Presidential Debate Drinking Game

Okay. So. Whenever Kerry points his finger, you have to drink a shot.

Whenever Bush says "uh" you have to drink a shot.

So far, Kerry has pointed once, and Bush has said "UH" once.

Two shots. At 7 minutes into the debates.

CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG GHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG GHUG

And they say debates aren't interesting. :)

Duty Called

Oh I'm sorry! I was writing a blog entry this morning and my friend who wants to post a "singles" website asked me to help him take some good photos of him. We went down to the Riverwalk & posed him all over the place a la male model. I got some good shots-- the ladies will not be able to resist. But as a result, I didn't blog till late! You folks who read me at work are right to be mad. :)

I'm sick today, too. All vertigo-y. Inner ear infections suck, dude! :) But if I look at it with a "glass half full" sort of mentality, it's like a cheap buzz. So that's how I choose to think of it.

I'll be good tommorrow, I promise.

Bellydance Superstar

Last night, our class had a "dress up and take photos" night. We all got all made up in our best outfits and Debbie, our instructor, who is also a pro photographer, took pix of us. I hope they turn out well-- I'll post some good ones if they do. She also was selling for a friend some no-longer-needed costumes. Bellydancers do this-- they will buy a bunch of stuff cause it's cool and then never ever have a reason to wear them. Apparently that's what this chick, who apparently was very close to my size, did. I bought some new stuff, one outfit that was brand new & from Egypt. Very cool lavender skirt with fuschia sparklies on it. I'm wearing it today-- we're dancing at the VA Hospital for their "multicultural fair." But it's going to be tight-- I teach aerobics from 9-10, then have to rush home, get "dragged up" and get to the hospital, about 30-45 minutes away, by 12. AAAAUGH! Since it has so far taken me about 1 to 2 hours to get dragged up for bellydance, that's pushing it. I'll have to wear my hair "up."

I'll tell you all about it, as you know. Maybe pictures. :)

Funny Money

Heee hee. I just wrote a check for 166.53 and then deposited another check for 166.50. So the net result is a debit from my checking account of .03 cents. Which I find unaccountably funny. So. There you have it. :)

That "Moment"

I've talked before about the first time I met my hubby, and told him that I loved him. But do you remember the first moment you realized you loved someone? Mine is unfortunately a little corny. (Unfortunately? Hmmm. Maybe that's the wrong word.)

We had been dating a few months, and I had never intended to fall in love with him. He was a really nice guy, and I liked him a lot, but I was going to be tough. No longer was I going to be the sap who was loyal to a guy who wasn't planning to be loyal to me. No way! I was going to be a player.

Andrew used to own this battered red pickup truck--dented, faded paint. It had woven red/black/blue/gray seat covers that smelled, not musty, but sort of fibrous and somehow manly. Not stinky, but still, it smelled like a guy. The truck was an interesting quirk-- most aviators, when they get their first big paychecks as a grown up, will rush out and buy a fancy car. Corvettes, convertible something or others. A lot of them would get a vanity plate that read something terribly interesting like "Avi8or" or "Pilot". OOOOH. That's the first time I've seen that clever plate. (Warning: Sarcasm alert).

So here was this contradiction-- a guy who was an aviator, with the short hair cut, the big black clunky watch, who admitted when we first met to having a relationship "complication." He did not do the typical aviator things in car buying, but yes, he did get up with a group of handsome young macho guys and sang karaoke at the Officer's club-- it was, I think, "That Old Time Rock N' Roll." They did have silly jokes about work, inside jokes that made you feel as if you just weren't cool enough. You could visualize them all sitting around some locker room with one guy saying to the other "you're unsafe....you're dangerous".... "that's right, Iceman, I am...." They were almost, dare I say it, Top Gun-ish.... (NOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Anyway. Back to the red pickup truck. I worked at this Tex-Mex restaurant as a waitress, and he, being from Texas, tended to really enjoy picking me up there. He'd sit in the "cantina" and have a beer and some nachos or something while I finished up and I'd bounce over and find him when I was done. One weekend, we had spent a couple of days together after such a pickup. He had to stop in to his squadron for some reason, where his buddy Ron (Stink) was working the desk. I waited in the truck, listening to the radio. It was sunny but sort of cool-- it must have been getting into early Fall. The windows were open and I was feeling good about myself, and not unhappy or expecting anything. This song came on the radio that I sort of liked. (This is the corny part). It was "More Than Words" by One Hit Wonders "Extreme". I know. Ick, right? But I was listening to it, and as it got about halfway through, Andrew came back towards the truck. I could see him from a bit away, short hair, baggy shorts, ugly metal eyeglasses that they make military guys wear. He walked slowly at first, but then bopped into a slow jog. The song was crooning "Saying I love you, is not the words* I want to hear from you...." And here was this guy, this nice, cute guy, running to get back to me. I did not want to admit what I was feeling, nor that the song was right about "SHOWING" that you love someone instead of just saying it.

I remember feeling like a big old sucker. Again. Here I've fallen for this guy who wasn't going to love me back. (I didn't, at the time, have the perspective to wonder why he would run to get back to me when there was no particular reason to hurry.)

So that's it... my big romance. It wasn't being swept onto the back of a bold white stallion by a Knight in courtly armor. But it was close enough for me.

*OOOF. I never noticed before writing it down how ungrammatical that is.... blech!

**And yes. I am feeling better today. I'm a generally cheerful person, ya know. And I was just in a funk. Life is sweet, and I usually enjoy it a lot. Just a day. :)

My Moody Mix

RHAPSODY Link

You have to have Rhapsody to listen to this, but if you do, you can hear the mix I just made filled with music that reflects my bad mood. It's not just about silly things I shouldn't feel bad about anymore... you leave yourself enough time & you can come up with a good reason for anything. I suppose I can think of a good wallow in my own misery reason as well as the next gal. I said before I really do have no regrets. Really. But moods? Well, yes. Of course I have those!

Monday Morning Blues

Well, the title says it all. In a funk. Cranky. Sad. Mostly it's just that this is the first time since the day after Hurricane Ivan that I've been able to look through all the photos posted on the Pensacola News Journal's web site of the aftermath of that damned windstorm from Hell. Pensacola isn't my hometown, but it, and Ft. Walton Beach-- which also will have received a lot of damage-- are the closest any other place comes. There are so many memories for me of the area, and to scan through photo after photo of major devastation is just damned depressing. People's dreams-- their entire homes, with all the furniture swept out into their neighbor's yards. One woman foolishly had no insurance even though her condo was on the beach, and they had photos of her surveying the complete destruction of all of her things, weeping clearly.

The place where I had my wedding reception is one of the oldest buildings in Florida-- certainly, it's supposed to be the oldest in Pensacola. This is a photo of the big old oak tree that we sat under; I have a photo somewhere with my bridesmaids sitting prettily in a circle under the tree, and Andrew & I perched at a table smiling and talking to a family friend who died a few years later. There are several pictures of us standing happily on the staircase you can see in the background of the photo. Where the tree's roots are is where the young unmarried women gathered to catch my bouquet. (It was caught by a pre-teen-- they're the only ones who really fought over it... all the older marriage age women were very conservative).

The house doesn't look like it's damaged too much-- but it does look like the place will never be really the same. So that's the point of scanning through all these depressing photos-- what memories are there of things that are now gone. It means a lot to see all of the photos, but when you see one with a memory of your own attached, it makes it even harder.

So, dammit, I need to settle down and get some work done. But it's really sad to see, and know that when I go back to visit Pensacola again (maybe at Christmas) it will just not be the same. Sigh. Four hurricanes in one year, as you know if you've heard any of the news coverage, is extreme. Let's just hope that's all. Florida is going to be hurting. They do have incredible powers to recover, and it won't be long till you can take a vacation on the gorgeous beaches again. But it's going to be rough for quite a while.

UPDATE: If you want to waste time and feel the need for an added bit of melancholy, there are lots of galleries of photos here. I don't know why CNN and the other news channels insist on showing trailer parks-- there are plenty of destroyed more stable houses too.

Today is....

...Icky. Darn those Chocolate Chip Cookie Martinis! Bleah. I won't go into the details, but let me say that I'm fairly certain I will never drink again. :)

The Paella was great, though. I added a few things to the recipe that I linked yesterday-- just some scallops & crab claws. But I wanted more things in it that I could eat because I don't like mussels & I didn't think I would like the clams (turns out I did). Anyway.

