fast car

dreamy by McBeth.

You got a fast car
I want a ticket to anywhere
Maybe we make a deal
Maybe together we can get somewhere

Any place is better
Starting from zero got nothing to lose
Maybe we'll make something
But me myself I got nothing to prove

-Tracy Chapman

blasted bunnies

wakie up-ie! by McBeth.

The child in me finds the little furry critters adorable in all the fuzziest warmest loveable ways but there is a gun totin' gal inside me ready to sit in my front window all night long, if necessary, to catch the rabbits who have newly discovered the crocus and tulips in my garden bed and who have nibbled them to the earth once already.

I breathed deeply, I counted to ten, I walked inside and played very loud music (okay fine, hippie music doesn't really get all that frenetic regardless of volume, but I did it anyway, just to let those varmints know I meant business).

I have not put fencing up around the garden because - well, because I really don't LIKE fencing. I think it looks possessive and territorial. But if the heads disappear from these crocus again, I may consider creative problem solving solutions such that the bunnies can live peaceably within the same kingdom as me and the bulbs I'm trying to grow.

Happy spring.
(quick, enjoy it before the rabbits eat it all!)

and when you've exhaled forever

out of the blue by McBeth.

waiting for air to return
waiting for the alveoli to quiver
waiting to be done waiting

you find another note,
a card tucked between the walls of the abbey
which directs you to continue walking the paces
until you can thoroughly explain
to any stranger who might come by

why there may be a good reason to inhale
once more.

SD abortion law: an affront to all independent women

"When Governor Mike Rounds signed HB 1215 into law it effectively banned all abortions in the state with the exception that it did allow saving the mother’s life. There were, however, no exceptions for victims of rape or incest. His actions, and the comments of State Senators like Bill Napoli of Rapid City, SD, set of a maelstrom of protests within the state.

Napoli suggested that if it was a case of “simple rape,” there should be no thoughts of ending a pregnancy. Letters by the hundreds appeared in local newspapers, mostly written by women, challenging Napoli’s description of rape as “simple.” He has yet to explain satisfactorily what he meant by “simple rape.”

The President of the Oglala Sioux Tribe on the Pine Ridge Reservation, Cecilia Fire Thunder, was incensed. A former nurse and healthcare giver she was very angry that a state body made up mostly of white males, would make such a stupid law against women.
“To me, it is now a question of sovereignty,” she said to me last week. “I will personally establish a Planned Parenthood clinic on my own land which is within the boundaries of the Pine Ridge Reservation where the State of South Dakota has absolutely no jurisdiction.”

Strong words from a very strong lady. I hope Ms. Fire Thunder challenges Gov. Rounds and the state legislators on this law that is an affront to all independent women."

Oglala Sioux president on state abortion law

Tragedy

The tragedy was in my eyes
en route from left to right
the usual routine
tracking, placing surroundings
stopping

The tragedy was in her posture
proud, hopeful
bloomed tall, despite youth’s best attempts
to keep her forever innocent

The tragedy was in three middle-aged men
On a business casual Friday, Tag Heurers gleamed
in the metallic saffron sunset reflection,
offhandedly discussing the weekend’s plans
paused mid-discussion

The tragedy was in a pitch
A horn splat of B-flat, C, F-sharp
Sustained into echoed crescendo
Curled like tendriled vines into my ears

The tragedy was in a new book
crisp unbroken spine
Arched unnaturally above a slender upraised arm
Shredded pages hovered momentarily,
hundreds of small earthquakes
poised to thunder their doom

The tragedy was in our gasps
God
ohgod
Fuck
HEY!

Mama

The tragedy was that
We each breathed our final goodbyes
without having seen a tragedy coming

empty

the rack by McBeth.

double-dipping

double-dipping by McBeth.

*no thin healthy women were harmed in the shooting of this image.

ashes to ponies

“So, like a forgotten fire, a childhood can always flare up again within us.”
- Gaston Barchelard

here piggy piggy piggy

It was while reading Snowball's latest update when I decided to give my bitter inner pig a poke.





I may have some personal experience in the matter of my arteeeestic creation. I can neither confirm nor deny such rumors. Suffice it to say that back in the day an air conditioned (freezered, but why pick nits?) job wasn't such a terrible thing, nor was great pay, nor was not getting fired (whew) for bringing a feather duster and an egg in onto the slice pak line after break, then popping the duster out the back of my whites and dropping the egg onto the belt with a mighty BAWK! to goad a possible coworker after he may or may not have called us summer employee girls "a bunch of chickens" for all the gabbing we did.

I happen to be of the belief that if I cannot face handling the various stages of food items I put into my body I should not put the items into my body. Idealistically I'd like to think that I could hunt and gather every item I eat, with the primary focus aimed particularly upon the 'hunt' part of the combination. That 'can you kill what you eat?' question seems to really weed out the sissies in the crowd, doesn't it? Sure, it's one thing to SAY it but man it's a whole 'nother thing to lop off a head. Or to gut a fish ... have you ever done that? Eew. Messy.

I have nothing but respect for my vegetarian and vegan friends and kin, but I am an omnivore (even moreso during those horrid pmstrual times. I dare you to take these sweet and delicately salty pork flavored chocolate dipped strawberries from my grubby hands. Go ahead. Try it.) I do eat meat. I consider myself absolutely lucky that there are others willing to do the unpleasant work of killing the beast on which I later will feast, and don't think for a moment that I don't have deep gratitude for the animal, and to the universe, for the sacrifice. And I may or may not have been one of those people who worked within the unpleasant work process to bring prettily packaged pounds of processed pig to your local retailer's shelves.

