever she sees a Meta Ribbon magnet on a car, and can get to it fairly easily, she takes it!

Note: I do not personally condone or condemn the wearing of your heart on your sleeve (or anywhere else), nor do I condone or condemn the pilfering of said hearts.

CALIFORNIA DREAMIN' - REDUX

2007-10-23T17:55:00.001-07:00

I have been thinking about the cycles of natural disasters that come regularly to California, as I sit here in Seattle, far removed from the raging fires. Physically removed at least. I awoke this morning to NPR news of Rancho Bernardo burning to the ground and panic set in – my sister lives so close. I called her – she's okay – they haven't told her to evacuate yet, but her bags are packed and waiting at the door – she says three trips to the car and she's gone. I suggested leaving now and driving up to our brother's house to stay. No, she says, she still has to work – though she's lost two clients in the past day (she cleans houses), one who lived in Rancho Bernardo – their 3000 square foot house, now just ashes. Another client lost their home in Ramona. Two other clients have evacuated and she doesn't know their status, though she says if she looses them too, she will have to move to a cheaper apartment, a studio maybe. I think she can find more clients, she has a good reputation. Also, moving will be difficult now, with so many new homeless in San Diego County. I asked her where she will go if she has to leave – she says Coronado Island – put some water between her and the fire.

I worry about my friend, Susie. She lives in Castaic. I've heard they were evacuating people there too. I don't have her phone number on me. I sent her an email – hopefully she'll give us an 'all clear' soon.

I see on the news that houses in Poway were lost. I wonder about Mickey and Nicki, who's house is next door to my parents old place. I don't know how to reach them. Phone numbers have been lost over the years – I only have a snail mail address now.

I see there is a fire on the edge of Irvine and I think about my friends, Marilyn and Derek, and hope that they are safe also.

I always loved this time of year in Southern California. It's strange, I know, but I liked the Santa Ana winds, so warm and dry. I liked the fierceness with which they blew. But there always lurks the fire hazard, especially, if like this past year, the rain has been good. Good rain, lush green hills. Then the weather warms up and they hills turn that shiny, parched grass golden color that I miss so much. When they call California 'The Golden State', I always think of the golden rolling hills, so beautiful and so dangerous. That dry grass catches fire so easily and burns so fast.

Here's the formula: Rain = green grass + warm weather = fire fuel... wild fires = no vegetation X rain = mudslides.

Yes mudslides. Act II. If your house was spared, but the land around you burned, you run the risk of mudslides in February.

That's the cycle. Then there are earthquakes.
This is the San Andreas fault near Palmdale.

Also – flooding expected in New Orleans. Again.

10/27/08 UPDATE - Everyone is safe. In the end, my sister only lost one client, not two - but the one whose house is gone asked her to clean at her mom's place so as to maintain her spot in Amy's schedule - and no loss of income for my sis! I learned that my sister-in-law has a cousin in Rancho Bernardo, we still haven't heard how they fared.

BUS STOP

2007-10-09T11:06:00.000-07:00

I have a friend who refers to me as the Public Trannie Queen. No, I am not a trannie, nor a queen, but I ride public transportation all the time. I get a lot of reading done, I'm not stressed out by latent road rage, and I see some interesting things that I would miss if I were safe in the comforting confines of my own car.

But there are things that puzzle me...

So, you're at the bus stop waiting for your usual 8:10 to work. It's a bit drizzly out, but not too bad. An express to downtown comes by and offloads a bunch of people who stay at the stop. This is a clue that they are now going to get on a local, and you know the only local that comes by here is the one you are also getting on. Okay. It's going to be a crowded, damp ride to work. You may even have to stand, which means you're not going to finish your book this morning.

Ah, finally, here comes your bus around the corner, three minutes late – not too bad. Almost everyone who gets on this bus has been waiting for at least five minutes, but there is always one who isn't prepared. So tell me – why don't they have their fare ready or their bus pass out? Why do we have to stand and wait while they block the entrance going through their pockets or purse looking for their pass or the dollar fifty? Why do we have to say "sorry" when they turn around and ask if anyone has change for a dollar? Why didn't they get this all straightened out during the five minutes we were waiting for the bus?

I ride the bus five days a week to and from work, and several times a day on weekends getting to and from social events or doing errands. This fare jamb happens just about every single time I board the bus. Doesn't matter what day, what time, what route; there is always someone for whom the concept of having their fare ready, completely escapes them.

Why is this? Just wondering.

LOOKING FOR A JOB MAKES ME FEEL LIKE JOB

2007-08-30T11:35:00.000-07:00

So, the word is trickling down to the little folks in my office (and we are all little folks in that we are not at the main office) that our days are numbered. We know our lease is up in February because the building is being torn down to put up one of those one block long, five story, office/residential buildings with a retail base. That's what happens when a city lifts or raises the height restriction in surrounding neighborhoods – old buildings get torn down and new buildings go up, and, up. If you live in a place where the economy is a teensy bit slow, just raise the height restrictions and the construction business will boom, making other parts of the econ better. Our good mayor is on a campaign against sprawl. Bravo for him. I've lived in sprawl, I'd rather have density any day.

I do say "our good mayor" a bit facetiously though, as there really isn’t much more than the density thing on which I agree with him anymore. In fact, I'm kind of mad that I voted for him twice. The first time, because I thought he'd be good for the city, the second time because it was the lesser of the two evils. He has good ideas, but he lets big business, which in this case is major land owners, thwart them until it looks like the only thing he cares about is keeping the landowners happy. He says he want our city to be green, and he goes about on weekends picking up trash with the common folks, but it really is just a photo op, especially when he turns around a nixes a public transportation thing that was approved by the voters three times. Yes, three times. Not once, not twice, but three times. Or was it four? I think I've lost count on how many times we had to vote on that. It's a bit pandering to say you want to be green and then scrap portions of the bicycle plan for the city. How much greener can one get than a bicycle?

But I digress. February. Yep. That seems to be the consensus in the office. I mean, why move the people if you're going to lay them off? They will probably offer us the opportunity to keep our jobs if we move to Reno, but, and this is a big but, why would we move to Reno when we live in paradise?

So, I guess it's not that big of a deal. It isn't the first time I've been laid off. More like the 6th or 7th time. And maybe the title of this blog is a little misleading, since I'm not yet actually looking for a job, (though maybe I should be), just anticipating the ordeal because I really dislike the process. Although a job that paid a bit more would be nice… Or one that I could walk to would be great… One with better bennies… A job with travel wouldn't be bad…

VAGUE-OSITY

2007-08-12T13:01:00.000-07:00

I like words. I especially like whan I can find the precise word for a very specific thought. This isn't always easy for me. Often it's on the tip of my tongue for days. When it comes to remembering events and obscure happenings, my brain is the repository. I have often heard a friend remark, "That's why we have Patti, she remembers things for us." I guess it's good to be good for something. Even though I love words I often draw a blank when trying to come up with a specific word. When it comes to names, I am a hopeless case. Once I was introducing a friend to some people, and I was so worried that I would forget someone's name that I said, "And this is my dear friend..." Blank. Totally blank. I turned to this woman whom I've counted as my best friend for those 39 years, and I raised my eyebrows, pleading with her to help me out. "Rochelle..." says she, and "I can't believe you forgot my NAME!"

So the other day I came across a word that I have been familiar with for a very long time, and one that I use often. I don't know however, whether I'd ever actually seen the definition.

Peruse. Simple enough. Peruse. You, in fact are right now, perusing my blog.

Here is Mirriam-Webster's definition:

peruse \puh-ROOZ\ verb
1 a : to examine or consider with attention and in detail : study b : to look over or through in a casual or cursory manner
*2 : read; especially : to read over in an attentive or leisurely manner

Quite stunning I think, that in this huge language of ours, we have one word that means both to read carefully, and to read casually. Why not have two different words - one for each type of reading. I always use the word in the careful way, but I did an informal poll and I find a slight lean towards using the word in the casual manner. Now my poll was not scientific by any means - I will admit now, publicly and with a weird sense of pride, that I took Statistics three times before I passed. I am a word person, not a number person. But I can see the problem arising if you tell someone you'll peruse their manuscript or report or article. Will they expect constructive critisism and feedback? Or will they be upset that you do not feel it warrants a careful reading? Do you then have to say: I'll give this a careful perusal, or, I'll casually peruse this. Either of these feel redundant to me - careful or casual is implicit in the meaning of the word. One wouldn't say - The show was fabulously fantastic. The fabulousness of the show is conveyed by calling it fantastic. The carefulness of the perusal is conveyed by the very word peruse. As is the casualness of the perusal. What's a girl to do?

Definition #2 - to read in an especially attentive manner or to read in an especially leisurely manner.

Which is it? Can one read attentively and leisurely at the same time? I think these words are contradictory. Am I wrong? I think we should pick one meaning, and then create a new word that defines the other meaning. Who is with me on this? Are we in agreeance? Can I get a show of hands?

BLACKBERRIES

2007-07-18T13:33:00.000-07:00

This morning on my way to work, I passed by some blackberries that I usually pass by daily - but today I was stopped in my tracks. There were ripe blackberries on this vine! It was raining and I was getting wet, but still I stood there and picked 2 handfuls and ate them - right there in the alley! Usually I'm picking Blackberries in August and September - Hello? It's July!

Can I also say that one of the things I love about Seattle, is that you can walk to work within the city limits and be able to snack on wild blackberries, in an alley no less. What more could a girl want?

OLALLIEBERRIES

2007-07-09T11:45:00.001-07:00

Olallieberries look like blackberries for a reason - they are descended from them. They are a cross between a loganberry and a young berry - both of which are crosses of blackberry with another berry. Unfortunately we never see them in Washington. I miss them so much it might be reason enough to move back to California. These berries have a short season, usually in June, the end of school was always the trigger and we'd start looking for Olallieberry pies. They are bigger and sweeter than a blackberry. If you've never had them I'd urge you to seek them out.

BLUEBERRIES

2007-07-07T10:39:00.001-07:00

Ah...the amazing blueberry is in season again. Firm, fruity, sweet - I often eat them like grapes, I can't get enough. Not only are they good but they are good for you. Evidence is growing that they help with medical problems such as cancer, hypertension, heart disease, Alzheimer's, and can lower cholesterol levels. All fresh fruits are good for us, but the mighty blueberry is a little dynamo. Have some everyday.

CANTALOUP

2007-07-06T16:08:00.000-07:00

There really is no better way to start a day than with a cantaloup right at it's peak. The beautiful color, fruity perfume and delectable sweetness. It is perfection itself.