Later, we're going to see Hero. I hear it's good, so it should be fun. Maybe out to dinner after; we'll see. Right now I'm waiting for my "morning latte". Yes. I know it's 2:30. I got up earlier and couldn't drink any coffee but I'm better now. :) Yay Liver! Way to Go!

Paella! Party! People!

We're home, and Andrew wanted to have a small dinner party. So I decided to make Paella-- the recipe we saw on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy the other day. I've got all the ingredients, two paella pans, dessert is a very light fruit torte, appetizers are concord grapes & three different cheeses. There will be wine, and martinis. Maybe (probably) espressos/cappucinos at some point. So it'll be fun!

I'm a teeny bit tired right this second, though-- from shopping this morning, and making the bed, and arranging flowers & stuff. I thought I needed a short break and so thought I'd drop in to post a little blog entry. And next, I'm planning to pop into my daily "must reads." Then it'll be time to go cook. Yay! I love to have dinner parties, and since we finished the bar (which I will post pictures of soon-- maybe some from tonights party) it's a great space for entertaining again. Wish you all could come! :)

Friday on the Road....In the Rain

In today's quickie post, we are featuring a trip back to San Antonio. In the rain. And the mugginess that is likewise a result of Tropical Storm Ivan still hanging around where he's not wanted. Andrew, who runs "hot natured" will want to have the air conditioner on. I will probably be cold. (So I popped into Old Navy & bought a cute little blue light zippery jacket for 6.99--what a bargain!)

I'm really glad to be going home. I miss everything about home. Even teaching my aerobics class. I've found that I'm spoiled now, and can't do other forms of aerobics without being BORED. I mean, I could probably take someone else's class and be fine, but walking on the "hamster machine" even with cool music is just dull dull dullity dull. I figured out, as a result, that I am apparently pretty embarrassment free at the gym. Because I was hatin' doing the machine, I went and got a step and did my step routine, as though I was teaching my class (minus the microphone and headset and other people following me). I'm sure I looked like a doofus. But I just did not care! I guess that's one of the bonuses of getting older-- you just do not care if you are "uncool"-- those things that you cared about when you were a teen or young adult just are so insignificant.

So, today's thought to lead you into the weekend: what do you like to do when it's rainy? When it's grey and maybe a little on the cool side and the roads are just a little flooded so it sort of sucks to be out? I like to make soup, or chili, or a stew of some kind. I also like to sit on my couch in my "good living room" (the fancy one with chandeliers and a faux fur throw and stuff), with a good book and a hot cup of something (tea, or cocoa, or a coffee drink). Maybe in either jammies or loose fitting sweat/exercise pants. Hair must be in a comfortable pony tail or braid. Socks on feet. But no shoes. And my cat blinking at me sleepily from her place on the Ottoman, and Andrew with his own book. Maybe a warm chocolate chip cookie. I actually prefer it if it's a little on the chilly side-- so that I can wrap up in a warm blankie and all those loose clothes don't make me sweaty. (Not TOO cold, but cool.) This was one nice thing about living in Seattle for two years cause this was a very frequent type of weather pattern for us. I got a lot of reading done. :)

Oh, and in a final random thought: yesterday was my Grandmother's 97th birthday! Yes, that's right 97! My sister & Andrew & I sent her flowers. A big big bouquet. She likes that sort of thing, and she's still temporarily living with my other sister since the power is still out in most of Pensacola and it's a bad place for a 97 year old woman to be. So flowers are a good gift cause she can enjoy them, but then doesn't have to cart them back home with her.

So while you're sitting comfortably somewhere tonight, think kind thought of me in my car (which is comfy but still a car so how comfy do you think it is) driving along in the rain, probably fighting the air conditioner, and having to pee. (Cause I always have to about three minutes after we pass the last gas station for several miles.....) :)

End of an Era, End of a Quest

So I finally finished the last book of the Dark Tower series, probably about an hour ago. It was a good ending. I suspect that there will be people who will not be satisfied, but I liked it. A lot. There were tears, laughs, that feeling of coming back to reality slowly that I always get after reading a thoughtful, well-crafted story. Maybe some people will think that the "bad guys" aren't as tough as they could have been, failed too easily. I don't want to give anything away, because I know Liz is going to read the book soon but I thought they were just right. Bad guys fail easily because they are bad, and they always have that fatal flaw-- hubris. And that makes them miss things.

What's funny is that there are some things in the book that are eerily evocative of things in my own life at this moment. There's this bit about deja vu, and when I read it, thinking of my own story in progress, I shivered a little bit. There's also the name of a dog, which is the same name as Andrew's first dog, long ago. I thought that was a dirty trick on the part of the Muse to throw my way while I was already vulnerable to the old "end of the trail" tears. :)

Since, as I said in an earlier post, I've been reading this series for over 20 years, ending it made me think of other things that have happened in that time. Things, quests, that I myself have gone on and finished, for better or worse. And the ones that I still have to go, too. One reason the quest narrative is so long-lived and satisfying is that when we read one, it reminds us of a shared path we all have. It may not be a straight, linear path (it rarely is, actually). But we all have a beginning, middle, and end. And we have happily ever afters and tragedies too. And friends met and lost along the way.

Are there things in your life you just know you will do? Perhaps you're working on getting there, perhaps it's off in your future somewhere. But you know that no matter what things fate (or Ka, as King's story would call it) throws in your path, you'll do it. And if you don't, there will be some good reason.

I felt that way back when I was out of high school but not in college yet (for two years) about going to college. I knew that it would happen. I didn't know exactly how, but I knew I would do it. And that's always the way I feel about a project in progress-- like the dozens (hundreds?) of papers I've written, classes I've taken. It's how I feel about my dissertation. I'm not exactly sure how long it's going to take (although I'm trying for SOONER rather than later). It's how I feel about having kids-- I even know their names, so it's more like I just haven't yet met them than that they'll never exist. Then there are things that you just can't be sure of. Questions you're not sure of the answers to.

Andrew worries over things. He plans and schemes, and gets a remarkable amount accomplished. I do not generally worry about things in the future. I just always figure that I will do the things I need to do, when they need to be done, and it will just be. Not necessarily always be "right" but will be. It drives him crazy sometimes, because he likes to muddle with an idea, writing plans, lists, thinking. Me, I just prefer to do what needs to be done when I need to do it, and not fiddle too much about it. I can think of a few things that I might have done that I didn't think I'd do, sometimes from lack of preparation, or planning. But I still would not take those things, those events in my life, back. Even the "mistakes" are part of who I am and who I will be. I truly meant it when, in my 9 layers list, I said I regret 0 things. No regrets. I know that sounds sort of corny, and everyone says it. But for me, it's really true. There are a few things I still think could have been done better, for the sake of happiness or whatever... but still.

So. King's left me feeling sort of introspective and I am going to try to work some more on my own story. And my dissertation. Tomorrow we go home, and I may read the first part of the book to Andrew on the drive home. Having read it once already, I will not mind reading as much as the drive takes us and then handing it over to him to finish on his own. (It's one of those wonderful surprises in my life-- that my husband & I share taste in books and can lie for literally days on comfortable couches with good coffee and snacks and read, together but visiting separate worlds, happily.)

The finishing of this book is sort of bittersweet, which is a cliched way of putting it, but the bitter part is that I know that this book is supposed to mean that King is going to retire. He's written a lot, and many of his books have kept me up very late (both in the reading and the later remembering of the ghosties under the bed, with the cold hands, who will surely reach out and grab your ankle if you're not careful).* But at the same time, the sweetness of a job well done, of a story well read, of a quest I feel that I, too, have gone on, peeking over the characters' shoulders here and there. The reason I love to read is visiting the inner thoughts of others-- characters, authors. Yesterday, talking to the cute little girl in the coffee shop, she seemed a bit amused and laughed, saying "it's weird to imagine my teachers rushing home to read Stephen King books." Perspective darling. While you with your youth have never been here where I am, I have been where you are. And while there are places I haven't been, I know parts of your road. And I don't envy you your youth-- although I would hear the tale of it, perhaps, around some campfire some night. And you, well, maybe you'll hear more of mine, too. Because I think we're all part of the same story, ultimately, and even the ones that aren't famous will be heard by someone. And there never really is a "The End."

*Because logic is completely gone in the middle of the night, and we are all 8 years old and alone again when that shiver goes up the back of our neck and we hop over the last few inches trying to not get too close to the bedskirt... waiting for that hand to dart out....

