a blog challenge for 2009

i am to blog every day in December. lacking literary motivation, i've decided to accept the challenge....

December 1 Trip. What was your best trip in 2009?

This one's easy. We spent Easter week in Los Cabos Mexico. A good friend of mine has a place there and invited

us to stay. Talk about your no-brainers. It happened to fall on my 51st bday week as well, so this was an added bonus. For those who haven't been to Cabo, I would recommend it whole-heartedly. But understand, Los Cabos is not all there is to the peninsula. Los Cabos is the 'hub' yes, but translated, this also means it's tourist central. It's quite honky tonk, fairly tacky, and full of bars and restaurants and tacky souvenir shops. While it is beautiful and fun, after a few days you may long for something a tad more relaxing. My friend lives in San Jose Del Cabo, the county seat of Los Cabos at the far end of of BCS (Baja California Sur). SJDC is a far more charming, low-key, slower paced paradise. Close enough to all the attractions, but far enough away from the hub-bub that you're able to breathe in all the beauty and culture they have to offer. Combining old Mexican charm w/ fabulous architecture steeped in history, there is simply no better way to unwind. We went diving w/ sea lions, went deep sea fishing for tuna (which we turned into sushi that afternoon/evening) and learned there are many many brands of tequila yet untasted. We learned how to play Mexican train and ate the best carne asada of our entire lives. When you fell asleep @ nite you actually could hear the windows rattling w/ the roar of the surf below. So...have I got your attention yet? If you getta chance to visit Cabo? Run, do not walk. And head for San Jose Del Cabo. You won't be sorry.

13 Questions

1) What is your favorite word?
i have many, but i'm going with cacophony

2) What is your least favorite word?
the C word that rhymes w/ runt

3) What turns you on?
a man w/ a sense of humor that knows his way around a kitchen

4) What turns you off?
disrespect/rudeness

5) What is your favorite curse word?
clusterfuck

6) What profession other than your own would you most like to try?
i want that woman's job on the travel channel that just goes around trying out hotels and restaurants all over the world. i don't know her name and i don't care. i just want her job.


7) What profession other than your own would you least like to try?
Toss up between elephant corral cleaner and running a country.

9) What is your least favorite food?
octopus or anything w/ those sucker cup thingies

10) What do you mostly do in any spare time?
write/take photographs/read

11) What is the oldest thing in your refrigerator?
a jar of tahini

12) Dogs or Cats? and why?
dogs cuz they come when you call them

13) Truck or Sports car and why?
Truck cuz i haul stuff and need to be high

its all about courage...

Watch your thoughts; they become words.

Watch your words; they become actions.

Watch your actions; they become habits.

Watch your habits; they become character.

Watch your character;
it becomes your destiny.


supposedly a quote from some guy named Frank Outlaw. who allegedly is CEO of some supermarket chain? i dunno for sure. i just liked what it said.

i have always been a major film hound. i just love watching movies. dramas, comedy, mystery, action, bio-pics, you name it. (if you haven't checked out netflix yet, you so should)

i know alot about alot of films. from the 1970's on up. notsomuch however, about older films. and next to nothing about many so-called 'classic films'.

to that end, i have decided recently to try and catch some of the 'classics' to see what the hub-bub is all about. after all, i can't become a film snob can i? if i'm going to be a movie buff, shouldn't i know something about alot of films?

lately, i've been watching more and more of Turner Classics (TCM) and American Movie Channel (AMC). over the past few weeks i've been able to catch quite a few of the well known b&w favorites as well as a few classics shown in that cinema oddity called 'technicolor'.

all i can say is oh....my....god.... the humanity. by and large? i've gotta say these films suck!

'the yearling'? with gregory peck and jane wyman (before she married a future u.s. president?) was painful for me to watch. granted, it was made in 1946, but that in no way excuses such awful acting. i'm telling you it was like watching a SNL skit instead of a classic american movie. the little boy that wants to raise this fawn he finds? oh dear god, i wanted to put needles into my eyes rather than have to listen or watch this kid. oddly enuf, he did work once or twice again in his career, but never reached any real success. (gee whatta shock)

then i watched 'gone with the wind'. ok, who besides me, wants to beat the living crap out of scarlett? i cannot believe so many people love this film. yes, clark gable did a great Rhett. but the majority of the other actors in this film must have majored in over-acting. this film won 8 oscars! one of which went to vivien leigh, so evidently someone loved her scarlett. i find this stunning. and they gave an oscar to hattie mcdaniel? ok, groundbreaking african american roles aside, was it really worthy of an oscar? maybe for onscreen airtime, i dunno. i'm sure hattie was a very nice woman, but an oscar winner? i prefer to think it won so many oscars as there was just far less real competition back then.

i've always liked audrey hepburn, but had never seen 'breakfast at tiffany's'. also watched that over the weekend. sorry, but i don't get it. what is the big friggin deal here people? yes, holly golightly was one wacky and zany girl. poor thing had trouble getting out of her own way sometimes, and thank goddess for men like george peppard who are able to see past her quirks and love her anyway. and what was the deal w/ patricia neal? were we to believe Paul was her gigolo? and if so, then why tip toe around it like they did? sigh...

i guess i just expect more from these 'classic films'. i mean, 'the wizard of oz' is an old classic i can watch over and over. i loved 'to kill a mockingbird'. they don't all make me want to shoot my television. so i'll continue to forge ahead and catch them when i can.

as some of you may already know, i am addicted to the obituaries. it's the first (and sometimes only) section of the newspaper i read.