NECTARINE

2007-07-05T13:11:00.000-07:00

The name says it all, doesn't it?

WATERMELON

2007-07-04T13:31:00.000-07:00

Sweet. Juicy. Crisp. A thick wedge of watermelon is the perfect treat for a hot summer day. I bet you want one right now. You can taste that fruity sweetness right now, can't you? OK, I have to go now and get a watermelon. See you later.

RAINIER CHERRIES

2007-07-03T17:33:00.001-07:00

Plump, rosy. juicy, sweet rainier cherries, dangling from their stems, tempting your tastebuds, making your mouth water. Explosion of flavor. Suck on the pit, then spit. They do not disappoint.

MANGO TANGO

2007-07-02T10:07:00.001-07:00

First you gently squeeze the leathery skin and feel the slightest give of the fruit within. Then smell it; inhale deeply. Yes, it's ready. Slice aroung the pit and pull the wedges off. Lick the juice from your fingers. The first bite... bliss...

COOL

2007-06-29T11:44:00.000-07:00

Cool, cool cucumbers. Crisp, refreshing, thirst quenching. The cucumber is the perfect summer treat.

SALAD

2007-06-29T11:34:00.001-07:00

Summer is amazing. There are many reasons why, one being lettuce. Fresh organic lettuce from the farmers market, tossed with a little balsamic dressing, or ginger miso...

KIWI

2007-06-28T15:57:00.000-07:00

I am eating a Kiwi and thinking, as I always do when eating a Kiwi, of the Suva produce market on the big Island of Viti Levu in Fiji, and the kid who sold me the fresh Kiwi juice from a water cooler.

I'll never forget how good that juice was.

SANDI & HEIDI - HOW WE MET

2007-06-27T12:02:00.000-07:00

SANDI: Heidi and I met playing softball. The first year we played together was 1992. We were both with other partners at the time and for most of that year I was happy in my relationship so Heidi and I were just teammates. Some of my first memories of her were that she was in intense player, a bit of a hot head, but I could understand that and it didn't bother me as my partner at the time was the same way. That I can be a little intense and hotheaded when it comes to competitive sports wasn’t a factor at all . . . LOL.

By the end of that softball season my relationship was having problems and in the '93 season we had decided to see other people. Still, it wasn’t Heidi as she and her partner at the time as far as I knew were still together. I started dating a Police Officer. She was nice enough but the spark wasn’t there and at some point during that relationship I quit drinking. It may have had something to do with the fact that “The Officer” had a habit of constantly feeding me drinks when we went out and the day I had a hangover so bad I couldn’t go to work I stopped drinking for a year. Looking back I picked a bad year to quit drinking . . . as the saying goes!

During the '94 season is when Heidi and I first started seeing each other. Apparently in the off season she had split up with her X. I had split up with the Officer, although she was still hanging around - also I had the added stress of attempting to reconcile with my X. I remember that Heidi and I had planned on meeting up at the events after the Gay Pride parade. I think I was working a booth for the softball team. I remember being excited to see her but this particular day didn’t work out like we thought as the Officer had shown up earlier. It was rather awkward.

We tried again to go out as friends but my X saw right through Heidi’s intentions and as she and I were sort of unsuccessfully attempting reconciliation she tagged along to the movie. Lordy, what a mess! My memory of this period is a little shaky with good reason . . . I was a tad stressed. I had always liked Heidi but found myself really attracted to her on another afternoon at yet another softball event. It was a men’s tourney and I was again working a booth to raise funds for our team. Heidi came walking up smiling from ear to ear and I thought, “Wow, what a beautiful smile! Her whole face lights up when she smiles!” I was hooked. By the end of the softball season the stress had gotten to me and I can remember grabbing a beer from our coach saying “Give me that” and I chugged it down. Not long after that my X and I had pretty much realized that we would be better off as friends instead of lovers. She was seeing someone else and Heidi and I were seeing more and more of each other.

Heidi lived in Ballard and I would stop by after my classes at the UW and we would talk. Heidi and I had and still have a lot of things in common aside from sports and both of us being the oldest siblings in our respective families, we even like the same TV shows and movies. I was being cautious; I had been through too much stress the 2 years prior to leap into anything. Heidi and my X were alike in a lot of ways and I wasn’t sure that it would work out given that my X and I didn’t. They are also very different and I suppose it’s those differences that have allowed Heidi and I to stay together . . . for almost 13 years now.

Wow, 13 years, we fight, she drives me crazy sometimes but I love her and frankly can’t imagine being with anyone else. I have been trying to think of something unique or worries I had in the beginning but I really can’t think of anything. We knew each other before we decided to date. We were both coming out of relationships and we enjoyed each others company. There were friends that didn’t think we were a good fit, but they couldn’t see Heidi the way I did. They all saw this hard, hot headed softball player that couldn’t control her temper. I saw strength, passion, shyness and compassion. I was right . . . they were wrong and it's been almost 13 years and we are still going strong.

HEIDI: I met Sandi and her then partner on the softball field in the spring of 1992 in Seattle. They played in the same gay softball league on another team the previous year but wanted to play on a better team and the team I played on was it. At the time I also had a partner. The season progressed with lots of ball playing and spending time with all the players. Sandi stood out by her friendliness and her willingness to accept people as they were. Her partner at that time and I did not really get along and so we would have our squabbles but Sandi would step in and just calm everyone down. She also knew that her ex and I were very competitive and it sometimes upset the rest of the team but she did not let that bother her either; she understood that sometimes people have to let off steam and tried to get the others to also see it. I liked this about her because not many team members could or would even take the time. This also was not a good year for Sandi because her partner was struggling with wanting to be with her and another person who she knew in high school.

After the season ended I did not really see her again until the next softball season 1993, even though she would call and see if anyone would like to go out dancing. By then she was seeing someone else as was her ex, even though they still did things together. About this time my relationship was having problems and my partner decided to take a job in another city. I guess that was pretty much the end even though at first we did try to make it work but it really wasn’t meant to be.

In the spring of 1994 our next season started and I was pretty much single. I thought Sandi was still dating someone else but while playing in a tournament in California over Memorial weekend a comment she made about the other person told me she was not. I also got the impression that she may like me but then I figured it could be that she was just being nice as always. I know that I felt an attraction to her. A question my ex-partner had asked me a couple of years before was if I were to date anyone on the team who would it be. I knew this was a loaded question and did not want to answer but with prodding I answered that it would be Sandi. She was shocked but I was not and told her why.

Anyway after we got back from the tournament, one night after a league game I got up the nerve to ask Sandi if she liked movies (little did I know) and would she like to go out with me. I prepared myself for her to say no but she said yes. And so we went out.

There were some complications though throughout the season as her ex decided that she might want to get back with her especially since I was in the picture. This was really hard for Sandi as she really cared about her friend. I finally told Sandi that until she could make a decision one way or the other that we could no longer go out or see each other except when playing ball. This was hard for me because Sandi could have gone back to her ex but I wanted her to be sure and eventually she knew that she and her ex could only be really good friends and that she wanted to spend the time to get to know me.

So after 13 years we are still happily together and I have to say that Sandi is not only my lover and partner but she is my very best friend and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about her and feel blessed to have her in my life.

We are also very good friends with her ex and her ex's partner and do a lot of things together.

Susie & Shorty - 1st Installment in the Series: How We Met

2007-06-25T12:49:00.000-07:00

SUSIE:
I was invited by a friend to hang some of my paintings in a group art show which was being held in a second floor space above Woolworth’s on Hollywood Boulevard . The landlords of the space were a couple who had a recording studio and a clothing design studio, and they had on hand, their friend, Shorty, to run the sound for the fashion show and to help the artists hang and light their work.

I became aware of Shorty when Ian, the female half of the landlord team said to me, “Someone is in love with you”.

“Who?” I replied, looking around to see which artsy hunk would be my next disastrous fling.

“Shorty!”, she replied happily.

“Who is Shorty?”

“That guy, over there!” I followed her pointing finger to a very short, chubby man, whose belly was popping out of his dirty T-shirt, his uncombed, slightly unkempt Afro topping off the look, and his pants, hanging below the belly scuffed their long hems across the dirty floors.

“Oh", I said, disappointed. Ian immediately reassured me that Shorty was a very special man indeed. He was downright wonderful. I was less than enthused. She advised me to get to know him over the next couple days during the show. I’d always been interested in recording studios and production, and as I soon realized that Shorty was an audio engineer, I decided to hang around him in his element, the cruddy, cigarette burned mixing board in the smoke filled, worn down recording studio.

My immediate impression of him during the next 48 hours was that he was “cool”. He always seemed calm and happy, which of course could have been because he had some really good pot, but I came to realize this was truly who he was. He was respected by everyone and seemed to be the person, as small as he was, that everyone came to for help.

He asked me if I wanted to go to Cabo with him in three weeks because he was tour managing a rock band that had a New Year’s Eve gig at a club there.

I said, “Sure, I’ll go with you”, kind of thinking that it might happen or it might not. That night, he walked me to my car and spent about 7 minutes giving me his Skypager number and telling me in the most minute detail how to use it. He must have had some pretty stupid girlfriends in the past.

The next day, when I got home from work, there was a message from him on my answering machine. He said he needed to get may passport, etc. to get the papers ready for the trip. This guy is serious, I thought. Over the next month, he impressed me by being very capable – able to handle anything. What did not impress me were his lack of communication skills and absence of grooming or style. He also was definitely not artsy or “cultured” in any way, and seemed extremely uncomfortable around my crowd of friends. His tactic to ease his discomfort was to pretend he was a “meat eatin’, good ole’ boy from Texas” because he knew that it would piss off my vegetarian, tattooed, nose ringed friends – even though he was just a 5’2” Jewish guy from Cleveland. He really didn’t care if they liked him or not, he was just Shorty.

When we actually did go on the Cabo trip, this little guy really blew my mind. He had five half drunk rock and rollers and their girlfriends in tow, all their ID’s, passports, luggage, plane tickets, gear and manifests. When we got off the plane in Cabo, everyone at the airport knew him and greeted him warmly, which caused me to think that perhaps I had myself another drug dealer. But it was just the kind of guy that Shorty was – he was in his element, taking charge, doing his thing.

