Several weeks ago I was trying to find parking near SFMOMA for a job interview and I saw a Baby Chain-Gang. Seriously.
Identical High Security Orange Oversized T-shirts on a squad of 9 five year olds.
It took four adults with prison guard face smeared across their features and a handcuff-like rope contraption to keep these tiny persons in a tight line for crossing the busy San Francisco Street.
Each little kid (boys nearly indistinguishable from girls) had a hand or two thrust into the looped rope cuff, attached to the main tow line at one foot intervals.
The only individuality of the gang was their attitudes toward the rope: One brown haired boy had one wrist in his loop, and the other hand, arm, shoulder were thrust backward as if he was being dragged against a strong wind. A little blond girl was obviously riding a horse: She had both hands on her loop, and was cracking the reigns, while she cloppity-clopped on the pavement. A third baby had the loop in his palm, a forward bend in his back, and the rope across his shoulder, as if he was Gulliver, dragging in the Lilliputian ships. A couple of children on opposing sides of the rope were obviously using it lumberjack style to chop down an enormous tree.
They all made it across the street - not so much because the light stayed green, but mostly because the drivers waiting were laughing so hard they couldn't reach their gas pedals...
As I was driving home tonight, I saw another thing that make me laugh out loud. Especially after the recent horrific shootings on college campuses and in malls; Friends, and the I-80 interchange having bad car wrecks, and various happy couples splitting up, getting back together and resulting in nasty custody battles...I am so glad that this is out on the road: Psycho Patrol
We need a lot more....
Monday, April 30, 2007
Friday, April 20, 2007
Feathers, Feathers, Everywhere...
Last set of pictures for today: FEATHERS! My friend has offered me an opportunity to sell off parts of my wonderful feather "collection" by turning them into jewelry components.
First, I wanted to sort and clean the feathers. Uh. Yeah. I never got any further.
Here are some pictures of sorting the feathers. They have to be sorted by right and left in order to make components that are symmetrical. Birds do not lose all of their feathers at once. That would make flying HARD.
Instead, each molt they lose a feather from either the right or left. During the next seasonal change, they lose an opposing feather. This keeps the birds from ever having too few feathers to fly, or from having to just fly in a circle all the time.
These feathers are primarily from Jeremy and Cookie (My mom's bird). There are a few extras from Macaws I have known, and from some pheasants that had the unfortunate luck to meet up with CB during hunting season.
I also have some before and after photos of Experiment #1: Wash in Woolite, in a bag, on gentle cycle. Back to the drawing board...
Turns out the best way to clean feathers is with steam. Experiment #2 coming up!
Beautiful Wine Bags
2007 is the year of "Move it Out!"I want to move out all the extra fabrics, beads, wire, mask making supplies, hats in progress, bath salt making herbs,
and feathers. Here is my first attempt at starting the process: Wine bags for my friend W.
He does wine tastings and needed nice bags for covering up bottles for blind taste tests. I bought this incredible fabric over five years ago to make Bellydance costume pieces (which never came to fruition). The SuperHubby and I, with lots of help from my friend R., spent much of a day deciding the best way to go about making the bags, getting them stable, putting in drawstrings, and picking the standard sizes.
Now that we have a pattern ready to go, I am going to start selling them through friends who do Art & Wine Festivals. If you'd like to buy one to keep dust off your wine, give as a gift, or use at a historical event to "hide" your anachronistic bottle of water...drop me a line!
Winter Wonderland Pictures
I'm still trying to figure out this whole "insert a photo" thing. I'm working out how to intersperse within text, instead of them all going to the top, automatically. Argh.Here is a group of fun, winter-related pictures, starting with, Me, very cold, worshipping at the altar of the outdoor heaters.
Next, a couple of pics of Jeremy the Bird, making California snow.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Monday Aspirations
This is *supposed* to be my Aspiration Machine, but lately I have not had it plugged in. The creative energy it takes to power the stories and make the machine go have been...well...let's just say I've been DOING too much to talk about Doing.I can't be blamed, but it ain't gonna make me inta dat writa I wannabe, neither.
I wanted to post this though, since my friend D. is always putting new awesome stuff up on her page, and I feel challenged to emulate her prolific deliverables. I designed two new necklace/earring sets on Monday, and my Jewelry Artist, Beadzilla (www.beadzilla.com) whipped them out for me. Yummy, huh?
In the case of the (not pictured) amber and green necklace, I did much of the bead stringing myself. It was an excellent way to confirm that I do not like green eggs and ham...I mean, the beading process. As long as Beadzilla is happy making stuff the way *I* want it, I'm happy comissioning her to play with the wires, crimps, cutters and findings. Nuff Said. Enjoy!
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Rock in the River of Time
I wrote to a friend:
He wrote back:It turns out that my relationship with time is utterly fluid.
The poetry and devotion of youth is effortlessly summoned for me.
The past, the present and the future all mingle, and commune with the joy of running into a lover from whom you parted on excellent -potentially renewable- terms.
Sorry I didn't make it to Dargans -- I took a nap that just kept on going. It was great to see you, and I really enjoyed our conversation at the coffee cat. You are one of the most real people that I know, and I feel very lucky to have you in my life. no matter the months or the miles, you are always just "there" -- a rock in the river of time.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Playing Catch-Up
S&L,
SO GOOD to hear from you guys! I got the Happy Holidays (Hawaiian style) Note last week sometime, but have not had “Computer Time” for really savoring the news…so I’ve been putting “you” off – apologies!
I do recognize E’s face, and in my imagination revert it back to a cute little kid I knew. Very sad that he has died. Will let M.K. know about Mrs. C. – I think he was in her class.
MM News: M.K. and I both got “please send money” letters this year from H.H. Oddly enough, I was reflecting that if she had signed it herself, or said “Hi!” or anything, I might actually have sent some. So much for impersonal fundraising. We all know it doesn't work.
I’ve also been infrequently alternating between browsing and deleting the MM Weekly Newsletter. It is like reading a newspaper from a foreign country, or other world…?! So many day-to-day things that do not affect me and that I couldn’t care less about…and yet they are somehow connected to me…
I wrote (and subsequently deleted by accident) an incredibly humorous blog entry about how Count Von Count from Sesame Street was a major contributor to the Rise and Popularity of Goth culture in the 80s and 90s. When I reconstruct, I will send the link. I do love the blogging thing, and am still working towards being more consistent. I luvluvluvluvluv the writing process so much, and I feel so ALIVE when I give myself the time and permission to wallow in words…I need to support that outlet and try to discover why it is so hard to prioritize!
I was at one of the first events of the season: “A Buddhist and a Pagan Throw a Holiday Party,” and actually met one of Father V’s Nephews. (Don’t ask me how that topic rolled around.) It was unbelievably fun to hear about his “family” life – although really, he has been living in the Mission since age 13 (!?!?!), so his blood relatives are probably less his family than his brethren and his parish.