recently, i read a memorial posted for my 3rd grade teacher. emma schwartzsteen was 87 years old, which means when i had her as a teacher, she was only in her mid 40's. gadz. i just assumed she was much older. i remember she had a very furry face and wore this red lipstick that would bleed into the dark peach fuzz on her upper lip. she wore face powder that would glisten in the sun. so not only did she sport a moustache but if the light was right, her top lip sparkled. :) it was a bit scary, but you couldn't really see it unless you were up close. i liked miss schwartzsteen. she was very nice to me as i was one of her best students. i should mention here, i grew up trenton, nj attending very inner-city public schools. excelling was not exactly difficult. i was typically teachers pet thruout my gradeschool years. my first grade teacher was ms. watson. she got divorced then she re-married and became mrs. ozenbaugh. she loved me. she had this fabulous southern drawl that she never lost, even tho she lived in nj like the rest of us. and when the boys would act up? mrs. ozenbaugh would take them by the ear and walk them to the back of the room where she'd make them put their head down on a desk for a time out. truly. she would pull them by their ear and walk them to the back. it was great. she had curly fire red hair, and always wore matching jewelry. necklace, earrings and bracelet, always in the same pattern, always matching her outfits. when i was in the 5th grade, mrs. ozenbaugh was shot by her ex-husband. her murder made the front pages of every newspaper. i wanted to go to the funeral, but my mom wouldn't let me. in the 6th grade, we had a first year teacher. our class was very out of control and she could not handle us (them). boy, was she out of her element. she cried every single day, right in front of us. she suffered a nervous breakdown and left 3 months into the school year. she was replaced by a teacher whose name was bob stretch. (no lie) nobody liked mr. stretch. we almost gave him a nervous breakdown as well, but he hung in there. he was more strict obviously, and eventually, he whipped us (them) into shape. when i was in the 9th grade, i remember walking to jr. high and a car kept honking; a male voice kept calling my name. it was mr. stretch. ugh. he icked me out and i pretended not to hear him. he followed me slowly in his car for over a block! totally creeped me out. i guess he always creeped me out, but by then i had boobs and everything so his intentions were crystal clear. (at least to me)

in high school not alot changed. i was editor of both the school newspaper and yearbook so i had alot of free reign. my sophomore english teacher was a curmudgeonly old man by the name of hyman yudewitz. (swear to god i am not making that name up either) he was a vegan with snow white hair. he did not believe in perfumes/chemicals and never wore deodorant. he wore one shirt for the entire week. he usually smelled pretty bad and everyday wore suspenders and polyester loafers. (where he got those i'll never know but i swear, they were fabric loafers) my friend wanda once put thumbtacks on his chair and he sat on them. his butt literally flew up off his chair. we about peed our pants it was so funny. we're talking 10th grade here. mr. yudewitz was not amused. we never saw him get so angry. his face got very red and he had blue eyes. with the white hair he reminded me of the american flag. having said all this, hymie must have had a special place in his heart for me. he entered a few essays of mine into a local literary magazine publication and I won first place as well as second AND third. it was almost suspicious, but if you could have read the other entries, you'd understand. i still have the savings bonds that the junior contemporary club awarded me for winning. what exactly is a jr. contemporary club anyway?

i often wonder if i had to do my school years over again, would i do anything differently? would you?

my first kiss...

it was the summer of my 14th year (yes, i know. major late bloomer here...) i was fairly tall for my age, and truly 'one of the guys'. ironically, i think this put most boys off. i was like everybody's way kewl sister, not somebody they wanted to necessarily lock lips with. we had a house @ the jersey shore, and that's where i'd spend my summers. kay and al, a couple who lived across the street, had this absoutely adorable 16 year old nephew who lived in jersey city. jimmy would visit about once or twice a month, and i was in major like. he had long brown hair that always hung in his gorgeous blue eyes. he was tall and lanky and needed to shave his chin probably once a week at least! he smoked, and i loved the way he exhaled out of the side of his mouth. due to high tides, houses at the shore are built up on "stilts" -- a good 8-10 feet between ground level and the houses. people would put little storage sheds under there. it was a great place to store lawn chairs and boating/beach paraphanalia. unless of course, the house was not yet sold, in which case it was just unused space for teenage kids to hide out in and suck face.
i remember one minute, we were just sitting on the dock of the bay (really, we were) and the next minute he took my hand and was leading me under the house. (why he could not just plant one there on the dock i never understood...) with butterflies the size of buicks, i followed my prince. his breath smelled of cigarettes and his cool beard i loved so much was now just a pain in the ass. after a minute or two he said..."what, are your arms broken"? except with a jersey city accent. for those of you who do not know, jersey city is to new jersey what brooklyn is to new york. accents so thick you can cut them w/ a knife. his question came out more like...'wutter yer ahms brokun"? it was only then i realized both my arms were hanging flat at my side like two wet noodles. limp and lifeless. i had no idea what i was supposed to do with them either. remember, this was my first time "evuh" making out. i tried to do like they did in the movies. i clumsily wrapped my arms around his neck, but after a while that became uncomfortable. he was tall and i felt the blood draining from my arms. then i entwined them around his waist, but that just seemed too girley and barbie like. i decided to compromise and settled on his mid-back area. he was a hard kisser and i remember having to move my face alot so i could breathe thru my nose.

i should mention here, that i never saw jimmy again after that. he simply stopped visiting his aunt and uncle. suspicious? i think not...

i prefer to think i ruined him for all other women...

like a fine wine...

Apples and Wine

women...