During the course of our early relationship, I was told time and time again by women who knew him what a great guy he was and how lucky I was to have landed him. We never really had a courtship because he’s not romantic, doesn’t converse, and really has no idea how to go on a date. He just kinda moved in, speaker by speaker, ugly piece of furniture by ugly piece of furniture. The issues that we had then are still the same issues we have today. The difference is that I learned how to ask him questions and through that finally learned “Shortyspeak” so that we can communicate. When I need to talk about art, jazz, and things of that nature, I go to my friends. The reason why we are still together after seventeen years is that he just truly is a great guy. He is the most capable, technically and mechanically proficient genius that I have ever seen. He does not know the meaning of the word “quit”. He wakes up every day happy, no matter what adversity he might be facing. He never worries me with things that might upset me, he just handles it all and lets me live in my happy little world. He is logic and patience personified.

He is still emotionally locked up, but he tells me he loves me every day, every time we say goodbye. Even though I’d love to school his little butt about many, many things, like how to speak properly, groom, dress, and a million more things, I respect him and admire him for all the amazing things that he can do that my cultured ass couldn’t figure out in a lifetime. I could go on and on about him so I’ll stop now.

SHORTY:
I saw her at this art thing. She had a good body, I liked her paintings – they were buildings and not crazy like the other paintings. She knew how to work a staple gun, she was small and Jewish. She wasn’t too annoying, she had a nice apartment, and she had a good head on her shoulders even though she was divorced twice already. She was a little dippy but not too bad. She was psycho in Cabo, but I straightened her out. Her friends are okay but most of them are weird. I was worried that she would break up with me because she always bailed when things went wrong. She was a little too emotional, but I knew I could handle her. And what can I say now? She has a good body, she makes good kids. She’s a good mom. I taught her how to be normal and now she’s cool, but still crazy some times when her hormones are whacked out.

NEW PROJECT

2007-06-20T15:04:00.000-07:00

I'm starting a series of stories about how couples met. Each entry will have two parts, one from each member of said couple, no collaborating or discussing. I'm interested in all kinds of relationships and how the stories shift with the different perspectives.

Things I'm interested in are when and where; under what circumstances. What were your first impressions, what were your second impressions? Did any one thing stand out as exceptional about this person? When and why did you know you wanted to get to know him/her better? Was there anything that might have potentially made the relationship impossible? All this and any other interesting details that might make your story unique, because it is my belief that all these stories are unique.

If you are interested in contributing you can emails me at meetingtales@hotmail.com and I'll be in touch with you.

RETRACTION

2007-06-11T12:30:00.000-07:00

Ok, ok, my last post was a rant, I apologize and retract. It seems the justice system has worked it out and Paris is just a regular girl like the rest of us. Yippee!

Let's not talk about her again. Ever.

I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M DOING THIS...

2007-06-07T12:48:00.000-07:00

But I'm going to blog about, ugh, Paris Hilton. (see retraction above)

LACK OF INSPIRATION

2007-06-06T08:55:00.000-07:00

What do you do when you sit in front of your computer screen and your mind is blank? Where do you get your inspiration? I have a lot of ideas for stories, but they are in files, struggling to coalesce into something worth reading. I keep them, knowing that eventually I'll find the key that opens them up, the key that unlocks the door to the inspiration vault. I never know when or where I'm going to find that key, but I'll confess, it often comes from my dreams - that magical subconcious that struggles to the surface when I sleep. Sometimes though, I go in search of inspriation.

Case in point: the other day I was logged onto an on-line writers workshop and the question was asked: what is the best gift you've received as a writer?

Someone mentioned that he was once given a "Descriptionary" and that it was the best tool he ever had for writing. So I looked it up on Amazon and found: Descriptionary: A Thematic Dictionary by Marc Mccutcheon. They have it in hardback for $60.00 but I bought a used copy for less than $1.00 + shipping. I got it in the mail they other day and opened it randomly to entries on bridges. It lists the names of all the different kinds of bridges and the names of all their parts. Now I'll have to write a story with a bridge in it so that I can use some great new vocabulary!

Basically this book is for people like me who know what the object looks like but can't think of what it's called - or never knew what it was called. You look up the description of the thing and it gives you the name. Genius! I don't know how I've managed to live without this book. Hopefully, it'll provide some inspiration soon.

###

I often listen in on conversations around me for bits of useful dialog. One day I was in my old favorite coffee hang out (alas it is gone now) and I listened to these two old farts talk about how they need to take a trip to Mexico where they can pick up on some hot ladies. I remember thinking that the only ladies anywhere that these guys are going to get lucky with are the kind you pay in advance. Nevertheless, I wrote down their conversation verbatim - it was so rich - and someday it'll make it into a story. Another time I watched this guy try to pick up on some chicks in the same wonderful coffee place (I wish it were still there). He was an obvious stoner and they were college girls, so he was trying to impress them: "Have you ever read that guy Krishnamurti? Yeah dude! He's so radical." I'm still waiting for the story that needs that line.

An on-line chat the other day was discussing new expressions. I thought the best one was: Mellow out. Who crapped in your Kellogg's? I definitely need to use that somewhere.

Somewhere.

Someday.

But what about now. Where's the inspiration?

I think it is weighted down by things. Things happening. Events to attend. Birthday parties. Baby showers. Laundry. Grocery shopping. Work.

It's a fine balance between setting aside time to write, and living life. You have to live life in order to fill up and have inspiration, but you can't let life crowd out your time for writing. Sometimes I wish I was one of those people who could get up at 4 or 5 AM and write for an hour or two before the day begins, but anyone who knows me knows that I am not a morning person. I guess I'll continue to work the ideas into stories, improving my craft of writing and be grateful when the inspriation returns.

DREAMS

2007-05-18T12:35:00.000-07:00

Last night I had a dream that my legs were tan.

How weird is that? I don't remember anything else about the dream except for the tan legs. It was like I had been sitting in the sun with my pants rolled up – slouched in a chair with my feet on a table so that my shins were situated for maximum exposure – because only the front of my legs, from the knee to the ankle, were tanned.

Why would I dream this? First off, I don't tan, I burn. Second, I believe our dreams are a subconscious processing of what we encountered during the day. Or, a processing of our fears. Or, a processing of our desires. Maybe I desire tan legs. Yes, I kind of do desire tan legs. I'm also kind of afraid of exposure to the sun (see blog below – Morbid Imagination). Maybe I dreamt of tan legs because I both desire them and fear the process, thereby killing two subconscious birds with one stone. But then, that leads to the next question…

Don't I have more important things to dream about?

THREE HAIKU ON CRAFTINESS

2007-05-17T18:13:00.000-07:00

My glue gun, my friend
With you, I fix and create
Craftiness abounds!

Wee scraps, bits of cloth
Prints, stripes and solid pieces
Bold transformation

Clickity click clack
Flashing needles, twisted yarn
Trailing purple scarf

EUPHEMISM

2007-05-04T18:29:00.000-07:00

The other day at work I started thinking about euphemisms. I like words and word play, but sometimes I don't like euphemisms. Take "death". There was a death in the family. Her grandfather died. I saw a dead guy on the sidewalk in Vancouver. These are all perfectly fine for me. What often bothers me are euphemisms that exist to soften the blow of death. He passed. Passed what? Statistics 101? Departed. Deceased. Gone to a better place. Checked out. Bit the big one. Bit the dust. Bought the farm. Cashed in their chips. Gone south. Pushing up daisies. Six feet under. Kicked the bucket. Croaked. Some of these soften by making light of the matter - I like them best. I was talking to a friend once about when my Grandma died and he corrected me - he told me I should say passed, it sounds nicer. It may sound nicer but it's not brutal enough to correspond with the devastation of having lost my Grandma!

So while thinking in the euphemistic vein, I wondered how many I could come up with for that part of the anatomy on which we sit. We got 43. I say we, because it became a group effort.

AFT
ARSE
ASS
BACK
BACKSIDE
BADONKADONK
BEHIND
BOOMBOSITY
BOOTY
BOTTOM
BREECH
BUM
BUTT
BUTTOCKS
CABOOSE
CAN
CHEEKS
CROUP
DERRIER
DUFF (does this mean on the Simpsons, they're drinking Butt Beer?)
FANNY
FUNDAMENT
GLUTES
GLUTEUS MAXIMUS
HAUNCHES
HEINIE
HIND END
HIND PART
HIND QUARTERS
KEISTER
MOON
POSTERIOR
PRAT
REAR
RUMP
SACRUM
SEAT
STERN
TAIL
TRUNK
TSUKIS
TUSH
TUSHIE

A couple of these terms were completely new to me, and one may be a word specific to my family, well really, specific to my Grandma. (Did I mention she was my most favorite person in the whole world?) Have we missed any?

P.S. Thanks to my cohorts, George & Michael.

TOASTER OVENS

2007-05-01T14:20:00.000-07:00

Who invented the toaster oven? Some clever person, interested in efficiency and small spaces. Someone interested in appliances that can do double duty. Someone who knew that people without toasters or ovens would buy them. Who also knew that people with toasters and people with ovens and even people with toasters and ovens would be lured by the cleverness of the toaster oven. Someone with small hands.

The other day I burned my hand on the toaster oven in our office kitchen (the other market for this cunning appliance). Whatever niche the toaster oven may fill, it does not work for people with big Hungarian peasant hands. I smelled the burn before I felt it. It was on the side of the knuckle of the index finger. That patch of skin had turned tan. Soon the redness started. I ran it under cool water and wrapped a wet paper towel around and ice cube. I held the ice against the burn on and off while I ate my lunch. Forty five minutes later I was back at my desk and looked at the burn only to find that I burned my hand in two places! There was another, much larger lesion where the thumb attaches to the carpal bones. This second burn made an interesting comparison of what happens when you treat a burn right away, and what happens when you don't. It's better to treat right away.

The theory on burn treatment is to use cold water or ice as the primary treatment in order to stop the skin from burning any more. If you don't cool it down right away, the skin continues to burn long after it's it is removed from the heat source. So, my second burn blistered a bit and hurt for days, while the first one gave me no discomfort at all. I have patches of red on my hand now, and if previous burns are anything to go by, it will be months before they go away. A bit unsightly, but not too bad. I could be wearing chipped nail polish.

What is the deal with the chipped nail polish anyway? Is it an affected fashion or is it neglect and laziness? I never wear nail polish on my hands because I can't go a day without it chipping and I don't have the time to constantly fix my nails. I used to have the time. Polished nails were important to me. I've realized though, that in the whole scheme of life, they are unimportant as hell. I have much better things to do now than to constantly fix and fuss over my nails. Not that I don't like a well manicured hand. It is nice to have longer, well shaped nails, cuticles pushed back and trimmed, hands softened by lotion, but you can have that if you spend fifteen minutes a week. What is with this chipped nail polish?

