WWBD?*

*What Would Buffy Do?

I just did a kickboxing workout that made me feel like Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Yeah! It was sort of short, and I didn't get too sweaty-- next time I'll add some jogging too. But I put it off too long today, so I don't have time for the jog. (Well. I would if I weren't going out to socialize..... but still.)

But this workout was a fun kickbox-- and there was something about it. Maybe because the leader of the class looks a tiny bit like Sarah Jessica Parker-- petite, blonde. I am actually still sore from my Monday kickboxing class, so I know tomorrow I'm going to be complaining. I can feel it already in my right arm, and my left leg's hamstrings. (Not too bad, but just a little fatigued). OOOOH Rah! (As the Marines would say).

If you decide you need to get this workout, do the SECOND one. Kick Butt 2. The first one is sort of lame-- with bad cues, and while the boxer who led the class is certainly in good shape, it was a weird workout. But the second was cool.

Old Comments Bite the Dust

Okay. Again with the comment thing. My old comment system seemed really slow, and I wonder if that's why YA'LL NEVER COMMENT!!!!!!! Any comment made since the last day on this main page are gone, cause the code thingy wiped them when I changed systems. But it's not like there were a bunch of them. Noone loves me, obviously.

Sorry for that outburst. But now, with the new and improved comment system, you can also comment & I can get "trackbacks" if people comment on my blog.

So get out there and say something about me. Other blogs have, like, hundreds of comments. Do I need to ply you all with liquor or something to get you moving?

(This rant does not, by the way, apply to "the other Kim" who comments faithfully and is my only true friend. Apparently.)

A Little Bird*

Yesterday, when I got home after being gone since last Thursday, and more importantly, after the house had been closed up since my friend K. left on Friday night, I was walking around and noticed a little bird flying panicky-like in the living room. It was smacking up against the windows in there with beak open in fear, panting and wide-eyed, trying, I imagine, to get out. (Either that or he hated the curtain treatment and was trying to offer some not-so-subtle hints that I need a new decorator).

I thought maybe I had let it in when I opened the back door to let the cat out for her after-drive stretch. I opened other doors, and coaxed said little bird out the front door where he escaped with a flick of the tail and a "later loser" before heading off into the wild blue yonder. But then, I looked around and saw bird poo and a few feathers scattered about the floor where the cat's dish is. And then a few bits of bird poo on the dining room table (an antique-- although it's finish is already a bit toasted so it's not too bad of a deal-- anyone know how to re-finish tables?) And then, as the evening wound on, I found smatterings of little birdy poo on my shower curtain, too. I imagine I'll find a few other little splats here and there. Does bird poo carry any major, blood-spurting-out-of-my-eyes-in-a-horrible-death-diseases? I'm cleaning it with 409-- should I get a biohazard suit?

Apparently, little birdy had been trapped alone in the house while I was gone for at least four days. Poor little thing! I just hope it didn't order any pay-per-view porn while it was here. It would be really embarassing for that to show up on the bill next month.


*I'm not sure if this was the "fabulous" blog entry I had planned. But it'll do for now. Now, after having performed the Yoga Sun Salute, and updating you folks on your "need to know stuff about me" fix, I need to go to Starbuck's and get coffee since there's NO MILK in the fridge. Damn that butler. It's really hard getting good help these days. They keep pissing off to do their own things and not anticipating my every whim. (No. I don't really have a butler. That's a stupid joke).

oooo I hate it when this happens

I had an idea of a great thing to write in this here blog. But for the life of me, I can't remember it this morning. Pfffhhhttt!! I'll try to think about it as the day goes by and see what it was.

Idea fairy....heeeerrrrre idea fairy.... c'mon lil' fella.....c'mere

Home on the Range, where the deer and the camels roam.....

Er, yes, camels. Outside of Waco there was this ranch on the side of the road, with grazing black-and-white cows and at least three camels roaming about the fenced-in enclosure. Camels. What would they be doing round these parts? Other than novelty value? Of course, I may have already mentioned, there's also a museum to the Texas Chainsaw Massacre just outside of Waco. So. The highway is full of interesting sites OTHER THAN Starbuck's (of which there are quite a few on the Texas side of the border).

Bulimia kitty did great on her road trip. She has a new kitty carrying gadget that keeps her safe, and she stayed in it most of the time. I guess the last time she got sick in the car had something to do with the old Nissan. She seems to like the purry new Mitsubishi just fine. Maybe she's a sports car fan, and just doesn't get into four door family mobiles.