Women are like apples on trees. the best ones are at the top. most men don't want to reach for the good ones. they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. instead, they sometimes take the apples from the ground that aren't as good, but are easy. the apples at the top think something is wrong with them. in reality, they are amazing. they just have to wait for the right man to come along, the one who is brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.

now men....

men are like a fine wine. they begin as grapes, and it's up to women to stomp the shit out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with.

HA!

stop whining america!

(loosely based, and courtesy of craig smith)

i was reading newsweek magazine and came across some info I found hard to believe. but it's newsweek, so i like to give it @ least some credence...

newsweeks poll alleges that 67% of Americans are unhappy with the direction the country is headed. 69% of the country is unhappy with the performance of the president.

in essence two thirds of us just ain't happy and want a change.

then, i starting thinking, ''what are we are so unhappy about?'' our electricity and running water 24/7? is our unhappiness the result of having a/c in the summer and heat in the winter? could it be that by and large, most of these unhappy folks have a job? maybe it is the ability to walk into a grocery store at any time and see more food in moments than Darfur has seen in the last year? maybe it's the ability to drive from the pacific ocean to the atlantic w/o having to show ID as we move through each state? maybe it's the choice of all the motels along the way that can provide temporary shelter?

i guess having thousands of restaurants with cuisine from around the world is just not good enough. when we wreck our car, emergency workers show up and provide services to help all involved. rich or poor they treat your wounds and if necessary, get you to hospital.

perhaps you are one of the 70 percent of Americans who own a home. you may be upset to know that in case of fire, a group of trained firefighters will appear to put out the fire, thus saving you, your family and your belongings. you might hate knowing that while watching your flat screen TVs, if god forbid, a burglar intrudes? an officer with a gun and bullet-proof vest will come to defend your family. this all in the backdrop of a neighborhood free of bombs or militias raping and pillaging the residents. where 90 percent of teenagers own cell phones and computers. how about the complete religious, social and political freedoms we enjoy, that are the envy of everyone in the world? is that what has 67 percent of us unhappy?

fact is, we are the largest group of ungrateful, spoiled brats the world has ever seen. no wonder the world loves the U.S. , yet has a great disdain for its citizens. they see us for what we are. the most blessed people in the world who do nothing but complain about what we don't have , and what we hate about the country instead of thanking the heavens that we live here.

i know, i know. what about the president who took us into war and has no plan to get us out? the president who has a measly 31 percent approval rating? the same president who guided the nation in the dark days after 9-11. the president that cut taxes to bring an economy out of recession? could this be the same guy who has been called every name in the book for succeeding in keeping all the spoiled brats safe from terrorist attacks? the commander in chief of an all-volunteer army that is out there defending you and me? GW may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he is our president.

make no mistake about it. as unhappy as i am that we are at war, the troops in Iraq and Afghanistan volunteered to serve, and in many cases may have died for your freedom. there is currently no draft in this country. they didn't have to go. they are able to refuse to go and end up with one of several different military discharges. do the research.

why then the flat-out discontentment in the minds of 67 percent of Americans?

i blame the media. 'if it bleeds it leads' and they specialize in bad news. everybody will watch a car crash with blood and guts. how many will watch kids selling lemonade at the corner? the media knows this and media outlets are for-profit corporations. they offer what sells , and when criticized, try to defend their actions by "justifying" them in one way or another. freedom of press indeed...shame on them.

ask why they tried to allow a murderer like O.J. to write a book and do a TV special about how he didn't kill his wife, but if he did...? this is insane.

stop buying the negative venom you are fed everyday by the media. shut off the TV, burn newsweek, and use the ny times for the bottom of your bird cage. then start being grateful as a country.

there is exponentially more good than bad.

we are the most blessed people on earth. remember that.

recently i realized i have blogged (ranted) twice now about that semi-sandra can't cook a thing woman, when who i should be blogging about is my idol ina garten.

there's something just so appealing about her. first of all, she lives in this fabulous house in the hamptons (duh) and she likes to cook and entertain. just like me. she eats and drinks alot. just like me. and she apparently has a slew of gay friends. also just like me. she could stand to lose more than a few pounds. just like me. so, aside from being obscenely rich, and living in a faboo house in the hamptons, i could conceivably BE ina garten. or at the very least, blend in really well at any function of hers.

she has this semi-devilish little chuckle that just kills me. like she knows who ate the canary but she ain't tellin. and she has all these fabulous cocktail recipes that almost always involve a blender with fresh fruit and fattening ingredients. she has these gorgeous grounds with beautiful gardens and killer herbs growing all over. i'm telling you, i could die there.

and let's not forget her cherubic husband jeffrey. they are just so in love and cute together. he works at an ivy league university and is usually gone all week, returning home on weekends only. hello? do i have to even go into why this is a good thing? clearly, the relationship is working for them.

if there was a cable channel that was all ina all the time, i would sign up in a ny minute. she's like watching i love lucy. i could watch over and over again and enjoy each like it's the first time i'm seeing it.

yup. ina rocks. and now i must go. her show is on. :)

Sisters on the Fly

i'm a member. "Sisters on the Fly", sister #607 reporting for duty.

a few years ago i saw a segment on the travel channel about this womens camping group. i was immediately intrigued and said, "if i should disappear in the near future, contact these ladies. they'll know where i am."