In one of those lovely synchronous folds that the universe wraps us up in, I went from thinking and reflecting on Father V. and his effect on my life, to accidentally (Free Tickets!) seeing this amazing Broadway show called “Doubt.” The play was about two nuns and a priest in a Catholic School and the suspicion of improper interaction between one of the boy students and the priest. The play was very fascinating, if often uncomfortable, and an incredibly well constructed, non-preachy message (Even if you count the actual sermons written into the play). If you get a chance to see it, or read the play, I recommend it as a wonderful reflection exercise.
I had a disappointing Halloween and Birthday visit to Arizona. I have not seen much of my Niece, primarily because her mother seems to be using her as a pawn in the power/control fight between herself and M.K. Sad, sad, sad…
On the other hand, I had a very nice afternoon with my brother on his birthday: He practiced the banjo while I sat all curled up on his couch and we just talked and laughed. Amazing. My father made home-made peanut and cashew brittle, packed in festive holiday tins for friends and family members (Aliens have removed and replaced the man I knew as a child). One of the very few people in my life who did not press any sweets on me – he asked, very respectfully, if I wanted some, since he knew I was cautious about food, sweets, etc. WOW.
In an odd turn of events, my mother and I continue to grow farther apart and spend less and less time together; What time we do spend is strained and generally ends in a nasty fight of some kind. She was perfectly awful to me during Thanksgiving, and doesn’t really have time to devote to communicating about why. Pshaw.
I’m maintaining my current weight successfully and thinking about some cooking and nutrition education classes so that I can be more informed about what I put in my body. I’m looking forward to the holiday week when I will have an opportunity to “catch up” on tasks I’ve put off: Making my Memory Albums, writing, updating my resume and looking around at the job market, reading, supporting my husband (who is in a HUGE push right now for the Consumer Electronics show in Jan).
I had this wonderful tarot reading (never had one before) at Dickens Faire (like Renaissance Faire, only….you get it!) which told me to REST and reflect deeply on my career / work in the world. I am almost at 6 years with my company, 4 of those working 4 days a week, and I definitely feel like it is time to make a decision about “hunkering down” in my non-challenging, secure corporate job, OR head back out into the challenging and interesting and creative world of “real work.” Both have their appeal and offer many opportunities!
I’m also more and more interested in changing my “home” environment. I need about 400sq feet more space for my sanity, and I’m feeling less and less safe in my neighborhood. 2/3 of our closest neighbors have been robbed in the past year and even the thought of being a “victim” brings up SUCH horrible baggagy reactions in me. Wrote a bit about that in my blog awhile back…which you are welcome to read anytime, BTW.
Okay, speaking of work, I should go find some to do. Will write more when I get a chance to check out your holiday message.
SO GOOD to hear from you guys! I got the Happy Holidays (Hawaiian style) Note last week sometime, but have not had “Computer Time” for really savoring the news…so I’ve been putting “you” off – apologies!
I do recognize E’s face, and in my imagination revert it back to a cute little kid I knew. Very sad that he has died. Will let M.K. know about Mrs. C. – I think he was in her class.
MM News: M.K. and I both got “please send money” letters this year from H.H. Oddly enough, I was reflecting that if she had signed it herself, or said “Hi!” or anything, I might actually have sent some. So much for impersonal fundraising. We all know it doesn't work.
I’ve also been infrequently alternating between browsing and deleting the MM Weekly Newsletter. It is like reading a newspaper from a foreign country, or other world…?! So many day-to-day things that do not affect me and that I couldn’t care less about…and yet they are somehow connected to me…
I wrote (and subsequently deleted by accident
I was at one of the first events of the season: “A Buddhist and a Pagan Throw a Holiday Party,” and actually met one of Father V’s Nephews. (Don’t ask me how that topic rolled around.) It was unbelievably fun to hear about his “family” life – although really, he has been living in the Mission since age 13 (!?!?!), so his blood relatives are probably less his family than his brethren and his parish.
In one of those lovely synchronous folds that the universe wraps us up in, I went from thinking and reflecting on Father V. and his effect on my life, to accidentally (Free Tickets!) seeing this amazing Broadway show called “Doubt.” The play was about two nuns and a priest in a Catholic School and the suspicion of improper interaction between one of the boy students and the priest. The play was very fascinating, if often uncomfortable, and an incredibly well constructed, non-preachy message (Even if you count the actual sermons written into the play). If you get a chance to see it, or read the play, I recommend it as a wonderful reflection exercise.
I had a disappointing Halloween and Birthday visit to Arizona. I have not seen much of my Niece, primarily because her mother seems to be using her as a pawn in the power/control fight between herself and M.K. Sad, sad, sad…
On the other hand, I had a very nice afternoon with my brother on his birthday: He practiced the banjo while I sat all curled up on his couch and we just talked and laughed. Amazing. My father made home-made peanut and cashew brittle, packed in festive holiday tins for friends and family members (Aliens have removed and replaced the man I knew as a child). One of the very few people in my life who did not press any sweets on me – he asked, very respectfully, if I wanted some, since he knew I was cautious about food, sweets, etc. WOW.
In an odd turn of events, my mother and I continue to grow farther apart and spend less and less time together; What time we do spend is strained and generally ends in a nasty fight of some kind. She was perfectly awful to me during Thanksgiving, and doesn’t really have time to devote to communicating about why. Pshaw.
I’m maintaining my current weight successfully and thinking about some cooking and nutrition education classes so that I can be more informed about what I put in my body. I’m looking forward to the holiday week when I will have an opportunity to “catch up” on tasks I’ve put off: Making my Memory Albums, writing, updating my resume and looking around at the job market, reading, supporting my husband (who is in a HUGE push right now for the Consumer Electronics show in Jan).
I had this wonderful tarot reading (never had one before) at Dickens Faire (like Renaissance Faire, only….you get it!) which told me to REST and reflect deeply on my career / work in the world. I am almost at 6 years with my company, 4 of those working 4 days a week, and I definitely feel like it is time to make a decision about “hunkering down” in my non-challenging, secure corporate job, OR head back out into the challenging and interesting and creative world of “real work.” Both have their appeal and offer many opportunities!
I’m also more and more interested in changing my “home” environment. I need about 400sq feet more space for my sanity, and I’m feeling less and less safe in my neighborhood. 2/3 of our closest neighbors have been robbed in the past year and even the thought of being a “victim” brings up SUCH horrible baggagy reactions in me. Wrote a bit about that in my blog awhile back…which you are welcome to read anytime, BTW.
Okay, speaking of work, I should go find some to do. Will write more when I get a chance to check out your holiday message.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Low Energy Safety Crisis
This title is 100% drama queen. Who the hell am I kidding...this BLOG is 100% drama queen. harumph. I often wonder if it would be a better use of my time to read "real" blogs by "real" writers instead of just blabbing out my own crud.
Naw. At least equally as useful as someone else's crud blabbing.
So, why am I so low energy, upset, downtrodden, depressed, sad, angry and scared wobbly? Packages (as far as I can tell, 3 to date) are dissappearing from my house. Amazon seems to confirm that the UPS guy is leaving them, but they are NOT getting to me.
