and so it goes.

A'Muse Media

The Way Back
Machine




This is the randomly sporadic archival section of the blog pages.

2007



• Happy
• Amazon
• Peru
• TheWomen
• Opossum Kingdom
• Imus and Idiots
• World Music
• Poisonings
• The Moms
• Over the Hill
• Elder Street Art
• Sept-Nov 07
  
• 2006
• 2005
• 2004
• 2003

Select Readings



• Yvonne
• Beloved
• Wonderful Life
• Pigeon Hawk
• Been Up the Country
• Silent Noble

happynewyear!

January 1 (actually 2nd), 2005

Its 2005. Remember a few minutes ago, when we were shaking in our boots over the whole Y2K Comedy Farce debacle?? I spent this NYE in a most unusual venue, with a most unusual cast of characters and props. It was an Art Car (Houston's Baby) party held in an old, partially abandoned warehouse, east of the artists' district.

A whole passle of art cars showed up, including the Trojan Horse, the Margaritaville car (complete with a working margarita machine!), and an art car that carried several very large propane tanks that, when a party-goer pushed or pulled levers, would spout huge towers of flames.

Fire was the theme as the acts performed their fireball dances in the main arena. Great recorded choices, and a female-lead band entertained us with music throughout the evening.

In another area there was an odd little puppet show, and later we watched some fun-lovers play "Computer Monitor Screen Bowling" as they rolled bowling balls toward monitors, aiming for the glass screens. Several were busted in great audial and visual displays for the onlookers' pleasure.

In the corner of one of the great "rooms" was set up a sort of fire-operated organ. The maestro would play a keyboard, and several pipes would burst with sound as propane lit their horns. Music of the fire gods, indeed.

Thank you so much for the invite, Michael. Look for me there next year.

Nix the Linear

January 5, 2005

I would say Happy New Year, but in a circular continuum, not necessary. Happy whatever and where ever you are. Need something to celebrate?  The fact that it is always New.

Met some friends at Red Cat Jazz Cafe tonight.  Had a wonderful tete a tete with the guy who manned the door, an older gentleman from the old school of "gentlemanliship". If it wasn't a word before, he created it.

There was this architect at the table next to us; he seemed to be on a date (a blind date?) with this woman..... he went outside then came back carrying a small portfolio. It was a small book of his drawings. The women at his table went fairly nuts over his collection, and I caught a glimpse of his wares from my vantage.

He was a magnificent artist, splendid guy. Terribly intriguing man. His drawings were not just detailed, but elegant. From my distant view they were grand.

I never got a closer look. I paid my bill, put on my sweater, we traded glancing curiosity, I left. I'm eating chocolate right now. Anyone out there who's had a near-hit would understand.

The Lioness Den

January 21, 2005

I've been working on redesigning the sites I handle for forward compatibility today. This week. I have had little time for my art, and it is showing up on the insanity scales. A little more meditation on the subjects is in order. Sara said so. She's now my reluctant guru (if you're reading this, Sara, disregard the previous statement.)

I spent my last blowout in the country where you can actually see stars. The ones in the sky. It was a cold two nights, then a road trip to Austin to see a friend, and I'm easing into my new phase. As all the invites are pushed away, I crawl further into my lair to hibernate with my art. School starts Monday, and I'm sure she'll have lovely things in story for this semester. I am adding jewelry making to my repetoire. 102. Second season. Pilot not canceled. I'd say we're rolling now.

I did drop Foundry.  I didn't want to, but I have a sick kittie cat and needed the moolah. Foundry, with lab fees and the extranneous factions, cost around $500 plus the 10 to 20 hours per week I have to put into it for success. Hence the drop.

Magic had been acting lethargic and had been losing her lunch way too often for it to be a furrball, so I took her in one day. We think it might be pancreatitis. She's on special food (it was hard enough keeping the big cats and the kittens separate; now I have to keep all of them separate) so it may help.

Try feeding two big cats two different cat foods, quickly hoisting two large onlooking kittens into each hand, sashaying out the door, then turning off the light and closing the door with your foot while each kitten tries to wrestle out of your grasp.

Magic also gets two medications per day, 3 times a day. That is fun. I'm going to have to wash down her bathroom walls when we're finished with that. Something about sticky medicine on the furr, then a quick shake and slobber, and we're done. She has the appetite of a horse. She's going to be just fine.

Twilight Zone

January 27, 2005

You think I'm kidding, that the words Twilight Zone are a joke. One of those days when I have to separate myself and think "now what did I learn today? Don't allow an answer too soon.