I'm home, and going to spend tonight with one more day of lollygagging and then back to work tomorrow. I have written on the dissertation (at least 7 more pages added) but will not update the witchy counter yet. Tomorrow is another day. And this is ALMOST the last of the disappearing acts, since soon Andrew will be gloriously home (late April). It both feels like some kind of withdrawal and kind of nice to go without computer/Internet access while away.

Bulimia Kitty Takes a Road Trip

Well, we'll see later today if I'm a complete idiot or not. (Hush. I don't need any giggles from some of you!) I'm taking Tituba on a 7 hour road trip to Shreveport, so Andrew can see our new car & we can spend the weekend together without me feeling guilty about leaving the cat alone AGAIN. We did a "test run" yesterday and she was fine. In the old car, she got carsick, but it was ALMOST as soon as the car started moving. In the distant past, she was fine driving (we drove all the way from Seattle to Texas with her and no problems-- well, aside from major whining on her part about being in the car, at 2 am, while we were driving.... but that's not car sick, just typical Tituba).

I also have a good book on tape-- the new Margaret Atwood. Fun and games for everyone kids!

I'm going to try to keep up with the blog while there, because there is one computer I might be able to use. We'll see. I wish you could write blogs and have them automatically load-- then you guys'd never know I left. Sort of like in LA Story where he films the weather for the weekend early, and gets fired cause it rains. (But then, gets the girl cause of it).

Later dudes. Just keep swimming.

That's Some Fancy Garbage

I needed a new garbage can for my kitchen today since my father-in-law, while feeding the cat, did something weird to the old one and succeeded in breaking it. So I went out to the local "bed & bath" store & a couple of other places. Did you know that you can buy a garbage can, one that looks just about like the one I bought for 40 bucks* (which was my top limit on garbage cans-- it's fancy & stainless steel) for 187 dollars!?! Seriously. Almost 200 dollars for a can in which you put your leftover banana peels, dirty paper towels, cat food cans & coffee grinds.

Tell me-- who is it in the world who can pay 200 bucks for a garbage can, and more importantly, will they adopt me?


*which I realize is actually a pretty extravagant price for a can, in itself, but it sits prominently in my kitchen & people come over all the time & see it, and I don't want a dirty stained plastic one, and I'm not good at keeping the plastic ones from NOT getting stained. So about that much was what I intended to spend, since the last one I bought lasted several years at around that price.

AAFA RESULTS!!!

Yay! I passed both sections of my AAFA aerobics certification exam! I am officially a trained fitness professional. Well. Sorta. I guess I gotta get some sort of paying job to be official official, but it's a start. Now I have to renew my CPR instruction, and stuff. Yay! Anyway. Back home in SA for now. More later. I have to continue installing all the cool new software I just got.

oh yeah, and....

I also have edited several pages of the intro to the dissertation, so I would probably, were photoshop available to me, have to add three or four pages to the dissertation count. I know that's not much, but hey, I gotta socialize, don't I?


**UPDATE**and I totally forgot to mention that, while at Einstein Bros, I saw AZ Barbie in the flesh! A very pretty, blond, tan girl with straight hair (no frizzies!), a cute outfit along with high heeled (platform) sandles, and a spotted hair scarf. I really wanted to tell her she looked JUST LIKE BARBIE but wasn't sure how that would go over. Unlike Barbie, she did not have a permanent smile, and I was afraid that without the smile, she might just not like my comment. But oh, Barbie. I wanted to braid your hair and maybe even have you drive your pink corvette over to Ken's house for pizza.

Again I Revert To Childhood

This morning, I rode a spiffy RED bike, with those old fashioned handlebars (complete with a little bell & horn) down the road to Einstein Brothers' bagels. I had a helmet on, and a purple backpack full of my "homework." So instead of the fourteen I was in buying condoms a week or two ago, I am now approximately eleven. But all the grown ups were at work, and I didn't have a car (nor actually want one) available, and was jonesing for sugar and caffeine. It was fun. My back, however, is still a bit sweaty. I wonder if, like small boys who are out playing in the yard, I smell like a wet dog. That would be unfortunate, really.

Tomorrow, I go home. As long as the airline cooperates and lets me get on a plane (I fly Space Available-- and this weekend, there was negative Space A). I am anxious to do so, since my poor kitty has been lonely. Poor thing.