Now, I should not be surprised, and I should be able to think about this clearly - after all 2 out of 3 of my neighbors have had their homes broken into and robbed. Why shouldn't the thieves casing my neighborhood notice that the UPS guy drops off around 1PM, and no one comes home until after 5PM?
The eerie part is that the stuff is SO LAME. Not worth stealing. Funny pictures of my husband and I dressed as clowns from a Halloween Sears photo shoot. A book about trivia intended as a gift for a friend, for Christmas. Lame. Not even sellable for drug money. But someone else has them. That creeps me out. Maybe they are putting them into my photo album (which they also stole).
I'm angry, and upset...not because I don't have "my stuff" (someday when I'm good and belligerant I'll find receipts, call up vendors and complain bitterly, and probably get my stuff replaced -though not in time for Christmas, I'm sure) but because I feel like a VICTIM.
Now I've BEEN a victim. I was molested as a child by a sometime caregiver-adult, and it is NOT GOOD to be at the mercy of someone else and feel like you have no control.
My denial coping mechanisms are pretty awesome...I even manage to forget for weeks at a time that I live in an evidenced, unsafe neighborhood. But each time something criminal happens, my brand new car being robbed in my driveway, the neighbor's kids having their toys stolen, etc., I get this horrible freak-out emotional saddness and overload and I feel sick.
My husband says I'm "panicky," but you know, I think it is perfectly NORMAL.
Naw. At least equally as useful as someone else's crud blabbing.
So, why am I so low energy, upset, downtrodden, depressed, sad, angry and scared wobbly? Packages (as far as I can tell, 3 to date) are dissappearing from my house. Amazon seems to confirm that the UPS guy is leaving them, but they are NOT getting to me.
Now, I should not be surprised, and I should be able to think about this clearly - after all 2 out of 3 of my neighbors have had their homes broken into and robbed. Why shouldn't the thieves casing my neighborhood notice that the UPS guy drops off around 1PM, and no one comes home until after 5PM?
The eerie part is that the stuff is SO LAME. Not worth stealing. Funny pictures of my husband and I dressed as clowns from a Halloween Sears photo shoot. A book about trivia intended as a gift for a friend, for Christmas. Lame. Not even sellable for drug money. But someone else has them. That creeps me out. Maybe they are putting them into my photo album (which they also stole).
I'm angry, and upset...not because I don't have "my stuff" (someday when I'm good and belligerant I'll find receipts, call up vendors and complain bitterly, and probably get my stuff replaced -though not in time for Christmas, I'm sure) but because I feel like a VICTIM.
Now I've BEEN a victim. I was molested as a child by a sometime caregiver-adult, and it is NOT GOOD to be at the mercy of someone else and feel like you have no control.
My denial coping mechanisms are pretty awesome...I even manage to forget for weeks at a time that I live in an evidenced, unsafe neighborhood. But each time something criminal happens, my brand new car being robbed in my driveway, the neighbor's kids having their toys stolen, etc., I get this horrible freak-out emotional saddness and overload and I feel sick.
My husband says I'm "panicky," but you know, I think it is perfectly NORMAL.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Booking Inside and Out
Does anyone still use the verb "to book" anymore?
"Gotta Book, Man."
In the 80s (probably earlier) that phrase meant going someplace fast. Well this weekend, and today by extention, I went a lot of places, really fast. Here are just a few examples:
~~~~~~~~~~
A Book to Inner-Book about for a BookWorm:
I have been asked to come up with "personal development goals" for 2007. What, like besides being a professional student? I mean, I LOVE LEARNING....so much that I tend to get obsessive and addictive about immersing myself...just as I do about just about everything, eh?
So over the course of the day, in between other work I came up with no fewer than 8 or 10 directions I could go in for developing. ZOOM! And agonizing choices await me: Which one, which one!?! (Or ones, if I have the stamina) Conferences, Skills, Ideas, Knowledge...or maybe just reading a book, like Influencing With Integrity (IWI). Weird Title. Slightly Offputting for an unidentifiable reason. Perhaps "Influencing" is a turnoff (though that shouldn't be an issue for a student of The Social Animal by Elliot Aronson). Perhaps "Integrity" (Do I want to know what that means? What if I don't have it?).
Resisting usually indicates to me something that I "should" do...something I will enjoy if only I can start! So, as a part of my goal to do some research on "personal development goals" I cracked open IWI and started reading. Three forewards. Interesting. Chapter 1 made me cry. WOW. So I'm at page 17 and I'm a convert. The author herself told me not to read it cover to cover, so I'm honoring that as simply recognizing the distance between a FREE book on my shelf for months with a stigma of "Don't touch it - it's EeeeVil!" attached and a book I intend to bookmark as I get to each stopping point, take home, and (if necessary, but it won't be) FORCE my husband to read in tandem with me, for ongoing disussion.
Booking, indeed.
~~~~~~~~~~
I Booked through a painful weekend with this Book:
I HIGHLY recommend The Grand Ellipse by Paula Volsky to readers who need a book for vacation. Be ready to handle a gripping story about wonderful characters competing to travel a fictional world that looks like the Industrial Revolution with Magic.
It took me a weekend, on and off. It has chapters which are just the right length for stopping, going on a hike, and picking up where you left off. Caution: to really appreciate the horror and happiness of the sappy ending, read in private, not on the airplane on the way home, with a 10 year old next to you.
Beautiful descriptions, harrowing adventures, underhanded misdeeds by complete Black Hats and a highly probable love-triangle. When you really need your Good Guys to be GOOD, your Bad Guys to be BAD, the hero to win the heroine in the end, and a happy ending unmarred by unbelievable perfection...Read this book!
"Gotta Book, Man."
In the 80s (probably earlier) that phrase meant going someplace fast. Well this weekend, and today by extention, I went a lot of places, really fast. Here are just a few examples:
~~~~~~~~~~
A Book to Inner-Book about for a BookWorm:
I have been asked to come up with "personal development goals" for 2007. What, like besides being a professional student? I mean, I LOVE LEARNING....so much that I tend to get obsessive and addictive about immersing myself...just as I do about just about everything, eh?
So over the course of the day, in between other work I came up with no fewer than 8 or 10 directions I could go in for developing. ZOOM! And agonizing choices await me: Which one, which one!?! (Or ones, if I have the stamina) Conferences, Skills, Ideas, Knowledge...or maybe just reading a book, like Influencing With Integrity (IWI). Weird Title. Slightly Offputting for an unidentifiable reason. Perhaps "Influencing" is a turnoff (though that shouldn't be an issue for a student of The Social Animal by Elliot Aronson). Perhaps "Integrity" (Do I want to know what that means? What if I don't have it?).