I am blessed with very happy clients, very full life, and a very recovered pussycat. I also have this cast of characters, my friends and associates, whom I watch as I would watch a French Farce, a stage comedy at the Alley, with great fervor.

All day I've been online. Offline. Online. Offline. back and forth, my messenger trying to sign in every few minutes. Its been nothing less than tremendously frustrating.

I upload for a living.

I think I just officially went insane.

I hope tomorrow fares better. I hope you always fare well.

I gotta admit: I like the design. I'll change it when I get the time, though. Be thinking on that one.....

There She Goes

February 4, 2005

She's gone and redesigned again. Like she's got all the time in the world. Just took on two new accounts and has another proposal out - but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

Actually, I've been needing to kick up the gears and put some punch into the bag. In addition to the sites I'm taking on, I'm also beginning a new painting for a silent auction gala put on by the organization where I volunteer. The I Have a Dream Foundation. The theme is the New West (as opposed to Old West,) but my theme is Old Cowgirls of the Early Days. I'm having a blast putting it together.

I talk to Amy next week about putting more paintings in her gallery as I pull together the ones I have been working on.  Intense stories told with painting, photographs, natural elements and architectural relics attached to the canvases and boards.

I have taken to building my own structures to hold the bulk.

I'll post photos of the work once I FINALLY finish my pieces.

I promise.

Word Grinder.

February 15, 2005

I took my latest paintings, with their themes and their provocative elements, to Amy this morning and we had a meeting of the minds. She is newly excited about her show in May; I am newly excited about turning out more works for both May and June.  I was hoping it would all be so far in advance that I could work my magic.  It is. And I will.

Themes will include Lilith, Ocean (to mimick the previous Sea), Cowgirl, Femalitalia.

We gots woik ta do.

Oh, and I am at it creating new catalogs for my newly revamped "toy" business.  I sold for a national company, making peanuts for me and fortunes for the owner; I will now gain the fortunes for myself as I make peanut buttah. It is good to be one's own boss.

My wounds are healing beautifully as I enjoy my new look. I will say, though, that this is the LAST procedure I will ever have done. The pain was unbearable. Experiment successful, but a one-time thing.  I'll BE no Hollywood wife-type.

The Gonzo God is Dead.

February 25, 2005

I just read the news today...

On February 20, 2005, Hunter S. Thompson shot himself in the head and died. I hope he was not in any pain and that it was simply an odd choice of action for an odd man of a life.

The strange thing about reading the news today was that I read it on a site I had had up for at least a day and a half (hoping to peruse more of the site in question.) I finally maximized the browser window this afternoon to view some of the paintings of Ralph Steadman, paintings I'd viewed a couple of days ago, never having read what he had to say on his site.

Until today. He was writing about his old friend, Thompson, in the past tense.  I thought that strange. Steadman had done the artwork for the book Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, and they had become chaps over the years. I had looked at other parts of his site, viewing pages as I had time to view them. Here Steadman was, writing about Thompson as if he were dead.

and he was.

I didn't know until this afternoon. I now send blessings of healing and comfort to his wife. I was a bit of a fan, nothing too extreme, but have a genuine liking for anyone who speaks their mind truthfully and humorously. It made the eccentricities forgiveable.

Now the Gonzo God of Journalism is dead. Forever.

Remember kids, that's the thing about dead. It isn't a fleeting thing.

That Time of Year Again!!

March 11, 2005

Yes, kids, last night was the semi-annual New-Me-B-Q. I gathered up all my old papers and sensitive junk mail (0% interest for 1 month!!!!) and watched it burn, all the while knowing I was ridding my life, the world, and the collective psyche of false finances.

False finances are anything having to do with the idea of money, but not the reality of it. Consider checks. You have too many checks in your possession and not enough money. You'll never use all those checks, especially if you write one big fat one that exceeds the amount of moolah in your account. Bad news, that, me buckos. Gets your little butts in a sling. Just say no.

What about all those offers for loans, credit cards, discounts on new cars / homes / refurbishings / life? Pure BS. Those are what have gotten America into a funk, a financial nightmare of a funk. Watch it burn in your New-You-B-Q!!!! You'll be glad you did. I have an old Lucy & Ethel BBQ pit out back that is made from the same old bricks that my house was facaded with. Its a big old monster, but highly effective.

You, my little monkey cakes, can purchase a Chiminea (with your 0% interest credit cards, of course) and build a nice little fire in that. Warms the cockles on a nice late winter's eve.