And today-- bellydancing costume playing! WOOOOOOH!

Oh, and I forgot to mention yesterday's mountain climbing and swimming pool visit. Altogether, an active weekend. Phoenix, despite its heat, has a lot more outdoor activities than San Antonio. No wonder SA gets "most unfit" city all the time. There's nothing to do outside there, other than walk on the river, and no one but tourists and those locals dragging the tourists around to the Alamo & stuff go there.

Anyhoo. Maybe more later. But as you can see, I'm quite busy. I may have to, in the spirit of my eleven year old self, go chew some really smelly bubble gum later.

Did You KNow that Friends Who Sew Can "Hook You Up?"

I've been trying to learn to sew since I started bellydancing. I can sew harem pants-- they're really easy-- you just sew two tubes of cloth together & put elastic in three places (legs, waist). But the other stuff, like cute little choli tops & tank, have eluded me. Today, I remembered that friend JJ who I'm visiting (till Tuesday, it turns out, since all the flights are booked out of Phoenix. Spring Break-- who knew?) is a great seamstress-type. So we went and got this cool pattern, and we're going to make it for me in black & gold. I was trying to find it online to show it to you but couldn't. Anyway. Trust me-- it's cool. And so is JJ. Yay!

More later. Now I have to go do sewing domestic stuff.

Stuff, Stuff and more Stuff

Did you know that keeping up with a two year old is exhausting? I didn't till my visit here to Phoenix. We've done lots of stuff-- park playing, which included me holding said two year old over my head so she could "do the monkey bars" for much longer than I initially intended. Good thing I've been doing my military presses.

While at the park, there was this guy who is running for office looking for people to sign his petition to get himself on the ballot. Not being from AZ, I wasn't qualified to participate. The man was quite nice, looking around and all he wanted was people to let him on the ballot. A signature wasn't going to get him elected. There was this one chick who asked (as I did too) what party he was with. When he wasn't with the party she apparently supported, she refused to sign his petition. I thought that was just lame. We all need diversity on the ballot-- the more candidates, the better. And the thing is, just because someone is not in your party does NOT mean they don't share your views. For me, for example, I registered my party when I was 18 and didn't actually know the difference between them. Now that I do know the difference, and don't really fit in either party, I stay registered the way I am, although I frequently disagree with some of the things my party does, because I feel there's a certain amount of power I have over the things I don't like this way. I can say "I am a member of X party and I don't like what you did." (No, I'm not telling you which party I'm in. It would spoil the surprise.)

Anyway. Thus the world traveler me learns new things. Parks are hard work. Mommies are sometimes mean to politicians. And the coffee making guy at the Coffee Plantation somewhere in Phoenix looks just like Jordan Catalano. (Extra brownie points for those who know who the heck I mean by that obscure reference.)

More later. Now my slave-driving friend wants me to teach her how to save photos to a CD. Work, work, work.

How Hot is It?

I'm in Phoenix, at my friend JJ's house visiting. The airplane ride was icky. I got up this morning at 3:30 AM (yes, I said AM). Funnily enough, I didn't go to sleep till, like, midnight at the earliest, and then the cat started puking. Gotta love those pets, right? I have some stuff I wrote while at the airport, but I'm sneaking into writing this while JJ is out of the room, so I'll have to do that later. She wants me to help her with some tech writing projects. Pfffhht. But then, there will be much rejoicing. (Maybe).

But I never really thought I'd complain that someplace was hotter than Texas. So I won't do it here. But it's so hot (how hot is it?) that ::insert funny joke here::. Hey. Don't complain that I made you come up with your own joke. I got up at 3:30 am this morning. My wit has left the building. (Maybe I left it in Dallas.)

And, in honor of St. Patrick's Day

Check out this funny t-shirt. Maybe even order yourself one for next year.

Bellydancing, part two

So I danced at the restaurant-- it was fun, but most of the class of students who were supposed to also dance didn't do it. One lady was very brave and did a good job; she even had a fun basic beginner costume with scarves & fun colors (go figure, the lady with lots of cool dragon tattoos would be brave). Everyone else, for the most part, did not dance (a few did for a very short time but ran off the second the instructor left to talk to someone). I was left all alone. But I think I did really well-- apparently, according to some ladies who were there and were at my bellydance class tonight, too well. Why? Someone's husband was "asking about me" they said. And they said this right after this other lady randomly was talking about strippers. So, what was it about the one lady's comment on strippers that made them think "oh yes, and this guy was asking about YOU?" No biggie. Early strippers stole a lot of their moves from bellydance-- the "hoochie coochie" is largely a rip off of middle eastern dance.