Resisting usually indicates to me something that I "should" do...something I will enjoy if only I can start! So, as a part of my goal to do some research on "personal development goals" I cracked open IWI and started reading. Three forewards. Interesting. Chapter 1 made me cry. WOW. So I'm at page 17 and I'm a convert. The author herself told me not to read it cover to cover, so I'm honoring that as simply recognizing the distance between a FREE book on my shelf for months with a stigma of "Don't touch it - it's EeeeVil!" attached and a book I intend to bookmark as I get to each stopping point, take home, and (if necessary, but it won't be) FORCE my husband to read in tandem with me, for ongoing disussion.
Booking, indeed.
~~~~~~~~~~
I Booked through a painful weekend with this Book:
I HIGHLY recommend The Grand Ellipse by Paula Volsky to readers who need a book for vacation. Be ready to handle a gripping story about wonderful characters competing to travel a fictional world that looks like the Industrial Revolution with Magic.
It took me a weekend, on and off. It has chapters which are just the right length for stopping, going on a hike, and picking up where you left off. Caution: to really appreciate the horror and happiness of the sappy ending, read in private, not on the airplane on the way home, with a 10 year old next to you.
Beautiful descriptions, harrowing adventures, underhanded misdeeds by complete Black Hats and a highly probable love-triangle. When you really need your Good Guys to be GOOD, your Bad Guys to be BAD, the hero to win the heroine in the end, and a happy ending unmarred by unbelievable perfection...Read this book!
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
TechoSavvyaged
Mother of a Rant
The Mother Wrote (TMW):
Daughter, Never mind, I'll catch a shuttle. Definitely sounds like your friend's work is crazed and I don't want to impose or add any more to that. I didn't realize that where you and I are going are in opposite directions.
The Adult Daughter Replied (TADR):
Yes. Ex-Husband's warehouse location is West, very close to the airport, and where I am going is South East.
TMW:
Sorry you felt you were having to "take care of me." I wasn't looking to be taken care of.
TADR:
Good to know. Carpooling is always desireable when it makes sense, but since we were not going to the same places, I didn't really "get it" when you proposed it. I think I said that it didn't make sense to me pretty clearly.
After I wrote to you that we were not going in the same direction - literally - you then asked Ex-Husband if you could get a ride from him, or would he please send shuttle info. Mother, that seemed like a pretty desperate act to me. Why would you ask Ex-Husband, or expect that he would be willing to help you in any way? Ex-Husband is angry with you and does not want to help you. Why would you ask him?
I can think of only one reason: You feel he "owes" it to you. People don't like to do nice things for each other out of a sense of obligation, Mother.
No matter why you did it, it made me sad for you and for him that you had asked for help. I felt bad that I was not able to "take care of you," meaning, have you get the help you wanted from someone you wanted it from. You really seemed to want help - even if you had to get it from Ex-Husband.
Because I am Adult Daughter, I felt like I needed to say, "Sure, if you can't find another ride, I can help." Which is still true, but you have to take the help how / when it is offered. I can help you, but you have to do it my way. It is my help to give. You need to respect my friend's time and not take advantage of a friend's generosity and love for me to make your life a little easier.
TMW:
I was just coming from the place where it made sense to see if we could coordinate transportation since we are arriving at almost exactly the same time (you know, like carpooling). Would not have even suggested it if arrival times were different.
Glad to hear you're feeling better. Hope you're over your hurt feelings by the time I see you on Sunday.
TADR:
I think part of the problem is the "hurt" doesn't go away. Especially without any acknowledgement / apologies or attempt to make it different the next time. It just gets worse and worse each time, and, Mother, we seem to be able to spend less and less time together without hurting each other again. Pretty nasty.
My theory is that you're prickly because of Some Thing, and I'm prickly because of Some Thing Else. Doesn't make for a good combination.
TMW:
I was over my hurt feelings from you being mean to me until your recent emails. (I decided I should have been more patient and understanding since you were sick.)
TADR:
That is interesting. Sick shouldn't have much to do with it. My reaction right now is that I have no idea why your feelings were hurt.
As far as I can tell, you're feelings got hurt because I tried to convince you to stay until Monday, like you'd previously planned, in case I needed help with Jeremy The Cockatoo. Either with boarding him at your place or taking him to Birdie Hotel.
Why did that hurt or upset you? I would not have asked if I hadn't REALLY needed the help. If you hadn't already been here, and going back to Santa Barbara. With Jeremy there are so few options. I cannot put him in a shuttle or a taxi.
I was really scared and upset about termites in my house. You said you were staying until Monday, so I called all over to try to find someone who could look at the termites as early as possible on Monday (since no one was available the holiday weekend). We talked about this when you arrived Wednesday, while we made banana pumpkin bread.
TMW:
Seems like it's OK for you to have me go out of my way to help out and/or take care of your needs (like waiting around for the termite guy, driving in the rain, and not getting back into SB in time to get bird vegies and/or keeping Jeremy if your house needed tenting) but not the other way around.
TADR:
Ah, and here I feel like you are very inaccurate. The idea that you think this makes me really angry. This is what you think of Your Sister too. And what you think of Ex-Husband. You appear to think everyone around you expects an unequal relationship.
The Adult Son and I have had that expectation, since we're your kids, HOWEVER, for a long time now, I DO NOT BEHAVE THAT WAY.
I have been trying to treat you just the same as everyone else. When you have needs, and you ask me to help, like with taxes, I say yes or no. Like with your house, yes or no. Like with crazy schemes for WorldCon. Yes, or No. Like with "I want to go to Hawaii for my birthday." Yes or No.
We each get into trouble when it is not that cut and dry, Mother. You did NOT say, "I need to leave, can you help me pack up?" If you had, I would have said, "No. I just puked for eight hours, that isn't going to happen." Instead you said something like, "Its going to rain, I'm thinking of leaving." To which I replied by trying to convince you not to go because I needed your help.
Perhaps it was unfair of me to make my case for why I needed the help so badly. Perhaps you felt guilty to say no. In any case, Mother, these are not excuses for being hurtful.
Mother, it is a situation of expectations. I specifically asked you when you were coming to visit and staying, and you said until Monday.
I asked again because I was *desperately* trying to find a termite guy that could come out before you left, just in case we had to tent and I had to send Jeremy away. When you arrived Wednesday, I went over the whole termite thing with you, and you did not seem put-out.
If I had asked you more clearly Wed night "I need you to stay until Monday, and if the house needs to be tented, take Jeremy either to your place, or to Jaime's" I believe you probably would have said YES. You certainly implied yes, while we were talking that night.
All that changed from then until you left was YOU. You wanted to do something else because of the rain, your needs changed, and so you bailed on me. That is part one of why I was hurt and angry.
Part two of hurt and angry layers on because none of the above that you list as your "needs" (rain, bird veggies) is anything I had any control over or previous knowledge of. I can't have "done it" to you, but you certainly took out your frustration on me.
To be clear, I didn't spend 8 hours puking to ruin your Sunday morning. I didn't do a rain-dance, or forget to close up your house before you left so that you would be stressed out. I didn't rent movies that I thought would specifically be fun to watch with YOU so that I could taunt you with "ha, ha, you have to leave, so I'm going to watch movies you wish you could see..."