"Sisters On the Fly" is the brainchild of two real sisters who dreamed up the idea while camping/fishing on a river in Montana. now, with a membership of over 600 women, these creative vagabonds load up their newly-adorned trailers and head off camping around the U.S.

vintage trailers (from the 50's and 60's and then some) would often be tossed, but the sisters give them new life with retro interiors and elaborate western motif. they are absolutely fabulous, truly deserving of the term 'cowgirl caravan'. their trailers become their hobbies, and soon, their "children", with assorted themes and names like 'whiskey ho', 'mountain mama' and 'prairie princess'. here, women have found a place to build solid friendships and share their passions. their restored trailers are traveling billboards for western outdoor fun. they trade martini recipes and shopping tips. they organize things like 'cowgirl college' and sponsor river rafting trips. i've already rode the rapids, but roping a cow? the SOTF motto is "we have more fun than anyone". who wouldn't want to be a part of something like that? joining this group was for me, a total no-brainer.

the mission statement of SOTF is, "offering empowerment and sisterhood through exceptional outdoor adventures." online message boards finds the sisters engaging in high tech trailer reconstruction, as well as plumbing and electrical dialogue. make no mistake. no girley girls here. these are not your june cleaver moms.

members come from as far away as Virginia, Texas, California and yes, even New Jersey, to participate in the Cowgirl Caravan.

www.sistersonthefly.com

roadside finds

can someone explain to me please, this mystery i call roadside porn? if you bear with me here a minute, you'll understand where i'm going. remember when you were a kid? that's when you first started noticing, remember? just driving down the road, or a bike ride or even just a casual walk. and there, in the gutter, or crumpled under a bush, is a magazine fulla naked people. you'd come to learn this was called pornography. yes boys and girls, you found the mother of all magazines. you found PORN! and it always seems to just scream porn ya know? all you'd see is like pages of beige flesh blowing in the wind. a boob here, a butt crack there. and there's always a few pages that are all gross and stuck together. we won't even go to the why for's of that little nugget.

i always wondered why/how this magazine got there...i mean, what scenario takes place exactly? you're driving down the road, fat dumb and happy, and there it is. all alone, cold and left blowing in the wind. sandwiched between a crushed diet coke can and some tangled fishing line. how'd it get there? was there some enraged wife, beating her husband over the head w/ it as he tries to drive home one night? "what is in the back seat huh? is this what you do on your lunch hour every day you pervert?" and whoosh! out the window it goes. anybody know the price of porn these days? it ain't cheap kids. trust me, you see your brand new 'hugs with jugs' mag get tossed out the passenger window? you are one sad cowboy...

for whatever reason, as you got older, the curbside porn sightings would become fewer and far between. i mean, there would still be sightings, but nothing like the good old days. where you could stumble across one on your way to public school and share it with the closest safety patrol geek. HA! that was one day you were hands down, THE most popular kid @ school. as you grew older, the magazines took a drastic downward spiral and in stead of glossy disgusting porn, it was more readers digests or harriet carter catalogs.

today, in our typical observance of the sabbath, my family decided to make the bi-monthly sams club journey. one of those obnoxious shopping warehouses? what can i say? we were running low on pallets of paper towels and cases of kleenex. when what to my wandering eyes does appear? but an 8x10 shiny paged pornographic publication, stuck between the blood clot of shopping carts. unable to curtail my glee, i blurted out..."look! free porn!"

as soon as the words left my mouth, i realized i had made a huge mistake. this one of those odd-ball days. the type of day when there was nothing better for her to do. our 15 year old daughter had joined us on our road trip today. ooooh, this was not good...

but take heart, said daughter is quicker than i give her credit for. she glances sideways at my 'find'? looks away and says most disinterested and almost amused at her mothers stupidity..."uh mom? that's a store flyer. those are carrots"

without skipping a beat, being certain to make zero eye contact, i responded, "i knew that".....

today i had an email waiting for me in my inbox from AARP.

what exactly is up with that?

ok, maybe i do like to wear a sweater around the house. alot. and maybe there is a wad of tissues in the pocket. (yes, always clean) perhaps i do forgo the spiked heels and slip on a pair of flats a little more than i used to. there might be a classical cd or two in my car right now... and yes. i have caught myself calling my husband Dad instead of something less paternal. i do go out to get the mail in my jammies and slippers sometimes. (now there's a fetching look yes?) but in my defense, i live in the country on 3 acres so it's not like a buncha people see me. i'd be lying if i said that more often than not, i prefer soup and a salad to a 'real' dinner. ok, maybe sometimes i'm eating dinner before the sun goes down, but hell, any good machine runs better if you don't let the fuel tank run low, am i right? lately, i have been going to bed before my fifteen year old daughter...

ok. nevermind.

but wait. isnt' the legal age of senior citizens supposed to be 60 or something? even @ 55 they are way off here. the rise of my jeans is still way above my undies. i still wear make up and do my hair girlie when i leave the house. my teeth are all my own, and let's just say, my friend martha still visits me just like clockwork every stinking goddamn month whether i invite her miserable ass or not!

sigh... sorry. went off on a small tangent there. now where was i?

why can't i remember? where are my glasses?

i'm going to take my ginko now...

**editor note: today i received SNAIL MAIL from AARP!!!! aaarrrgh

for those of you who don't know, jamie lee curtis has hung up her acting shoes (whatever those are) and has been writing childrens books instead. the books are actually quite sweet, with fabulous illustrations. JLC has two children of her own, and evidently, her son has some learning disabilities that prompted her to write a few down to earth books for children that really speak to kids instead of at them.

she has also given much credit to her circle of female friends who have been her touchstone throughout milestones in her life. the poem below is hers. i decided to share it since i have so many female friends for which i am very grateful.

Ode To Women

If indeed it's a race, then the chicks do the most
It isn't a brag, or an estrogen boast

It's the women who've led me, with big open hearts
If not for their love, I'd have failed at the start

And it's not just the mothers,
I speak of them all
It's a woman there first, when somebody falls

The multi of tasking, that's easy to tease
I dare a great man to try it all, Please!

