What Do You Mean It's Almost February?!

(photo taken in Vermont last October. If you click on it you can see little bitty water droplets hiding amongst the fluff. Click on all the links for that matter! Do it! I spend a lot of time messing with the html codes, so you better click on all the links and pictures, dammit!)

What???!!!! Wasn't it just, um, New Year's Eve? Wasn't it just Christmas? Wasn't it just Halloween, for that matter? Gaaaahhh!! Well, before I launch into a full-blown rant about the insidious sped-up march of time as one ages, I've got some good news for you.

This is going to be a very good year. Yes, I know I've said that a few times before and was proven wrong, but that was when Bush was president. Honestly, I have a very good feeling about the months to come. In addition to the glowing promise represented by our country's new national leader, I have had some recent personal mini-triumphs. Very mini, but it's a good beginning. Instead of continuing to float aimlessly down life's fast-moving stream, I've broken out a couple of paddles and started pushing off in my own direction. I have goals! It's amazing what a renewed thirst for life I've developed simply by making some concrete goals for myself.

And I owe it all to my employers at the brewery. Amazing, huh? If you folks didn't already know that beer is gong to save the world, consider this your first piece of evidence. Stone brought back the New Beer's Resolution this year. What this means is that all employees are not only encouraged to keep their new Year's Resolution, but given a monitored system to help accomplish them. Augmented, of course, by the possibility of winning a whole heap of cash if you keep your goals better than anyone else.

To qualify for the program, we have to make significant resolutions pertaining to a specific triad: physical health, intellectual health, and community building.

I'm posting mine here so I can get a little boost from my friends. I need your support! So here's what I need from all three of my devoted readers: if you see me or talk to me on the phone, ask me how my resolutions are going. Ask me if I've been to yoga class lately, or if I ate a healthy dinner tonight...speak to me sternly if you sense some resistance or slipping on my end. Don't be afraid to use expletives.

To help you be more specific in with your encouragement, and to help my own self by having it here staring me in the face, this is the full list of what I resolve to do:

Physical:

• Get my body fat down from its currently inflated icky 26% to 21- or 22% (can I do that in three months?)
• Go to yoga at least once per week
• Do my nebulized medication at least 5 times per week
• Eat a healthy home cooked meal at least twice per week. Lots of veggies!

Intellectual:

• Write at least two blog posts per week
• Write at least two poems per month (this is a lot harder than it looks, people. GOOD poems.)
• Attend each and every gamelan practice every Friday and participate in the concert in April

Community:

• Only buy produce from the local farmer's market, and only organic if possible
• Buy only used clothing, or if it's new, it must be organic/recycled or fairly made/traded
• Walk, ride my bike, or take the bus for short errands
• Get political again. As in become active on a committee or in an organization

I'm serious folks. It's a lot, but I can do it. As of today, I've already gotten off to a good start. I've nebulized two days in a row, I've just written blog post #1 for this week, and I had a very tasty dinner tonight of pasta with 100% organic homemade sauce (even the spices!) made with spinach and tempeh. For dessert I had frozen organic blueberries and soy milk. I feel good! Tomorrow I have a yoga date with two friends. Oh, and I bought some new sneakers last week made with recycled tire rubber and organic cotton and water-based glue and they came in a 100% recycled cardboard box. BOO YA!!

So there you have it! New improved Kathryn on the horizon. Wish me luck! And good luck to all of you in this shiny, happy new year!!

Seattle Snow

I finally got to go back to Seattle last weekend. I adore that city; it’s really grabbed hold of my psyche in a way I can’t quite put words to. Anyone who knows me well knows that I have a special place in my heart for big trees and mountains and water and real seasons, but there’s something more than that going on for me concerning this particular corner of the country.

I was lucky enough to be in the city (all of my northwest friends have relocated to the city proper) during the season’s first snowfall. It was absolutely magical, it really was. The snowflakes were huge and fluffy and because there was almost no wind they were just gently sifting down though the sky in a thick flurry. We first got to see it when we were leaving Brouwer’s--a truly phenomenal beer establishment that definitely prepped us for a magical evening of snowfall. When we walked outside, the snow was coming down thick and fast, and the most beautiful part was that there were searchlights fanning the sky right next door. I cannot describe accurately how gorgeous it was to see these shafts of light weaving through the snowfall; it was like a glittering shower of cosmic space dust all lit up and magnified. Gorgeous!

Then we drove back to S & P’s place and alerted the rest of the household and within minutes most of us were standing outside with big dumb grins on our faces. Since there was still no wind, the snow was piling up in huge fluffy mounds on the branches of the trees. The three-story Victorian house across the street was draped in thousands of Christmas lights that glowed mistily in the snowfall, the streetlight on the corner lit up another show of cosmic dust falling to earth, and the whole neighborhood slowly and quietly turned to smooth white. Magic, I tell you!