The ONLY reason I left my bed Sunday, given how completely AWFUL I felt, was because I knew you were there, and I had specifically rented movies for us to watch TOGETHER. I was damned if I was going to stay in bed, no matter what.
Instead of a nice, restful day of fun movies, I was told you were leaving. I said I needed your help, and you didn't even say "No, that doesn't work for me, I need to leave." You were snide and instead said something like "Well, I'm *so* *sorry* that I can't stay and help you, and take care of your bird and I'll just be out of your way if you'll show me my turkey..."
What you are hurt by, as far as I can tell, is your imagination. It FREAKS ME OUT because it is very Your Sister-Like. I'm having conversations with you that just dissappear into the ether.
It was completely sickening. Not as sickening as you trying to HUG me after you had just been _off_the_chart_ nasty.
I get that you feel bad. I feel bad about the whole thing too, even if I can't figure out what set you off. But don't expect me to be all smiles and stick my damn neck out again by being nice to you. And don't expect me to WANT to help you when you were rotten.
It occurs to me at the last to ask whether you are actually okay with finding your own transportation tomorrow, or whether you are actually really upset and dissapointed?
I care, so I'd like to know the answer...and at the same time, I couldn't care less.
Daughter, Never mind, I'll catch a shuttle. Definitely sounds like your friend's work is crazed and I don't want to impose or add any more to that. I didn't realize that where you and I are going are in opposite directions.
The Adult Daughter Replied (TADR):
Yes. Ex-Husband's warehouse location is West, very close to the airport, and where I am going is South East.
TMW:
Sorry you felt you were having to "take care of me." I wasn't looking to be taken care of.
TADR:
Good to know. Carpooling is always desireable when it makes sense, but since we were not going to the same places, I didn't really "get it" when you proposed it. I think I said that it didn't make sense to me pretty clearly.
After I wrote to you that we were not going in the same direction - literally - you then asked Ex-Husband if you could get a ride from him, or would he please send shuttle info. Mother, that seemed like a pretty desperate act to me. Why would you ask Ex-Husband, or expect that he would be willing to help you in any way? Ex-Husband is angry with you and does not want to help you. Why would you ask him?
I can think of only one reason: You feel he "owes" it to you. People don't like to do nice things for each other out of a sense of obligation, Mother.
No matter why you did it, it made me sad for you and for him that you had asked for help. I felt bad that I was not able to "take care of you," meaning, have you get the help you wanted from someone you wanted it from. You really seemed to want help - even if you had to get it from Ex-Husband.
Because I am Adult Daughter, I felt like I needed to say, "Sure, if you can't find another ride, I can help." Which is still true, but you have to take the help how / when it is offered. I can help you, but you have to do it my way. It is my help to give. You need to respect my friend's time and not take advantage of a friend's generosity and love for me to make your life a little easier.
TMW:
I was just coming from the place where it made sense to see if we could coordinate transportation since we are arriving at almost exactly the same time (you know, like carpooling). Would not have even suggested it if arrival times were different.
Glad to hear you're feeling better. Hope you're over your hurt feelings by the time I see you on Sunday.
TADR:
I think part of the problem is the "hurt" doesn't go away. Especially without any acknowledgement / apologies or attempt to make it different the next time. It just gets worse and worse each time, and, Mother, we seem to be able to spend less and less time together without hurting each other again. Pretty nasty.
My theory is that you're prickly because of Some Thing, and I'm prickly because of Some Thing Else. Doesn't make for a good combination.
TMW:
I was over my hurt feelings from you being mean to me until your recent emails. (I decided I should have been more patient and understanding since you were sick.)
TADR:
That is interesting. Sick shouldn't have much to do with it. My reaction right now is that I have no idea why your feelings were hurt.
As far as I can tell, you're feelings got hurt because I tried to convince you to stay until Monday, like you'd previously planned, in case I needed help with Jeremy The Cockatoo. Either with boarding him at your place or taking him to Birdie Hotel.
Why did that hurt or upset you? I would not have asked if I hadn't REALLY needed the help. If you hadn't already been here, and going back to Santa Barbara. With Jeremy there are so few options. I cannot put him in a shuttle or a taxi.
I was really scared and upset about termites in my house. You said you were staying until Monday, so I called all over to try to find someone who could look at the termites as early as possible on Monday (since no one was available the holiday weekend). We talked about this when you arrived Wednesday, while we made banana pumpkin bread.
TMW:
Seems like it's OK for you to have me go out of my way to help out and/or take care of your needs (like waiting around for the termite guy, driving in the rain, and not getting back into SB in time to get bird vegies and/or keeping Jeremy if your house needed tenting) but not the other way around.
TADR:
Ah, and here I feel like you are very inaccurate. The idea that you think this makes me really angry. This is what you think of Your Sister too. And what you think of Ex-Husband. You appear to think everyone around you expects an unequal relationship.
The Adult Son and I have had that expectation, since we're your kids, HOWEVER, for a long time now, I DO NOT BEHAVE THAT WAY.
I have been trying to treat you just the same as everyone else. When you have needs, and you ask me to help, like with taxes, I say yes or no. Like with your house, yes or no. Like with crazy schemes for WorldCon. Yes, or No. Like with "I want to go to Hawaii for my birthday." Yes or No.
We each get into trouble when it is not that cut and dry, Mother. You did NOT say, "I need to leave, can you help me pack up?" If you had, I would have said, "No. I just puked for eight hours, that isn't going to happen." Instead you said something like, "Its going to rain, I'm thinking of leaving." To which I replied by trying to convince you not to go because I needed your help.
Perhaps it was unfair of me to make my case for why I needed the help so badly. Perhaps you felt guilty to say no. In any case, Mother, these are not excuses for being hurtful.
Mother, it is a situation of expectations. I specifically asked you when you were coming to visit and staying, and you said until Monday.
I asked again because I was *desperately* trying to find a termite guy that could come out before you left, just in case we had to tent and I had to send Jeremy away. When you arrived Wednesday, I went over the whole termite thing with you, and you did not seem put-out.
If I had asked you more clearly Wed night "I need you to stay until Monday, and if the house needs to be tented, take Jeremy either to your place, or to Jaime's" I believe you probably would have said YES. You certainly implied yes, while we were talking that night.
All that changed from then until you left was YOU. You wanted to do something else because of the rain, your needs changed, and so you bailed on me. That is part one of why I was hurt and angry.
Part two of hurt and angry layers on because none of the above that you list as your "needs" (rain, bird veggies) is anything I had any control over or previous knowledge of. I can't have "done it" to you, but you certainly took out your frustration on me.
To be clear, I didn't spend 8 hours puking to ruin your Sunday morning. I didn't do a rain-dance, or forget to close up your house before you left so that you would be stressed out. I didn't rent movies that I thought would specifically be fun to watch with YOU so that I could taunt you with "ha, ha, you have to leave, so I'm going to watch movies you wish you could see..."
The ONLY reason I left my bed Sunday, given how completely AWFUL I felt, was because I knew you were there, and I had specifically rented movies for us to watch TOGETHER. I was damned if I was going to stay in bed, no matter what.