Is it just me or do you not care at all

about Britney Spears wedding? Whether or not she faked it? Or any at all detail? I don't want to see her on the cover of People, I just don't care. And it's not that I don't like her music, I find it passable for pop candy.

I JUST DON'T CARE!!! (Contrary to giving it all this importance with a blog entry.....)

Trapped in the Land of the Dark Tower

So, I reallllllly had to drag myself out to the coffee shop to write to ya'll today. I am about 1/3 of the way through the last Stephen King's Dark Tower book (Hile Fellow Gunslingers!). All I wanted to do today was veg in various prone positions, reading and eating mixed nuts and drinking Perrier. :) I abandoned the book I was reading before yesterday (which is a perfectly good book but doesn't have more than 20 years of waiting behind it!!) Seriously! I'll get back to it eventually.

I started reading the Dark Tower series back in the early 1980s when I was, maybe, 11 or so. During the time period that King didn't really write much on them, I sort of forgot about it. But when I was applying to PhD programs, the clever marketers re-released the whole series till then in trade paperback. Andrew, sweetest man in the world (I know you guys reading are sweet too-- but you know I'm biased about my sweet baboo...) bought me the whole series cause I was flying cross country to a university to check out their program(which will remain unnamed cause they were blind and didn't accept me.) It was, give them some credit, a tiny program with something like 13 students accepted. But still. To have not recognized my clear superiority! :)

I have been hopelessly addicted ever since. So much so that, on hearing the news that King had been hit by a van a few years ago, I had to rush to the Internet to find more news than the TV was currently offering because I had to know his status! Thank God he was fine (for more than the sort of callous reasons above-- I'm glad he's okay for all the less selfish of me reasons, too). I actually have the plot of a horror novel inspired partly by his accident that would be a kick ass novel, too. I have several chapters loosely outlined. If ONLY I could get done with all the other things I need to do first!!!! :)

Anyway. I'm done with my latte, and it's going to have to be one today since I really need to get back to the Path of the Beam.

But in the meantime, I just had a chat with a young woman who is inspired by English Lit, but not by college. She was sweet, and it's fun to be the "old salt" who has lots of helpful advice.

Enough! See you all tomorrow. I may be bleary eyed because it's entirely possible I'll stay up ALL NIGHT reading. So.

WowSer!

So the reason I couldn't get email yesterday was that a massive explosion took out the power for the hosting company that I use! I got an email this morning from the company, and that's just bizarre! I notice that I didn't get any of my "haloscan" email notes from yesterday, either, so it's possible that it ate some email. But that's just amazing! I didn't hear about this on the news, which is weird I think. Maybe I just missed it, because I didn't watch all that much TV yesterday (Buffy the Vampire Slayer isn't exactly network news... it was the "Beer Bad" episode!) Anyways. Funny! (in a sad, scary, "funny," way.)

Now. To get some work done. And MAYBE one more coffee drink.

I almost think I like this coffee bar I'm in now (cause I'm cheating again-- the one I usually use had it's internet server down today). I had a cute little college "dude" ask me about my computer. I feel so important. And it's always nice to draw attention of the young-uns. Even though he did call me Ma'am.*

Andrew is flying a "night" flight today, so I'm on my own till midnight. Where to eat? Hmmmmm. Leftovers, or Olive Garden? Or parts currently unconsidered? La la la la lalallala Caffeine is a wonderful thing.

*officially either the word that means 1. you're an old lady OR, 2. (when used by the makeup ladies in a major hoity toity department store,) Bitch.

Deja Vu Paragraph Dos

You liked it! Yay! I don't have too much done yet-- this is the writing of a couple of hours, but I'll do more and post it a paragraph at a time. I worry about someone ripping the story off, but if it's by paragraph, I think it'll be harder to find and plagiarize/steal. If someone does steal it, I'll come and get them. You know I know how to make a zombi, right? (And if you don't, you should be warned.) :)

I googled déjà vu. Basically, the French word means “already seen” and something like 70 percent of the population has experienced it. I mean, how do you explain away a feeling that the French have actually invented a word for? And how do 30 percent of the population not feel it, ever? There are these theories that it has to do with brain chemistry, and the brain producing a chemical that makes you think the present is the past. All I can say is it’s weird to have it go on for so long. It’s not helpful at all– it’s not like I can look at something and know what’s about to happen. It’s not psychic power. It just seems like I should know. And that drives me crazy. What is important? What moment in my day could be the one that influences the rest of my life? Is it this coffee? This attempt to make the yellow before the stoplight turns red? I feel like everything mundane is really earth-shattering. I wonder if I would recognize an important moment because they all feel so. I dunno.

Between Scylla and Charybdis

It is unnerving to be on a military base that tests its emergency sirens at noon. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so for anyone who didn’t grow up, like I did, in the midst of the Cold War and the fears of imminent nuclear attack. But for me, to hear the sirens go off causes too many thoughts of “what if” it wasn’t just a test.

I was sitting on the couch writing on my dissertation chapter three on Voodoo and power-redistribution and suddenly, at noon, I heard multiple wails of the sirens that would warn us of impending danger. To do what? Kiss your ass goodbye? I don’t know what I would do if the sirens continued to wail. I suppose close the windows and find a corner to crouch in. Probably wouldn’t do any good, though.

They test the sirens every day, and today they went off three times between noon and 12:05. Just when I figured the first batch was over, there was a new one. I suppose if you were here all the time you would get used to them and not even notice the noise. That and most people have their windows closed against the usual heat and humidity so probably don’t even hear them. But I have the windows open to the cool early-Fall breeze, and it just pulled me right out of my editing and thinking about feminism and power, causing a very slight clench to the tummy and chill up my neck. Now that’s power.

I suppose one would say the Cold War ended in the early 90s with the fall of the Berlin wall and the collapse of the Soviet USSR into dozens of small loosely allied countries. There aren’t, as far as I know, very many organized countries out there, who consider themselves our “enemies,” who have the capacity to lob thousands of nuclear warheads our way. So probably, nuclear annihilation is basically a fear of the past. Sure, we are in a different sort of “War” nowadays, but it’s not at all the same. (Thank Goddess!) Incidents, while they would be devastating, would probably not mean the end of the world as we know it and any survivors left to linger with radiation poison and anarchy. Probably not even widespread devastation– just pockets of terrible tragedy (bad enough, I know, but not the same as our fears of the past). There are a lot of people who didn’t experience, or else don’t remember the way we would lie awake, thinking of what might happen if Russia (which is how we thought of it, even though it wasn’t just that country) got mad and started something. I read a book as a pre-teen called Warday, which I remember being really well-written, about such an event, and a limited nuclear exchange between the US and the USSR. I ought to re-read that book, just to see if I think it as interesting today as I did back then.

Hearing the sirens always reminds me of those images. But nowadays I also have the lovely added bonus prize of terrorism. What would happen if there were imminent threats terror-wise, to targets like the military base upon which I sit right now? Probably this little base tucked away in small-town La is not high on any lists of targets. And the gate guards have their machine guns ready to do whatever it is they would do if someone were to try and crash the gate. That “someone” would not get very far, even here on a small base. Try a larger, more “sensitive” base and you’ll see bigger and more impressive guns. But the Siren Song is still a little unnerving. It reminds me of how much we really do owe to those people who “guard the gates” for us.

Sirens are mythical women (sometimes looking like Mermaids, sometimes not) who would lure men, sailors in particular, to their death on the rocky islands, or seduce them into the sea where they would then drown. Legend has it that the men wouldn’t mind, lulled into submission by the beauty of the women, and their music. But they’d be dead all the same.

Odysseus escaped the Siren by plugging up his ears, and the ears of his sailors. These sirens are not at all seductive– their easy-to-hear loud pitched wail would not make me “not mind.” In fact, I mind a lot. I wish there was some way to lull people into peacefulness, a Siren call of another sort. I fear, though, that human nature sort of likes the pull down to rocky depths. And it’s difficult to plug your ears when you don’t know when the Siren Call will come.

quizzes!

I really wish my email would work. I want to leave the cafe, cause I'm not getting any work done, but I want to check my email!! So here is a quiz I did while waiting. I think I'll give up in a few minutes, so no more blog posts, and no email today. Pfffffhhhhhtttt!!! ::I gesture rudely at the universe:: (excepting cool people in it).


:: how jedi are you? ::

Some Fiction in Progress

I have a story that is wiggling around in my head about these twins who don't look alike, and deja vu, and??? I woke up the other day with it in my head, and I think I know where it might go. But with fiction writing, often I find that where I start to go at the beginning is NOT where I end up.