This is what I see all over town: Young girls with bitten-to-the-quick nails sporting chipped dark or black polish. First of all, if you have a nail biting problem, why would you want to call attention to it by applying color to the bitten nail? It exacerbates the problem. It makes the fingers looks stubby. And, if you want color on the nails, why would you want chipped color? It's ubiquitous - the bitten, chipped-color nails on the younger girls. I think it must be a fashion statement. What else could it be?

I guess it's OK if that what you want. But then, in the mornings, when I'm trying to get to work and wishing I was still in that drowsy state in my bed all snuggled under my luscious down comforter, and I stop at my local coffee place to get my jump start caffeine groove, my apprehension grows. It grows in a way that is not good for your health so early in the morning. It grows in a way that is really not necessary, and therefore quite irksome. I don't need this extra stress, as I carefully watch my barista make my double tall non-fat latte, wondering if any of that chipped nail polish is making its way into my morning beverage. Ugh!

4/6 Haiku

2007-04-06T13:31:00.000-07:00

Clear warm sun sparkle
Good Friday better than most
White flip flops flapping

4/3/07 HAIKU

2007-04-03T15:20:00.000-07:00

Sunny day, though cold
still, as March not April.
Cherry blossoms bud.

ACHEY BREAKY

2007-03-30T12:35:00.000-07:00

Oh my aching knees! Who knew how much they could hurt?

Many years ago when I was a bit younger and decidedly more reckless, I used to crash. A lot. When I was nine I flipped over the handlebars on my bike and smashed my face into the newly graveled road. I pretty much ruined my front teeth. My mom gave me a Tupperware to catch the blood dripping from my mouth and raced me to the dentist, who shoved my teeth back into my gums.

Metal caps and root canals ensued. Weekly trips to the dentist. But I still have my teeth. For a long time they were chipped and grey, though eventually I stayed with a job long enough for the insurance to pay sixty per cent of the cost for porcelain caps.

Months went by while I waited for the caps to be ready. My dentist was a perfectionist when it came to color and shape.

"When I get done with you, you'll look like a movie star," he said as I gazed out over the Los Angeles skyline.

"You'll have to fix more than my teeth!" I replied.

###

In high school I was on my bike riding down the street next to ours – our street was way too steep to ride a bike down. Any way, I was going fast. The street dead-ended at the cross street at the bottom of the hill, and as I quickly approached it, I realized I was not going to make the turn. My front tire hit the curb, and I was launched. Luckily I had a soft landing on the gently sloping, lush lawn of some nice lady's front yard. She came running out to see if I was hurt, but I jumped up like you do when you are body surfing and you wipe out, but you're cool, and you don't want any one to know how bad it hurt. Only my ego was bruised. Oh yeah, and my legs were stained green from the grass.

I'm not even going to get into the body surfing wipe outs. Can we just say: dislocated shoulder?

###

When I was seventeen I decided to visit a friend who lived in Trabuco Canyon. She had mono and had been in quarantine for a bit. When I found out she could have visitors, I got up early the next morning and rode my bike out to the canyon. It was a warm day, in the high eighties when I left my apartment at 7 AM. The ride to Trabuco was twelve miles uphill and one mile downhill at the end. When I finally crested that hill I was so hot and sweaty – it felt so good to stop pedaling and let the breeze cool me as I coasted down into the canyon. Back then, Trabuco Canyon Road was a narrow, two lane affair; I'm sure now it's probably four lanes. Any way, I was coasting down and going fast and really enjoying it. Cars were being careful passing me, until one asshole sped by -- missing me by about a half an inch. The slipstream from his car pushed me off the road and I saw I had a choice to make: Hit the big rock in front of me, hit the stone wall, hit the tree.

I decided to hit the rock – even though it was big, it was smaller than the wall or the tree. Once again, my front tire made contact and the bike stopped, launching me about twenty feet, where I landed, hard, then skidded. I couldn't breathe. I remember rolling from side to side, trying to get some air and thinking that ribs must have punctured my lungs, and I was going to die. I wound up in the hospital. Diagnosis: ruptured spleen sac. They kept me under observation for three days, ready to cut me open and stitch me up. No need, it healed on it's own.

Later I told my mom, "The one thing that went through my mind as I hit the ground – KEEP YOUR HEAD UP!" I did not want to wreck my teeth again.

So, you see a pattern here; I liked speed. I also went backpacking and rock climbing, but never got injured with these sports – couldn't build up enough speed.

I called in sick to work at the end of one week in 1980 to go on a ski trip to Mammoth with my parents and little bro. On our last day there, I was coming down a run and I hit a steeper patch with moguls. I was doing alright, even though I never really liked moguls. About halfway down this patch I was at the left side just starting a right turn and I realized this was one crazy mogul – it looked like someone had taken a slice out of it. The tips of my skis slammed into the sheer wall of snow and stopped. The sudden loss of momentum sent me twisting hard to the left. My right binding released. The left binding did not.

The next day I was sitting on an exam table and the orthopedic surgeon asked me if I heard any thing unusual when I fell.

"I heard a distinct 'Pop, pop, pop'" I replied.

He winced.

After the X-rays he said, "I have good news and bad news. The good is there are no bone chips. The bad is that just about everything else is gone."

Followed up by, "I'll see if I can get a hospital room tonight and an O.R. for the morning."

I had cleanly snapped both the lateral and medial collateral ligament, and the anterior cruciate ligament, also known as the ACL. Oh yeah, a little tear of the meniscus, too.

So the years have gone by, and the knee holds up pretty well. There are certain things I can't do any more – like straighten the leg all the way or bend it all the way. Or run much more than 20 yards. Or roller skate or do anything that would put excessive lateral stress on the joint (unless I am wearing a brace) (which I never bought). When I lived in L.A the knee would let me know when it was going to rain. When I moved to Seattle, it lost it's ability to sense that change in the weather – because, well, now it wasn't really a change, more like a way of life.

There were times when I'd have some pain. Times when it was stiff. But nothing that really impacted me. My doctor had told me that eventually I'd have arthritis in the joint, but I wasn't really worried about it. My mom said that someday I'd probably need knee replacement, but I had always disagreed with that.

Last year though. Last year was definitely a turning point. The arthritis seems to have kicked in with a vengeance. Every day the knee hurts. Some days it really hurts. Every step I take is felt. Sometimes when I sit at my desk I can't concentrate on any thing except the throb in my knee.

These days I find myself thinking a lot about knee replacement. I surf the web, looking at different artificial knee options. They say the artificial joint doesn't last for ever and that they can only replace a knee twice. Although maybe in 20 or 30 years that will change completely. I wonder how long my knee will last. Or, how long I'll be able to take the pain. Luckily I have a high tolerance for it, but constant pain does wear on one. And this is just the first year. It's only going to get worse.

I really have no regrets in my life, but sometimes I think, if I could have just one day to do over, maybe I would have skipped skiing on that that last day in Mammoth.

THE JOY OF RE-WRITING

2007-03-21T15:32:00.000-07:00

I have always thought of re-writing as a chore. I am a writer who relies heavily upon inspiration. I'm not the sort who gets a little kernel of a idea, and methodically works it over and over until I have a little gem of a story. I get an idea, an inspiration for a story, and I write for hours on end. Sometimes I can't type fast enough – I have to get it on paper before it slips through my fingers. I sometimes write an entire story in one sitting. Then I go through it and fix the errors in spelling, the repeated word, the occasional awkward sentence. When I'm done, I'm spent. And I'm done. I don’t really want to work on the story anymore. I just want to send it out into the hard, cruel word of literary journals.

But I don't. I workshop it first.

I have two workshops and they are both invaluable to me. The first is a local group of writers. We meet twice a month, and each story is read by someone other than the writer. When you hear your story read out loud, awkward sentences and problems with rhythm become obvious. After the reading, comments and suggestions are made. Everyone in the group has a different style of writing and a genre that they favor, so there is some nice diversity.

The second group is an online workshop, Zoetrope. The website is generously hosted by F.F. Coppola's Zoetrope company. Here, for every story I post for review, I have to review five other stories. This has helped my writing in so many ways. I see examples of what I should do, and examples of what I should not do. It is a learning experience to put into kind words for the author, whether or not a story works, why, and what can be done to make it a better story.

Recently I have gone back to stories work-shopped in both groups. Because the third part of work-shopping is, of course, re-writing. You know, that thing that I don't like to do. Until recently, that is. For one story in particular, I read over everyone's comments several times. It became clear that there was a consensus about a few areas that needed work. There was also the occasional comment about one thing or another that I thought of as outliers. If only one person mentions it, I chalk it up to personal preference. Or, a if change is suggested that I don't agree with, I ignore it. Suggestions can be ignored. After all, it is my story. Maybe someone else would write it differently, but they didn't write it, did they?

Anyway, I started re-writing. From the top, down, each area that needed work. I thought it was going to be a chore. I thought it would be tedious. A small part of me was afraid I would ruin the story, so I made sure I had the original saved separately and intact.

To my surprise, it wasn't a chore. It wasn't tedious. I didn't ruin the story. In fact, what is emerging is a much, much better story. One that might even have a chance of getting published. I spent the most satisfying three hours of writing that I've had in a long while. I'm not done yet, but I am looking forward to completing the re-write this week, and bringing it back to my writing group next week. After that, I will go back and look at those other stories that are languishing in my hard drive, their flawed bodies just waiting for me to doctor them up. I love re-writing.

NEW MUSIC

2007-03-13T11:28:00.000-07:00

I am not a musician – I am a frustrated musician. Basically I have no talent or natural ability at all. I never took piano lessons, but oh how I wish I could play piano today. I once asked my father why he never made me take lessons (my brother and sister both took piano) and he said I had no interest and he didn't think he should force me. I disagreed – I told him he should have forced me, because I'd be able to play now. He made a sound of disgust "No matter what you do; you're damned if you do, damned if you don't."

He's right. My lack of talent certainly didn't come from him. He played piano beautifully. No, all the inherited musical ability rested in my brothers. The eldest especially. He started on piano, then someone gave him a ukulele, then he would go to his friend's house to drum. In high school, after begging for months, I got a guitar for my birthday. It was a cheap Tijuana guitar with poor action and mediocre tone, but it didn't matter to me. I took lessons and I practiced. Every day. I had so little coordination in my left hand, that at first, when I changed chords, I had to use my right hand to physically move the fingers of the left into the new position! Eventually my left hand got used to moving by itself and gained a great deal of dexterity. That's when I discovered an even greater problem with the right hand – no rhythm. None. Nada. Zilch. Zip. It only went up and down. Up, down, up, down. No change. Monotony, not music. Forget about picking.