So this is my shout out, my rallying cry
To women all over, I hold you up high

And tho there are others who'll think this poem strange

It's the women who plant the root of big change.

*jamie lee curtis

don't toss it--freecycle it!

today is trash day in our neighborhood, and it got me to thinking. we live in a fairly affluent area (the irony here is that we are poor as church-mice; thank goddess for inheritance) the things i see people put out on the curb every week make me cringe. i am one of five children, and growing up, we wasted NOTHING. the third of five, i was raised in hand-me downs, and my mother could stretch an .89 cent can of canned salmon -ugh- into a salmon loaf that would feed seven people. (yes it was gross nasty, but that's not my point) society today is spoiled, we get bored and simply toss things in the trash to buy newer prettier things. the babies outgrow their baby strollers/walkers, and out on the curb they go. the kids no longer play school instruments or sports, so out they go too. the cat ran away w/ the spoon, and the litter box ended up on the curb. hell, my mom did it with all of us and she was a saint. i'd love to know what happened to my barbies. and i had the VERY FIRST ONE! with the ponytail, earrings and striped bathing suit? thanx mom. anyway, a couple years ago i discovered FREECYCLE.ORG. founded by some guy in arizona i think, it's a yahoo based group. if you have not yet checked it out, i suggest you do so. it's a great idea to donate your old stuff and often? find stuff you did not even know you needed. yes, it's a give and take sorta thing. nothing goes to waste in freecycle world. and our landfills are all the better for it.

all you have to do is believe in the four R'S

1. RE-THINK DIFFERENT USES
2. RE-USE
3. REDUCE WASTE IN LANDFILLS
4. RECYCLE

or FREECYCLE

if you stop and think, most items have more than one use. this can save a lot of money along the way. there is precious little in this world that can not be put to use in some other fashion. the arts and crafts that are made out of complete junk boggles the mind-- and often, fattens the wallet.

so next time you've go

a writing prompt...

for those of you unfamiliar...here's the original:

Jack and Jill went up the hill
To Fetch a pail of water
Jack fell down and broke his crown
And Jill came tumbling after

now the truth is, that jack and jill honestly and truly did go up that hill. as dumb as that sounds, it's the truth. thing is tho, they went up MANY hills, not just the one. jack refused to listen to jill who KNEW they were lost. she tried dropping a few hints; one when they passed by that ridiculous house where hansel and gretel almost got baked. (who ever heard of a roof made of thatched straw anyway?) another time, when they came to that forest where the trees threw their own apples at the kids. (how weird was that?) jill found the trees so rude, she decided to steal one of the pails she found hanging. jack, being a guy, refused to ask directions, and was convinced jill knew nothing about the forest. much to jill's chagrin, he blazed his own trail, and now they were lost.

which in itself would not have been a huge deal were they not in dire need of something to drink. jill's allergies were acting up, and the assorted flora and fauna of the past few hours was really wreaking havoc w/ her sinuses. she tried those 'fast-melt' allergy tablets. the kind where you don't need water? bull hockey. that sucker was firmly lodged in jill's larynx. it wouldn't come up and it certainly was not going down. least not on it's own. hence they better find some water, and fast.

finally, they came upon a crystal clear stream. upon closer inspection of the afore mentioned pail however, jill decided it was none too sanitary. she dropped down, face first, and started to drink. her slurping was the first sounds jack had heard her utter for hours. usually he welcomed her silent treatments, but this was not one of those days. the only thing worse than hiking w/ a friend who never stopped talking, was hiking w/ a friend who stops talking.

another mitigating factor here, was that jack was still smarting from his visit to the dentist the day before. the temporary dental work he received felt like a huge buick lodged in his molar and he could not wait for the permanent work to be done. on the way back down one of the hills tho, jack tripped over his manolo blahnik tassled loafers, and broke his temporary crown. his dentist would not be happy. neither was jack, as his HMO had some ridiculous life-time limitations on cosmetic dentistry.

jill however, her thirst quenched, allergy pill finally doing it's job, took a sadistic sense of glee away from jack's misfortune. rather than flat-out laugh in jack's face however, she decided to throw herself down the hill like a child. as she tumbled head over teacup, down the rolling hill, she could not wipe the smile from her face.

did'ja ever wonder?

air1 [lair] –noun

1. a den or resting place of a wild animal: The cougar retired to its lair.

2. a secluded or hidden place, esp. a secret retreat or base of operations; a hideout or hideaway: a pirate's lair.

3. British. a place in which to lie or rest; a bed

an online friend recently asked about my 360 title 'vankalen's lair'. it's never ocurred to me that it would need explanation, but i guess i forget we're not all personally acquainted here.

my daughters name is kalen. when she was born, the entire free world wanted to call her katelyn. i would constantly correct people, saying..."no, not KATE. there is no T. it's KALEN. prounced like van halen, but w/ a K"?

honestly, even then, not everybody understood. unless you liked rock and roll, a van halen reference just muddied things up.

years ago, when i first got online with evil AOL, they had little profile pages that you could create for yourself. i called mine 'vankalens lair'. just a place i would go to write, tell about myself, or vent. fast forward 10 years or so, and you can't swing a wet cat w/o tripping over a blog. i decided to continue the tradition and call my 360 'vankalen's lair'.

so there. hope this clears things up for everyone. :)

guys are so weird...