The next morning I ran to the front window to see if the magic was still there--it was, but the very first thing I saw was a little dog in mid-crouch on the front lawn, pooping all over our winter wonderland. Ugh. I walked away, waited for dog and owner to clean up and depart, then approached the window again for a fresh look. Much better! Everything was still covered in pure white, and the air was clear and sharp; I just had to go for walk in it. Steve and I took a leisurely but frigid stroll around the neighborhood a little while later. It was like a community exercise--the entire neighborhood seemed to have the same idea. Couples, friends, and families were all out and about, smiling at each other and trying not to slip on the icy sidewalks. Dogs were out in droves, puffing big happy dog breaths into the air. The snow next to the sidewalks was perforated by hundreds of tiny human footprints, kids were toddling around in their snowsuits like colorful midget Michelin men, and as we neared the park, we saw three pre-adolescent girls gleefully running down the street hauling toboggans.

On the way home, we stopped at 5-Spot, my new favorite breakfast place ever. Their hash browns are so good they are just indecent. Honestly. I told Steve the first day we ate there that I didn’t know whether I should have sex with my breakfast or eat it. It was that good. The bathrooms there are also an adventure in artsy-fartsy fun--there are pages torn from a poetry anthology taped all over the walls, including a liberal sprinkling of Allen Ginsberg. A recorded performance of some of the restaurant’s employees reading their poetry plays while you’re in there. I spent way too long in the bathroom reading everything and adding my two cents to the pad of paper on the wall. The final stop on our outing was another of my new favorite places ever: Chocolopolis. They have, in addition to a huge selection of regional chocolates and a very knowledgeable staff, some of the best hot cocoa known to humankind. The first day I tried the Spicy Dark hot chocolate, and on Sunday, the day of our snowy walkabout, I took home a cup of 72% dark chocolate. It kept my hands warm and made my soul sing all at the same time.

Ice and Snowfests

I know that it's easier for me to say this living in Southern California as I do, but I absolutely love winter. I love ice. I love snow. I love how beautiful and transformed ordinary landscapes can become during this season. To celebrate my snow-smittenness, I've collected some unusual icy pics for you. Enjoy.
**special note**if you click on the pictures, they will be more bigger and more prettier

This photo was taken at an ice festival in Finland. Below are some shots from one of my dream destinations: the Icehotel in Sweden.





There is a spectacular Ice and Snow Festival held annually in Harbin, China. One of these decades I'd love to make it there. They build an entire replica city of ice, as well as having ice and snow sculpture contests. You can read more about it and see more photos on R Todd King's excellent blog. Absolutely everything in the photos below, with the exception of people and animals, is ice. Yes, even that big beautiful church, there. It's ice.

Early Christmas Present

My omnipresent medical care issues really came to a head this month. Well, last month, to be precise. My 36 months of COBRA health insurance coverage finally sputtered to an ominous end on November first. Thankfully, because of a federal health insurance law called HIPAA (please don't ask me to elaborate on the acronym), as long as I don't let my coverage lapse for more than 63--yes, 63!--days, they are required to give me insurance even though I have scads of "pre-existing" conditions and most insurers would rather stick their tongue in a light socket than have to cover my medical expenses. Unfortunately, the law does not require that they charge me a reasonable fee...they can charge whatever the hell they feel like, and believe me, they do.

The condensed version of all this nonsense is that I am getting [expensive and kinda lousy] health coverage effective December 15th. But I have been feeling really nasty for almost two weeks now. Nasty as in if-I-don't-take-care-of-this-now-it-could-turn-into-hospitalization kind of nasty. So I finally had to resign myself to the potentially crushing expense and go see the doctor today without insurance. Two wonderful things came of this: one, I'm NOT headed for the hospital (merely getting pumped up on steroids, gack), and two, my doctor, knowing about my health insurance woes and being a staunch liberal pro-socialized-medicine yahoo, told me that he wasn't going to charge me for my exam today. Yes, FREE medical care. He's a pulmonary specialist, you know; it would cost me something like $200 if I had to pay for it myself. Wow. I had to look the other way so that I didn't start crying when he told me that he didn't want me to pay.

To top off all the "It's a Wonderful Life" style feel-goodyness, when I left the doctor's office precisely at 5:05 p.m., just in time for crushing Hillcrest traffic jams, a very considerate driver in the looooooong line of cars in front of me actually stopped to let me out into the queue. So there you have it. Doctors who really DO care, and the plain simple fact that there are nice folks in the world. Merry Christmas.

Video Happyfest

Remember in my election night post that I said that I couldn't recall the last time I cried for being happy? Well, I've been reminded. The last time I cried and smiled at the same time was watching this video. Even though I've seen it several times, it never ceases to make me get all weepy and joyful and convinced that the human race might not just be a bunch of jerks after all. It makes me hope without cynicism or doubt. It just makes me smile in a big sappy goofy way. Watch! (Make sure you click on the high quality button--it's a million times better)

Now THIS is just pure silly cat-rubby happy goodness. You know how cats sometimes are so giddy with affection and excited to see you that they start rubbing all over everything next to them before you can even reach them? This cat takes that and multiplies it by 11. With some stairs.