Instead of a nice, restful day of fun movies, I was told you were leaving. I said I needed your help, and you didn't even say "No, that doesn't work for me, I need to leave." You were snide and instead said something like "Well, I'm *so* *sorry* that I can't stay and help you, and take care of your bird and I'll just be out of your way if you'll show me my turkey..."
What you are hurt by, as far as I can tell, is your imagination. It FREAKS ME OUT because it is very Your Sister-Like. I'm having conversations with you that just dissappear into the ether.
It was completely sickening. Not as sickening as you trying to HUG me after you had just been _off_the_chart_ nasty.
I get that you feel bad. I feel bad about the whole thing too, even if I can't figure out what set you off. But don't expect me to be all smiles and stick my damn neck out again by being nice to you. And don't expect me to WANT to help you when you were rotten.
It occurs to me at the last to ask whether you are actually okay with finding your own transportation tomorrow, or whether you are actually really upset and dissapointed?
I care, so I'd like to know the answer...and at the same time, I couldn't care less.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Sick of Family
I've seen every maternal blood relative I have on this earth over the past week and I AM DONE.
I just can't take anymore for awhile.
The gushing flow of stories are just too cold prickly and full of sadness to keep on wading through them. I'm going to stop.
..........
Of course, I'm returning to this post over a week later and I can't even recall what was so particularly awful.
And since turning a very potent experience into a story where *I* wasn't involved worked well before, I think I'll try that hand again.
I just can't take anymore for awhile.
The gushing flow of stories are just too cold prickly and full of sadness to keep on wading through them. I'm going to stop.
..........
Of course, I'm returning to this post over a week later and I can't even recall what was so particularly awful.
And since turning a very potent experience into a story where *I* wasn't involved worked well before, I think I'll try that hand again.
Monday, November 20, 2006
First Time - Draft 2
I left the post-it on his desk because I couldn't end the day without making sure Jack knew he was wrong: JP call EB.
This morning, Jack sat across the table in the small conference room and said, "I will not, Evan. They refuse to participate."
"What...?"
"They refuse to participate. So. I have respect for the hierarchical structure of this organization. I have informed my manager and it is his problem now. The organization's problem - Not Mine."
"Did they give a reason why?"
"I don't care why."
I couldn't look him in the eye. The issue I had stumbled across was a hot one. I tried again and again to elicit a clear picture of the conflict from his information. Even after an hour all I could see was a gaping hole where the "big picture" of the situation should be.
Like a black cloud, it hovered above and to the right of his close-cropped hairline. Beyond a shoulder that leaned hard, aggressively nonchalant on the arm of a blue chair.
"I'm not upset!" he said again, raising his voice. "I also don't care why and I won't do anything about it until I'm asked. Until then, I don't know there is a problem." One of many conflicts in our organization; Dogging him, and like a stray mutt, just as pointedly ignored.
I hate recognizing it when he acts like a five year old. I feel compelled to cover his ass.
So I spent my workday in someone else's problem. Not Jack's problem, not mine: a problem that should have been confronted by the whole organization...but was instead being tossed over cubicle half-walls like a hot potato.
A conflict averse work environment with no management leadership. A fun place to work. Places like this one need lubricant in the form of neutral third parties, troublemakers...HR managers. The organizational caretakers and problem solvers of the world who are powerfully motivated to solve heated and divisive problems. Not necessarily urgent ones: the ones all about communication and personalities and styles of interaction.
As HR Managers go, I am good at my job. I challenged, asked questions, developed a plan of action. I used individual discussions with each personality to understand the whole picture. I spoke with everyone struggling busily to avoid solving the problem.
Suddenly, after 6PM, my own yellow sticky note was in front of my face. Between me and my monitor, I saw my own scrawl stuck to Jack's clean hand. Polished, even nails confronted me at the end of an arm, covered by the softest brushed cotton twill.
He walks up silently, but I never jump anymore. Every part of his body invades the typical, American "personal space." Jack knows he is mandated to keep the distance clear, and he is reminded in a painful waste of two productive hours, every two years, at the Sexual Harassment Prevention course. Maybe I should make him go annually.
"Is it brief? I want to go home," he said while draping himself, quite at ease, in my guest chair. I turned a few pages in a nearby notebook, then swiveled to face him.
"You're wrong," I said, knowing I was safe. "I want you to be successful, and I can't take it when you are, instead, being a complete ass. Change your attitude. I spoke with everyone individually today and the only person with a problem is you. Come back Monday with that problem fixed. Because you're my hero, and I can't stand it when you're wrong."
"Allright. That's fine," came from a tired Jack. He stood up to go, but only moved a foot away. He picked up a magazine from the cubicle next to mine, and stood, looking down at a picture of a famous actress. Well, once famous, then an obesity poster child, now a slim sexpot of a woman again.
"Amazing," he said. And then stood there. With that invitation, I got up to stand next to him. He wanted me to look at the picture I had already noticed returning to my desk a half hour before. I couldn't see the picture this time.
-Comment-
All I could see was the rough stubble across his face at the end of such a long day. Striking on someone meticulously clean shaven each morning.
-Response-
I realized that he smelled fantastic, and I took a deep breath, staring down at a Cover Girl but seeing Jack's chin, neck...an open collar.
-See you Monday-
My strong urge to rub a hand, a cheek, a chest, a groin...across that abrasive surface was overwhelming...and stifled immediately.
I returned to my chair, feeling pumped with the ache of arousal and weak with the cold of imagined betrayal. Emotionally unfaithful for the first time.
This morning, Jack sat across the table in the small conference room and said, "I will not, Evan. They refuse to participate."
"What...?"
"They refuse to participate. So. I have respect for the hierarchical structure of this organization. I have informed my manager and it is his problem now. The organization's problem - Not Mine."
"Did they give a reason why?"
"I don't care why."
I couldn't look him in the eye. The issue I had stumbled across was a hot one. I tried again and again to elicit a clear picture of the conflict from his information. Even after an hour all I could see was a gaping hole where the "big picture" of the situation should be.
Like a black cloud, it hovered above and to the right of his close-cropped hairline. Beyond a shoulder that leaned hard, aggressively nonchalant on the arm of a blue chair.
"I'm not upset!" he said again, raising his voice. "I also don't care why and I won't do anything about it until I'm asked. Until then, I don't know there is a problem." One of many conflicts in our organization; Dogging him, and like a stray mutt, just as pointedly ignored.
I hate recognizing it when he acts like a five year old. I feel compelled to cover his ass.
So I spent my workday in someone else's problem. Not Jack's problem, not mine: a problem that should have been confronted by the whole organization...but was instead being tossed over cubicle half-walls like a hot potato.
A conflict averse work environment with no management leadership. A fun place to work. Places like this one need lubricant in the form of neutral third parties, troublemakers...HR managers. The organizational caretakers and problem solvers of the world who are powerfully motivated to solve heated and divisive problems. Not necessarily urgent ones: the ones all about communication and personalities and styles of interaction.