Twice, when I was in high school, I sat down to write a story about that nice, thoughtful, calm feeling you get in a fancy, old-fashioned church when no one else is there-- with the dust motes in the sun, and the lemon-oil polished pews, and dusty smell of old, thin paper (bibles, song-books). As I wrote, with lots of description (show, don't tell!) the stories both morphed into something about Satanism. I showed the first one to my boyfriend of the time, EVIL EX, who was a self-righteous holier than thou guy and he mocked me. So I tried to write the second, and it turned out sort of the same. Revealed issues about how I felt about religion at the time, and, now that I think of it, how I felt about the boyfriend, too. The first one was published, eventually, in a little local magazine at Halloween. I still have several copies of the magazine in a box in my closet.

I also have this sci-fi story about global warming, and one of the things that I have happen is related to New Orleans being 30 feet under sea level, and what would happen if a big storm surge (rain, or a hurricane) were to occur. When Hurricane Ivan seemed like it might hit New Orleans, aside from the normal fears & anxieties about all the loss of life that would really occur, I thought "Jeez, that'll make it so that I can't write my story about it! It would seem morbid and disgusting if it really happened and then I wrote about it." (I hope that doesn't sound callous...you know what I mean!)

So fiction writing is something that I don't get a chance to do much of right now. Trying hard to work on the dissertation, and getting a lot of good stuff done, means that I can't spend hours musing over fictional characters. But now and then they insist on "talking".

Anyway. I am going to give you a "taste" of the story-- the first full paragraph I wrote the other morning. It's still not very developed, but this the stuff that insisted I write it down.:)

Every day, for the last two weeks, I’ve woken up with the strongest feeling of déjà vu. Everything seems loaded with importance– the red striped old fashioned running shoes of the guy in the Waffle House. The little bugs struggling in a spider web on the outside of the window. The way the raisin-toast is buttered. The forty-something man who looks young, but comes in and heaves himself onto the closest booth like he’s a man twice his age, wheezing and holding onto the table as he labors into a sitting position. All of these things seem so familiar and yet alien, and it seems like they should be significant. Sally says it’s because I long to feel important and mysterious, like Mulder on the X-Files with his “I Want to Believe” poster. I think that someone who uses words like “I long to feel” in regular conversation doesn’t have much room to talk about someone wanting to feel important.

...

Morning Annoyances

Well, it looks like my internet host for my website, which means my email, is down right now. Argh. I came in pretty early today to the coffee shop (back to the regular place, no more cheating!) to get some work done but I can't check my email. My graphic is also down on the blog cause that's where they are hosted. Irritating. Hopefully, it's a minor, quick fixed thing. My host company is generally pretty reliable, so I hope so.

Also, I have an ear ache. Staying in the BOQ here in Shreveport apparently makes me sick. I think it's molds-- which I am quite certain that room is FILLED with. It's not very well-cleaned, even though in other respects it's pretty nice. Last time we stayed here the same thing happened, and it took days at home to get better.

So. That's the first post of the day. I'll post more later, try to write something interesting and 'literary'. :)

Oh yeah, and no one that I know was able to get the game that Andrew's plane flew over. On this side of the country, CBS decided we all wanted to see the Houston game (wrong!). We'll see if anyone got it anywhere.

I'm Cheating...

SSSHHH. Don't tell my regular coffee shop. They were closed this morning (it's Sunday!) and I had to drive across town to another one. The coffee isn't quite as good. But there's lots of bleary-eyed college students, (cause it's very close to LSU Shreveport's campus) so I feel sort of at home. :)

Big news: At 11:55 CST, today, Andrew's airplane will be "flying over" just after the national anthem at the Tennessee Titans vs. Indianapolis Colts NFL football game in a few hours. It'll be the big loud B-52. He doesn't have a window, but it'll be neat for anyone who wants to watch! It's on CBS-- so check your local listings! :) They'll do a training mission on the way there & back, and I don't know who arranged to have the plane fly over, and/or how my husband drew "the long straw" but there it is. I might be able to see it. The hotel we're in has very limited cable. That's why I had to rush out and find another Internet cafe cause I have to get my surfing done and get home in time to see that. Couldn't wait till the "regular" shop opened at 11:00!

Another interesting tidbit: my dream last night! I dreamt that I was a "gothed out" witch (like the girl in the Dell commercial!) and I was in a Chemistry class that I *had* to take. I hate chemistry. It's one of the only classes in college in which I did NOT get an A. So I had, in the dream, true to form, skipped a couple of classes. But had to be in the one that I was in. So I was sitting there, sleeping. And we had these "mats" that we had to fill out with Chemistry-ish equations. (Ick! Math too?!) And I had not filled out my mat. But get this: in addition to being a goth, I was a witch. And the professor came by and saw my mat was not filled out and decided to make an example of me, and woke me up and asked me why my mat was empty. He asked how I expected to use Chemistry, being as how I was a witch and that was an important part of spells. I sneered (in good Dell Goth Girl fashion) and said, as four of them appeared (magically!) behind me, "Warlocks!" They all were also dressed very "goth" and looked very much like Dante in Clerks. (The guy who's "not even supposed to be here today" if you've seen the movie. And if you haven't, there's another thing you have to do today, after watching my husband's plane!)

See, apparently, warlocks (in my dream world) are the servants of witches, and they're very good at Chemistry. So. I don't NEED to know formulas and stuff. Shuh!

So. Now I've filled you all in on details about my day. Yesterday I was very slacker-y and got really no work done. I watched the Lifetime movie about Martha Stewart. And napped a lot. So, today I must get lots of work done. I've actually already started, and have accomplished a bunch this morning. But now I must go read the "must read" blogs and catch up. What could have happened in the last two days in the bloggerverse? Here I go to find out! Then back to my room to scan the TV for football. :)

Coffee Shop post 1

So here I am again in lovely metropolitan (snicker) Bossier City, in the cute little coffee shop that I like to come to while here. It's a nice place, family owned, and the coffee is really good. Some chick today, epitomizing the "I'm not from around here" jerkiness was all "Is there a Starbuck's around here?" Sweetheart. First of all, that's incredibly rude. It's like dating one person and while you're hanging around them, asking them if you can have the number of the chick/guy you just saw them talking to. Second, Starbuck's, while pretty darn good, is not the end-all and be-all of coffee in the world. Think about this: try something else! This shop has good quality. The type of Starbuck's here in town is one of those shops inside a grocery store, and frankly, usually, they aren't as good. They don't have to be corporate-ly trained when they work in one of those stores, and the quality can really vary. I hate it when they make the milk too hot, it scorches the milkfat (I get 2%). Often, a place like that scorches the coffee really bad.

Apparently, there must be some sort of convention of jerks in town cause a chick who looks just like the last rude-y judy just asked the same question.

Anyway. We're here safe. The drive was murder-- lonnnnng, dark. Lots of little animals tried to jump in front of me underneath my tires. Fortunately for my peace of mind I didn't hit any of them. I did, however, get pulled over by a policeman on the back road, this one little highway we take cause it's a bit shorter. I was going 76. I thought the speed limit was 70, and just coming down a hill, so that's not so bad. But apparently, at night, it's 65. Andrew said "it's almost always that way" once he woke from his short nap. And yes, now that I think of it, that does happen a lot on Texas highways. But I was tired, and hadn't noticed the note on the sign that said that (I saw it later, so it was very obvious.) I mean, it was like midnight, so I suspect that the policeman was looking for drunks or something. Since I wasn't, and since I clearly sounded upset that I thought I wasn't being bad, he didn't give me a ticket. YAY!! Thank you ticket fairies!! I owe you one.

So now to work. I wonder how many more I'll see of these folks who are going to come in and ask if there's a competitor's coffee shop in "this town" (cause it is a small town, and clearly, they're all big city important people who neeeeed a Starbuck's to be happy). I mean, I like a good coffee. But nothing compares to Andrew's home roast, so I'm a snob about ANY commercial shop. So don't be rude, people.

Update, family, storm

Well, my family is all safe from the hurricane. But boy, I am worried about my Mom's house! This is a picture of the bridge near my sister's place, and there is damage all over town that is significant! My neice & nephew's trailer, which is down by the beach, is most likely a total loss (they took almost all of their possessions out of it the other day, and were staying at my sister's house...).

Sheesh. Other "irritations," including our tenants NOT paying their rent for two weeks-- on their FIRST MONTH!! They might be "fixable" since we finally got in touch with one of the tenants & it looks like one of them was taking the money from everyone else and not paying. Bad, but fixable.