But there are precious few things that are fair and balanced in our funky little sphere, and if having a supervisor walk out of his office while I'm flapping my make-believe wings at a 55 year old skeeve means I manage to get by and to get through one more asunder-setter, then I can darn well draw my pig hoofin' it right on into the O.M. plant. (I'm sure I'll spoil all his fun, but if you're not interested in drawing a pig for your own self (shame on ya, it's just for fun!) the password into the gallery is 'oink'. There's a big surprise, eh?)

spot the cow

spot the cow by McBeth.

myoo.

Nancy Drew and The Ghostly Soundboard Haunting

Nancy Drew and The Ghostly Soundboard Haunting by McBeth.

ooooOOOOOOOooooooo

masks

“Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain. When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy." -- Kahlil Gibran

glimmer of hope

glimmer of hope by McBeth.

One slender shoot of reddish-green can mean the world in a sleepy world of brown.

no hunting

don't even try it by McBeth.

alone again, naturally

alone again, naturally by McBeth.

living in the skin

"Bravery is being the only one who knows you're afraid."
-Franklin P. Jones

Aw shucks ... thanks!

Aw shucks ... thanks! by McBeth.

Who doesn't appreciate it when someone notices one's marmot?

and now, a word from our sponsor...

I'm glum, chum.

Leave it to our politicians to muck a sensible and so potentially good thing up. Yesterday Wisconsin's politicos passed the Civil Unions and Marriage Ban (which, essentially, states that anyone who isn't a married MAN+WOMAN does NOT = a legal couple, nor can anyone who isn't the married MAN+WOMAN receive any legal protections or benefits as those who are straight hets.

Some of the more ridiculous quotes I heard from our delightful backwoods representatives included such fearmongering as {paraphrasing} the concern that if they vetoed this ban, next we'll have poly groups asking to be legally recognized ... and then human+animal partnerships.

Gosh, just hearing that made my heart inflate to three sizes too big, so proud to be a fellow statesperson of such a braintrust. *sniff*

KD and I are engaged. She's a chick; I'm a chick. We're both female. Now I'm not saying I buy into the whole idea of marital bliss - but I do believe in monogamy and in staying with one and only one. I also believe that so long as we both have committed ourselves to living together, paying bills together, eating and breathing and washing undergarments together, sowing seeds and harvesting the fruits of our labor together, working out disagreements together instead of running away, planning our futures together ... well, I think it makes sense that we should be able to receive similar benefits (health, retirement, hospital, other legal) that married counterparts have. I'd GET married if it was legal for me to do that, but as of yet it isn't so I can't. What a Catch-22.

I also think that men and women who have committed to living their lives together should have legal options and protections afforded our married counterparts. If this ban referendum passes in November it's gonna be a hell'a mess down the road. Faith is something I'm struggling to collect these days, but I have to hope that the citizens of Wisconsin will prove that we are all a forward-thinking population and that we are all prepared to show our elected officials how absolutely incorrectly they voted, how poorly they (mis)represented us. Please Wisconsinites, don't let me down. PLEASE?

Bless our city's Mayor Dave Cieslewicz (pronounced SIZZ-el-witz) who had this to say about the stupid ban passing through the legislature:

"The Republican Legislature has had their say, now it is time for the people of Wisconsin to have our say on whether we should write discrimination into our constitution. I am growing in my confidence that when this question is put to the voters, they will reject this immoral and unfair proposal.

"The extreme language of this amendment doesn't just ban gay marriage, it goes a step beyond and bans 'substantially similar' legal status. A legal analysis by our City Attorney has indicated that this language would threaten our ability to offer domestic partnership benefits to our employees, erasing an important competitive advantage.

"Madison is competing globally for first-rate entrepreneurs, employers and employees to sustain our strong economy and create good-paying jobs. Writing discrimination into the state constitution and preempting our ability to offer competitive benefits to potential employees is tantamount to putting a 'closed for business' sign up. I look forward to being active in the months to come in the effort to defeat this discriminatory, anti-economic development measure."

As different as the nervous nellies are, they don't seem to understand how very not different I am from them, save my fairly open mind. I want what they want: fairness, equality and freedom. Imagine that.

Bead necklace tossing takes practice. Apparently.

“Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new.”
- Albert Einstein

On becoming familiar with the wild turkey

How to thaw a frozen turkey: "Blow in it's ear."
- Johnny Carson

Time to send AOL to the litterbox to bury their dumb doodies

MoveOn.org Civic Action: Democracy in Action

There are very few political leaning sites I visit with any regularity due to the being swallowed whole overwhelm I feel when I don't 'get it'. Which happens with great regularity.

I subsume easily and need issues dumbed down profoundly in order for me to understand them or otherwise I don't/won't read it and, therefore, it doesn't exist. It's the web version of the la la laaaaaa I can't heaaaaar you song.

Moveon.org works tirelessly as a watchdog for both civic and political actions. This particular AOL issue that has me fuming today is a lesson in civics, and I read up on it a little before MoveOn.org had organized their petition. Even so, I'm delighted to contribute my voice to those of others in asking what kind of crack AOL folks have been smoking. Charging fees for sending email is ree-dee-que-lus, stoo-peed; dumb, with added emphasis on the -buh.

Here's a tidbit of the moveon.org campaign against AOL's proposed email tax:

AOL recently announced what amounts to an "email tax." Under this pay-to-send system, large emailers willing to pay an "email tax" can bypass spam filters and get guaranteed access to people's inboxes—with their messages having a preferential high-priority designation.1

Charities, small businesses, civic organizing groups, and even families with mailing lists will inevitably be left with inferior Internet service unless they are willing to pay the "email tax" to AOL. We need to stop AOL immediately so other email hosts know that following AOL's lead would be a mistake.