As HR Managers go, I am good at my job. I challenged, asked questions, developed a plan of action. I used individual discussions with each personality to understand the whole picture. I spoke with everyone struggling busily to avoid solving the problem.
Suddenly, after 6PM, my own yellow sticky note was in front of my face. Between me and my monitor, I saw my own scrawl stuck to Jack's clean hand. Polished, even nails confronted me at the end of an arm, covered by the softest brushed cotton twill.
He walks up silently, but I never jump anymore. Every part of his body invades the typical, American "personal space." Jack knows he is mandated to keep the distance clear, and he is reminded in a painful waste of two productive hours, every two years, at the Sexual Harassment Prevention course. Maybe I should make him go annually.
"Is it brief? I want to go home," he said while draping himself, quite at ease, in my guest chair. I turned a few pages in a nearby notebook, then swiveled to face him.
"You're wrong," I said, knowing I was safe. "I want you to be successful, and I can't take it when you are, instead, being a complete ass. Change your attitude. I spoke with everyone individually today and the only person with a problem is you. Come back Monday with that problem fixed. Because you're my hero, and I can't stand it when you're wrong."
"Allright. That's fine," came from a tired Jack. He stood up to go, but only moved a foot away. He picked up a magazine from the cubicle next to mine, and stood, looking down at a picture of a famous actress. Well, once famous, then an obesity poster child, now a slim sexpot of a woman again.
"Amazing," he said. And then stood there. With that invitation, I got up to stand next to him. He wanted me to look at the picture I had already noticed returning to my desk a half hour before. I couldn't see the picture this time.
-Comment-
All I could see was the rough stubble across his face at the end of such a long day. Striking on someone meticulously clean shaven each morning.
-Response-
I realized that he smelled fantastic, and I took a deep breath, staring down at a Cover Girl but seeing Jack's chin, neck...an open collar.
-See you Monday-
My strong urge to rub a hand, a cheek, a chest, a groin...across that abrasive surface was overwhelming...and stifled immediately.
I returned to my chair, feeling pumped with the ache of arousal and weak with the cold of imagined betrayal. Emotionally unfaithful for the first time.
Friday, November 10, 2006
The First Time
I wrote a post quite some time ago about a loosely 'sexual' experience with flirting I had...at age 33.
This story is about a similar experience. I was not going to blog it here, because I know my husband reads my blog...and the idea of him reading it made me feel guilty. I believe the content may "hurt" a little bit in some way, and I deperately want to avoid hurting him - I love him so much.
But there is this need to expose the experience to the light of day and examine it before it becomes a secret: I hate secrets. Hate secrets in a way that only an adult who has a vestigial molested child lurking inside can.
In my further defense (though I don't need one, Dammit!) my "Blog Hero" thinks nothing of descriptions of cute chicks at Hooters, and hot Booth Babes, and being struck senseless by beautiful women. He has eyes, he has a dick, he has a libido. He expresses the thoughts that are wound up with those things. Yet I shrink from doing that.
I read a short story called "Tastings" by Neil Gaiman last week, in a short story collection which had lots of not-fun sexually explicit stories. In his preface to "Tastings" he talked about how writing the story took him a long time (paraphrasing from memory here) because the content was embarassing to him...made him blush, and made him have to stop, then come back to the story. The content was extremely sexually explicit, which might have had something to do with the embarassment.
From that preface, I am choosing to take away the idea that there is some value in getting out the ideas...even when as writers we have huge emotional reactions to the content. And in this case, it is probably best to get it outside of me, into my "clear" space.
So, from the assumptions that:
1) Finding someone other than your partner attractive is not something to feel guilt over (as long as you don't act on it), and
2) Sharing the fact that attraction is evidenced, may hurt your partner, and fundamentally if they choose to read your blog after you've warned them, it is their own fault, and
3) Telling a story and letting an idea play out can only strengthen storytelling and writing abilities, even if it doesn't feel good to do so....here's the story.
This story is about a similar experience. I was not going to blog it here, because I know my husband reads my blog...and the idea of him reading it made me feel guilty. I believe the content may "hurt" a little bit in some way, and I deperately want to avoid hurting him - I love him so much.
But there is this need to expose the experience to the light of day and examine it before it becomes a secret: I hate secrets. Hate secrets in a way that only an adult who has a vestigial molested child lurking inside can.
In my further defense (though I don't need one, Dammit!) my "Blog Hero" thinks nothing of descriptions of cute chicks at Hooters, and hot Booth Babes, and being struck senseless by beautiful women. He has eyes, he has a dick, he has a libido. He expresses the thoughts that are wound up with those things. Yet I shrink from doing that.
I read a short story called "Tastings" by Neil Gaiman last week, in a short story collection which had lots of not-fun sexually explicit stories. In his preface to "Tastings" he talked about how writing the story took him a long time (paraphrasing from memory here) because the content was embarassing to him...made him blush, and made him have to stop, then come back to the story. The content was extremely sexually explicit, which might have had something to do with the embarassment.
From that preface, I am choosing to take away the idea that there is some value in getting out the ideas...even when as writers we have huge emotional reactions to the content. And in this case, it is probably best to get it outside of me, into my "clear" space.
So, from the assumptions that:
1) Finding someone other than your partner attractive is not something to feel guilt over (as long as you don't act on it), and
2) Sharing the fact that attraction is evidenced, may hurt your partner, and fundamentally if they choose to read your blog after you've warned them, it is their own fault, and
3) Telling a story and letting an idea play out can only strengthen storytelling and writing abilities, even if it doesn't feel good to do so....here's the story.
Password, Please.
I have been off blog for 30 days. No withdrawal pains...just off. Today I need to rant though because again, the place I work makes me CRAZY and I have thought about 564 times in the past hour, "Why do I work here...?"
There a quite a few answers, and they are acceptable for now: I like Security. I like Feeling Needed. I like Being The Underdog. I like The Idea That I "See Things" Others Do Not. I like The Idea That Communication Problems Can be Fixed. I like The Idea That Working Relationships Are Possible. I like the Moral High Ground of Being Seen As The Good Guy.
I have to go back to work now...I need to think later what this all means...what is it all about...? How does it fit into my vision of myself and my goals for the future.
You know, nothing BIG....And I'll be back soon to talk about the "Nothing Big." And this time, if I do it soon enough, it won't take me eternal seconds of brain processor power to remember the password.
There a quite a few answers, and they are acceptable for now: I like Security. I like Feeling Needed. I like Being The Underdog. I like The Idea That I "See Things" Others Do Not. I like The Idea That Communication Problems Can be Fixed. I like The Idea That Working Relationships Are Possible. I like the Moral High Ground of Being Seen As The Good Guy.
I have to go back to work now...I need to think later what this all means...what is it all about...? How does it fit into my vision of myself and my goals for the future.
You know, nothing BIG....And I'll be back soon to talk about the "Nothing Big." And this time, if I do it soon enough, it won't take me eternal seconds of brain processor power to remember the password.