Again, thanks to Jerry Pizzitola for creating the concept and making it real. It pays to keep old friends around (even if I haven't heard from him since a couple of emails last Fall.)

I've been extremely busy with two different cases whose trails come up very soon, and another case for a lawyer in Illinois who wishes me to do his graphics by May. I also had a tax-man appointment yesterday morning, but have moved it to next week in light of my daily grind. I've barely begun to pull things together. I've found the most magnificent tax guy in the world, but alas he does not have a web site  to alert you to (perhaps a barter is in order???)

Oh, yes, and web sites. I am working in this obscenely early hour to finish up the spinal cord injury site I am reformatting and redesigning. Blindness is complete and I will move onto Birth Trauma next. I rather like the results.

Its been hell 'round these parts.  So if I haven't answered or returned your calls, don't be alarmed. I usually give a quick contact by email, so check your in-box. Until I see a light at the end of the tunnel, this is the status quo.

Until next time, get back to work. Work as hard as you've ever worked in your life. Make this the Work Month and push yourself to your limit. Take frequent naps, eat well, stay well, and take care of your peeps. Be authentic and keep those ethics intact. It will benefit you greatly in the long run.

Minstrels

March 24, 2005

Such a night. Sara and I went to Dave Jackson's house concert, featuring Forest Sun and Danny Schmidt, and the evening became magic. James Flores and I met in the parking lot, getting there quite early and being gifted with the sound check (always an interesting part of the program.) We watched while the other listeners meandered in. There was a question of whether to have it inside or outside. The musicians opted to play inside to ensure a more pure sound (and to avoid the passing motorcycles who seemed a bit louder than usual.)

I had heard Forest Sun's music for the first time last Fall and became an immediate follower. He didn't disappoint with his stunning vocals and superbly written musical scores. The delight of the evening was the guy he brought along with him: Danny Schmidt, who "opened" for Forest, lending his own full, beautiful voice to the air.

Danny is an extraordinary artist, an incredibly talented renaissance poet for our times. Sara and I were enamoured of his lyrics, the way he turned a phrase and played his guitar, which was nothing short of genius. He was amazing to watch. He became sweet and rare nectar for our weary minds. This rather young guy spoke and sang great wisdom that only a few attain in an entire lifetime.

And the guy was so real. Thank you, Danny, for sharing your stories with us.

Forest came on after Danny, singing songs I was familiar with, and some I wasn't. With a sly and sultry chord, he entertained us with his own tunes, tales of his life and travels and loves.

I highly recommend getting to know Forest's and Danny's music. There is something wholly unique and divine in their writings, in the tune. Last night was one of the most memorable evenings I've experienced in a very long time.

When this all washes away, when this life isn't life anymore, I will still have flashes of extreme beauty as I had last night. In these flashes lay my heaven.

Thank you, Forest and Danny, for such a powerful experience. You are enlightened, and now we awake enlightened as well.

A Night at the Races

April 2, 2005

I spent the evening watching the horses run from our perch at the Jockey Club. All the gang was there with us, Pattie and Tommy arrived right after we did, her mom Connie the Magnificent came up and hugged me, her friends Barbara and Ann showing up to join us (they'd just returned from a trip to Playa Del Carma), Josh was there with his sweet and mischievious smile, and Pattie's brother taught us all a few things about betting on horses. And Pattie's dad. What a great character he is. But my biggest "thanks" goes out to Judy, without whom this would not have been possible.

Judy, you are the best. Thank you to infinity.

We dined on crab legs and jumbo shrimp, beautiful salads and smoked salmon. I drank champagne until I simply couldn't anymore. Yes, kids, I drank water throughout the night as well. Surefire way to avoid that morning after effect that has disabled quite a few of us.

What a great and beautiful crew. I am blessed to know such wonderful folk who simply love enjoying each others' company. A evening was had by all as I look forward to our next Jockey Club adventure!

A'Broad

April 20, 2005

Florence, Italy.

captured

May 1, 2005

I just met with a wonderful photographer friend of mine, g a r y f a y e . c o m. We drank Schramms champagne and talked of travel. I have a session set up for Thursday. I do hope it goes well. We've been talking about photographing me for many years now.

I look forward to it.

I have a new dress for the Law Gala this Saturday night. It is actually "The" dress. The Dress to end all dresses. A gown. One of those bias-cut jobs from the golden age of talkies, from the pre-depression era when satin starlets made their mark on film.