階段で遊ぶ猫

Devil Corgi Takes No Prisoners

Yesterday, approaching dusk, I took Ken the Dog for a walk. I have really missed walking around my neighborhood--I haven’t done much of that in the past 3 months because I’ve been so busy, or just out of town. I got to see all my neighbors’ lawns still proudly adorned with Obama signs--one with “HOORAY!” scrawled across the top in big Sharpie letters. I got to walk through the Carmelite Monastery’s public yard with its gorgeous sculpted rose gardens and hedges. And I got to see my favorite bumper sticker that reads, “I am Pro-Accordion and I vote!”

Best of all was the brief but fierce encounter with a wee belligerent Corgi. Ken and I were headed up the street when I noticed a woman walking two very stout little Corgis. For those of you not acquainted with the breed, they are extremely short, very stubby, tail-less little dogs with big fox ears. They can be quite cute given the proper context and level of fitness. These two were rather overweight, which just made them comical and sad. One in particular was so round and tubby that it made his abbreviated little legs look even MORE stubbular; they were just tiny furry nubbins poking out valiantly from underneath his fat tummy. Totally ridiculous.

I was just enjoying the spectacle when the particularly stubby tubby one suddenly pulled his leash from his owner's hand and came barreling straight at us. Actually, with his extra girth he couldn't run very fast at all; it was more of a highly accelerated waddle. It was hilarious, watching his floppy galumphing progress toward us. He seemed friendly enough when he reached us; he just stood there staring and seemingly waiting for something. It of course never occurred to me to be frightened of this little tub-dog. But when his owner caught up with him, the moment she took hold of his leash he instantly sprang into action, snarling and growling with his little leg-stubs splayed wide in a stance of angry Corgi intimidation. The woman began earnestly apologizing for his fierce protectiveness while yanking him away, but honestly, I was trying desperately to choke back my laughter the whole time. It was simply the most ridiculous sight ever--this pudgy little stub-dog quivering with indignation and protective rage and having no idea that he looked like a silly caricature of a dog and wasn’t scaring anybody.

Seattle Celebrates our New Leader

President Obama

I am nearly speechless with emotion right now, but not...quite. I volunteered for the No on 8 campaign tonight and barely got over to a celebration party in time to hear our President Elect's speech. What beautiful words! I was overcome several times since the news broke; I am so excited, so hopeful, so filled with joy. I have tears in my eyes while I write this. I cannot remember the last time I cried because I was happy, and I did so several times tonight. I am trying to etch these moments into my memory so I can remember this night forever as a pivotal point in my life in and American history. I was there. I helped make it happen.

Superfun Dress-Up Spookytime

Yay for costumes! I had a particularly fun Halloween this year--my costume turned out pretty nifty, all things considered (like the fact that I couldn’t keep my arm bandages up to save my life), and I got to go bowling. Bowling IN costume. What could be better? What was also great fun was the fact that several people didn’t recognize me at first. In my mind, that means that my costume was really good. I got to dress up for three occasions: bowling on the 30th with other crazed Team Stone folks, to work at the beer factory on Halloween itself, and to my friends’ party later that night. At N & B’s party, my favorite costume was Kiki’s husband, dressed as Joe the Plumber, complete with a tax lien sticking out of his jumpsuit pocket. Awesome.

For a full display of Bride of Frankenstein-y goodness and other silly outfits, check out the 2 photo albums on the Stone website. Make sure you look at the ones from Bowling Night first, and then the Halloween gallery. That way you see things in chronological order, and as far as I’m concerned, my costume was better on Halloween. Bowling was just the dress rehearsal. Be on the lookout for these other really fun pics: Tinkerbell hanging from a tree, a rapper with a super-blingin’ grill, Amy Winehouse, a barely-clothed Olympian swimmer, a giant bottle of beer, and Howard Hughes, complete with facial tissue footwear. Have fun!

Iceland Music Festivus Part the First

As may be expected, way too much stuff has happened in the past 7 days to cram into one easily readable blog post. In the interest of making your reading experience (and my writing experience) less tedious, I'm going to break down my Iceland adventures into several posts roughly according to subject. Please bear with me; since I am not at home yet (I am currently decompressing in the verdant splendor of Vermont) I am currently using a strange computer and things could take a while to get up and running. Don't begin your marathon mope session just yet, kids, a riveting summary of the Icelandic music scene is coming up in mere seconds! Seconds, I tell you! Well, depending upon how fast you read...

As I mentioned in my earlier teaser post, I was in Iceland mainly for the big splendiferous Airwaves music festival. My friend Joe lived in Iceland for a few years a couple of decades ago, and has several good friends there. He has attended Airwaves annually for several years as most of his Icelandic pals are musicians and perform there with happy regularity. We were lucky enough to get to stay in the studio that his friend Valgeir owns--lucky in the sense that it's typically full of other musicians who are there to record--there was one spare room left.