And we're on the road later. Phew. I need a nap! And some chocolate!

Oh yes

And so far, we don't know exactly the status of our family in Florida. Or my mom's home. We'll see... the phones are still out at this point.

Let Them Go Naked?!?!

Okay, yes, I've ranted about personal blogs going political all of a sudden before. And I know this will probably get me some comments from those who are very anti-Bush-- but. I have to say something cause I'm furious! I'm breaking my own self-imposed rule here because my freakin God. My family lives in Florida, and Mississippi, and my best friend's family, and my best friend lives in Alabama where the hurricane is right as we speak. So this is personal to me. Hurricanes are devastating, and especially in areas where the building standards aren't as high as in the states like Jamaica & Granada.

When a hurricane hits, and you lose everything you have, food and medical supplies and generators are veryimportant. YES! Send those! But so are other things. Teresa Heinz Kerry said, of the relief efforts for the Caribbean:

"Let them go naked". . . Teresa Heinz Kerry, encouraging volunteers as they busily packed supplies Wednesday for hurricane relief efforts in the Caribbean, said she was concerned the effort was too focused on sending clothes instead of essentials like water and electric generators. ''Clothing is wonderful, but let them go naked for a while, at least the kids,'' said Heinz Kerry, the wife of Democratic presidential candidate John Kerry. ''Water is necessary, and then generators, and then food, and then clothes.''

Now, I realize that for the most part her advice is right. Send food, send medicine, generators. Don't just try to clean out your closets from all the junk and think that's enough.

But that is the most ridiculous thing to say! Can you say Marie Antoinette!!? Let them go naked!?!

People keep excusing her for these kinds of bizarre speeches, saying "oh, she's quirky" and "outspoken" and another news article I read said "she says the darndest things." At the same time, people get outraged when Bush makes a flub because he's apparently not very good at reading teleprompters. Well there's a big difference between a mis-step and something like this. This woman would be our first frickin' lady? Can you imagine the kinds of things she would say about other tragedies? And this is when you're speaking to a group of people who may very well have family in this area who lost lives, and homes, and means of making a living.

We as the U.S. are so worried about what other countries think about us, and this woman is clearly not willing to be a less outspoken person, so she won't be a nice, presentable first lady. And there's the fact that presidential hopeful Kerry is married to a person who thinks this kind of thing is appropriate to say. Let me tell you, when you're married to someone, you share their general world view, and you may not always agree with them, but you share much in common. Kerry has the sense to keep his mouth shut, but then, what is he saying when people aren't around? How do you really feel?

I don't want to vote for either major candidate. Seriously. I don't know who the hell to vote for. I don't want to disappear from the polls, so I'll have to make a decision eventually.

But for God's sake people, look at this objectively. Especially when you're considering things like the Iraq war-- Kerry wouldn't do it all that much differently at this point. Yes, there are other things he's saying he would change. But you can't "Monday morning quarterback" Iraq-- you've got to deal with it as it is now.

Alls I can say is: Be very careful if you're thinking "anyone but Bush." I'll admit, I voted that way for Clinton long ago against Bush Sr. I didn't like Bush Sr., and while I wasn't really sure about Clinton at the time, I thought "ick. NOT Bush." But it's not a good way to vote.

Because the only "anyone" available, and his family, sound like first class asses to me.

Adding to the Craziness

It's been a while, but tomorrow, late afternoon, Andrew & I will be headed to Shreveport for his reserve duty weekend stuff. Yes. Shreveport. As in Northern Louisiana. As in the state about to be pummelled by Hurricane Ivan. Shreveport is far north-- and should not be severely threatened by the hurricane. BUT. It's possible that they'll get some pretty nasty storms. I mean, here in San Antonio we might get some storms. They're going to get storms in a few days up north-east. So far, the reserve folks say it's no problem, things are going as planned. But what could really suck? If Andrew can't get lodging on base, (and there's only a limited amount of rooms there) then they usually put us up in hotels in town. That's right, friends, the hotels where all those people from SOUTHERN Louisiana, who were required to evacuate, will be staying. So stay tuned, dearies, cause we may have a very cranky person who doesn't have a place to stay late late late tomorrow night, and who would then have to, like, drive back 7 hours to San Antonio. Possibly in a storm. I'm doing "prep" things for the trip now-- getting a printer to take with me, fixing other things. We'll be there, if all goes well, for 8 days. It means updates from the little coffee shop (Moxie Java) and lots of good writing.

But it might mean a very annoyed woman, too. :) We shall see..... Obviously, I'll still post tomorrow, and maybe by then we'll have gotten a notice to NOT come.

There are other annoyances in the works right now too. I'll tell you about 'em sometime. But I tell you, they're doozies.!!

Why I love working from/at home

I still have not brushed my hair today. When I got up, I put it into a messy bun at the back of my head. See what time it is?

Hah.

I also have worked pretty well today-- minus some napping and a little bit of whining. But there is fair/middling quality editing on CHAPTER THREE.

Hah Hah.

And, I am getting ready to go bellydance.

Hah Hah Hah!

Fable*

How often can we read Aesop
and not become moralists?

To hear the mourning whines
of the
black dog
and not imagine his life better
in human hat and leather boots
cracking smart-mouthed jokes at
our expense?

To see the cat watching two squirrels
clatter down roughly falling bark and vines
scolding each other.
Do we imagine the cat intrigued?-- not
by them as prey, or food,
but watching, intent,
a greater understanding of squirrels her goal.

To start guiltily
at the last YOWP!
of the whining, lonely dog next door
who discovers that shoes,
when thrown,
are worse than an empty dog house.


*a poem I wrote in 1997 and re-edited upon finding it in a stack of papers, today.

Texas in the Fall

Texas doesn't have distinctive seasons like other areas do-- we have different seasonal weather, but it's mostly milder and warmer than other places. The most extreme things we have here are heat, winter ice storms that shut down the whole city (usually in early February/late January), and floods. Because we will have a drought cycle in the summer where we are restricted from watering our lawns, or washing our cars, or ordering water in restaurants, when we do get a big thunderstorm, sometimes, it will cause those incidents you see on TV with houses washing away in a river that was dry rocky riverbed days ago.

But Fall, in a normal year, means this: slightly cooler nights (down to the 70s this coming week). Afternoon thunderstorms in "spots" around the city-- the North side gets rain but the South side is dry as a bone. Hummingbirds flitting through the trees, squirrels attacking the bird feeders and carrying off acorns from the many live oak trees. Bees frantically swooping in circles around the still-blooming zinnias and salvias. Big yellow and black giant swallowtail butterflies fluttering around the roux and dill plants, desperately looking to lay their eggs. Sitting on my back porch, looking at the winding wild jasmine vine that blocks my neighbor's view of my house, at my white wrought aluminum table that looks like something out of a tea party with Alice. Drinking bubbly water, or wine, or a cappucino.

Today, it is rainy. Grey, a little humid but cooler still too. On rainy days I usually can't bring myself to wake up as early as other days. The sleep clings to my eyelashes and I lounge in my bed with its red silk blanket and 300 count sheets, squishing Andrew's feather pillow while crumbling my "hypoallergenic faux down" pillow under my head. The cat pokes me with her paw, meowing urgently for her breakfast. Andrew is puttering around, getting ready for a long day at work. He makes himself a good breakfast, warms up the espresso machine, asks me if I want one. It's hard to get out of bed, but I do, and bleary-eyed walk into the kitchen for my morning latte. I sit for a while, have breakfast, chat with my sister about the hurricane and our family's preparations for it. (It's going to hit, maybe, right on top of them-- they live in Pensacola Florida, just west of the Destin that is the storm's easternmost potential target right now).

I should get to work on my chapter. Yesterday, I felt icky-- chest congested, headache, tired. So, very little work got done. And today, I feel much better, so I should get in there and pound away with my red pen on the chapter three writing, maybe edit the intro which I got back from my director with very little real commentary (which is a good thing!)

But the rain has me wanting to curl up on my striped beige & cream couch, in my living room with big garden windows, looking out on the front yard and its eight big trees and lots of wild planting beds. Stay in my blue and white pajamas, maybe with a warm flannel LL Bean shirt over it, and fuzzy socks. Where I might see a hummingbird. Where I will definitely see the rain fall through green canopy. Maybe read my new "for fun" book instead of work stuff. I have to fight that urge and get some work done. But boy it's gonna be tough.