That's why a lot of aficionados of bellydance call it "middle eastern dance" cause people have in their minds the perception that the two are closely linked. No. No. No. They really are not. Those dancers who make it so (by dancing a little too raunchily) are the exception. Most bellydancers are in to it because of the heritage of a woman's dance-- it's a pagan, hippie sort of thing. Fat Chance Belly dance of San Francisco evokes a woman's power ideal with their dance.

Anyway. I love it. It works the abs really well, and it's more akin to yoga than aerobics, but you do work up a sweat when performing. And it has definitely made me more graceful in the two years since I've been doing it. And, being a drag queen trapped in a woman's body as I am, I truly enjoy the costume elements.

Tomorrow, I'm flying to visit an old friend in Phoenix. I get to meet her hubby who I've not met since he's been a hubby & not just a cute neighbor, and her baby. (It's been a while since I've seen her). But I should have internet access while there so don't fret-- I'll write while in the 90 something temps. ::shudder:: 90s! In March! EEEK! We get that high in Texas, of course, but not till late May, early June. Tonight it's 66, and today it probably got up to the low 80s, with a cool breeze making it seem much lower. But enough about the weather. Wave to me if I'm flying over your home between Dallas & Phoenix. I'm sure I'll see and wave back.

I wanna see you bellydance

I'm going bellydancing tonight at the Greek restauraunt owned by some friends. I have a really cute outfit, and have to do my fancy bellydancer makeup and stuff soon. But I've actually wasted most of today screwing around with the stuff I needed (a faux tattoo, new bindis, etc.) I'll try to post photos, but my digital camera isn't working properly right now. We'll see what we can get.

Golden Calves R Us

I'm not a big gambler. When I went to Las Vegas, the thing I liked about it was the "shows"-- I didn't really have fun throwing quarters into slot machines for no real reason and/or reward. So this is probably the reason why I noticed, when there was this show on casinos on TV, that in the discussion of the Atlantis resort casino*, there was a short moment where you saw this big, golden calf standing in the casino. Yes that's right. A golden calf.

Can somebody say "wrath of God?"

*which really does look cool-- I'd like to go on the water slide, but I'm afraid Moses would come and kick my ass if I went there.

Several Random Pointless Quizzes at 10:30 pm

Shoes

You are a sandal. You are the party girl.

- - What Type of Shoe are You? - -
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Buffy?

You are Willow

You like girls, you perform magick. You either areor think you're a witch. Either way you're still really cool and pretty.

*~*Whats Your Buffy Alias?*~*
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Which Neil Gaiman Book?

You are Coraline! You are quirky, strange, and charming. Some people may find you a littlealarming and not always get you... But they can piss off, right? You are the kind of person who always needs to be entertained, otherwise you get uncomfortable. You probably still enjoy everything you did when you were little, such as children's books and Disney movies. Youre fun to be around and are usually the life of the party.

*~Which Neil Gaiman book are you?~*
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What Kind of Tea?

you are camomile tea......you are very calm, and you like to be warm, relaxed, and cozy. You tend to have a calming effect on people, and your friends often come to you with problems.

(with pics) what tea are you?
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I think that's enough. Don't You?

Ax Murderer Diet Plan

I'm a genius. I've figured it out for sure. Millions of folks are hoping and wishing that they could lose weight, and are struggling with the Atkins Diet, the Zone, Sugar Busters-- etc. What could really help us as a nation lose weight? Well. I have the answer to several social problems, all in one!

It costs the American taxpayer millions of dollars to house violent criminals in our prison system. Perhaps we could set up a plan where your basic ax murderer would be paid a small fee to come over and chase people around for a minimum of thirty minutes a day, people who want to burn more calories and thus lose weight (thirty minutes is the recommendation for daily aerobic activity). They could start off being the fairly out of shape ax murderers that you could easily outrun, and as your aerobic conditioning got better, you would graduate to a more fit ax murderer, giving you the intensity of workout that grows with you. They could also hang around and watch us during those weak moments when we are tempted to eat the entire gallon of ice cream in the fridge; if you eat the ice cream, they pull out the ax and chase you around. Weakened by too much cream and sugar and sweet tasty vanilla or chocolate, you would learn that too much ice cream IS hazardous to your health. No more cheating on diets!