I told you AOL has a dumb idea going - was I wrong?
Come on, let 'em know you think it's laughable.

Add your name to mine here.

Or if you're more of a phone caller kinda person, moveon.org suggests the following:

Please ask AOL not to auction off preferential "certified" access to people's inboxes to giant emailers, while leaving everyone else wondering if their emails are being delivered at all. AOL's proposed pay-to-send system hurts the Internet.


America Online
Phone: (703) 265-1000
Press 0 for operator or 3 to leave a message. (If AOL transfers you to a tech support person, just let them know your concern and thank them for their time.)


Help track our impact by letting us know you called at this link. Before calling, it would be good to read the below summary of "AOL Claims & Reality" so you are prepared for what AOL may say.

After calling, please take a moment to invite your friends to sign the petition—especially those who use AOL or care about keeping the Internet free. You can just forward the sample letter that's below.

Spreading the word is critical, but please only pass this message along to those who know you—spam hurts our campaign.

Thanks for all you do.

–The MoveOn.org Civic Action Team


AOL CLAIMS & REALITY

CLAIM: Nothing would change for non-paying email senders. This is just an extra service for paying senders.

FACT: AOL currently has a financial incentive to put top-notch maintenance into their free email system and make sure legitimate emails don't wind up in spam filters. This helps everyone--corporate senders, non-profit senders, and regular senders. The moment AOL switches to a world where giant emailers pay for preferential treatment, AOL faces this internal choice: spend money to keep spam filters up-to-date so legitimate email isn't identified as spam, or make money by neglecting their spam filters and pushing more senders to pay for guaranteed delivery. Despite their denials that things will change for regular email senders, which choice do you think they'll choose?

CLAIM: Charging a fee will help deter spammers.

FACT: AOL hasn't officially made this claim, but they've let it be implied in news articles and it's completely untrue. AOL's "email tax" would not prevent giant senders from sending email, especially since many of these same senders are willing to pay a lot more money to send advertisements through the postal service. AOL's pay-to-send system would actually make it a sweeter deal for them to send masss emails - giving guaranteed delivery to people's inboxes with a preferential high-priority designation. Additionally, those who break the rules and spam recklessly right now have no incentive to reduce spamming because of AOL's proposed policy.

CLAIM: This is not an "email tax."

FACT: If AOL has its way, the only way to guarantee mail is being delivered will be to pay. For email senders, it amounts to an email tax--except the money goes to AOL instead of the government.

CLAIM: This MoveOn email is a hoax, we will not charge email senders.

It most definitely is not a hoax, and the charge to email senders has been publicly announced in the New York Times, the Associated Press, and other media outlets.

"Postage is due for companies sending e-mail," New York Times, February 4, 2006
article link

"Yahoo and AOL to Charge Some E-Mail Senders," Associated Press, February 6, 2006
article link

Signs, signs, everywhere are signs.

use the bucket by McBeth.

When a house has stood empty for two years despite the fact that it has simultaneously been on the market? That's probably a sign.

When the realtor suggests that we should bring flashlights along with us because there is no electricity? That's probably a sign.

When the realtor also suggests that we dress warmly because there'll be no heat, including on the inside of the house? That's probably a sign.

When the previous homeowner leaves a lavender colored bra hanging from the back of one of the bathroom doors as if to say either 'I'll be back for this' or 'Someone is coming, I'm outta here!' - yes, that too is probably a sign.

When you inadvertently discover two year old fossilized dog poo stuck to the house's basement floor in a section that can only be described as "probably the dog pen" when your partner waves the flashlight around? Not only does that probably explain some of the funky smell in the air, but it is also probably a sign.

When the realtor leaves a note on the kitchen counter detailing NO USE of the toilets, that's definitely a sign.

This isn't the one.
Keep looking.
You'll find The One*.

*and you won't have to pee in a bucket when you find it.

No swimming today

The first image is the metric version of the local weather and has something to do, I suspect, with how the term 'brrr-o-metric pressure' came into being. Or maybe only in my own imagination.

The second image to the left is the yawn-tastic Imperial lame-o Americano version of this morning's temperature. The wind chill, if that makes any difference when the fake mercury dips below zero, registered at -21 dF. Yipes. It's been a while since the last time we've seen these kind of lows. Hey, that'd make a great title for a book written by a depressed meteorologist - It's Been a While Since the Last Time It Was This Low.

At any rate it is a very cold day today, and not weather in which one should be out looking at real estate properties. But that isn't going to stop KD and me from checking out a house after having brunch later this morning. The house is smaller than our ideal but I've had a rough time disconnecting myself from homes we've looked at and I could use the practice to say, 'No thanks, this isn't what we're looking for' if indeed it isn't what we're looking for. I take a look around and my mind's eye immediately begins to move our two homes' worth of stuff in, rearranging and painting and decorating. I've already selected window treatments in places I have no intention of living in. I have to wonder ... am I the only weirdo to do this? Is this a girl thing that is somehow hardwired into my cells, similar to the nesting I began to do shortly before birthing my child?

The last in-home tour we scheduled was great but ended badly (for me) when I became churlish and disconsolate. KD tried hard to keep up with the mystery of me and the sorrow felt and tried to explain, but I can't blame her for the big flashing question-slash-exclamation mark blinking across her forehead. If the mark would have been human it would have slapped me across the back of the head, screaming "Snap out'v it!" So we talked, trying to work me out of my corner. No, you're right sweetheart, it doesn't make any sense. Yes, I agree that the house is SO not what we're looking for and holy cow, there's no way we'd be able to afford the fuel cost just to drive back and forth. Logically I could agree with everything we'd listed under CONS as cons in the list of 'Pros and -', but emotionally I had attached myself and it wasn't until many days later that I could laugh about it.