Hurricanes, Mo-Jo, Mo-Fo

Much of my family lives in Florida, the panhandle area, where hurricane Ivan is bearing down right now. My mom is already evacuated-- to Mississippi, with my oldest sister. My younger sister's kids live there, and they're old enough to take care of themselves, but are anxious about the big-badass that is headed their way. The house is reinforced with hurricane straps, and pretty high off of the flood prone, danger zone. They should be fine-- it might be uncomfortable for a while if they lose power & the place is trashed, but if they are smart and stay put and don't do stupid things like go surfing, everything will be okay.

But it got me thinking about my own growing up there and the hurricanes we faced. We generally lived in dumps, and often near the beach. None of the hurricanes we had to evacuate for were particularly bad-- most of them hit elsewhere or petered out before they got to our area. I have sat up all night on the floor of a high school hurricane shelter, eaten dried-scrambled-eggs handed out by helpful Red Cross employees, snuck out to feed my cat, who was in the car cause I didn't want to leave him at the house we thought might be flooded, but the shelter didn't allow pets. During one, my sister was in the hospital delivering my now 19 year old nephew, and we slept in the band room on a big platform stage area. It was always a cause for a heady feeling of excitement and fear and happiness to have a hurricane come. Happiness? Well, duh! We don't get snow days, but we do get out of school for hurricanes! What teen doesn't love that!?

But this Ivan fellow looks like he might not be a very happy thing to be around. In my aerobics classes the last two times, I've made students do an "I" step, and joked "let's do some voodoo. While you do the "I" step, think of Ivan, and make him get smaller so he doesn't bash my family." They looked at me kinda funny. But I think the power of prayer, and/or hope is strong. Let's all hope Ivan isn't as terrible as he has the potential to be. Let's all hope some of that energy is dissipated and spreads to other places where it will do good instead of destroy. Here in my part of Texas, and in other places, hurricanes don't seem like such a big deal, and I remember when I lived up in Washington, one of the hurricanes that hit my family I didn't even know about till it was almost there cause I never watched the weather. But that damn Ivan is down there in the gulf, spreading bands of orange and red almost the entire width from Florida to Texas. He's a bad mo-fo. He needs some "anti-organization" mo-jo. So here goes. "Ivan Ivan Go Away, don't come again some other day". :)

The smell of suburbia in the summer

I live fairly close to the city center of the 9th to 8th largest city in the U.S. But it is still a suburb-- we have lots of lawn mowing on the weekend, soccer moms, mini-malls.

I am contributing to the smell too, today, to grill some nice tuna steaks & some asparagus, on hickory chips.

Grilling. The metallic sweet smell of lighter fluid burning off as the coals get hot. Then the smell of chicken, or steaks, or as in our case, tuna, seared to perfection on the outside and then cooked inside to taste (or in chicken, safety!) BBQ sauce getting on the grill at the neighbor's next door. There was a cloud of smoke hanging so thickly in the front yard that I actually walked out for a minute to see if there was something nearby on fire. The white cloud hovered, dissipated, and streamed down the street to inspire other neighbors to pull out the grill.

This is summer. And it's all the more sweet in that it's getting near to be over. (Not that we stop grilling outside here in Texas even in our rather mild winters....)

Drive In Movies

As a kid, I remember going to a drive-in theater twice. The first one I remember must be from when I was two or three-- I know this because my Dad was there. I remember a really creepy movie, and somewhere within the movie a sweaty old fart was killed with someone cutting his throat from behind. An argument for being really careful with what you let your little kids see, even when you think they're too young to remember.

The other movie I remember was a double feature with Godzilla and other monsters, from the 80s. It was very uncomfortable-- I was in the back of a Trans-Am with a big knot in the middle of the seats. I don't remember all that much more about this one--I know I napped a lot.

Last night's drive-in was pretty cool. There were four screens-- you could look over and see the other movies that were playing (even if you couldn't hear them). It wasn't really all that dark out-- we were on the edge of the city, but still in the city, so there was a lot of background light. Many of the cars that were there were trucks-- we do live in Texas! So people were sitting in the backs of their truck and/or in chairs behind it with the doors open. (Which is what we did).

My friend's little girl was on top of the truck-- she demanded that I join her up there so I did. We had pillows, and we lay there watching the movie and eating candy. I felt a lot like a little kid myself. Every now and then I would poke N., the little girl, and she tried to give me an atomic wedgie. (She didn't really do very well at it....thankfully).

It was a touch of childhood. The movie--well, it was adequate. But the theater, ah.

Toes

I got a pedicure with cute little toe flowers. And a sparklie in the middle. I likes it a lot.

Its mostly been a busy busy day. We're going to a drive in movie later, and a cool martini bar. So I don't have anything at all interesting to write, and I'm terribly naughty for not writing sooner. I know some of you like to read at work, but I just never got round to writing today till now.

And now it's time to go. :) Alien Resurrection is on HBO. It's cool. :) I love it when the Aliens swim in. Sweet.

TMI*

Sucked into a Hell of weird websites, conspiracy theories, Hurricane tracking, urban myth, Laura Bush at 17, blogs about people being madly in love and filled with angst, speculation about missiles, death, destruction, Nicole Kidman-- somehow, it feels like everything is weirdly connected and if I could just put my finger on it-- (can you say Hello A Beautiful Mind?)

I truly needed an intervention to get myself away from the bizarre websites I found today. No, I will not tell you which sites. I do not want to cause anyone else to go through this weird combination of dread, horror and strange fascination, like seeing a car accident happen in front of you and being unable to avoid it, or poking a poisonous snake just to see if it really could strike you from 6 feet away.

But I tell you. The things I am now aware exist on the Internet are causing a weird sensation of paranoia and displacement. I really think I might need some kind of therapy. :) I'll be okay. But man. My head hurts and I need a night of restaurant therapy. How about Mongolian BBQ, thanks to a good friend's rescuing phone call?

*Too Much Information

Let's Get Physical

1983. My 13th birthday. One of the few I really remember celebrating almost like normal kids did. My best friend Beverly spent the night, and I had a party with a bunch of other kids. Beverly was the cool girl with shockingly blond curly hair, blue blue eyes, cool Ocean Pacific t-shirts. She wore legwarmers over her pants legs, which then was the height of teen fashion. She had tons of cool pointy, colored earrings that I used to sigh over because my mom would not buy me cool clothes-- preferring instead the "value driven" K-Mart and Bebo's stuff. Beverly taught me how to wear eyeliner. She also was one of those girls the boys drool over because she developed boobs way earlier than the rest of us, but she was still very nice, and very self-conscious of her figure. (My mom didn't like her, either, which made it even better.)

Because my birthday is near Halloween, we had an orange-and green decorated Halloween birthday cake. There were nachos--complete with a crock pot filled with that bubbling, gooey, salty, too-orange-fake nacho cheese (mmmmmm), all the sodas we could choke down, videos, including Cheech & Chong and Student Bodies and one other special video.

At the time, we lived on the property of my mother's boyfriend's workplace. It was a petroleum hauling truck-company, but the office was a place that used to be a honky-tonk called the "Sugar Shack." The front room looked pretty much like any truck company office might. But the back, and the storage room, was still basically a big empty bar, minus tables or barstools-- concrete floor, lots of empty space, the slightest lingering tinge of cigarettes and stale beer. In short, somewhere a 13 year old would find inexplicably cool. I had begged to have my party there, and to my delight, was indulged. We had the TV/VCR, and a big table with all the great food. Boy & Girl (oooh-- a mixed party!) pre-teens clustered around the TV, giggling and hitting each other with pillows. Really. Yes, it was that cute.

All the way to the back of the room was what used to be the stage-- and this is one of the best parts of the story. The "stage" was now completely closed in by chicken wire. Yes. Just like in the Blues Brothers. It had an indoor-outdoor-carpet platform area, and shelves with tools and expensive stuff lining the edges and back. But the front was all wire, and a big wire door with a padlock. It was lit with exposed overhead fluorescent tubes. There was not a crowd of angry drunks throwing beer bottles, but there certainly was that incredible vibe that there could have been.

After watching videos, eating cake, nachos, laughing hilariously over Cheech & Chong's exploits, all the other kids left. Beverly and I got to spend the night in the back room, with sleeping bags and pillows. Including the glorious stage.


We had also rented Olivia Newton John's Physical video. Complete with strong women in hot pink and purple leg warmers and leotards prancing around with fitness equipment, rock hard male bodies gracing the screen briefly now and then.