The fear of immediate and terrible death would be a much more powerful motivator than the wishy-washy death "Someday" from preventable obesity-caused conditions. Sure, we all know that we ought to be more healthy. But what if being more fit was an actual way of surviving the crazed maniac carrying a sharpened machete, right here, right now? And those criminals that cost us so much money to house and feed and reform would be getting the fees that the diet industry is now raking in. They'd also have a new lease on life as a trained fitness professional.

What do you think-- can I get a diet book deal on this plan? Will the new combo of fitness and prison reform appeal to the government types that would implement such a plan? Getting tough on obesity at the same time we're decreasing taxpayer burden and reforming life-long criminals. I think my new plan should at least get me a few million dollars of advance sales.

God Really Does Hate Shrimp. But Man, I Sure Like 'Em. (Especially With Butter & Lemon & Garlic)

This website is the best. When people use the Bible to prove ridiculous bias & try to say "it's in the Bible" I love having ammunition like this one.

Shrimp is an abomination before the Lord.

Look to the Mote in your eye, shrimp breath, before you point out my sins. If you don't get it, why I'm pointing this out, check out this page. Sound familiar? Hmmm?

What Am I, Like, Fourteen?!

Last week, after a majorly irritating screw up with my normal prescription birth control, and since I'm not quite ready to be a parent (even though I am getting a bit long in the tooth) I had to purchase "alternate forms of contraception." So I went to Big Pharmacy Chain Store to get said alternate form. Since I have been married for, like, ever, and since before then I wasn't exactly a swinging kinda gal, I am not an expert on brands and types of condoms. So while I was trying to shop around, this hairy big guy was standing RIGHT in FREAKIN' FRONT of the rack-o-rubbers, which they have to keep out in front of the pharmacist counter cause people steal them. (I guess it's better to risk a shoplifting conviction than the embarrassment of purchasing said products for some folks. Although imagine the "rap sheet" on that one-- a felony condom theft conviction.) Since they have to keep them out in the open, there were like, a million people standing around waiting to talk to the gal in the white coat. And you know, it's important to think about this purchase. I mean, did I want "extra sensitive with spermicide" or "ribbed for her pleasure?" I finally decided, after hairy guy grokked why I was swerving around him trying to look nonchalant, and moved outa my way.

So here's the point. I am a fair skinned, with freckles, red head. Back when I was a kid, I used to blush terribly. As I got older and more jaded, few things really got to me. But lately, I've been troubled with it again. So here I was, a thirtysomething married chick, and my cheeks (not those cheeks, really, get your mind out of the gutter) were flaming red, prickly hot, and I was hysterically suppressing that giggle you get when Mr. Brown is yelling at you in French class cause you weren't paying attention and you know if you laugh it'll just make it worse but that makes you want to laugh all the more. And even more embarrassed that I was embarrassed. I mean, I am, after all, a modern woman. Why am I blushing here?!

And it gets better. When I finally randomly grabbed my box, (sort of like I imagine guys must when sent out for tampons-- blindly grabbing the first thing in sight) and went to the front counter to pay, the guy pointed out this "buy one get one free" coupon for two brands NOT of the brand I was currently holding. So I either had to admit that I was too embarrassed to go get the bargain rubbers (which I'll probably never use-- unless I do some sort of crazy art project) or face said crowd of pharmacy extras again. So I had to face the crowd of people who I'm quite sure were staring at me with a "you're going straight to Hell missy" look* and pick out TWO boxes-- carefully picking the correct brand this time.

So then, jauntily swinging my bag and still blushing furiously, I left the Chain Pharmacy with my illicit goods. I wish they'd have had some illegal fireworks to buy, too.

*after all, we were in very Catholic Louisiana, where The Passion was on THREE screens at the theater and Starsky & Hutch on TWO. (We went, heathens that we are, to see the cop flick). Yup. STRAIGHT to Hell. :)

New & Improved

Today: I added my dissertation counter over there on the right----> it's the witch/moon. The number on the graphic reflects how many pages I have written so far on the dissertation. I plan to update it as frequently as possible. The number currently reflects "rough draft" pages-- and it always tends to get longer as I go. So I'm psyched, since at the beginning of January, I probably had about 20 pages total.

I totally rock the house old school.