over the weekend, i made a change to the bathroom. for months and months, i have been looking for a new toilet seat. this one was the original that came w/ the toilet, and after years of it slamming down and/or having kids stand on it to reach stuff in the cabinet over the commode, it was looking a bit tired. the toilet is gray, so my mission was more difficult than anticipated. it was absolute hell finding a gray toilet seat. eventually tho, i was able to find one on ebay (big surprise) and it arrived a few days ago. after installing the new seat, my husband comes back into the kitchen holding up the old one. i looked @ him puzzled, as i could not imagine what his plan was. "do you want this for anything"? he asked.

sigh...

now call me crazy, but i found this to be a supremely absurd question. (and by the way ewwww) why, in all that is holy, would i want a used toilet seat? is there a lot of call for this kinda thing? could i wipe it down and call it jewelry? pop-art? a picture frame perhaps?

i mean jeez....

splish splash can i please take a bath?

it occurred to me recently how positively underrated showers are. I can be having just a so-so kinda day. nothing special, no real motivation for anything more arduous than brushing my hair, you know the feeling. but, take a shower, and voila! I am a new woman. and do not even get me started on bath-time. remember when you were a kid? constant fights w/ your parents..."take a bath? but i just took one last nite"...."did i take a bath yet? why, is one missing?" it was hell for my mother. bottom line? bath-time rocks. when is the last time you took a properly relaxing bubble bath? I suspect many of you are having trouble remembering.

Today's Daily Indulgence? the ultimate bath. i couldn't agree more...

**Here's what you need for the ultimate bath:

A clean bathtub (this is crucial)
Some candles
A favorite bubble mix or expensive bath salts (palmolive doesn't count)
A clean fluffy towel -- right out of the dryer is always nice
Bonbons and/or a lovely glass of wine (or 2)
Fragrant lotion to rub on afterward.

hit the bath just before bed, in the hopes that you'll have the fewest disturbances -- because Mama should not be disturbed. and as everybody knows, if Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy!

how kewl is this?

ON DEATH & DYING

a friends blog recently spoke of his affinity for cemeteries. feeling kindred spirits, i too decided to share. i have always been fascinated with death and dying. i realize that sounds morbid and strange, but i believe it to be neither. everyday, the first thing i read in the newspapers is the obits. i have done so since i was a kid. when i was 12, my godmother died, hours after giving birth to my "cousin". after the baby came, i remember bugging my mom to go visit them at the hospital. she declined, saying we'd go in a day or two, when they were both home and comfortably on their feet etc. this obviously did not happen, and the next time i saw my godmother was at the funeral home. my first. a year or so later, a 13 year old neighbor died when she was hit by a car. my second. in high school 3 of the 4 of our group lost their moms to cancer. a year later, the 4th of our group lost his mom when her car was hit broad-side. since then, i have had the misfortune of attending countless funerals. i have lost so many that were near and dear to me. a friends uncle recently died, and i was surprised to learn that this was her very first funeral. can you imagine? almost 40 years old and never losing anybody you cared about? what a sweetly naive concept. two days ago i attended the funeral of a landlord we had back in the early 1980's. sue was a very active 88 years old and was water skiing just last summer. thruout her life, she had visited all but two continents. the woman was an inspiration and the packed little church served as testimony to how many broken hearts she left behind. a week seldom goes by where i don't know at least one person who has left this world. i read obituaries of complete strangers and wonder why they died. i slow down at cemeteries when i see limo's and hearses, feeling oddly "left-out". when my daughter was young, on a warm day, we'd often drive to one of the local cemeteries just to walk around. we'd read inscriptions together and imagine the lives they had led. sadly, we admired the pretty flowers left all alone. sometimes, the dumpster in the corner would be overflowing w/ perfectly gorgeous baskets of flowers, placed by well-meaning landscapers simply trying to do their jobs. my daughter and i would pull out the most perfect ones, take them home and hang them upside down to dry. we hung them around our kitchen windows and received many comments over the years. only our closest friends knew that not all of those bouquets were gifts from our husband/dad. some were gifts from complete strangers who had become our friends.

i so adore turner classics. tonight they showed 'harold and maude', a favorite cult classic of mine. i hadn't seen it in years, and seeing it again on our almost obnoxiously large television reminded me of just how fabulous ruth gordon was, and how much i miss her. this film was made in 1971. for those of you who attended public schools, that makes it 35 years old today. how is this possible? bud cort looks to be about 12, but was actually in his early 20's during filming. if you cannot tell by now, this is an absolutely fabulous film that you need to see. aside from a near perfect score by cat stevens (now yusaf islam to his friends--he'll always be cat to me) the anti-establishment message and heavy dose of dark humor combined with the pre-occupation of death and dying is a blissful blend. i suppose that's what appealed to me initially. harold is obsessed w/ death, acts out countless suicides, and attends funerals of complete strangers. all to the chagrin of his mother, who just wants him to find a nice girl and settle down. this was my first introduction to ms. gordon, and i cannot imagine a more fitting film with which to fall in love. the woman was a genius. run, do not walk, and see 'harold and maude'. you won't be sorry.