Friday, October 20, 2006
T3 & Credit Union Juxtaposition
Uhm, how nervous should I be about the following:
My Credit Union posts on their website that they have a planned systems upgrade starting on a Friday night at 10pm, lasting...mostly through the weekend. No problem. It is Friday at 3pm, I'll check my accounts, make sure there's no problems, bills are getting paid, etc., and then be out of town all weekend anyway.
Except the logon won't accept my name & password (ARGH). Now I'm calling.
"I'm sorry, our systems are down, and IT estimates 3-4 hours until they are back up."
I'm thinking, "Huh? You're a BANK. You have my money. You can't 'go down.'"
This seemed eerily connected to a comment I made this morning while commuting with my husband. We had finally Netflixed Terminator 3 this past week, and this morning I joked that he could get one of those nifty, non-expiring governmental license plates by doing QA for Homeland Security.
"You can be the guy who makes SURE SpyNet works right when it gets ready to destroy the human race."
Ugh. Looks like they don't need him.
My Credit Union posts on their website that they have a planned systems upgrade starting on a Friday night at 10pm, lasting...mostly through the weekend. No problem. It is Friday at 3pm, I'll check my accounts, make sure there's no problems, bills are getting paid, etc., and then be out of town all weekend anyway.
Except the logon won't accept my name & password (ARGH). Now I'm calling.
"I'm sorry, our systems are down, and IT estimates 3-4 hours until they are back up."
I'm thinking, "Huh? You're a BANK. You have my money. You can't 'go down.'"
This seemed eerily connected to a comment I made this morning while commuting with my husband. We had finally Netflixed Terminator 3 this past week, and this morning I joked that he could get one of those nifty, non-expiring governmental license plates by doing QA for Homeland Security.
"You can be the guy who makes SURE SpyNet works right when it gets ready to destroy the human race."
Ugh. Looks like they don't need him.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Who is Jean Arthur?
After visiting a new friend's blog I gave into temptation and took the "Classic Dames" test. Do you think it is a sign that I:
a) Was a Blonde
b) Have never heard of this person?
Guess I have some Netflixing to do...
a) Was a Blonde
b) Have never heard of this person?
Guess I have some Netflixing to do...
| Jean Arthur You scored 19% grit, 33% wit, 33% flair, and 28% class! |
| You are a little bit of everything: smart, nutty, classy, and even a little scheming when you need to be. However, you aren't exactly the most effective dame around, as you're sometimes given to fainting and mumbling incoherently. But you're pretty steadfast and true, and might I add, cute as a button, even if you're not sure exactly what you want. Still, you end up with the likes of Jimmy Stewart and Cary Grant...not too shabby! |
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Queen of Swords and Seven and Strength
I've been having strange, film-like dreams over the past few days. Dreams where the role I play is pretty spectacular: Today I was a Buffy-like, supernatural evil fighting super-hero. Yesterday I was an acclaimed comedian reviewing my "career" development and funniest moments.
So, this morning, after the rollercoaster dream, I decided to pull a tarot card...see what on earth was happening with my dream-life.
..........
Since I never came back to this post...and didn't even leave myself enough notes to tell the story, I guess I'll never know anything other than what the cards were.
So, this morning, after the rollercoaster dream, I decided to pull a tarot card...see what on earth was happening with my dream-life.
..........
Since I never came back to this post...and didn't even leave myself enough notes to tell the story, I guess I'll never know anything other than what the cards were.
Friday, October 06, 2006
Quickie
I'm working on a Disneyland braindump, and more WorldCon reflections...but while I make those posts work for me, here is a thought on why Disneyland ROCKS!
But really:
We were at Disneyland last weekend, and MUCH fun was had. We stayed out late and closed-the-place-down! Turns out Disneyland is VERY fun late at night: Quiet, beautifully lit-up with lights and jack-o-lanterns for Halloween. One of the MOST fun things was having the "run" of Toon Town, with its bouncy-streets, buttons to push, and photo Ops like pictures with a Mickey Mouse that laughed and laughed at the late night silliness. I got an Eeyore watch, and we finally went to California Adventure and "survived" the Tower of Terror.
But really:
It is an amazing & magical place. What we learned THIS trip is that it is especially fantastic late at night after the kiddies have gone to bed. And I like the decor-intensive, detail-oriented....illusions and facades. We know that's what they are, and "Disney" knows that is what they are, but there's something spectacular about such a translucent and guilt free consensual reality....
Thursday, October 05, 2006
I'm Late, I'm Late....
For a very Important Date...with my Blog! Hello, Dear Blog! I've neglected you again for several weeks...but I was having FUN this time: Disneyland!
My trip this weekend showed me that Disneyland is definitely what you make of it. The Happiest Place on Earth is steeped in good intentions (and commercial ones), but which of the many flavors you choose to drink in while you are there, can be effectively filtered.
My husband and I have been to Disneyland twice before: 2001 with S&S & my mom, P.; Then again this past February for my 33rd Birthday at Club 33.
For this trip, we were FINALLY going to make it into the second amusement park - Disney's California Adventure, so I bought 3 day parkhopper tickets.
And THEN, Creative Memories scheduled their consultant conference for the same weekend. Well, if I go to the conference I get to WRITE OFF A TRIP TO DISNEYLAND ON MY TAXES - Woo-Hoo!
So M. and I arrived late Friday night, were picked up by my old pal E., and whisked away to our hotel and a late dinner.
M. was VERY tired Saturday morning, so I let him doze while I made my protein shakes, looked at the map, and formulated a weekend game plan. He roused in time to go get some hotel breakfast, then he washed up and we set out for the Magic Kingdom.
Our hotel was a little over a mile away, so we walked to the park, stood in line at Will Call, and then, since we had to be at the CM conference at noon or so, we did some pre-shopping. I bought gifts for my niece, and we surveyed the enormity of "the machine" that is Disney's merchandising conglomerate.
My trip this weekend showed me that Disneyland is definitely what you make of it. The Happiest Place on Earth is steeped in good intentions (and commercial ones), but which of the many flavors you choose to drink in while you are there, can be effectively filtered.
My husband and I have been to Disneyland twice before: 2001 with S&S & my mom, P.; Then again this past February for my 33rd Birthday at Club 33.
For this trip, we were FINALLY going to make it into the second amusement park - Disney's California Adventure, so I bought 3 day parkhopper tickets.
And THEN, Creative Memories scheduled their consultant conference for the same weekend
So M. and I arrived late Friday night, were picked up by my old pal E., and whisked away to our hotel and a late dinner.
M. was VERY tired Saturday morning, so I let him doze while I made my protein shakes, looked at the map, and formulated a weekend game plan. He roused in time to go get some hotel breakfast, then he washed up and we set out for the Magic Kingdom.
Our hotel was a little over a mile away, so we walked to the park, stood in line at Will Call, and then, since we had to be at the CM conference at noon or so, we did some pre-shopping. I bought gifts for my niece, and we surveyed the enormity of "the machine" that is Disney's merchandising conglomerate.
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