So a freezing horribly cold day like today should be perfect to visit a boarded-up, no-electricity, bring yer flashlights so we can visit the basement house for sale and I may yet get a grip on this attachment disorder.

after the snowstorm

after the snowstorm by McBeth.

Confidante. One entrusted by A with the secrets of B confided to herself by C.
- Ambrose Bierce

Scarlett

spotlight the girl by McBeth.

Scarlett is growing like a healthy weed. She's over 25" long and over 15 pounds, leaps and bounds since her birth 4 mos. ago.

She coos and squeals and smiles and studies my face with intensity and furrowed brows. Because she means it.

She also can gnaw the foot of a dangling giraffe with more ferocity than I've ever witnessed before.

After they're gone we are left with only questions

This was my second attempt at a 'fake lomo effect' in Photoshop. The grave in the photograph is indeed real, as is the Winnie the Pooh quote etched into the granite.

I was touched by this marker for several reasons (note: clicking on the image will show you a larger, more readable, version).
Clearly, this young woman (in her early 20s at the time of her death, I believe) had a profound effect on those around her, whoever the people may have been. Her life was incredibly short given the current-day, modern world trends. What happened to her? I also wondered about the process that those left behind must have gone throughand how they arrived at this quote as the marker "backside"; if this Pooh quote was a shoe-in because it was her favorite? Or maybe she hoped to one day have children of her own and was holding onto the book until that time came? Or if there were many quotes they had to sift through before they could determine together and finally agree upon feeling as though this quote was what they wanted to mark her burial plot with forever?

Safety

There is no safety in numbers, or in anything else.
- James Thurber

Kiddy safety seat

Cat's Credo, Subsection B, line 334A, IIV:

If you like it, lay on it.

Fuh fuh fuh four

Meme-snagger that I am, I found this one at Jen Gray's site. She didn't tag me (she doesn't know me so um why would she?) but I suspect that as much as she's into sharing the love, she won't mind my little swipearoonie just this once.

I thought that instead of blahblahtypingblah I might write instead. You know, that old fashioned thing that only squares do? Yeah, that. But uh, when I did what I thought was a superbrilliant scan of the two sheets of paper it took and then I reimaged them into one final image uh, well, the final product ended up on the hard-to-read side. Apologies.

The smartest thing to do at this point is to laugh - the best laughing is that version in which a raucous cackle reverberates in one's throat and one pointed finger extends in the general direction of one's monitor, but that might just be me. If you want to read it, go ahead and click your sweet little mousie on the image, which should in turn explode it into a readable version.
If that doesn't work then go get some compressed air and some computer cleaning wipes. Take a look at your keyboard and hey, whaddabout that mouseball ... they could use a wipedown, eh? Eh.


Four bloggers I'm tagging: eew. I don't like this part (do I *really* have to do this?) but for friendliness practice I'll try. How about Bakerina, Snowball, Incurable Hippie and The elder Eric, on behalf of Little O. Divergent paths and all that.
Oh, wait. Just for one last dose of interesting and for the sake of erring on the side of good juju I think I'll throw in an extra tag ... Jaanquidam, yerrrrrrit!

Hallelujah brothers and sisters!

Blessed is he among us who can both taketh our funds and passeth his gas:

The Farting Preacher 2

The airy sky has taken its place leaning against the wall.
It is like a prayer to what is empty.
And what is empty turns its face to us
and whispers:
'I am not empty, I am open.'

-Tomas Tranströmer

Toast the Earth with Exxon Mobil

Toast the Earth with Exxon Mobil

Go on, it won't hurt a bit. Put yer sheetkeekers on and let em tap like there's no tomorrow.

Then, like the commercial sez, you'll tell two friends. And they'll two friends. And so on, and so on, and so on...

late night on the street

"All life is short for the fortunate. But when men are unfortunate one night-time is infinite."
— Lucian

A shadow of her former self

Once there was a little girl who, after many years, got much older. She looked much older, she really did. Other people told her that she looked much older and she could see it for herself when she looked into her own mirror.

But sometimes if she lay very still in her bed at night while the darkness clung tightly at her, she was sure she could feel the shadows of the old her floating softly onto her shape. Sometimes it would take a while for the old her to get a comfortable fit onto the new her but they would lay embraced with one another, weeping and consoling each other through their sorrow and fright until they felt a little better.

The Glass Castle, autograph hound vers.

If you haven’t read Jeannette Wall’s heartbreaking book The Glass Castle shame on you.
Get it.
Read it.
Then come back here when you’re ready for a proper discussion.

Don’t worry, I’m only half-kidding. I myself have to do a re-read to acquaint myself with the kids and the family again though if memory serves me right I wasn’t completely unfamiliar with at least one of the parental figures and a little part of my heart wanted badly to forget them quickly after that first read. It’s been a while since I first grabbed it up on the ultra-brilliant suggestion of one of my sisters who makes such regular ultra-brilliant suggestions as though they were gas bubbles.
It was totally worth buying the hard copy.

Jeannette Wall spoke at a local women’s book store tonight (not a big box either, I’m pleased to add) so my girlfriend and I camped out stopped in to hear what JW had to say. She blew in on a fairy dust breeze right exactly on time looking just the right amount of apologetic balanced with a quarter cup of harried and three tablespoons of ‘Yes of course I’m here, let’s get started shall we?’. Wall is a striking woman, long-legged and slender. She sat with right leg crossed over her left while she was being introduced and the arch of her foot in that killer spike-heeled shoe arched like a dancer’s trained pointe. She is the woman I would have had a preteen crush on if I’d have known a woman who looked and spoke like her when I was a preteen. Well shucks, I did. Mrs. Riley taught 6th grade when I was in what, 4th grade? 5th grade? In the S.O.P. program, at any rate, yes those Special Opportunities for smartiepants years … as far as I was concerned Mrs. Heavenly Smile Riley did not walk she floated. She glowed. She was why lipstick was invented. I had forgotten about Mrs. Riley until tonight.