so there's this little hole under the ground in fresno california.  forrestrieri underground gardens on w. shaw?   don't blink when you drive by or you'll surely miss it.  poor signage with worse visability.  having said that, it is soo worth a stop inside.  evidently, back in the early 1900's this somewhat eccentric gentleman decided fresno was just too flipping hot, and he started spending more and more time in his underground root cellar.  he decided to enlarge the root cellar a little bit every week or so.  he continued doing so for the next 40+ years.  the result is a 10,00 sf  little tourist trap known as fresno's underground gardens.  for a small admission price,  you too can experience this wonder and positive ingenuity.   tell andre i said hello

my friend delivered her son in her living room. joined by about a dozen or so assorted family members, friends and neighbors. how many of you read that sentence, and harrumphed outloud, rolling your eyes in a 'yeah, like that'll happen' sorta way? me too. like most women (i'm guessing) i did not enjoy being pregnant, and enjoyed far less, the actual giving-birth part. tho i will admit, i did like the way people treated me when i was pregnant. holding doors open, offering you their seat etc. you just know they never would have done this had your belly not been protruding and your ankles the size of small redwoods. however, i didn't really show til 5 or 6 months along, so i received that special treatment for 10-12 weeks or so. hardly worth the 9 months of misery and 26 hours of gut-wrenching, 'cut me in half i beg of you' labor. and might i just say here, deciding to call that whole process labor? excellent choice. it truly was the most difficult and grueling experience of my life. tho my friend, the one who delivered in her home w/ the audience? she would disagree. she rather enjoyed it all, so much so that she did it twice. i believe her when she says she didn't mind it so much. i mean, who would lie about such a thing? it certainly does not make me admire her any more. or even want to be her. to each her own, that's what i always say. and if your idea of blissful joy is pushing out a watermelon thru an orafice that clearly was intended for somewhat smaller objects, then you go girl. i remember hearing that johnny cash song in my head over and over..."and It Burns, Burns, Burns, The Ring Of Fire, The Ring Of Fire'. i decided to go the natural childbirth way; birthing center, midwife, etc. after all, women have been giving birth in cornfields, completely unattended, for hundreds of years. many times i listened--somewhat painfully, as my gynecologist would praise my ample, but lovely 'baby-making hips'. surely i can handle one teensy weensy little baby. whatta chump i was. for those of you yet to give birth? you may want to stop reading here. my advice? get the epidural girlfriend. cuz here's the cruel joke about all that. you may decide to go natural, drug-free, like i did. after 18 hours or so tho, you may change your mind, as i did. but guess what? jokes on you. evidently, there's a small window as to when you can actually receive an epidural. and that window slams shut when you least expect it. cold, hard and loud. surprise! it's too late for painkillers now, baby's almost here! i believe they call this phase transition. not the first word that leapt to my mind, but i digress.

my second bit of advice? do not push w/ your face. it only breaks blood vessels, and leaves you looking like rocky balboa. besides, you need to focus any and all pushing BELOW THE WAIST. thirdly? if anyone decides to help you count during the pushing phase? (husbands love to help here) make sure they count down, not up. i.e. 10, 9, 8, 7 etc. i know it sounds silly, but it makes a huge difference somehow. my last tid-bit of advice? do not pooh-pooh the whole video aspect of recording this experience. i did, obviously. of all the times i would NOT want a camera in the room, this would have to be at the top of my list. mostly naked, 25 lbs overweight (yet starved) sweaty and gross looking, w/ legs akimbo. ah yes, there's a fetching picture. there was no way i was going to have this recorded for prosperity. besides, it's so NOT true what they say. the worst pain you'll ever feel, but the quickest forgotten? puleeze. whatta load of crap that is. trust me, you will not forget. at one point, the midwife held up a mirror down there and said....'look april, look at your amazing baby coming into the world'...lord help me, i do not know why, but i did it. i looked down at the mirror. oh it was amazing alright, but not because of the baby. what was amazing was the size of my ass. if i live to be 100, i will never forget the sight. nothing but big beige buffalo butt as far as the eye could see. twas awful. seemed to go on for miles. perhaps it was a wide-angle mirror...

but in retrospect? i regret my decision not to let the camera in. how silly of me not to remember, it's a fairly large room. the camera/tripod could have very easily been placed up behind my head. nothing too graphic is actually seen, but the entire experience is nevertheless, captured completely. i should mention here, that shortly after my daughter came out, i pretty much passed out myself. i remember them placing her on my belly, cleaning her up, counting toes, fingers etc. then i remember quite vividly saying to myself, 'ok...she's kinda cute, but i am really tired now, so'...had we had the camera going the whole time? i would know exactly what went down while i slept. what they did to my baby. what nasty things they all said about me. and most importantly, i would have found out where they were hiding my dignity all that time, having lost it shortly after arrival.

now don't misunderstand. i adore being a mother and cannot imagine my life without my daughter in it. now that she's here. would i have become pregnant sooner had i known? maybe. would i have done things differently? a tad. if there were a next time? which there isn't, but if there were? i truly would have a camera in the room. no lie.