I feel compelled to describe this studio in some detail because it is a thing of beauty. While I haven't spent too much time in recording studios in my lifetime, I do know that they tend to be structures of streamlined functionality. This one, however, is a work of art; a space that is a joy to be in. The main recording space itself (there are two) is an architectural masterpiece of natural light, high sloped ceilings, lots of wood and dynamic angles. The astounding number of cables and wiring are cleverly hidden away, so you are surrounded by nothing but windows and wood and instruments. I wasn't able to take any photographs because people were, well, using it! But if you click on that "studio" link above and then go to "studio tour" you can see some fine pictures of both recording rooms. I also feel compelled to mention that this exact space was where Bjork recorded two of her albums (Vespertine and Medulla). I felt even more elated at being in that space once I found that out. Can you imagine?!

Evenings in Reykjavik were spent running from one venue to another, seeing lots of hot Icelandic musicians in intimate venues, being surrounded at times by crushing crowds, meeting new and interesting drunk Icelanders, and people watching. During the course of the festival I saw over 26 artists play in at least twelve different venues, three of which were bars full of noisy drunk folk, but this mostly didn't interfere with my appreciation of the music. Daytimes were spent rushing up and down Laugavegur (rushing necessitated by the wind and frigid temperatures), the main happenin' street downtown, punctuated by small leisurely interludes at Sandholt, our favorite pastry shop, and watching musicians from Bedroom Community perform "off venue" in small cafes.

Some of my favorite experiences were at the smaller venues--the unofficial performances. These were often in very small coffee houses, bars, music shops, and bookstores, and I was sometimes inches away from the musicians themselves. At one performance I was sitting on the floor and had serious concerns about getting my eye poked out by the lead singer/cellist's bow. These casual shows were less polished but more revealing of the artists' personalities and therefore more fun for me.

My very favorite performance was one in a tiny room next to a bar, crammed with about 25 people sitting on floors, couches, and unused amps, where people were passing around astounding amounts of canned beer to anyone who walked in the door. Sam Amidon was playing (one of the artists from the studio) and he was just crazy silly fun. Sam sings folk songs and shares amusing anecdotes as part of his act, but this particular venue encouraged him to really cut loose. He ended up running around the studio during one of his songs, rolling on the floor and doing push ups while he was singing. At one point his good friend Shazhad rushed in out of nowhere and started playing wild percussion to his antics; it was all spontaneous joyful goofiness. We ended the performance by playing a game where we all had to stand up, and using one hand only, tried to "kill" everyone else in the room around us by poking them in the back. You had to lie on the floor once you were dead...a lot of jumping and shouting and dramatic death throes ensued.

Another highlight was the communal dinner we all had at the studio--about 14 people or so were there; musicians, friends, studio manager-types, and one press guy. It was like when you sit down to eat a big holiday dinner with family only a lot better because everyone got along so well. I was particularly happy because nearly everyone there welcomed me as a friend, instead of a non-musician nobody they didn't want to give the time of day. The press guy at one point remarked at how much like a community this studio was, and how unusual he felt that is in the industry. I can appreciate that, and I found it to be true as well. The main performance of the Bedroom Community folks on Friday night embodied this element of camaraderie and musical fellowship--at a few points during the show everyone from the studio was on stage at the same time, playing and stomping and dancing, jumping up and down, making faces at each other, and the energy they created was this live vibrant thing throbbing in the air all around us.

Two Days in Iceland

Remember how I said that I was going to write a whole separate blog post about my impending trip to Iceland?  Wellllll, here it is!  I've been here for a day and a half so far, but it feels like much longer, and in a very good way.  I was originally saddened and concerned that I was only going to be here for 5 or 6 days, but now I think it will be enough to help me really feel that I've been in another country and experienced a significant slice of it.

I am here as the guest of my good friend Joe, who knows lots of musically-oriented people.  There is an annual music festival called Airwaves that happens here in Reykjavik (the capital) that attracts folks from all over the world.  Most of the featured artists are Icelandic, but there's a good mix of people from many other countries as well.  The best part is that the whole thing is staged in multiple venues around downtown, the majority of which are very small bars or music stores--really great intimate settings to get up close and appreciate the music.  

Some fast facts about Iceland: the total population is about 300,000.  That's it.  Here in Reykjavik, they don't typically use water heaters.  Instead, the city water is piped in from local hot springs--there's tons of geothermal activity here; it's a big volcano, you know.  Sidewalks are constructed from loose concrete squares, underneath which is a lot of sand and the hot water pipes.  This way, the sidewalks stay warm and never get icy in winter.  These loose "tiles" are unmortared so that they can make repairs easily without having to jackhammer a bunch of mortar and concrete out of the way.  Pretty damn nifty engineering.  All the women here are ridiculously good looking, which is very bad for my self-esteem, but I'll get over it.  Also, the national uniform for women under the age of 60 is black leggings and skirts.  I don't blend well at all.

Oops.  Well, I have to run; we're off to downtown on the bus to watch some more shows.  I'll post more soon!!

HOLY CRAP!