Soon after the discovery of the bad, bad right hand, my brother came into my room, sat on my bed, and picked up the guitar. He'd never played one before, but he had the ukulele experience. Well, in that one sitting, he played ten times better than I had after six months of lessons and daily practice. It was so natural to him, and such a struggle for me.

I gave him the guitar that day. Years later, when he purchased a very amazing classical guitar, he tried to give me his older one – which was not a cheap guitar by any means either. I understood his sentiment, but I told him he should give it to someone who could really play it, and who would get years of enjoyment from it.

So, in addition to piano, drums, ukulele, and guitar, my brother also plays mandolin, banjo, pipe organ and some kind of Fijian string instrument, whose name escapes me. He is also much better at sports. I however, can beat him in golf, because he has the nastiest hook I have ever laid eyes on. It makes me very happy. I am also a much better artist.

Okay, that was a long preface to this: Even though I am not a musician, I am a great lover of music and I'd like to recommend 2 musicians and 1 band.

1) Jake Shimabukuro – Ukulele
Extraordinary musician. He does things with a ukulele that I could never imagine. I first heard about him a few months ago on NPR. Then last month I went with some girlfriends to see him at the Triple Door in Seattle. He was amazing, as well as young, cute, charming, funny and overall entertaining. Pick up one of his CD's, check out his website. Go see him live if you get the chance – you will not be disappointed. You'll never think about the Ukulele in the same way again.
2) Marcus Eaton – Singer/Songwriter, extremely fast on the guitar.
I saw Marcus Eaton at the Triple Door – he opened for Jake Shimabukuro. This was a case where the first act was as good as the headliner. His songs were beautiful, the lyrics complex. He plays guitar in the double picking style of Earl Klugh, only not jazz, more rock. And fast? Clapton may have to give up his "Slowhand" nickname. Check out his website – you can pick up his solo CD there.
3) Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
This band sometimes reminds me of Bob Dylan, sometimes of Talking Heads. A strange combination, I know, but it's true. They have two CD's now. I just got the 2nd one and I am not disappointed. The first one has been the soundtrack in my head for months now. With the exception of the first very short cut – more of a sound mix than a song, every song is compelling. I haven't felt this way about a band since G Love and Special Sauce. Check it out.

*links to above mentioned websites are to your right.

P.S. The guitar lessons were not a complete waste - the acquired dexterity in my left hand has made me a better typist, which really helps my writing.

BOOKS

2007-03-11T11:53:00.000-07:00

What would I do without books? I can't begin to imagine a world without literature or art. I have been reading constantly from the time I learned and my taste jumps all over the place, as long it is well written. I have gone through phases - one year I read nothing but science fiction, one month I read nothing but Raymond Chandler. Sometimes I get stuck in memoirs and biographies, sometimes it's historical novels. Some books were amazing when I first read them, but didn't stand the test of time. Others I have read several times and will probably read again. The books below are favorites. I can recommend them unconditionally - but beware, I have recommended all of them at one time or another, but they haven't always been loved the way I love them!

In no particular order, some of my favorite books:

The Brothers K - David James Duncan
The Glass Palace - Amitav Ghosh
In an Antique Land - Amitav Ghosh
Things Kept, Things Left Behind - Jim Tomlinson
The Sheltering Sky - Paul Bowles
A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
A House for Mr. Biswas - V.S. Naipul
A Pugilist at Rest - Thom Jones
The Bone People - Keri Hulme
The Secret Life of Bees - Sue Monk Kidd
Out of Africa - Isak Dineson
Stranger in a Strange Land - Robert A. Heinlein
Dune - Frank Herbert
A Canticle for Leibowitz - Walter M. Miller, Jr.

In addition, here are some books I've read lately (or am currently reading). I can recommend these also. Only time will tell if they go on my favorite list.

Born on a Blue Day: Inside the Extraordinary Mind of an Autistic Savant - Daniel Tammet
A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier - Ishmael Beah
Lost Girls and Love Hotels - Catherine Hanrahan
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
Eleanor Rigby - Douglas Coupland
Maus I & Maus II - Art Spiegelman
The Samurai Garden - Gail Tsukiyama
It Don't Mean Nothing - Sue O'Neill
True History of the Kelly Gang - Peter Carey

MORBID IMAGINATION

2007-03-04T12:55:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I wonder how I would handle a life threatening illness. Would I be the drama queen, demanding that everyone pay attention to me? Would I be stoic and brave, carrying on with my life as usual? Or, would I chuck everything and go live in Spain with whatever time I had left? Regardless of health, the idea of chucking everything and living in Spain has appealed to me for more than twenty years now. The only thing stopping me is: A) I know I’d miss my friends and family, B) Lack of money, C) Perceived lack of work opportunity, D) Missing friends, missing friends, missing friends.

A couple of weeks ago I found a lump in my breast.

And. I. Freaked. Out.

My freak out was quiet and internal. I didn’t want to mention it to anyone until I had it checked out, because, heaven forbid, I did not want to be an alarmist. Or a drama queen for that matter. So, while I appeared fairly normal on the outside, ('fairly' being the operative word here…I did snap at a coworker for no reason), on the inside I was a wreck. I did not sleep through the night for days, and I awoke every morning and ate Tums for breakfast to combat the stress-induced nausea. Then I worried that the nausea wasn’t really stress induced, but the result of the cancer; undetected for so long that it had metastasized and, concurrent with the lump discovery, was rearing its ugly head in some perverse Twilight Zone aligning of the cancer symptoms.

Oh the places my mind will go. One of the reasons I can barely stand to watch suspense movies is that as the suspense builds up, my mind is wandering to horrific places the likes of which the director has never dreamt. I want to shout at the screen, “Don’t do it!” “You fool! You’re going to regret this!” And, “No! No! No!” By the time the movie is over I am emotionally spent. I am also relieved that the fate of the characters is not the one I had imagined for them. I still have never been able to sit through an entire screening of Play Misty for Me. I have seen the move perhaps six or seven times, but always, when Clint is driving the winding Highway 1 through Big Sur, knowing the psycho bitch was in his house with his long lost girlfriend... I have to get up a walk away. The first time I did this was in the theater with my big brother and my dad. I was so terrified that I went into the lobby and paced for what seemed like ten minutes, finally returning to the theater thinking that surely the worst was over...

Oh the places my mind went last week. The first thing I thought was how I needed to organize my life to make things easier for those who had to sort it out after I was gone. But how was I going to do this while suffering the ravages of the disease and the ravages of the treatment? I saw myself awaking in the morning and spending the first couple of hours hugging the toilet trying to get through the nausea without creating a mess to clean up. Then spending a half hour going through some pile of stuff, throwing out most of it and wondering why I accumulated it at all. Of course, this would be exhausting, so I would need to sleep for a couple of hours. Then there would be the doctor appointments and the treatments. These would definitely cut into my organizing time. But, with diligence born of knowing not the hour, but perhaps the month, and for sure the year of my demise, I would be able to complete the task. I would need a will. I would need a list of the people to whom I would give treasured possessions. This would be done before I die, because though I don’t really know what the laws are, I know there are some tax issues around inheriting something, and I wouldn’t want to burden anyone with unwanted tax issues, especially when they were trying to get over the loss of, well, me.

Then I worried about how I would tell my parents. Would I wait until the very end? Should I tell them right away? I don’t want them to worry. And, I don’t want them to come to Seattle and camp out, waiting for my eventual death. While I would like to see them, I don’t think my need for solitude would lessen with illness. Then I wondered with all the organizing I had to do, how was I going to finish the stories and book I was working on? Would I have the strength to write? Would an eternal deadline make it easier?

The places our minds will takes us… imagination has been my friend for these many years, but now it felt like my enemy.

One problem I needed to solve immediately was the lack of a doctor. My insurance had changed and the new policy didn’t cover the doctor I’d been seeing for the past few years. I sent an e-mail to all my girlfriends to find out if they had a doctor they liked and if so, was the doctor near my home, or my work?

I did find a great doctor and though I was a new patient, when I explained what was going on they scheduled me for the next day. When I told my boss that I needed the next morning off, I also told him about the lump and burst into tears. He said I could have any time I needed then asked, “Have you told your girlfriends?” I admitted that I had told no one until now and he insisted that I call my girlfriends. He is a wise and compassionate man. I called, and they reassured and I was able to sleep that night. Lesson learned: We must always call our girlfriends.

Well, it turns out that the lump was nothing really. In fact, by the time I got to the doctor we couldn’t find it. She suspects that I’m having some hormonal fluctuations, because even though I feel 22, I am really at that age when women have those changes. She suspects that as I have these fluctuations, I have a duct or cyst that fills with fluid, becoming lump-like and causing some pain and discomfort, and that it then drains. Lesson learned: Pain + lump = almost 100% guarantees that the lump is not malignant. The really scary thing about breast cancer – aside from the places your mind will take you – is that there is no pain associated with it. Just a lump, no other indication that something is very wrong. Scary.

So, the lump was nothing, but my doctor sent me straight to dermatology to have “that mole on your stomach” looked at. She didn’t “like the look of it”. Neither did the dermatologist. He showed me a picture of melanoma and it looked like the mole on my stomach. The good news for me was that this mole has been there forever and it has always been weird looking. If it was melanoma we might not have been sitting there having the conversation. So, biopsy time. It reminded me of a few years back when I found myself in the ER for a broken leg, but was hooked up to an EKG and surrounded by a bunch of cardiologists. Seems my blood pressure was so high that they were afraid I was going to have a heart attack right there on the table. That broken leg saved my life. My phantom lump has saved me from skin cancer. The biopsy was “slightly abnormal”, which on a scale from 1 to 5, 1 being normal, my mole was a 2. I had it removed Thursday and I’m back to life as usual. I am still awaiting the results of the final biopsy, but I am not concerned. I have gone to the dark place quite enough for now, thank you very much.

Maybe I'll go to Spain instead.

HAIKU FOR 2/25

2007-02-21T12:08:00.000-08:00

Book club afternoon
Red carpet, oscars that night
Sunday awaits me.

INTERNET BACKGAMMON AND THE JERKS WHO PLAY IT

2007-02-13T16:21:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: Not all of my fellow players are jerks. Some play like they were raised right!