Beverly & I spent a long time with the music cranked, in our PJs, dancing on the stage, holding fake microphones, having dragged the TV to the back of the room. We were Olivia. We were divas.

We eventually pulled our sleeping bags and pillows up on the stage too. We slept there after our hours of dancing and cake and cheese. It was the ultimate passage into teenager hood that I can imagine.

My mother, the next morning, was perplexed at finding us on the stage, bleary eyed and cranky and stiff necked from a night of sleeping on the hard floor. (We could have gone back to my room & canopy bed for a much more comfortable evening.)

But she could never have understood. We were DIVAS. Comfort was not necessary.

Yes, but do you feel the music, Neo?

I think the Wednesday night karaoke with drag queens is going to be a normal event. So I won't update you every single time we do it. (Well, maybe I will. Depends on how much fun it is!) We did go there last night, had a good time, and I was good on the front of there is no massive hangover this Thursday like there was last time. :) But one funny thing is that the bar has not properly advertised the event, so there aren't very many people there, so when they have a contest to win a free drink, we're like, the only people to get to do it. So I was in a "dance off" last night with a cute young man with nice washboard abs. He took his shirt off. I won anyway. :)

Bellydancing makes for a pretty good set of moves. I did a back bendy thing that apparently looked pretty cool-- the drag queen exclaimed "OOOH she went all Matrix on you" and my friends said the same. So that was worth a vanilla vodka cosmo. But there were no shots, and no champagne (thank god!) so we're all fine here this morning. Need coffee. Annoyed at a "favor" I have to do on very short notice. But fine nevertheless. I plan to write a cool blog entry later today about my 13th birthday party-- Vicki & I were discussing something last night that made me go "oooh. That's blogworthy." So there is a coming attraction. But first, coffee. And breakfast. And a shower.

Drag Queens & Patsy Cline

I have a thing for Patsy Cline. Surprisingly, although I've belted out "Crazy" a million times in my car, loving it every minute, I've never sang it in public. Her voice, with that twang and whiskey barroom sexy just-had-sex but is very sad about it tone. I'm surprised that Patsy isn't one of those women that drag queens "do". She's got all of those traits that drag queens usually love-- a certain kind of fancy hair, makeup, great lips, eyebrows, hats, drama, a tragic life.

Last Wednesday, we went to "the bar" and did karaoke. There were fabulous drag queens there, and I had a great time. I karaoke'd "Leather & Lace," and "Material Girl." We also did "Love Shack" and "Dancing Queen." All kinds of great karaoke songs. But not Crazy.

I was gonna be good tonight. It's Wednesday, and there are drag queens afoot. I was making a nice pork loin and some rice & good food. But I just got a call from my friend "Hey, guess where we're going......."

There might be some Crazy-ness in my future.

Nothing Says Love Like....

A boy and his dog....

Feeding the Hummingbirds

Have you ever seen a hummingbird? I didn't until I was about 23 years old, and living in the Seattle area. I walked down the hallway and there she was, hovering in the center of the hall, on her way to the hummingbird friendly nectar bushes on the side. I froze, she hovered, and then darted away. Here in Texas, we have hummingbirds mostly year round, but especially this time of year as fall starts to creep quietly in and the birds head this way to migrate down to Mexico for the summer. I fill these two gorgeous purple hummingbird feeders in front & back yard and wait. Watching them from the front yard, you learn how possessive and aggressive they can be. A little bird with white chest and black vest, like a tiny little priest will perch on a tree branch watching any bird that dares use HIS feeder. A new bird will hover nervously, poke his beak into the spout, and Mr. Possessive will dart down and there will be a hovering face-off. I don't know how they win-- they don't actually ever peck each other that I've seen, but they do claim their own "turf."

I love em. I love sitting on the couch in what we call "the good living room" watching the dance of birds, the sweet loving energy bundles. It's one of my favorite parts of Fall. Which we are feeling today with a cool breeze and temperatures ONLY in the 80s. (You know you've lived in Texas a lonnnng time when you think... "Wow... only 86!" and that actually is kind of cool-ish.)

Honeymoon Memories

When Andrew & I went on our Honeymoon, long ago (11+ years!) for part of the trip, we came to San Antonio for my first visit here on the way up to Seattle where we would live for four years. We did the requisite "family dinner"-- friends and family came to my mother-in-law's house where we had a fajita dinner with margaritas etc. It was the first time in my life I'd really been a part of the big, raucous family that is Andrew's group. At dinner, as I shyly sat back, Andrew said "grab some food. There are no shy family members-- they all died off of starvation." As the daughter of a single mom who had moved far away from all of her extended family, this was very new to me but the family was loudly welcoming.

We spent a day prowling around downtown San Antonio, Andrew taking me by all the tourist spots. I saw the Alamo for the first time and was sort of disappointed-- you expect it to be out in the middle of nowhere, like it is in the movies (and I don't know why you expect that, but you do). We went up in the Tower of the Americas, which is a little taller than Seattle's Space Needle and looked out over the sprawling city, hazy in the distance with heat. We went down on the green and bluely cool Riverwalk, wet Texas limestone everywhere and fish and ducks. We wandered around La Villita and the plaza of the Americas, which was built for a World's Fair back in 1968 (I think). This is where my story goes today.

There are a lot of fountains in the Riverwalk area. The River tries for a sort of "Texas' Venice" feel-- with lots of green draping ferns and plants and ivy and the sound of cool running water everywhere. There were these big spouting fountains that we saw in the plaza, and there were about four or maybe five little boys playing in the fountain. Andrew took a couple of pictures of them cause they were so cute. Probably the oldest was about 10, and the rest ranged a few years under that. Maybe they were brothers and best buddies of brothers. They were summer-sun-brown-- water glistening off their little skinny legs like they were otters, in and out of the water, laughing happily. It was really hot late May, so you could not blame them for being enticed into the coolness of clean fountain water. Their black wet hair plastered to their heads, oh so white laughing teeth and their blue jean and khaki shorts dripping wet as they ran around the fountain's edges. They were the image of summer childhood--innocent yet indulging in the forbidden fun of fountain diving.

About the time Andrew snapped a first photo of their happy fun, a donut-eating type park-ranger/police officer sauntered over and told the kids to get out of the fountains. Andrew got a shot of that too-- chubby officer clad in the blue uniform waggling his fingers at the boys, their heads sort of drooping and feet akimbo, ranged around him in an awkward sad circle, like a puppy caught chewing the wrong "toy." The security guy did not give them a really hard time, but you could tell that he knew that, for safety reasons, a fountain-- complete with wires and lights and sharp bits all over--is not the place for a lot of kids to swim. There was a reluctance in the officer's stance-- as if he understood how great the fountain diving was, and would have, if he were a 10 year old boy, been right in there too. But the grown up responsible part had to say "get outa there."

But the boys fun was ruined. They had to go somewhere else. We wandered off and did not see if they were good and obeyed the officer. But that image-- the sleek wet water fountain playing kids, brown with summer, laughing and running like little otters-- has stuck with me all these years. For a long time and several seasons of severe drought in Texas, the fountains were always turned off. No water wasting when there's shortages! But lately, the fountains have been on, and every time I see them, I look for brown berry boys to be jumping in. It's a memory of San Antonio which will forever be part of that new married feeling--getting used to the way the world has changed but still stays the same.

It's My Nerves

Remember back when I spray painted my cute aluminum outside garden table a few weeks ago? Well, I used 2.5 cans of spray paint, and my finger got a little numb. It's STILL weird. Just in the center is a pricky, tingly, nerve damage feeling. It's actually worse this morning for some reason. Maybe it's healing. Ickity doo dah.

Another day at the lake. Sigh. It just sucks to be me.

Free Martha T-Shirts

Free Martha shirts are now available at Bob From Accounting. Yay! Get yours today. (Oh, and Bob From Accounting is a great place to waste some time. Funny.)

Shenanigans

Ah, so, here they are, proof that Labor Day holidays have been filled with, well, holiday behavior. I also discovered a new (well, new to me) setting on my camera called the "16 shot" which will take 16 quick photos and put it into one single photo. We played with the camera, took lots of very silly pictures last night. Some will never see the light of blog, but there are a couple that I'll share with you'se guys.


The first is sort of a "panorama" of the porch. I'm taking the picture, and it's very funny. Well, it is if you've had several margaritas.

Then, I said "Andrew, do something." Ah. Yes. The old "white man's overbite" dance. Very sexy. There would be more pictures of Andrew from yesterday if he would have just put his damn shirt on. :)

And me, during our playing of the game "Scene it"-- which by the way, I won, and which is a fun game. That blue dot card stuck to my head for a lonnnnng time.