Holy *&%$#! is really what you are probably thinking. You thought I had forgotten all about this tiny bloggy niche in internet-land, but I had not. My stress-induced hiatus just got way out of hand. Rather than trying to recap 5 long months of absence, I’ll share some of the more poignant moments of recent history. Hmmmmmm, I’m having a hard time with that “poignant moments” bit...not much in the way of true poignancy has really occurred during the last several months. Egad!

At any rate, I am going to resort yet again to the vehicle that I’ve been imposing on you poor souls for the last several blog posts: a summary!! Here goes: I have a new cat, a new tube in my left ear, a very cool glass bat fan pull on my ceiling fan, a new boyfriend (that may just qualify for poignancy, no?), I had really blue hair for a month and a half, and I’m going to Iceland in two weeks--yes Iceland! Is that enough?

Details: the cat’s name is Rufus--



he is an unholy furry white terror who causes Sylvie great distress, yet is sweet and affectionate and disgustingly cute at opportune moments;my ear feels lots better and was worth the stupid outpatient surgery I had to endure to get the little drainy-tube thingy in there, but my hearing is not as improved as I had thought it would be; the glass bat is very cute as well as functional and was a belated birthday present from my mom; the newly acquired boyfriend-y person is awfully neato and really deserves his own blog entry; my hair was dyed bright blue for a fundraiser, and I really miss it--it looked amazing; and Iceland, well, that needs its own post as well.

There. Boy, am I pooped now. It’s about 8 gazillion degrees here, and I haven’t taken a shower yet because I’ve been diligently plowing my way through the burgeoning piles of paperwork in my tiny house. Paperwork is the bane of my existence, it really is. If I were a superhero (I do have special stain-resisting powers, didn’t you know?) my nemesis would be Form Boy or somebody godawfully intimidating like that (Form Boy, fetch me that pitcher!*). I’m rather pleased with myself, actually. What with working out of town so much and spending the great majority of my free time with aforementioned Boyfriend Person (who is definitely NOT my nemesis), I’ve acquired a staggeringly large amount of unopened mail, paid and unpaid bills, flyers, junk mail, simply tons of crap I don’t need made from defunct trees. Poor trees! So today was the day I attacked the piles and I’ve made a fair amount of headway, but it’s really daunting to note how much further I still have to go after hours spent on the floor with a paper shredder and a letter opener. And I’m all tired and sweaty. Bleagh!
*Guess the movie reference! Win Prizes! Act now!

Today was also the day I got in touch with lots of people who probably thought I’d disappeared to an alternate dimension--I called my friend in Macao (a tiny part of China), emailed some other folks in New Zealand and Denmark, and then emailed and called a few more right here on my own continent. And I even wrote in my blog! Must be the season or something. At any rate, I am comforted to be feeling like a productive member of humanity once again. I’ve missed it.

Persephone

I am back from Hades*. Literally. There is a short explanation that accounts for the long absence from my blog: I was working out of town for two months. The longer version involves subplots of exhaustion, a wild and muddy excursion to Arizona way back in February, several short but repetitive bouts of unwellness, not having internet in my own home, and just general lassitude.

Unfortunately, at this particular moment I am wondering if my time in the real world is up and I’ve been sentenced back to Hades for a season...it is HOT here right now. Yes, I know I live in Southern California, but it’s not supposed to be like this. Not now. The temperature is nearly 90 degrees (definitely more in my upstairs apartment), and I believe that yesterday the humidity level was languishing in the single digits--let me reiterate a sentiment from a previous post when I stated unequivocally that “dry heat” is still perfectly miserable and to be avoided at all costs.

There is one thing today that makes up for my general dissatisfaction for living in this corner of the country: I live in a really cool neighborhood. I am at this very moment sipping on a delicious iced mocha (soy, you betcha) that I procured from the coffee house right around the corner from my humble apartment. This makes my life infinitely better than it was half an hour ago. The young man who made it for me obviously loves his job, and told me that he was doing “just fantastic” despite the fact that he works in a cramped space superheated by a large espresso machine. It was plain to me that he wasn’t being nice because of some corporate/managerial-imposed directive; he honestly just enjoys connecting with people in a genuine way.

I adore living in a community where every business is privately owned (excepting the Starbucks that wormed its way into our lives last year), and many of those business owners live here, too. I can walk to several restaurants, a tiny neighborhood market, a postal/copy store, a pet store, a homemade ice cream place, a small concert venue, a bunch of book shops, several bars, three different cafes; just about anywhere within five to eight minutes. When I’m feeling down it really perks me up to recount the benefits of living right where I do. Next week, for example, Normal Heights (that’s where I live, you know; isn’t that delicious irony?) is hosting its annual Roots Festival, a small music-based street fair that celebrates blues and folk music. And it all happens half a block from my front door.
All in all, I’ve been in a very contemplative mood lately. This has perhaps more than occasionally morphed into a downright funk, but that deserves some real glossing over. Maybe it’s my age; is it too early for a mid-life crisis? How about simply a life crisis? Figuring out what to be when I grow up and finding a meaningful niche in the world for myself is becoming increasingly more urgent and yet more elusive every day. What the hell IS the meaning of life, anyway? Right now, the best I can do to assuage my metaphysical angst is to assure myself that life isn’t a test--no German judge is going to be holding up a score card to dash my spirits if I don’t do it correctly. I’m responsible for my own happiness, right? While I know that I’m not experiencing anything novel as a human being with all this speculation and psychological hand-wringing, writing it down somehow makes it less bleak and imposing.