This is a bit of a rant. I recently discovered the joys and frustrations of internet backgammon. I love backgammon. I've been playing it for years. My problem recently is that among my geographically close circle of friends, I don't know anyone who likes to play. Imagine my excitement at discovering internet backgammon. At any time of the day or night, I can log on and play with all sorts of people, all over the world, and with all sorts of skill levels. It's fabulous.

For the most part.

Unfortunately, the JERK contingent is high. I think it hovers around 50%. All games have rules and all games have etiquette. In a computerized game, you play by the rules – it's impossible to cheat. On the flip side, some people play without any etiquette at all. Because they can't be seen, because no one knows their name, they do things for which a five year old would get a spanking. Or at least a time out.

Here are the two most popular scenarios:

Jerk Scenario #1 – You've had a good game. Some lucky rolls, some smart moves. You're in a position in which you will probably win, and by a nice margin – provided your opponent doesn't get extremely lucky or that you don't do something extremely dumb. You're excited because the last time you played you couldn't catch a break and you started making desperate, stupid moves – trying in vain to get something going. It's your turn and you get a roll that allows you to knock off one of your opponent's creamy white lozenges. Now you're opponent will roll the dice… But NO! He's gone! He has up and left the game!

This is the "real life" equivalent of overturning the board so that it crashes to the floor and, stomping off in a five-year-old huff. This would never happen if you were sitting face to face across the board from someone. He'd feel like a complete idiot and everyone would laugh at him and tell him to grow up. Which he should. Grow up.

Jerk Scenario #2 – Once again, you're having a good game. You are winning, but you get the feeling that your opponent doesn't like it and is pissed off. But he's unwilling to slap the board to the floor and leave the room like a spoiled-brat-sissy-panty-boy, so he just sits there and refuses to play anymore, leaving you to repeatedly message: It's your turn. It's your turn. It's your turn. It's your turn. It's your turn. It's your turn. Are you still there? It's your turn. It's your turn. It's your turn. Are you still there? Feeling like an idiot, you realize that this JERK is probably in the kitchen making a bologna sandwich and getting a Miller Lite from the fridge, knowing that when he gets back, you'll have exited the game looking for another player that has the cajones to stay with it even if it's not going his way. Because, it is, after all, just a goddamn game!

If you find yourself desperately behind and don't like the odds of ever catching up, all you need to do is resign the game, offering your opponent a reasonable number of points. Don't offer one point when you'll clearly lose by two if you go on. Offer two. Be a gentleman. Then we can start the next game and you'll probably win this one. And I won't stomp off in a hissy fit like someone who thinks they are entitled to win. After all, there is no tournament here. No one is keeping a tally of who wins more and who doesn't. Unless you are keeping tabs. But then, if you leave the game or ignore the game, you are cheating on yourself, aren't you?

A bit on the doubling cube. Understand that this is a game of chance. The doubling cube enhances the feeling of risk – it ups the ante. It should be used towards the beginning of the game… Feeling lucky? Double the game. Don't double the game when you have 4 guys at home and your opponent still has 2 stuck in your home zone. A person would have to be an idiot to take that sucker offer. They will just resign, giving you a one point win, when, if you hadn't been greedy, you might have won two points anyway.

And now for the chat portion of the game. I hate having to choose from a list of PC chat options. "Good game." "Nice roll." "It was Luck." "Nice try" "Good luck!" "Play again?" "Ouch!" "Oops!" I'd like to be able to type in my own sentiments. When someone gets a great roll of the dice, I'd like to say, "Sweet!" When someone goes off to make his bologna sandwich, I'd like the option to say something other than, "It's your turn. It's your turn. It's your turn. Are you still there? It's your turn. It's your turn."

FAVORITE PLACE #4 - HAVASUPAI, GRAND CANYON

2006-08-30T18:29:00.000-07:00

Another favorite place: Havasupai, the Grand Canyon. This is part of the Grand Canyon National Park and also home to the Supai Indians. To the right is a picture of the Havasu Falls. I've been twice and would love to go again. The best time to go is in the spring before it gets too hot. It is also best to hike in the early morning or in the evening, or at night if you have a full moon. It's only about an 8 mile hike from the rim, but the first time I went, we hiked in the middle of the day. I thought I was going to die of thirst - all my water bottles were empty. Then I saw one of my friends ahead drop his pack and start running and I knew we were at the river. It's hard to carry enough water when the temperature is in the 100's. The second time I went it was a month earlier in the year and we hiked at night. No water shortages that time. All this happened a while ago, but then the routine was to make reservations ahead of time to camp in the National Park - if you can't get a campsite there, you can camp on the reservation for a nominal fee. Either way, you check in at the village at the bottom.

This area is know for the water falls and pools. To the left is a picture of the pools below Havasu Falls. Once you get to the bottom and set up your camp, it's play time. Swimming and diving and swinging off a rope. Hiking to the next falls and swimming there. Catching some sun and going for another swim. Get the picture? The water is full of minerals which give it the magnificent turquoise color, but keep it from being potable. No problem though, hike further along the river trail, keeping your eyes on the canyon wall, and look for some watercress. When you find it, you've found the fresh water spring and you can fill your bottles.

Here is Mooney Falls. The canyon is closer here and the falls get less sunlight, but they are even bigger than Havasu Falls. It's a great place to backpack into because you don't need much gear; a bedroll (insulite pad and sheet), swimsuit, shorts and T-shirts, sneakers and flip flops, food and toiletries, MOSQUITO REPELLANT. I've had the most mosquito bites in my life here and the worst bites in my life. Once a mosquito bit me on my eyelid and my eye was swollen shut for almost 3 days! I don't know what makes them so different than others, but they are impressive in their ability to cause misery. Which brings me to socks - you have to sleep in socks - especially if you have sweet blood. I forgot one night and I had 14 bites on one foot and 12 on the other - some were in between my toes. Excruciating.

Here's another view of Havasu Falls. You can hike down to the Colorado River from here, but it is not an easy trek and you'll have to spend the night at the river. But why leave? It's so great where you are. We spent a week in the canyon both times that I went. It's backpacking and it's a relaxing vacation. You should go for a walk in the evening, through the pines, when the bats come out. They play their little bat games, dive-bombing and skimming through your hair. Harmless stuff, but a bit disconcerting if you're not ready for it.
This is definitely another worthwhile destination. From Kingman, AZ - take 66 to Peach Springs. From Flagstaff take 40 east to 66 to Peach Springs. From Peach Springs take the dirt road (it may be partially paved now, who knows?), about 40 miles to the parking lot at the canyon rim. From the rim, hike down - when you come face to face with a canyon wall with a river in front of it, TURN LEFT. Do not turn right, you'll just get lost in the canyons, and you don't want to do that. But that is my only caution - go to Havasupai and have a great trip!

FAVORITE PLACES #3 - JOSHUA TREE NATIONAL PARK

2006-08-25T23:48:00.000-07:00

Joshua Tree National Park is a spectacular place. It's located east of Palm Springs and a little south. Desert plains and hills are punctuated by giagantic boulders that have pushed up out of the earth. It is such a unusual landscape that people often say it feels like another planet - and indeed many Star Trek episodes (and SUV commercials) used Joshua Tree as a film location (as well as Vasquez Rocks to the northwest). Many of the boulders push up at an angle - you can hike up the backside of them and then, perched on top of the face, look out over the valleys. Or you can climb the face of the boulders - Joshua Tree is a popular destination for rock climbers.
The place is named for the Joshua Tree (Yucca brevifolia), pictured here on the left. Its native habitat is in the deserts of California, Arizona, Nevada and Utah, but they thrive in Lost Horse Valley and Queen Valley - both located in Joshua Tree National Park. The tree was named by the Mormons in the mid 1800's. It grows slowly - in the first year it will grow from about 4"-8" - after that, the Joshua Tree averages only about 4" of growth per year and can live for a couple of hundred years if it survives the harsh desert conditions. The trees can reach about 50 feet tall, but I have never seen one that big. My favorite time to visit Joshua Tree is in the spring, during a full moon. The desert blooms with miraculous color in the springtime. The Joshua Trees get the big, pointy stalks of white flowers; the California Poppy washes the hills in profuse orange; the cacti bloom flowers as varied as the species. There are even the tiniest flowers beneath your feet, blooming from a ground cover type plant that gives softly when you walk on it, and sprigs back as soon as you move on.
You can also see a lot of wild life in the springtime, but you have to find a place to sit quietly for awhile. One day as I sat on a hillside I saw, lizards, snakes, jackrabbits, coyotes, hawks and Desert Bighorn Sheep.

Visiting the park on full moon days is the way to go. It is so bright on a full moon night that you can hike without a flashlight. The first time I camped there, it was a full moon weekend (not by plan, just by luck) and it was my first experience of seeing my moonshadow. Up until that night I thought a moonshadow was a fanciful, fictional idea invented by Cat Stevens.
Desert flora and fauna are all very nice, but the rocks are the real draw of the place. How did they come to be here? I've never researched it, but my theory is that from the freezing of the earth at the last ice age to the warming of the earth in our present age, the rocks were pushed up through the ground by pressure. How does that sound? Or maybe it has something to do with the fault lines and tectonic plates. Whatever the cause, they are here and they are magnificent. But as you hike around you'll see that other forces of nature have been at work - mainly water and wind. On the tops of the boulders you will come across perfectly round depressions. If you are there shortly after a rain, they may be filled with water. There are also many little caves in the side of the rocks, some only big enough for a person to sit cross-legged inside.
If you are ever in California and you have the time, or opportunity, Joshua Tree National Park is definitely a worthwhile detour or destination.