Overheard

Man, to woman: I have six kids. (Laughs). And though I've never (gestures) experienced the pain personally (smiles self-deprecatingly) I understand it. I mean, I was there, after all.

Starbucks Girls: A Poem of Sorts

**
pretty blond girl with slightly big nose, cute
pink blouse and cigarettes (one after another
didn't your mama tell you chain smoking was bad for you girl?)

mean smile.

her friend, curly-workout muscle arms just out of sight and dipping into the window to
flick the cigarette now and then
Latina with wavy black silky hair

mean smile with dimples.

perched outside where everyone (who is anyone)
walks past and receives your (queenly) judgment/stare. Men are
dismissed ignored
if not your type. Blond girl wonders aloud
"where'd that black man go?" (with concern/alarm obvious on that cute face
as though he were about to leap from his middle-aged coffee drinking
newspaper reading
to do terrible things right now right here).

women who walk by deserve your strictest judgment. IF
they are in your cute little age group and dare try to make themselves pretty as you.

Heaven help the lovely curvy brown girl with long wavy hair
hippy fringed crochet purse and yoga dragon shirt.
She, worthy of your
(mean smiles) scorn.
your lips curl nastily up and I, watching, am amazed that a smile
can look so vicious. snake
like.

You, with perfect pink nails delicate silver earrings trendy bangle bracelet.
Did you know these ornaments do not make
your mocking laughter less ugly?
KAW-- March 2004

**(wrote a song about it. like to hear it here it go......)

It's Hammock Time (Can't Touch This)

This afternoon, lying in my hammock in the backyard. Spring has begun to feel permanent; 77 degrees F and the sky is an impossible shade of blue-- a blue that, if you saw it in someone's painting of the sky you would say looks fake. The trees from the neighbor's yard have begun to bud chartreuse-green leaves that poke from the tips of skinny bare brown branches that have sheltered doves and squirrels all winter. There is a slight breeze, and the same doves mournfully call to each other, as though they're saddened by the coming warmth. Grackles buzz warning clicks and swoop down on green lizards. The windchimes on the back grapevine trellis sing out irregular, gentle high notes. Up above my head, the branches of the neighbor's tree merge with those of my oaks-- the moss covered wooden arms twist and bend, and a canopy of greens and dark browns, shadows and hot white sunlight breaks up that impossible blue sky.

A black butterfly flits across, darting towards and away, driven, perhaps, on those same slight breezes which give the wind chimes their music.

I look at the way the light and shadows play on the leaves of the Japanese plum tree in the corner; in some places, the green is so dark it looks black, and others are softly white, as though you would touch velvet. Monet was supposed to have been obsessed with capturing a certain quality of light on a pool of water lilies, painting the same greens and purples and blues over and over again. I can understand his obsession as I lie in the hammock, holding it still from a sway that makes me slightly nauseous. My cat meows; she sounds as though her heart has been broken by some deeply wounding loss; the end of the meow is slightly breathy and sounds like a baby crying.

Spring in Texas, with oak trees and mockingbirds whirling above, is glorious. It makes up, a little, for the Hell of summer that is ahead of us.

Suspicous Mail

My email service provider's spam filter sends me this email:

"A----- Hosting's junk mail protection service has detected some
suspicious email messages since your last visit and directed them
to your Hosting Message Center. You can inspect your suspicious email at:

Suspicous. Yes. That's what that crap is. I like the way that email thinks.

What kinda cat am I?

I really like the animation. Yes... that's cool. But I am not anyone's worst enemy, unless they deserve it.


The Cheshire Cat! You're a sly cat who grins on the
outside, but schemes on the inside. Even your
best friends don't realize that you may
actually be their worst enemy!


What kind of cat are you?
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Pimp My Ride

Oh the pressure is intense when you drive a fancy car. I never realized it before. I actually caught myself yesterday contemplating the need to put on makeup before I went out to run errands, cause I wanted to look all hot in my new Green Fancy Car (did I mention before? It's a Mitsubishi Eclipse). It has a sun roof, and yesterday I was stopped behind a truck at a redlight listening to Marilyn Manson's cover of "Tainted Love" (which is way way cool, by the way, and only available on the Not Another Teen Movie soundtrack) and I noticed the guy in front of me "checkin' me out." When you're as ancient as I am (I'm not really that old, it's hyperbole) and as married to a big guy whose presence usually discourages too much active flirtation from other guys, it's really fun to be eyeballed in traffic. So I was feeling very cool. Then the CD changed into playing Rick James' "Superfreak". I really like that mix someone (mmmm could it be me?) made for my driving pleasure. I find myself thinking up reasons to go out and run errands or something.