I suddenly realized that I have failed in a big way to offer any meaningful details about my previously mentioned blog hiatus. I’m thinking that I need to save that for another post. For now, I am content to just stick my toes in the shallow end of my little blog pool and test it out--tomorrow or the next day I will splash on over to the deep end and give you all something a little more substantive to chew on.

*Hades: El Centro, California, a desert town that smells strongly of feedlots and boasts of no cultural diversions more exciting than a huge air-conditioned mall and a drive-in movie theater. They don't even have a roller rink anymore. That was where I was working during all of February and March.

Pretty pictures

I don't have the time (to be truthful, I'm just too lazy) to write a decent blog entry today, but I did finally upload some photos from my recent excursions to Mexico and the snowy Northwest into my flickr account. Go check them out! Just click on that animated badge thingy down there on the right. The one that says, "Pictures! Oh Boy!" Yeah, that! Click away! I even took the time to label and describe the photos--which is precisely why I am no longer interested in writing any more about them now.

I will tell you one logistical detail that is probably not apparent from the pictures--that Mexico trip we took began in Tecate. We drove down and visited several wineries on the way to Ensenada from there and then spent the night in a fancy Best Western with way better decor than they have in the states. And the photo at the top is just a lucky shot; for once I actually captured the intensity of the colors of the twilight sky.

Woe. Whoa. Wo wo wo

(This is starting to sound like a Howard Jones song, no? All you younglings out there will have no idea what that sentence meant--go find somebody old to ask.)

The breaking news is that I still don't have my own internet connection. That's actually fairly old news, but since I didn't bother to tell anybody, it's new to this blog, and therefore, news! At any rate, just over four weeks ago I told Earthlink in no uncertain terms to go to hell. After 6 months of horrible service and being charged double I quit. They still owe me money, but that's another story...what's important to you all here is that I'm fairly unreachable these days except by old-fashioned means--you know, like the telephone or even (gasp) MAIL. As in the kind you have to put stamps on and drop in a big blue box. I have no land line. I have no microwave. I have no internet access. I own a television but I've never watched it. How in the world have I managed to live all these months without regressing to a grunting fur-clad troglodyte? It's a mystery, it really is. Maybe it's only the fact that I don't eat animals that's saved me...you know, there were no vegetarian cavemen. What would they have worn? Potato skins?

But I digress. This was just supposed to be another short update on this convoluted affair that is my life. Here's the rest of the scoop: I'm no longer having any fun. Well, that may be somewhat of an exaggeration (just how much, I'll never tell). But I am home now, and back working my few days a week at the brewery. Without that job I'd be toast, emotionally speaking. I do need to find a real job, however, which continues to elude me--perhaps largely due to the fact that I've only applied for two new positions and my motivation is sorely lacking. Hmmm. One would think that the prospect of not being able to pay my rent would be highly motivating, but that's if you're talking about normal people.

I promise to write again when I have happier things to report and when I actually remember to bring all those photos of my trips over here so I can post them. 'Til then, you will simply have to content yourself with this lackluster herding of verbiage.

Worry No More!

Dearest bloggees, it has come to my attention that certain individuals are suffering from increased stress levels due to my lack of bloggage. I am so sorry. I am alive! I am well! Don't worry one more little minute about my health and welfare. For the last three weeks or so I have simply been spending too much time out doing things to sit down and write about them. Kind of like when you're on an amazing vacation and it's utterly beautiful and thrilling and you are spending so much time enjoying how amazing it is that you don't stop for one second to take photos of all the amazingness. And happily, much of my recent busy-ness has been of the sort that is amazing and fun.

The nutshell version, that I will expand upon later: I have been working a lot more at the brewery, I visited some long-lost friends over the holidays, I spent several days around the changing of the year in Mexico and in El Centro with really good friends, and right now I'm up in Washington reveling in the trees and the rain and the clouds. Busy but happy. This is going to be a good year. You think?

ps: Monica and Steve said hi.

Sheepy

I found this a little while ago on youtube and then forgot to post it. I challenge you to watch this without laughing; it sure makes me happy. It's all about unrestrained joy. And jumping. On beds.

Without further preamble, here you go.

Happy Thingy!

Whatever you are celebrating (or cursing) today, I hope you're having a good time. Light some candles, play with some kids, eat way too much food and watch 20-year old Christmas specials 'til you feel like barfing. What could be more Christmassy than a thick stack of syrup-drenched waffles? To quote a certain claymation dinosaur...