See what a good memoir can do for a person?

Hunh. It has just occurred to me that I’m not sure what to call this author. ‘Jeannette’ makes me sound a little too stalkeresque, as though we’re *tight* (in my own mind, if nowhere else, like oh, reality). I don’t think I want to characterize my fondness for her writing quite that way. Fine, no ‘Jeannette’. She’s married, so I’m not sure I could properly refer to her as ‘Ms. Wall’. Maybe she’d prefer to be ‘Mrs. John Taylor’ and by my misassumption and ill-fated attempt to free her inner feminist I might be stomping all over a very happy, very tender relationship she has with her husband. Oh dear, this isn’t going well at all. Fine, no ‘Ms. Wall’ either.
How ‘bout I stick with ‘JW’? Short, sweet, direct … good. ‘JW’ it is.

JW read a short section about Christmas (the section about how her parents taught the children that all the other kids were suckered by their parents into believing in Santa Claus and in elves, where their parents set them very straight about the holiday, and when her father takes each of the kids out to the desert to let them pick their gifts, if you’ve read it). She opened it up for Q&A time after the reading.

I forgot to bring my notebook along with me so, trying to think quickly and not particularly quietly, I dumped the four paperbacks I purchased before she’d arrived (The Best American Poetry 2005 (Paul Muldoon, ed.); interpreter of maladies (Jhumpa Lahiri); Maybe Baby (Tenaya Darlington), and I Just Hope It’s Lethal (Rosenberg & November) so I could use the plain brown paper bag to scribble miscellaneous notes that would brilliantly come to me. Because unless you’re poised for brilliance to strike, it never will; having the scratch pad ready is an important step.

Here are the notes I scratched out, in no particular order:

Q: How do you remember all these things that happened so long ago?
A: The mind glosses over to protect you when that’s necessary. I have memories from when I was the age of three, some of which my husband (brother?) suggested I leave out of the book, said I didn’t need to include everything. (diverted to slightly different topic) I didn’t show my mother the book ahead of time when it was first published (reference to chocolate scene in book) I wasn’t sure how she’d take it but I knew I had to tell it.

Q: It seems that it was when situations became stable that your parents leaned toward chaos, as if they needed that {chaos} more than they desired stability. How does that work for you now?
A: I lean towards stick-in-the-mud stability. I love it, I need it, I crave it.

Q: How were your siblings affected by the book?
A: Older sister didn’t want her to write the book because that time in their lives was so incredibly painful to her that she didn’t want to relive it. Her brother (a cop) was frustrated by their parents and supported JW in her writing and also served as fact verifier. She hadn’t been in contact with her kid sister for many years but only since having been on book tours, etc. she was finally able to reconnect with her, which JW considers a real blessing.

Q: Man in audience asked JW to comment on the distance she kept from her past/pain versus the distance she keeps from it now. He suggested the past was ‘Emotional distance’ and that the current is now a ‘Distance of Wisdom’.
A: JW referred to her father, said he was right when he talked about harnessing demons. “Taking off armor makes one more vulnerable but it’s also a lot lighter.”

Q: Nearly all child-rearing books indicate that children need stability in order to be successful later in life. How did she get successful after such an unstable life?
A: JW related a story about a very rich friend who invited JW along to an Outward Bound experience. JW hadn’t heard of Outward Bound and the friend explained that it’s a program in which you go out into the wilderness and have to rough it. JW said she thought ‘I lived that for my first 17 years of life! Dang, rich people have to pay for their hardships?!!’ And she realized how disadvantaged her wealthy friend was for not having some very basic survival skills and abilities because the friend’s mother had handed everything to the friend, how the friend had never had been in a position in which she’d had to figure anything out for herself. JW also related something shared w/her by a psychologist who had been interviewing her, that the worst form of child abuse is overindulgence. JW thought she’d agree with that; physical needs are very important, but emotional needs are bigger and if those can be met then the physical needs generally can take care of themselves.

Q: I can kind-of understand how you’d still feel fondness for your father, but your mother?! It’s hard to see how you could love your mom, especially after you were so deprived.
A: “I never thought of her as a mother.”
“It’s not a matter of forgiving her; it’s a matter of accepting her. It’s not that I’m a good person; it’s that I’m a pragmatist.” (she also related several incidents in which other women would demonstrate ‘maternal’ behavior toward her – like putting her hair into pigtails or fussing over her – and it would stymie her. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have someone doing that all the time because she didn’t have someone doing that all the time. IOW, you don’t miss what you don’t have)

And then the Q&A was cut short when the bookstore owner interrupted to let all know that JW had to go. Like NOW. She was headed to a local television studio and was scheduled to be interviewed by Larry King Live about another (infamous) memoir that is currently in the news. The fantabulous JW was whisked away, but not before I thrust my copy in front of her with a pleading look and a ‘if I stick my pen in your hand would you pleeeaaaaase sign this for me?’ and she did.

I have a little bitty crush. Unsustainable, certainly. Nice while it lasts.