Hopefully this vanity will pass. It IS after all, just a car. But I never knew that it was so fun to have a cool car! I mean, J, my best friend, has one of the all time coolest cars in the world (a ruby red new Mini Cooper) and riding in it was fun, but with it not being mine, I just didn't get that same vibe. Now I get it. I added a leopard skin (faux, thank you) seat cover to my side yesterday (leather seats are sweaty, man!). So it's pimpin. Now I just need a forty and a beeyatch. (I guess I don't really need the beeyatch, but maybe every now and then I'll call someone my beeyatch. Maybe I'll call Keval that later today. That'll be funizzle.)

Okay. I'm really sorry about the lame attempts to use ghetto language in the last paragraph. I know it's not at all natural coming from me. But my native faux accents don't translate well to text (I can do a great Irish, and southern bell.)

So, since I can't think of a catchy way to end this entry, I'll just do it abruptly.

*p.s. Spellcheck is so funny. It wanted to replace beeyatch with bewitch and funizzle with fungal. And Mistubishi? It's mitzvah. Mazel Tov to you, too!

It's Spring and the Hippies Are On the Move....

When I first met my hubbie, he was in flight school for the military. Not what you would think of, especially from looking at him, as a hippie type. But while we were dating, he told me that one of his fantasies was to put his possessions into a backpack and walk/travel/hitchhike around the country, Beatnik/Kerouac style. I was impressed, because one expects guys in his line of work to be ultra conservative, and the hippie beatnik lifestyle isn't exactly that. But since I've gotten to know him (over 13 years in May!) I know that he is even more deviant than most people might think. Why? Because he looks all normal, but his heart is the heart of a radical wack-o. Really. (Not in a way you'd expect-- totally a surprising way.)

I thought of this yesterday because, as I was driving back the 7.5 hours from Shreveport to San Antonio, there were at least four guys hitch-hiking on the side of the highway. All of them, from the quick glance I got (driving at 70 mph you don't have much time for leisurely inspection of walkers) they looked like the typical hitch-hikey guy-- if not long long hair and unshaven dishabille, they were scruffy in other ways. But lots of them! I know for a fact I haven't seen that many hitchers in recent days-- it's not exactly the preferred mode of travel nowadays-- too risky for both hitcher and potential person picking them up. So my conservative guy would definitely look different from those fellas.

Andrew likes to say "It's warm weather and the hippies are on the move...." when he sees one of the guys on the road. Not completely enviously, but a little. You never know within whom beats the heart of a libertarian, tree-hugging guy. Especially deviantly because some of his other opinions are so different from the typical so-called "liberal" ones.

But if you know anything about Kerouac, he was not exactly the same type of more liberal, more stereotypically "hippy-esque" guy in some ways as Ginsberg and his buddies-- Kerouac was a little more on the "football playing, lumberjack shirt wearing" type of working class guy. That's more like my boy. And I like him thataway.

Okay, Sorry, I'm back

I know it sucks when someone you read everyday leaves. I really wish I could get access to a computer when I'm in Shreveport, but it's impossible since there aren't any Internet cafes, and Andrew doesn't have access in his room. Anyway. I'll post an interesting blog later today, but for now, just to say I'm here. I need to do a bunch of things today-- mow the lawn, tackle the 5 foot weeds in the back yard (I'm not kidding-- they're plotting revolution RIGHT NOW.) Eventually, I want to write some more, and I'm reading a new theory book. Tell me, when did a 24 hour day get so short?!

Anyway. More later.

World Traveler strikes again

I'm off to Shreveport till Sunday afternoon. This time, I'm driving for the old "car swap" to sell the car Andrew's been driving as part of the whole Kim gets a new car scam. Bleah! It's going to be rainy, too. But I have two books on tape-- Gregory MacGuire's Mirror, Mirror, and The Dante Club. Fun & thrills! (Seriously.) I'm looking forward to Mirror Mirror.

See you all on the downside. Or rather, Sunday.

Stealing Witches

I've been looking for images of witches again today... fun and a new screensaver too! It's all part of the "immersion" plan of writing the dissertation. I also wrote a lot today, so it's been a good day! Yay! Maybe the prayer to St. Teresa worked.