I have several recent and mostly non holiday-related reports for you: I am now a professional musician (by only the tiniest stretch of the imagination), stinky water feels really good, not buying Christmas presents is a soul-freeing and joyous exercise, and dry heat still sucks no matter what anyone else tells you.

This photo is how I looked on Saturday night; I feel it really doesn't look like me at all, which is supported by the fact that two people who know me were at the party and didn't recognize me without my glasses and with all that makeup and other stuff on my head. The occasion was someone's 50th birthday, and two other members of my dance troupe and I were hired as part of the entertainment that night. Since I am in no way good enough to do a solo dance, I just dressed up and played back-up drumbeats while my troupe mates danced some ethnic-y belly dance numbers. There were also three other drummers and a guitarist, all of whom were real professionals. I feel honored that they let me play along with them, and I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed myself. I so very much miss making music with other people. And I even got paid a little bit, which makes me a professional musician, right? Ha. I know that's somewhat of an exaggeration, but it's true enough that it gives my mom bragging rights so she can tout her daughter's successes to all her friends...

Sunday night, Alegra alerted me to the fact that there are hot springs in Jacumba, and that she was going there on Monday and I should go, too. I agreed that this was a fine idea, so yesterday morning four of us set out in her car to the high desert. Jacumba is a quaint (they have sundries! Doesn't that make it quaint?) little town in the mountains just before you drop down that long grade on the 8 freeway. The hot springs turned out to be merely warm on this occasion, but it was a great little place to hang out. Although stinky. The sign on the door to the hot tub claimed that it was "40% sulphur water." It certainly smelled like it, but were the contents of that tub really 40% sulphur? Wouldn't that kill you? Maybe they meant that the mineral content was 40% sulphur. Honestly, I wouldn't know enough about it either way. At any rate, it felt great. The water itself felt weirdly slippery, and it coated our silver jewelry with a changing rainbow of tarnishes, but it was extremely relaxing. We met a middle-aged couple who were originally from Croatia, but now live in Vista. They were both very sweet, excellent conversationalists, and experienced travelers and hikers as well. We all really enjoyed their company, and they may even come to visit me sometime at the brewery. The other guests were a bit more quirky, but that just fit the general atmosphere of the place. The decor was a mix of Mexican pottery, country antiques, giant fake flowers and weird plywood dioramas. But what else would you expect from a spa whose signage looks more well-suited to a cheap all-night diner? It was still a very enjoyable experience-- and the ivy-covered walkway was pretty cool.

After the stinky hot tub, Alegra and Diane and I walked out to the pool and laid out in the sun like lizards on the warm concrete. I actually got too hot, but it felt good compared to the chill of the shade. I had my beach towel draped over my face most of the time, and I noticed the most beautiful phenomenon. When I pushed the towel close to my eyes, the sunlight through the fabric made these shimmery circles of light appear and quiver like ethereal blue and green sequins, like fish scales, like I'm not sure what kind of gorgeous dancing light-refracting underwater-looking phenomenon. I really can't explain it any way that does it any justice at all but it was truly mesmerizing. As a consolation for my inability to convey just how beautiful that was, here's a cleavage shot for you. Alegra felt that my blog isn't sexy enough...

I spent the day today (after visiting all the kitties I am babysitting over the holidays) up at my brother's in-laws' house. I had a fine time, as I usually do. Carmen always cooks enough food to feed the entire state of Arizona, and I did my part to try and help diminish the mountains of edibles, but I don't think I made much of an impact. I came home with a bunch of cookies and these really yummy things that Mona made out of figs, feta cheese, and fresh basil. The small amount of time I spent there not eating I filled with watching the latest Pirates of the Caribbean debacle with Gracie, playing Scrabble, petting the hyper puppydogs, watching Emmy being ridiculously cute, and playing Guitar Hero or whatever that video game is called with Zach. It's actually pretty darn entertaining, as long as you don't really know how to play guitar already. Ken kept complaining that it was messing him up because he was trying to play along with the music. Huh. I think it was a case of sour grapes because I apparently have better eye-hand coordination than him. And my avatar was cuter.

Today was truly a fine day. The only thing that besmirched my mirthful mood was the weather. The Santa Ana winds are in town, and it's hot and dry. Blech. Hot at Christmas! This is just wrong. And the dryness makes it so much more unbearable--I don't care what all those people say about "dry heat!" What's good about your skin itching and your hair being all staticky and shocking innocent animals when you try to pet them? I do agree that summer in the south is a terrible and oppressive thing, having been briefly exposed a few times to the unbreathable, cloying air of North Carolina in August. But just because too much moisture and heat are so nasty doesn't mean in any way that by providing the opposite extreme of humidity that you are making an improvement. They both suck! And heat of any kind is just wrong at Christmas--unless you live in New Zealand. End of rant. To cheer you up a bit, here is the Albert Einstein action figure I discovered at Kiki's house the other day. I thought he'd look more authentic in sepia tones. Isn't he great? He's even holding a tiny piece of chalk so you can pretend to have him scribble quantum physics equations on your wall.
Happy Christmakwanzukkahsolsticeeid thingy to you!