FAVORITE PLACES #2 - THE OUTER BANKS OF NORTH CAROLINA

2006-08-24T10:49:00.000-07:00

A favorite place of mine is the Outer Banks of North Carolina - yes, I know, another island, another beach. What can I say, I love beaches and salt water. As you can see by the map, this long strip of sand dune is in the path of hurricanes. When the storms come through the Caribbean they either go east to Florida and the gulf, or they head north and crash into the Outer Banks.
I spent a most memorable week there with my Aunt Pammie and Uncle Bruce when I was in high school and I have always wanted to go back. The beaches are very similar to those on Amelia Island - long stretches of white sand with dunes and sea oats.
The water is more treacherous though. Rip tides and ocean rivers abound. I don't know if there really is such a thing as an ocean river, but I got caught in something one day that felt like one. I was on my beach raft floating and paddling around, looking deep into the water for sea creatures. When I looked back up, the shore was quite far away and I was heading out to sea at a relatively fast rate. I started yelling and my uncle came swimming out to me and pulled me back in. My uncle is a big, strong guy, and he had to work hard to get us back to shore. After that we paid close attention to the tides.
These tides also wreak havoc on ships - the strange currents and the almost right angle curve of the coastline leave shifting underwater shoals and sand bars that have wrecked many a ship. The islands are dotted with lighthouses, the most famous being the Cape Hatteras lighthouse pictured here. You can climb to the top and look out and down, and we did. People look funny when you are peering straight down on them. I was impressed.
Go north a bit from Cape Hatteras and you will come to Kitty Hawk, in Kill Devil Hills - the site of the Wright Brothers historic first flight. The wide flat sand of the beaches and the steady off-shore
winds made this an ideal site for attempting flight. There is a museum dedicated to the Wright Brothers and the early history of flight.
The houses are built on pylons to protect them from water damage during storms. I'm not sure how strong or safe they are in hurricanes though.
I will never forget that bit of summer I spent here. If you love beaches as much as I do, you definitely have to plan a trip to the Outer Banks of North Carolina.

FICTION - ROAD TRIP

2006-08-23T10:29:00.000-07:00

It happened in the heat of the moment. You know how it goes. You have no intention whatsoever of getting involved and the next thing you know you're saying: You really should go. I can drive you.

Now you've gone and done it. You planned a relaxing weekend on the beach, some sun, swimming, checking out the guys. Instead you're up early, only to sit in the car for half an hour waiting for him to shower and shave, because of course he can't show up looking like the bum he is.

The thing is, he's really not a bum. And I wish I didn't have this big, fat crush on him.

He smoked like a man possessed all the way there. He fidgeted. Could not carry on a conversation.

Once inside the trailer in the desert "community" his parents retired to, we sat stiffly on the edge of our chairs while his Mom poured another bourbon for herself and urged us to go ahead and have a drink. His father sat on the sofa; a beach towel between himself and the upholstery, the unmistakable spread and smell of urine – not camouflaged by the towel's bright pattern. Ten AM.

Looking to the bright side I think: At least when he finally realizes he loves me I won't have to worry about in-laws – they'll be dead soon.

And I hear him say: We can't stay long. We just dropped by on our way to Mexico.

I love him even more.

FAVORITE PLACES #1 - AMELIA ISLAND

2006-08-08T16:47:00.000-07:00

Amelia Island, Florida: A barrier island, the southern-most of the Sea Islands, on the east coast of Florida, just below the Georgia border. I love this place. I have family there, which is the only readon why I know about it. It is 13 miles long and about 4 miles wide. The beaches on the eastern, ocean side are spectacular. Thirteen miles of white sand bordered by Dunes and sea oats. At the north end of the island is Fort Clinch State Park, and at the southern end is Amelia Island State Park.

One of my favorite pastimes is to walk the beach looking for fossilized shark's teeth. Bits of black mussel shells can fool you into thinking you've found one, but when you finally do find one, the shells will never fool you again. The best times to find the teeth are after a big storm or after the northern channel is dredged for the boomers. When I'm on the island I like to be on the beach at any time during the day or night. Morning walks with my cup of coffee, days swimming and sunning, evenings just sitting and watching the pelicans fly inches from the water, looking for an easy meal. Midnight swims with my cousins after playing pool at the Palace Saloon - the oldest bar in the United States...

...Which brings me to the town of Fernandina Beach. A historic place with a quaint walking/shopping area that goes right down to the docks on the western, river side of the island. This district is full
of historic victorian homes, many of which have been turned into charming Bed & Breakfast establish-ments. Take an early morning walk and see the homes while it's still cool out and then head over to T-Rays and have a great breakfast - it's a small place but it gives you the chance to share a table with the locals.
Afternoon and early evening kayaking or canoeing on the river and into the wetlands gives one an entirely different experience of the island. To see what the island looked like before it was settled, take a hike through Fort Clinch. I was astonished at how densely the palms and brush could grow! If golf is your bag, there are several courses on the island. I've played the public course and it was great, but then, I'm biased - that was the day that I realized after years of competing against my older brother, and never winning, golf was the one sport that I was finally better at than he was - He has a wicked slice, and all the water hazards were on the right!

There are beach houses and vacation condos to rent as well as resonable hotels. If you like a resort style vacation, there's always the Ritz Carlton. One of the best times I've ever had on Amelia was in a beach house with a screened in back porch overlooking the sand and water. One night there was a thunder storm off-shore, and I sat out on the porch with my brother till 4 AM, watching the lightning on the horizon. It was magical. The wine probably helped!

CALIFORNIA DREAMING

2006-08-01T12:37:00.000-07:00

I've been living in Seattle for 14 years now and I really do love it. I like the vibrant downtown action of the city, the water views practically everywhere I turn - I've even become acclimated to the weather; cooler temperatures in the summer, crisp breezes off the sound in the evenings. There are however, a few things I really miss about California - besides my friends, or course.

In no particular order:

A) I miss Jacaranda tress. The beautiful shape, wide branching canopy, the heady scent and spectacular display of lavender leaves in the spring and summer! And the soft carpet of purple that the flowers create when they drop. What more could you want in a tree? Unless it's a...

B) Pepper tree! Towering, assymetrical shape, majestic shade provider. The delicate curving leaves and drooping tertiary branches make this tree a graceful addition to the California landscape.

As if that weren't enough, you also get the red berries hanging in festive clusters. If you're industrious enough, you can pick them and dry them and have fresh pepper for your mill. Did I mention the scent?

C) The beaches. Here's one of my favorites: Laguna Beach. One wide sandy beach, zillions of small sandy coves, cliffs, rocks below, tide pools, you can spend days swimming, sunning, surfing & exploring on the beach in Laguna and never get bored.
Another favorite - La Jolla (hoya) Beach. A bit further south and much smaller than Laguna, but just as spectacular. Big Cliffs and coves, with grassy play areas above. Lots of tidal pools and wildlife. An unexpected plus to both of these beaches - wild aloe grows along the cliffs - if you cut your foot or get sunburned, just break off a piece or two and rub the gel on your tender injured bits.
And a little bit further south is Coronado Beach on Coronado Island in San Diego. I think this is possibly the widest, longest, whitest beach in all of California. I've never seen it full - even when it's busy it feels kind of empty. In addition the sea bed is shallow and extends "way out" as we used to say when we were kids. The swimming, body surfing and bogey-boarding is great at this beach - you can catch a wave and ride for 50 or 60 yards, maybe more.

When you're tired of the beach, just take a walk to the famous Coronado Hotel (Some Like It Hot was filmed there) and have a drink in the cool bar.

Going back up the coast to the L.A. area there is Venice Beach. Actually the whole coast from Santa Monica down to Redondo Beach is great - it's all wide, sandy beaches with good surfing and swimming. The true gem of this stretch though is the boardwalk - it goes the entire length! It's not a boardwalk in the tradition of the old wooden style, but rather, a wide paved path that you can walk, roller skate, skateboard or bike on from one end to the other. I used to ride my bike from West Hollywood to Santa Monica, and then down the Boardwalk to Hermosa Beach and back to Venice, then take Pico Avenue home. I don't know how many miles that is, but I'd sleep for 12 hours afterwards!

One cannot talk about these beaches without mentioning the scene in Venice. How can I describe it? Street performers, sidewalk vendors, cafes, bars, pizza windows, Muscle Beach, music, people, people, dogs, more people. It's fabulous! You can't go to L.A. without checking out Venice - it would be a sin!

D) The golden hills...how I miss the golden hills. This picture doesn't do them justice, but I love the hills with the grass dried to a shimmering gold, rolling endlessly, dotted with sage and live oaks. All in all, Seattle is a bit too green for me, I'd like some Golden Hills to rest my eyes on.

SUMMER FRUIT

2006-07-13T16:43:00.000-07:00

It's been more than a week since I've posted, but I've been busy - the summer fruit season is in full swing and there is so much to do. The luscious juiciness and heady fragrance of ripe summer fruit is one of the reasons that this season is my favorite. Let's start with melons; watermelon, cantaloupe, casaba, honeydew, persian, crenshaw, canary and muskmelon, I love them all. I like to cut them into bite-sized chunks and put them in Tupperware, ready to snack on at any time. Recently though I've experienced melons in a different manner. My friend George (the King of salads) made a mixed green salad with watermelon pieces, olives and goat cheese dressed with a lime vinaigrette - it was really good. This week's epicurious.com features a recipe for honeydew popsicles Â I'm definitely going to try them. Then there's cantaloupe granita, and my friend Liz's melon ball salad with a little triple sec drizzled over it. Oh yeah.

Heavenly orchard fruit; peaches, nectarines, cherries, apricots, plums, pluots, figs. Peaches were on sale the other day - that means jam time. I bought about 20 pounds which yielded about 7 jars of jam - about $2.85 per jar, but if I were to buy handmade jam I'd be paying at least $7.00 per jar. One year I went with a friend to Yakima to buy fruit directly from the orchards. I was looking for apricots in particular. I crave a sweet juicy apricot and it seems the ones in the stores are never ripe and then when they do ripen, they're pithy, not juicy. Well, we found apricots and peaches and plums and much more and I was making jams and pies for about 6 days straight. I've yet to make cherry jam, though my sister has requested it. Maybe I'll get to it this year.

Berries are staring to come in and I'll be busy through August. Raspberries are ready now. This year I had white raspberries for the first time. They are perfumey and delicious and they turn a beautiful blush color when they ripen. Blueberries will be next. I always head up to Monroe to a U-pick farm. I like go in the morning before it gets too hot. I can pick about 16 pounds in two hours and I go two days in a row - so I end up with about 32 pounds. I freeze enough to make two pies, then I make a cobbler to take to work, and the rest gets made into jam. My blueberry jam is damn good too. By the time I'm done with all of that the blackberry vines will be heavy with their sweet fruit. Jam Jam and more Jam! The cool thing about blackberries is that they grow wild everywhere - I have my favorite spots to pick and they are all free. My fingers are usually stained purple for a few weeks but it's worth it.

Note: I made another peach cobbler last night. This time I used white peaches, but in the future I think I will stick to yellow peaches for cobbler. The white peach is delicious for eating raw, but it's flavor, I think, is too delicate to withstand the rigors of a hot oven.

MORE HOLIDAY THOUGHTS

2006-07-05T11:13:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the fourth of July - Independence Day. Rather than thinking politically about the holiday, I was obsessed with firecrackers. Let me first say that I have been ruined concerning firecrackers. My mother did it. I am an ACRN (Adult Child of a Registered Nurse). For those of you unfamiliar with this affliction, well, the name speaks for itself.