ladies underwear have come a long way. big and small, lacey and plain, cotton panel and sans cotton panel. (sounds so much better than crotchless, yes?) i've never quite wrapped my brain around the newer models, i.e. thongs and such. they look more like dental floss and a doll hankie to me. for all you newbies? the thinnest piece of fabric (or string) goes in the back. that's right. in the back, in the crack. crazy you say? crazy like a fox says victoria's secret. and by the way, her secret is? nobody over a size 4 looks good in those things. i dunno, maybe it's just me. but it seems i spend half my day pulling my underwear OUT of my ass. why would i deliberately place a pink shoelace back there? now don't misunderstand me. i'm not a fan of those big white cotton granny panties. my undie of choice are what is called the "hi-thigh cut hipster". now i ask you, how fetching does that sound? i may be looking at the downslide to 50, but i am still wearing "hipster" underwear. mind you, they're a size 7. and that's another thing that bugs me. if my underwear is a size 7, why izzit that i cannot fit one leg into size 7 jeans? i mean, what is up w/ that? does this mean that women who wear size 7 jeans actually wear a size 2 panty? could goddess be so cruel? now i am depressed. one of the downsides of being a large woman, (and trust me, there are several) is that when undies are a size 7 or larger, the leg holes are almost as big as the waist. no lie. wish i was joking here, but alas, it's true. also true, is that when these openings are of similar size? it's more than a little easy to say, slip them on one morning slightly askew. there, i said it. on more than one occasion, i have found myself wearing my undies caddy-wompass. the thing is, it's not immediately apparent. takes a few hours for your hip/thigh/waist to call a joint meeting and gently poke you in the crotch speaking in voices barely above a whisper..."scuse us. we hate to be a bother, but certain parts of us are choking down here...and not in a good way". hopefully, one is not in the middle of Target when this happens, as a quick trip to the ladies room is almost always eminent. i've often wondered what women think when they see me go into the stall, completely "drop trou" as they say, and then-- very ballerina like-- (or not) step out of my undies, give them a quick spin, then step back in and pull up my jeans. you simply cannot make this stuff up.

and let's not forget the male version of all this; the dreaded "boxer or brief" debate. do guys prefer to go loosey goosey or tightie whitey? paper or plastic? toilet paper over or under?

i'm guessing you, dear reader, would have passed that blog by...

justa breath of fresh aire

    once, while visiting the house of blues in chicago, i came across these fabulous incense matches in their gift shop. they are exactly what they sound like. they look like your typical book of matches, but each match stick is infused w/ various scents. you light it, then blow it out after a few seconds and it smoulders lovely smells for about a minute or so. a great idea i thought, for those unfortunate bathroom incidents men always seem to leave behind. i ended up loving them, and have since found them much cheaper via ebay (i swear, is there anything one cannot find there?) but i digress. the downfall of these matches is that if they touch any surface while smouldering? they go out. read: stop smouldering/smelling. but standing there holding a smoking match was just stupid.  i needed to find a way to allow these babies to burn, but burn alone, hands free. various incense holders did not work, as the available holes were always too small. laying them down wouldn't work either. they wanted to burn upright and were quite emphatic about it. i remembered a medical hemostat i had packed away in a closet. you know, those vascular clamp thingies? and before you start to wonder why i owned a hemostat, you should know i hung out with an EMT during my college days. so there. anywho, the hemostat works like a charm. looks roughly like a pair of scissors holding a match. i lay it in a brushed aluminum crescent moon ashtray i've had since my cigarette days and just could not part with as i still have a thing for crescent moons. then, as if i wasn't happy enough about the now sweet aromas emitting from the bathrooms in the house, i came across sage smudgesticks in a new-age store. you know, those things native americans made and burned to ward off evil spirits. today, many believe they remove bad mojo. "smudging" has become quite popular with society's more spiritual sector. now, i'm not certain i concur to that degree, and i so hope the mojo in my house has not yet reached the evil stages, but i did pick up a few sage bundles thinking once again, it could ward off any evil bathroom smells. turns out my husband likes the smell. after burning the sage of course, not the smell prior to. he possibly likes the smell more than my little incense matches even. perhaps sage is more manly than raspberry patchoulli, i dunno. (and if you're beginning to see a trend here, blame my father. he was a firefighter, and since childhood, fire has always fascinated me)

now i want you to get the visual here. a giant green stogie looking thing, (clearly hand-rolled) an ashtray, a hemostat, spent matches, and assorted sources of fire to light all of the above.

    it suddenly occurred to me, people may get the wrong idea...

From time to time people ask me why i joined a womens only camping/fishing group. when answering, i choose my words carefully as it is important to me that people know that the group means far more to me than just camping and fishing.

kelly corrigan is the author of the best seller "The Middle Place". a memoir about that point in life where it seems you're both a child and an adult simultaneously. she is also a breast cancer survivor who speaks across the country of her lifes jouney.

this clip i found of Kelly summed it all up better than i ever could. it's about womanhood and all that that entails. kelly 'gets it' and expresses it all so beautifully. she'd make a great 'Sister on the Fly'.

brava Kelly and you go girl...

http://www.kellycorrigan.com/

Stimulus Payment Info

"This year, taxpayers will receive an Economic Stimulus Payment. This is a very exciting new program that I will explain using the Q and A format:

Q. What is an Economic Stimulus Payment?

A. It is money that the federal government will send to taxpayers.

Q. Where will the government get this money?

A. From taxpayers.

Q. So the government is giving me back my own money?

A. Only a smidgen.

Q. What is the purpose of this payment?

A. The plan is that you will use the money to purchase a high-definition TV set, thus stimulating the economy.

Q. But isn't that stimulating the economy of China ?

A. Shut up.

Below is some helpful advice on how to best help the US economy by spending your stimulus check wisely:

If you spend that money at Wal-Mart, all the money will go to China.

If you spend it on gasoline it will go to the Arabs.

If you purchase a computer it will go to India.

If you purchase fruit and vegetables it will go to Mexico,

Honduras, and Guatemala (unless you buy organic).

If you buy a car it will go to Japan.

If you purchase useless crap it will go to Taiwan.

And none of it will help the American economy.

We need to keep that money here in America. You can keep the money in America by spending it at yard sales, going to a baseball game, or spend it on prostitutes, beer and wine (domestic ONLY), or tattoos, since those are the only businesses still in the US.

My first blog

ok,  i like to share my  new musical discoveries.  serena ryder.  a 24 y.o. canadian that reminds me of a young melissa etheridge...

YouTube - 'Dark as the Black' by Serena Ryder on Q TV