A Restless Wind Inside a Letterbox

I am so positively overwhelmed with joy right now. Yes. I’m not sure exactly from whence this came, but when happiness decides to shower its reckless zig-zaggy light all over you, you would be a fool to question it. So I don't.

However, in an effort to explain, and for those of you who are less impressed by the esoteric machinations of the universe and more inclined to savor cold hard facts, here’s how my morning went: everything went right. Simple as that. I woke up early to take my car to the car-fixing place and get my oil changed, something I have been neglecting for far too long. The mechanic I went to is located exactly one block from one of my favorite coffee houses, Twiggs, so I went there to wait. The time I spent waiting for my car to be finished was more like a gift than a chore. I snuggled down in a dilapidated overstuffed chair, savored a Mexican mocha, and finished reading an amazing book.

Let me tell you about this book: it’s about a mouse. It’s a children’s book-- technically speaking. I think far too many grown-ups are robbing themselves of some of the greater joys in life by avoiding books with pictures in them. This was a true beauty of a book. It's called The Tale of Despereaux. About a mouse, like I said, but what a great little mouse he was--a small quivering hero of a mouse, a poetic little mouse with a love of romance and art. The language of the book is sheer golden wonderment to read. Truly, it’s beautiful. I am happy that I am not the kind of person who feels self-conscious reading children’s literature in public. You should try it sometime; it’s liberating. Being a grown-up is so often utterly boring and unrewarding that you really ought to put more effort into being childish. This is one of my most cherished philosophies in life. When people tell me that I am like a little kid (as I approach my fourth decade in life) I don’t take it as any kind of insult or negative criticism--no matter how they intended it. I think some people might be jealous, as rooted in their stalwart grown-upness as they are. What a shame. Go swing on the swings! Stick your tongue out at a coworker. Laugh in public for no earthly reason. It’s not that difficult to shed the confines of adulthood, and I highly recommend it.

At Twiggs, I also had the extreme coincidental luck (if you believe in that) to sit down next to an anthropology student who is studying under the tutelage of my brother-in-law. Archaeologists revolve in such small circles that this doesn’t surprise me in the least. We had a very friendly chat about the perils and the joys inherent to the profession of archaeology before I went back to my mouse book so she could finish her presentation. After I picked up my car (it sounds so happy now!), I stopped at Henry’s to pick up two things and of course bought over twenty. They had my favorite green juice on sale! Bliss, I tell you. And then, to top off all my successes of the early day, every single traffic light on the way home was green, except one. And then I was only stopped there for about six seconds. My trip home was such a fast easy breeze it seemed like I got there in no time at all. In fact, I believe I actually got home before I left.

Deep Thoughts by Lola Fitzgerald

Some ruminations on highway signage and language conventions: what’s up with “City Limits” and the perceived menace of landscaping? To elaborate, when approaching the end or beginning of a city, roadside signs tend to say something like “Blubbersville City Limit,” which I find to be perfectly reasonable--I mean a far as the word usage goes; I'm not so sure about the town of Blubbersville. It sounds like a very silly (or full of whale fat) place to live. So anyhow, in contrast to the signs, people in conversation or even in writing nearly always refer to city limits. Plural. This makes no sense. How can you have more than one limit to something? If you have more than one, then the first one really wasn’t a limit at all, now, was it?! A pre-limit? A probational limit that hasn't gotten it's official license to limit things yet? Hmpf.

And then there is my constant bafflement at the highway institution’s insistence that landscaping is something to be afraid of. If we have nothing to fear from artificially arranged vegetation, then what is with all those orange signs by the side of the freeway warning us direly that there is “LANDSCAPING AHEAD.” ??! Well, thank god they also have the follow-up signs letting you know when you can stop clenching the steering wheel in a death grip and begin breathing normally again--you know, the signs that say “END OF LANDSCAPING.” Whew! I always feel so much better knowing that my life is no longer in immediate danger from a bunch of hooligan shrubbery and misguided ground cover...

My last observation of the day is completely non-philosophical; it's pure amusement wrought by some poor well-meaning Christians whose attempts to spread holiday cheer went horribly awry. But in a really funny way. When I work at the brewery, I always drive south on the 15 to get home. As you go down the hill leading to Via Rancho Parkway, by Lake Hodges, there is a house all decked out in lights with their roof proclaiming in six-foot high letters “JESUS IS BORN.” Or at least, that’s what they are trying to say. Because of the angle of the roof, or perhaps due to something blocking part of the last word, it looks like it is telling you “JESUS IS PORN!” I’ve driven by it over seven times now and it never fails to make me laugh out loud and dissolve into a five-minute bout of snickering. Those poor people. If I didn’t have so much fun reading that every night on my way home, I’d find their house and tell them about the corruption of their spiritual message. I’m sure they’d be appalled. But honestly, they should be proud, and take heart in the fact that they are spreading good cheer and joy during this holiday season, albeit in rather a different way than they originally intended.