Y’know, just like my old pal JW says, when she finally got brave enough to bare her heart and came out with the truth of her past she was scared that she’d clear out rooms, she was sure she’d lose all her friends and that nobody would ever speak to her again. But she discovered all sorts of people who said ‘You had it worse than me, but this happened to me too’. Strangers became friendly faces and she didn’t have to feel alone with her shame. I think that’s worth something, don’t you?

winter, accessorized in aqua

aqua tree by McBeth.

Dawn: 21 January, 2006

21 Jan., 2006: dawn by McBeth.

chill

chill by McBeth.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free

Blackbird fly
Blackbird fly
Into the light of a dark black night

moonlight ride

Clicking on the image will open a larger, clearer view.

Do not try this with a $100 bill

Wired News: Printing Organs on Demand

Need a skin graft? A new trachea? A heart patch? Turn on your printer, and let it spit one out.

A group of researchers hope printers' whirs and buzzes will soon be saving lives.

Led by University of Missouri-Columbia biological physics professor Gabor Forgacs and aided by a $5 million National Science Foundation grant, researchers at three universities have developed bio-ink and bio-paper that could make so-called organ printing a reality.

Variations on a theme: giving the turtle back, getting a ride and a wife

This 2.5" icon has a story. It goes like this:

To Japanese folklore, Urashima Taro, a simple fisherman, caught a tortoise which he kindly returned to the sea. The tortoise revealed herself to be the beautiful daughter of the underwater Dragon King. As a reward Urashima and the girl were married. Here Urashima rides his tortoise wife on a return visit to land, carrying the magic box she gave him. The original ivory netsuke is in the collections of the Peabody Essex Museum in Salem, Massachusetts.

i TOLD you so

Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

(un)true blue

I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes.
e. e. cummings

it is found in the quiet unexpected

Several months ago I began losing things. Not completely unexpected and not exactly unlike me, I worried a bit because the items I'd misplaced had some personally significant value but I resigned myself to the 'oh well, there goes another one' that seems to follow me.

I lost my beloved PDA first. No idea where that went, though it had to disappear somewhere between my home and KD's. I think. Or it could have been at class. Or in a parking ramp. Or maybe I left it at a meeting. I first purchased it on a slight whim - but as far as my whims go I have to defend it as fairly well thought out.

I found a great deal through audible.com offering $100 off the cost of the PDA if I'd subscribe to Audible for a year.
'No problem, I'll be wanting to download audible books anyway!', thought I, and the cost of a refurbed Palm Zire 31 became immediately accessible for me as the monthly fee for the Audible subscription was to be taken from my financial account each month rather than in one big chunk. I could do that.

My sweet little Zire stayed by my side through my many sleepless nights. We listened to uploaded books and CDs and all sorts of recorded matter together. The Zire play innumerable games of Solitaire with me. Frankly, even if I could remember the numbers I would never reveal that particular detail, so embarrassed I am of my obsessive Solitaire playing during fretful uneasy nights. My Zire kept a backup copy of a few particular cherished emails and she'd memorized the entirety of my contact list - old folks and new. Everyone was in there. One of the features I miss the most is the calendar/reminder function. I had reminders for - well cripes, for just about anything I needed to be remembering! I took it along with me outside and used the fold-uppable keyboard (also huge discount find) to work on writing and email. I'd save story ideas. But geez, I'm shot down without the calendar to keep me going.

My favorite Zire moment was when I used her to catch a sneaky photograph while stuck on a hellishly long layover at an airport terminal along about 300 other people, including an asswipe of a contemptuous fellow. He was one of those 'my shit doesn't stink, I'm worth far too much for that to happen' sort of disdainfully attitudinally-challenged people. He bore the fine suit, the leather loafers, the soft buckskin attache case, the wristwatch that dripped 'don't touch me, don't so much as breath..my..air, peon'. Dickhead made someone watch his seat while he left to use the restroom (heavens no, wouldn't want the PREGNANT woman to be able to sit down or anything, noooo). When he returned he didn't realize he had a several-foot-long trail of toilet paper running from the back waistband of his pants, down the back of his leg, ending as a flapping tongue wagging behind him on the floor. The appropriate thing for a kind person to have done at the moment of noticing his potentially embarrassing moment would probably be to quietly have pointed it out to the fellow. I, however, thought the man a complete jackass and preferred, instead, to use the camera function of my beloved little Zire to snap a picture of the guy standing in line with his toilet paper tail while he, in turn, waited to crab at the helpless airline employee (again).

I did love that Zire, oh yes I did.
And then ... one day ... she was gone. Forever.
I hope to replace her eventually - perhaps with her big sister the T/X.
Maybe...

The second strange batch of lost important things happened a few months after I misplaced the Zire. I think I must have been washing dishes or gardening; something that would have required me to remove my watch and two special rings. I remember little about the day other than a few details:
- I removed the fidgety ring first.

I bought that one in the Bahamas back on the first official vacation I ever took with a friend all by myself without my wee babe on my hip ~ circa 1994. The rolling triple gold banded ring was the one item I purchased just for me. I'm not generally a good me-bargainer but I managed to haggle the seller down to a reasonable price and I've proudly worn the ring nearly every day since. Because the yellow, pink and white gold bands are all interwoven it also makes a remarkably handy toy to have on hand (literally!) when I'm fidgety. Having this ring on my hand reminds me to be braver than I think I'm capable of being and it reminds me that I owe myself adventure --oh, and also of being grateful for whatever health care I EVER have in the U.S. after the vomitous night in the Bahamian emergency room, though that's probably a story best left for another post or, perhaps, not at all.

- I remember that I removed my so-pretty funky artsy S. ring next.