Confessions of a Pack-Rat Gone "Clean"

In certain areas of my life, I am a bit of a slob. I can't, for the life of me, keep my closet clean. My office usually looks a bit like a tornado hit it, and we aren't in Kansas anymore, Toto. My husband, on the other hand, is a neat person. Every night before bed he usually putters around the kitchen, cleaning, loading the dishwasher, making sure the mess I made while cooking is taken care of. He does one load of laundry when his laundry basket gets full, whereas I pile the clothes on top of the wicker basket in my closet till they are overflowing, then leave things that can't be dried in the dryer hanging around the house for days. When I write, I put piles of paper everywhere; articles that I plan to quote from pile up, the edits of whatever chapter I'm working on lie partially in use, partially discarded on the floor. And even when I'm done with them I usually leave them there till some day when I get an urge to have a clean workspace (usually followed by grumbling from the spouse) and throw everything away, amazed that here is that article from last Fall I used to teach that class on introductory paragraphs, and here is the essay by that student two semesters ago.....

So, in the light that I do love my hubby and would like to NOT drive him crazy, I've been trying very hard to be better about this kind of thing. To be aware of my space more, less like a "distracted absent-minded professor" who is so focused on ideas that s/he wanders around like Einstein losing his train ticket*. I'm trying to be a more gracious guest in the world, trying to not take up more space that I deserve and intrude upon others' space. So I've cleaned my office, donated four bags of clothes I never wear but was pack-ratting away in the closet (in case someday I wanted to wear a size 14 wool green jacket or the skirt someone gave me and I never once wore and wasn't my style but still was kind of cute.....)

And I have to admit, while I sit here in my nice and clean office with my Virgin of Guadalupe rose candle (second from left) burning away for inspiration (and to mask smelly cat activities) I like it. I like feeling sort of clean. I like my closet being laid out like a buffet of cute tops and pants, easy to locate and decide what to wear today. I like it that my new car (complete with new car smell!) has no discarded piles of books or old empty water bottles and Starbuck's cups under the seat.

So, is this a new leaf turned over or a temporary ripple where the leaf will go right back where it was before? We'll see. Time will tell. I hope I can do both be the distracted literary professor AND the neat, pleasant to be around companion. Is there a patron saint for messy people? I'll bet there is. St Anne is the patron saint of Housekeepers. So I guess she works; combine her with St. Jude, patron saint of impossible situations and I'm halfway there. Then, just to keep it in perspective, a prayer to St. Teresa of Avila, patron saint of writers. Since I'm trying, after all, to write, and that's why it's so messy; perhaps if she lends a little help I can finish the writing & have more time for cleaning. Since I'm not Catholic, and not really even very traditionally Christian, I'll appeal to these saints from a hippie neo pagan sort of recognition that any local deity can help out a bit, if you ask with reverence & respect, and say thank you. So. Thus far, I'm asking for help from: several Catholic Saints, a voodoo loa, a Buddhist goddess. With all that clout on my side, surely I'll get it right eventually.


*this is based on an old story that a train conductor once spotted Einstein on a train, and while the famous physicist was patting his pockets frantically for a ticket, the conductor said "oh, that's okay, Professor, I know you bought a ticket" and Einstein replied "no, I have to find the ticket, otherwise, I don't know where I'm going".

Big excitement round these parts

I'm getting a new (used) car today! Whee! We weren't totally in the market, and it's a little unexpected, but my neighbor sells cars part time and came into this really cool Mitsubishi that has low low miles, driven only by this "little old man" from Pasadena (sort of) and it's too good a deal to pass up. So I'm waiting for the neighbor to get off work and we're going to transfer the title today. To me! A sporty car that has all kinds of cool features. I am so excited. It's a long long way from the pieces of crap cars I grew up with, and it's the nicest car I've ever owned. We borrowed from "Bank of Dad" and will be able to repay most of it when we sell Andrew's old car.

But no (real) work got done today because in honor of the new car's 4 CD disc changer, I had to play around and burn new car music mixes. I'm on the "mellow mix" right now. It's cool; with lots of fun music. And I realized I really like the I Am Sam soundtrack, and am going to pop by Sam's Wholesale to see if they've got it there (I'm sure they do-- it's one of those movie soundtracks & they usually have them). So today has been a total wash.

But still. Vroom Vroom.