And There Was Much Rejoicing!

I heard back from my dissertation chair today about my introduction chapter. She liked it (with, of course, there always still needing to be more editing... that never ends!) :) So I am officially off vacation starting Tuesday. I've had approximately three weeks of house-projects and lollygagging, and I will get back to hard editing on Tuesday. I'm not kidding myself that I'll do anything over this Labor Day weekend. Too many people in the house.

The nicest thing about the comments from Dr. R. was that since it's taken me a long time to get to this point, I get the feeling she was beginning to worry that I am a complete idiot who will never get done. But with the strength of this chapter, I think she's probably relieved, and thinking "okay, so she WILL eventually write the damn thing and I'll be done with it!" :) I could tell from her comments that she is re-excited about my project, and that I'm not a "chore" to deal with (which I think I may have been dragging myself into in her category-- just cause it's taken so long!).

So that's good.

We have had a busy weekend this far... we went to the lake house yesterday with a couple of friends and ended up staying the night for various reasons. This afternoon, there's another big gathering of the "friend" clan at a party across town. Whew! Summer is almost over, and actually, I am right on target with my dissertation and ready for Fall.!

It's Friday!

Yay! I do have a very cool blog entry planned, but today it just didn't happen... I worked out, then had to take a long nap, and now am on my way out the door to our Friday night plans, which will be moderate because I already over-did it on Wednesday. So lots of Sparkling Water for me this evening! I'll write my planned on entry tomorrow morning. It's a good one! :)

Met a Gal Named Carrie Oakie

Yes, every now and then, my crowd stumbles upon an opportunity to go out "on a schoolnight". The weather in San Antonio is fabulous right now-- very low 80s to 70s cool at night. So the gang went to an old hangout we haven't been going to in a while. I'm terribly sad now that I did not grab my camera as we were walking out the door. I remember thinking-- "Ah, nothing new will happen there."

Boy was I wrong!

Yes, there was karaoke, and it was a hoot. I drank too much, and ended up horning in on several groups' renditions of their songs. At one point, this other chick (who was also horning in) just took the mike right out of my hand. Was alright with me though, I just scooted up to the cute little Justin Timberlake wannabe with the other mike-- the one who was supposed to be singing. I also shared with a cute young chippie, and she didn't mind-- she kept trying to give me the mike. I sang "Material Girl" all alone...I needed backup dancers but by then the guys were not playing anymore. I'm also sad that I had not taken my little fan up there with me-- it would have been a good prop for that.

But the karaoke wasn't the funnest* part, the part that will promise to bring me back. My darlings, there were the cutest little drag queens putting on a show for us! The bar we were at has not in the past been the sort of place you'd expect to see drag queens strutting their stuff. It's kind of an outdoor Jamaican/Beer/Wine/ Margaritas & hamburgers place. With picnic tables and a kiddie slide in one corner. So the lovely drag queens were a surprise. I've said before that I myself am a drag queen trapped in a woman's body... and so I had great admiration for the group.

We had a game of musical chairs to try to win a pitcher of margaritas. I very cleverly told them my name was "Mrs. Mae Wallace" when the microphone got pushed in my face. :) But, by then, I really did not think anyone in our group ought to have more margaritas to drink, since, it being a school night and all, we needed to drive home eventually. So I actually let the other girl win. Everyone said "yeah yeah, that's your story and you're sticking to it" but really. I had made the upfront decision that I was going to let the scrappy little one win. So she got the margaritas, and then, of course, she owed me a favor. Some day, I might have to collect on that favor, ask her to do something that might be, unpleasant.

The bar's owner, for some reason, decided that he ought to buy our group a bottle of champagne. I guess we were being charming & interesting and he loved us. Either that or he had some champagne that was going bad & he wanted a quick way to get rid of it. It was the classy kind that you twisted the lid off of... there wasn't even one of those "fake" corks. It kind of threw me for a few minutes, but I am a clever champagne bottle detective & I figured it out eventually.

Anyways. This morning, as you might guess, I'm feeling a little bit sorry for my indulgences. Contrite, you might say. But a great time was had by all. And it's good to know that we're back going to Flats (the name of the place). Maybe it'll stick and we'll go there more often. I've missed the place.


*Yes. Funnest is a word. I declare it to be.

Hopelessly Devoted

This blog is not the first blog typing
to sit around and rant for you....
hold on, till the end,
that's what I intend, to do....

Okay, so I'm such a dedicated blogger that I ALMOST missed teaching my aerobics class this morning. I was typing away my anti-political rant o the day and my sister came in 15 minutes before I was supposed to be at class and said "aren't you teaching today?"

AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHH!!!

And I wasn't dressed in my cute little aerobics instructor clothes or anything. Still had librarian glasses on, even.

I made it about 2 minutes late. Yes! I rock. But they didn't get their punishing squats workout cause there just wasn't time. Ah well. I think I finally lost the few people who were still cranky that they "didn't like my music." They must have gone to another class or something. There are a core of people still coming to me, but I do have several ladies who are slightly older and have issues, so I will NOT go into an "unsafe" mode of teaching for able bodied folks who can take a class meant to be faster. Phooey on them!

Politics as Usual

I've posted before that I do not like to put my "politics" on the blog. Do you care to know much about a personal journal-style blogger's political persuasion? Generally, probably not. I have the places I go for that, and they're different from the places I go for my morning fix of whatever blog.

I do post things occasionally that are political, in a sense. I am a feminist, and will definitely comment on personal/political issues now and then. But about the election coverage? The different conventions going on (aside from a carefully buried in a bizarre rant jibe at lack of dancing skills)? No. I do not like to Sam I Am.

I don't care for it when a blog I read regularly for, say, fun lighthearted stories, or cooking advice, or knitting details, or whatever suddenly gets political, i.e., partisan about Democrats vs. Republicans. It's certainly everyone's right to have an opinion.* People can always quote, misquote, read, misread, someone's political statements for a quick drive-by shooting style blog entry. And I pop in for my expected dose of whatever and I get partisan politics. Phooey! If I want that sort of thing, I'll turn on the television and flip back & forth between the major network news shows. (And you're kidding yourself if you think any of them are not partisan-- they ALL are.)

And of course, in the truest spirit of cranky bipolar curmudgeonliness (yes that is a word cause I said so), I'm breaking the very rule I'm complaining about by talking politics on my blog today. People who wanted to pop in to see maybe news about my cat's puking tendencies or the hubby's bar project** or whether I finally decided what to do about the SPAM fiction*** are going "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa politics!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" and racing out the door to the Get Fuzzy website. (Great Idea! But if you haven't been reading the last week you'll not have any idea what's going on. Spend some time in the archives, I beg of you).

Well. Fine. I say. Fine. I've been "in a mood" for three days now. I'm beginning to crawl crabbily out of it, but it's not a complete recovery yet. So. Gripe. Gripe. Complain. Snark. Gnashing of teeth. Clicking of keyboard keys. Raspberries for all politics cause I hate it that there's nothing else on TV! PFFFFFHHHHHHTTTTT!!!!! Even the Olympics were better than the constant politics that are lately making me insane. I hate election years. Really. I love the voting process & will vote and all that citizenly crapola. (I don't know who for. I don't like either candidate very much. Maybe I'll cast a pink ballot for Barbie).

Just in case you were wondering. I am still pretty sure that I could get a job teaching those folks how to dance, though. They still suck at it.

*and I have to admit, in the true spirit of irritableness I have a hard time convincing myself that I really ought to complain so much and am worried that I will make anyone who has done this recently who pops in to read me feel bad.... that's not my intention...so I'm working myself into a corner this morning. ACK!

**it's ALMOST done. We're just waiting for the artwork and then pictures will be posted. Oh. And the cat puking is normal. Repeat: code yellow on cat urks. (Oh yes. And parenthetically, you might want to know that I post info about the cat puking in direct defiance of a blogger's list of "Things to NOT do on your Blog." My big list of things not to do on your blog includes NOT having a list of things to do on YOUR blog. It's your blog. Post whatever the hell you want to on it. And DO NOT listen to me about it cause clearly, since I'm totally contradicting the rest of this post (post politics if that's what you want) I have no freakin' business telling anyone else what to do. I'm a loon.).

***Haven't decided on SPAM fiction. Am leaning towards awarding everyone who wrote something in a true fence-straddling move. There were three entries, I believe. What do you want?