After meeting online, we had a long courtship during which I chased her through jungles and into outer space. We emailed and talked and IM'ed daily. DAILY. What a heap of amazing things I learned from, and due to, S.
I am so much more a global citizen because of her. I learned that 'liberal party line' doesn't necessarily taste the same in all countries. I got to love liberally and be loved the same way. I learned to read the temperatures in both Farenheit and Celcius (and to spell both words correctly). I visited Australia. She visited the United States. I found out what a mindfuck distance can be, how horrifying ones own mind can be in creating obstacles that might not actually exist, in an effort to cling to what feels like the only important thing in the universe. I learned to flex my ankles on those 26 hour flights across the US and over to Oz so I wouldn't develop DVT. I learned, possibly the hard way, that she was who she was and didn't want to or wasn't capable of changing as drastically as might have been necessary for us to be a successful coupling. And while I never did find the kind of end of sentence/end of relationship punctuation I so desperately sought, I can look back now and sorta see how she ignored a whole bunch of super important things like facts, but in the end she fell onto the sword for me. That might be the take-away.
That, and this lovely ring I picked out during her visit to Wisconsin. We both picked rings to have something to have of one another when we were apart, but because we had such very very (VERY!) different tastes, I picked mine and she picked hers. Then, the other person purchased the self-chosen ring and gave it to the wearer with some formality. We remain close despite parting as partners. She holds her emotional cards closer still to her than even I manage mine, so I cannot know how done with me she might be, how past my shenanigans she is, how much frustration I caused her. She has met someone new and is deleriously happy together with her new girlfriend, looking forward to sharing a home within the next few months. I think part of what was so important was the physical presence of a Someone Else. I could not provide that to S., something for which I will eventually forgive myself (what else can I do?) but I will most likely continue to regret for years. At any rate, we didn't work well together but I truly am glad for S. that she has found someone else with which she is comfortable and from whom she feels loved. And well, I suppose it goes without saying that I also have found someone -local- who loves me, with whom I am comfortable and with whom I will eventually set up a home with. In a couple of years, maybe. Yet being with and loving KD does not mean that I can't wear the ring that meant a lot to me, the prettiness of which becons me to distraction at times.
This ring I chose was a wide gold 'comfort fit' band with a narrow dotted "marching ants" pattern along the top and bottom edges of the band. In the center section between the marching ants dances what look to me like stars and moons and other astral fairies, all moving and active, proceeding around my finger.
I hold the universe in my hand just as The Uuniverse holds me in Its hand.

- I remember that I slipped off my gold wristwatch. I dangled one end through the center holes of the two rings and once it had passed through both I fastened the ends of the watch together.

- I remember putting the three items into some sort of a pocket that I thought would be a safe place for keeping them.

Days turned into weeks turned into I guess months and I realized they were really and truly lost. I checked through the zippered pockets of handbags and purses. I checked my backpack. I checked pants pockets and dresser drawers. No watch, no rings. Every few weeks I would re-remember that I had stopped looking and would take up the search with renewed vigor, but I'd never find what I was missing. I unearthed all sorts of interesting things I had no interest in finding, but I could not find those three pieces of jewelry.

Finally, after some Bad Days last week I decided to take a hot shower. I thought soaking off the sheister attitude couldn't do anything but help. Standing under the shower head, I wondered over and over where I possibly could have put the rings and watch that I hadn't already looked. I'd worried that I might have accidentally forgotten to check the inner zipper pockets of some purses I'd donated to Goodwill a couple of months back.
'Maybe someone else now has my rings and I will NEVER EVER SEE THEM, NOT EVER AGAINNNNN', I panicked. Breathe, breathe, breathe.

While water trickled down over the top of my head it occurred to me that I had reached a fork in this lost items road. It wasn't a remarkable thing, it was simply part of the process of thinking the thing through, y'know? There really were only two ways to handle this situation, I figured: continue panicking and freaking out over what I had fucked up and could not un-fuck or somehow try to figure out a way to let them go. Just let them go, out whereever they were - whether they were on a strange woman's arm or in the bottom of a garbage bin or in a closet or in the public landfill - I could lift up thanks for having had them and then let them go on.

And then I laughed at myself standing there in the shower thinking such hippy thoughts because c'mon, that's just too much even for me. Despite the audacity of the ohms, I couldn't shake that idea: Let them go. So I did.

I have no idea how or why or when exactly, but by the time I stepped out of the shower- and after having shed tears- I had said goodbye and be well to the three little silly but important-to-me pieces of jewelry and I was really truly okay with that.
They were gone and I was content to let them be that way.

Next lost item: Monday I was digging around in my school backpack, trying to find a scholarship check that I didn't know I had until only recently (Turns out, it helps to open the mail with some regularity. That's the lesson there). Not that I thought I'd stuffed the check into my backpack because I haven't opened the backpack since mmmm, some time in early December. But still, when you're trying to find Something Important, you cover all your tracks, right? Right.

Dig-a, dig-a dig-a ... what's this?
Well, know how right there in the third zippered pouch there's that velcro flap? And what do you suppose I found inside that? Woohoo, if you said the check???? Wrong~

A watch and two rings, that's what.

Her brain broke breathtakingly on a queer quiz rampage

What Type of Lesbian Are You? (Inspired by Curve Mag.)created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as The Vaginal-Reference-Making Dyke. You are the lesbian who can connect your vagina to nearly every object in the entire universe, creative and a little creepy you always astonish your friends.

=========================

The Vaginal-Reference-Making Dyke 65% The Femme Fatale 55% The Student Dyke 55% The Surprise! Dyke 50% The Sprightly Elfin Femme 50% The Quasi-Gothic Femme 40% The Stud 35% The Bohemian Dyke 25% The Pretty-Boi Dyke 25% The Granola Dyke 15% The Little-Boy Dyke 5% The Hipster Dyke 5% The Magic Earring Ken Dyke 5%

*I rarely take issue with quizzes, especially these that are SO clearly for fun and um, entertainment. But come ON people, if you're going to quiz me on my lesbianism, at least give me a few questions that I can actually answer 'yes' to and not feel as though I've only managed to nubble together some sorta score as a feel-good consolation prize.