ACRN benefits are: I have accumulated an improbable amount of medical knowledge for one who has never studied medicine and I hand out medical advice (well, really mostly common sense first aid advice) to my friends on a regular basis; I can listen to medical-type conversation that would gross out many, and do so while eating - you know - dinner conversation.

ACRN disadvantages are: I have heard all the horror stories of kids mangled from playing on escalators, legs broken from jumping off roofs, drownings, car accidents, and yes - hands blown off by firecrackers. You'd think my mother was and Emergency Room nurse! (She mostly worked geriatric, oncology and hospice - where she "saw" these things, I don't know.)

I also lived where firecrackers were illegal and have limited familiarity with them. Basically I am afraid of them. One July 4th a few years ago I was out with some friends and they passed out sparklers. We were in an empty parking lot, it was raining (that misty Seattle rain that doesn't really get you wet), and I held my sparkler as far from my body as I could. I didn't want to admit it, didn't want to appear uncool, but, I was terrified! What if a stray spark drifted close to me a set my clothing afire? I did not enjoy my sparkler and was irrationally relieved when it finally went out.

So, yesterday I was in Burien where firecrackers are supposedly illegal, but in the evening they started to go off. The lovely dogs I am watching started barking. They weren't scared, just trying to protect the house from things that go bang in the night. Fortunately, (strangely fortunate), there were so many firecrackers going off all around us that the dogs eventually gave up on their barking. What smart dogs! To see the futility of it so quickly! Of course I'm thinking: What if a bottle rocket lands on the roof and sets the house on fire? Maybe I should change back into my clothes in case I have to make a quick exit. Thank god the alarm system has a panic button for the fire department! And where are the cops and why aren't they putting a stop to all these dangerous and ILLEGAL firecrackers??!!!

Seriously though, they are dangerous - especially in the hands of 1) Stoopid and 2) drunk people. It seems the ratio of stupid and/or drunk people goes up on the Fourth of July.

A couple of years ago I was at the Suzzalo Library at the University of Washington in the Microfiche files doing research for a book. I was looking up news stories from New York City and Perth Amboy, New Jersey papers from the 1920's. I was pulling them at random and after a bit I started to read stories of Firecracker accidents and accidental drownings. I looked at the date of the paper and it was July 5th, 1926. I know for a fact that today's papers will be filled with similar reports - There was a fire at a school a couple of days ago - some one was lighting firecrackers on the roof.... last night the docks at NOAA caught fire in Eastlake, houseboat residents were evacuated... a week ago two men (drunk) were throwing firecrackers into a barbecue, when one didn't go off they both reached in to get it, they both lost a hand. Nothing has been learned in 80 years.

As dusk came upon western Washington last evening, storm clouds rolled in and there was a brief thunder and lightening storm and a short but hard rain. This accomplished two things: 1) It avoided a skewing of the statistics of rain on July 4th - by having rain we avoided two years in a row of no rain for that day. 2) It gave me some comfort - things being wet, maybe we will avoid some accidental fires.

I'm glad this holiday is over.

BTW - I do like the fireworks in the sky with their big starburst patterns and twinkling lights - you know, the kind of shows put on by professionals?

MINI HOLIDAYS

2006-06-30T17:22:00.000-07:00

I'm not going any where interesting this year. Instead of traveling I'll be paying off my periodontist (have I mentioned this yet?). So, I look forward to mini-holidays. This weekend comes to mind: Tuesday is the 4th of July, Independence Day. It's a paid holiday at work, plus our office will be closed on Monday. Since I'm not hoarding my vacation days for a tropical destination, I've opted to take Monday as paid personal time. Four days off, two paid for...not bad.

In addition, I'm taking care of some lovely American Eskimo dogs in Burien for the next couple of weeks - kind of a mini-holiday - a holiday made more festive by the presence of a Jacuzzi. Ahhh, warm sweet water on my aching knees...I'm really looking forward to it.

But what of this Independence Day? In Seattle it will be the second one in a row with no rain, thereby skewing the average of rainy Independence Days... But I wonder - would we have been better off as a colony of Great Britain? Would the terrorists be more sympathetic to us as country not exactly oppressed, but not big and independent and belligerant and bullying? Would we be more polite, like our neighbors to the north? Would we feel more a part of the community of the world? I feel as an individual, part of the global community, I think my travels and studies helped in this, but I don't feel like my country is a part of the global community. It feels more like we are the global overlord (or the wannabe overlord).

We can't change history (though it can be re-written) and I don't want to - except for maybe that part where our current President lied to us and pre-emptively invaded another country in order to "liberate" it. Do you wonder if liberation would've been sweeter for Iraqis if they'd been allowed to do it themselves? Is liberation by the dominant global power just another form of subjugation? These are just things I think about and questions I ask myself. Do you think that history in ten, twenty, fifty, or one hundred years will look back favorably on George W. Bush and the Iraq war, or will it be a dark spot in our textbooks - a time of shame, a mistake, something for which our children's children will be apologizing.

Just some thoughts. Enjoy your sweet independence today, Tuesday, every day. And don't play with fireworks!

6/28 HAIKU

2006-06-29T11:36:00.000-07:00

Ikea sale now
requires a trip to Renton
Cheap Swedish design!

"10" THINGS I WANT TO DO

2006-06-28T17:30:00.000-07:00

1. Finish writing my current book
2. Write the book I've been thinking about for 25 years
3. Go to Italy, Spain & Cuba
4. Bicycle across the USA and take the train back
5. Refinish my dresser
6. Become a full time writer (or part time writer that gets paid really well!)
7. Kayak in the San Juan Islands and the St. Mary's & Amelia Rivers at Amelia Island
8. Get another tattoo
9. Spend more time with my brothers & sister
10. Do something that will make a difference (what is that thing?)

PEACH COBBLER

2006-06-27T12:58:00.000-07:00

It’s that amazing time of year when fruits are abundant. I walk into the market and the sweet, heady aroma fills me up and deactivates all sense of practicality in me. I buy way too much to ever eat it all by myself, and I can’t stand to let it go to waste… So it’s pie time, or, cobbler time.

I used to make pies all the time. I actively researched and worked on perfecting my crust. When I saw my friend Michael Lee at parties, I’d hog his time, mining his expertise on the flakey pastry. He always showed up at these parties with a pie or two, and they were magnificent. I longed to make a pie as good. Eventually, I did.

I still make pies for Thanks-giving and other special occasions, but in the summer-time, when my fruit is ripening faster than I can manage, I make a cobbler. My cobbler-making phase came about due to poor planning. I was going to a dinner and promised a pie for dessert, but I ran out of time. Not that a pie takes that long, it just takes longer than a cobbler. I got on-line, looked up a recipe on Epicurious and was pulling my first Peach Cobbler out of the oven in 45 minutes. It was a hit. I was a hit. What more could you want?

Yesterday in Seattle we broke the record for heat – it was in the upper 90’s. This will not seem so bad to those who live in the desert, as I used to – but when you’re acclimated to the warmest days hovering around 80°…well, it was hot. But the peaches were pungent – it was time for cobbler!

ROLLER DERBY

2006-06-23T13:41:00.000-07:00

Have you checked out your local roller derby yet? Yes. I said Roller Derby. However, this is not your grandma's roller derby. In the last few years the derby has experienced a resurgence in popularity. Cities all across the U.S. have started leagues. In Seattle we have the Rat City Roller Girls with monthly bouts in a hanger at Magnuson Park. This year at Bumbershoot (on Saturday) there will be an exhibition bout at the Key Arena with guest teams from around the country.

Our league in Seattle skates a flat track and the action is fast and furious. The first time I went it took the entire evening for me to start seeing strategy and nuance. There is so much going on! The girls fall often or get pushed in to the crash zone where the fans on the floor try to protect themselves from skate wheels. Uniforms for the teams seem to be a suggestion; all the girls have modified and embellished theirs.

It's a family style event - you see people of all ages, from kids to grand-parents. There is live music prior to the main event, mascots (can we talk?) urging the fans to cheer for their favorites, score keepers, mistresses of punishment, MC's, a sideline reporter, medical staff, half time entertainment, and always, a unique rendition of our national anthem. In general, it's a freak show. It's local. It's grassroots. It's fun. Dude. Check it out.

6/22 HAIKU

2006-06-22T17:03:00.000-07:00

Grapefruit, tequila
Refreshing margarita
Salud Y salud!

POEM

2006-06-21T16:44:00.000-07:00

I read this poem this morning and had to share. David R., thanks for the book.

We who are
your closest friends
feel the time
has come to tell you
that every Thursday
we have been meeting,
as a group,
to devise ways
to keep you
in perpetual uncertainty
frustration
discontent and
torture
by neither loving you
as much as you want
no cutting you adrift.
Your analyst is
in on it,
plus your boyfriend
and your ex-husband;
and we have pledged
to disappoint you
as long as you need us.
In announcing our
association
we realize we have
placed in your hands
a possible antidote
against uncertainty
indeed against ourselves.
But since our Thursday nights
have brought us
to a community
of purpose
rare in itself
with you as
the natural center,
we feel hopeful you
will continue to make unreasonable
demands for affection
if not as a consequence
of your disastrous personality
then for the good of the collective.

Phillip Lopate

SUMMER IN THE CITY

2006-06-20T16:40:00.000-07:00

Summer is my favorite season. Always has been. Summer. The word evokes carefree days, tree climbing, warm evenings and longer twilights. Endless days at the beach – sand in my hair, salt crusted on my skin, sunburned arms, the smell of Coppertone – body surfing, boogie-boarding, floating on my back; blue blue sky above and no horizon until I find the shore and see the sand stone cliffs with sage and cactus and aloe clinging to the edges. The sound of waves crashing, seagulls calling, kids running with beach-towel capes. Reading for hours in my beach chair, dozing off eventually and dreaming the story – not knowing where I am when I first wake up.

I long for those days. Days of youth when school was my job and summer was my life. I live in a city now – one surrounded by water but with very few saltwater beaches. And no waves. Lake Union, Lake Washington, Greenlake, the Ship Canal, Elliott Bay, Puget Sound – not a wave to be found. No time to ride them either. The water is too damn cold anyway. Not that I’m complaining – it’s a beautiful place and I love living here. If we’re lucky, we get a good summer too. Clear skies, sunshine, not too much rain.

Still. I long for a beach that stretches for miles; and months for the beach and I to become acquainted.