'The door to your dorm is plastered in gay pride paraphernalia.' HUNH? No. I answered that twice as absolutely not, and the second time I was clicking the 'NO YOU FUCKING MORON I SAID NO!' button, it was for the tie-breaker which then determined that - according to the responses I gave - I would be 60% likely to be a student dyke. Sigh.

'You own at least one black leather jacket.' Sure, why didn't I realize this sooner? After all, ones outerwear tells all sorts of squeamishly revealing information about a person, doesn't it?! Sigh.

'You secretly worship James Dean.' Go fuck yourselves. I keep my secrets SECRET and none of them, I assure you, NONE OF THEM involve James.

So I guess after all the other best and most real dyke characters are filtered down through, what we're left with at the bottom of the rusty strainer is me, the peculiar pfefferneus of properly pansified periveinous pussy.

SIGH.

No, really. I cannot in good conscience show you mine. At least not here.

You scored as Nipples. You're secretly kinky aren't you? I like you already. Don't let anyone onto your dirty side--it's more fun that way. Nipples 100% Dirty Piercings 90% Tongue Piercing 90% Cartilage Piercing 80% Lip Piercing 60% Earlobe Piercing 50% Labret Piercing 40% Belly Button Piercing 40% Nose Piercing 30% What Piercing Are You? created withQuizFarm.com

photos? what photos?

What's your ideal drug?
created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Ecstacy. Love, sex, parties, and DANCING! Just be wary of your mood coming down! www.dancesafe.org

============================

Ecstacy 81% Marijuana 75% Mushrooms 75% None! 56% Inhalents 56% Cocaine 44% Alcohol 44%

less photos, more quizzes

What Mythological Creature are you?
created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Faerie. Faerie: Aren't you a cute little flying person? Faeries are earth spirits. They live among each element completely hidden. They have cousins called Pixies. Pixies however, are very mischevious. They enjoy tormenting other creatures for fun. Little pranksters.. I hope you never meet one. Pixies have a bad reputation for finding a creature and clinging to them until death. Faeries can be somewhat close to a Pixie, but mostly they are loving, playful, and carry with them a child-like enthusiasm for life. Hide among the pedals of a Daisy, you are a Faerie.

===========================

WereWolf 75% Faerie 75% Mermaid 67% Angel 58% Demon 50% Dragon 33%

Let's take a photographic break for some stargazing

Which sci-fi crew would you best fit in? v1.0
created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Galactica (from Battlestar: Galactica). You are leery of your surroundings, and with good reason. Anyone could be a cylon. But you have close friends and you know they would never hurt you. Now if only the damn XO would stop drinking.

===============================

Galactica (from Battlestar: Galactica) 94% Serenity (from Firefly) 88% Bebop (from Cowboy Bebop) 81% Moya (from Farscape) 75% Millennium Falcon (from Star Wars) 75% Nebuchadnezzar (from The Matrix) 75% SG-1 (from Stargate) 69% Enterprise D (from Star Trek) 50%

================================================================
(And now, the sooper-dee-dooper ULTIMATE stargazer's quiz, updated and all)

Your Ultimate Sci-Fi Profile II: which sci-fi crew would you best fit in?
created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Deep Space Nine (Star Trek). You have entered the dark side of the Star Trek universe. The paradise of Earth is far from you and you must survive despite having enemies on all fronts. But you wouldn�t have it any other way because you thrive in conflict and will know what needs to be done to take care of those around you. Now if only the Founders would quit trying to take over the galaxy.

====================================

Deep Space Nine (Star Trek) 88% Serenity (Firefly) 88% Moya (Farscape) 81% FBI's X-Files Division (The X-Files) 75% Babylon 5 (Babylon 5) 75% Galactica (Battlestar: Galactica) 75% Bebop (Cowboy Bebop) 63% Millennium Falcon (Star Wars) 63% Andromeda Ascendant (Andromeda) 56% Nebuchadnezzar (The Matrix) 56% SG-1 (Stargate) 50% Enterprise D (Star Trek) 31%

Welcome back, Reub. We missed you so.

During a local newscast this evening, the tv crew was interviewing local Badger fans who have been celebrating along with the UW-Madison Badger football team in Orlando, Florida at whatever Bowl game they played today. (bad fan, baaad baaaad fan. I have slapped my hand just now for those gentle readers who might be locals and reading my complete disinterest in the Badger team for the first time. I try, I really do.
I just can't get excited about many sporting events.)

The thing that grabbed my attention was the super-excited woman in her ohh, fifties or sixties maybe. She appeared to be a really happy gal, smiling broadly and donning her reddest of Bucky badger-red gear, who described the scene as "boo-ee-yant".

In what universe does the word boo-yant exist?
I hadn't been watching the broadcast; I'd been listening though, and the fact that I could not identify the word she was using got my attention. So I turned around and started to play the 'name that...' game. Given the situation and the excitement and what I knew of the Badger's winnings, I suspected that the well-intentioned woman must have meant "boy-ant".

Buoyant.

No wonder we have a confused language and an even more confused population...
if you see a little floating bobbing bit of a thing out there in a body of water to mark a channel, well of course I'd understand someone referring to THAT thing as a boo-eee.

But to mark an excited scene as boo-ee-ant? I dunn'thin'so.

Next lesson: Kwik-E-Marts and why our children are slow.