I guess I'll make my mark helping out some law people at their celebration of their accomplishments. I will bring my dress to the photo shoot. I hope to make my own subtle mark on gary's film.

Law Gig

May 11, 2005

I know you've been chomping at the bit to find out how it went. The Law Gala happened and I was there in all my regalia (okay, The Dress, high heels, and earrings. That was it.) For a recap of events, take a look...

Law Peeps Show

The Art Show

May 17, 2005

The Sippora show Friday night was way too much fun. Named Erotica, there were paintings, sculptures, collages and a whole bevy of oddities for the soirre. People watching at its peak. My contribution was a collection of femalia - my venusae paintings, my bronzes, my red butterfly. So many friends showed while too many couldn't make it. For those of you who stayed at home (or had emergencies, the only two reasons for not making it), here are just a couple of shots of what you missed:

Me at The Sippora Show's Erotica Exhibition

Forever Ago

May 25, 2005

Yes, it has been forever since I logged last. Been busy. Crazy freakin' busy. I come up for air only to go back down again, back down to the depths of the work ocean, down amongst the dead sailors of workaholic lore.

Tons has happened since my last log, but I wasn't a part of it.... just kidding. Allan Rodewald had his world-famous studio art show last weekend and a great time was had by all who came, and regretted by all who didn't. I had peeps emailing me way into the week to thank me for the magic. Magic it was. I'll post the picts once I come up for air again. 3 deadlines this week alone. It usually takes months for me to gain deadlines like that. I am blessed. Tired, but blessed.

I am prepping paintings for June's Eve show at Sippora, did a Power Point presentation a couple of days ago (even surprised my own self with that feat), and am updating Allan's website with his new work, taking down the sold paintings and creating a 'sold' page. I hope he can be patient just a little longer. Hell, most design houses take weeks to get that done; I got the task Monday and wish to deliver on Friday. But that's just me.

Muse the Ballet

May 27, 2005 (Happy Birthday, Allan!)

I have been given a wonderful and beautiful friend, Judy, who has ordered her Muse (and Siren. We don't discriminate.) Judy is on the board of the City Ballet of Houston and has written her intentions as to how she will use her Muse:

"My Muse will be associated with ballet, and will provide the inspiration needed to come up with original/unique fund raising efforts and grant application efforts to obtain the amounts necessary for the City Ballet of Houston to perform Giselle at the Hobby Center in the Spring of 2007. The Siren will be especially effective in luring donations from at this time unknown sources.

"Together these Muses/Sirens could inspire and guide my efforts in preparing grant applications and hopefully lure some new sources of funding we have not yet found. Margo Marshall has been a dancer and a teacher of ballet for 60 plus years and to produce Giselle as performed by the City Ballet of Houston Company has long been her dream. I would pray to the Muses and Sirens to aid me in making this dream come true for her. Muse On!!!"

Judy is a most elegant and amazing woman. I cherish her dearly. She has more energy than folks half her age. She is more fun than most people I know -- all put together. Muse on, Judy!!!

Tribe

June 6, 2005

Paintings are at Sippora, I am back from visiting my family over the weekend, and I am still fighting a horrendous sinus fiasco. I have never had sinus problems, my sister suffering from that while I held the asthma, but the last three years have been a battle to breathe through my nose. I am convinced it is allergies, but those allergies seem to be causing so many problems as to prevent my body from fighting off infection. This weekend's suffering is turning into an infection, the third in 7 weeks (since my return from Florence.)

I go back to the ENT Tuesday to have him explain the results (or non-results) of the CT scan. Says there is nothing there to be concerned about. Then what the hell is wrong with my right sinus? Why is it paralyzed? Why, when I sleep horizontally (like most people do) does my head become so clogged that I cannot breathe at all? I feel like I'm suffocating. I hear reports of others suffering from the same thing. There must be some way to alleviate this, but my own doctor isn't upping anything special.

My first visit several weeks ago was to see his partner, because my guy was in surgery that day and I couldn't wait. That bozo sent me to the xray floor, to have shots taken of my LUNGS. Wasn't that brilliant? The even more brilliant part of that was the bill. My insurance wouldn't pay for the hospital proceedure (unnecessary as it was) because it was in the hospital and not a private clinic. My doctor didn't reveal that I had a choice. My estimate is that he was generating revenue for the hospital where he works. St. Luke's. Remember that, kids. They're all bedfellows.

My friend, Steve, has referred me to an ENT in his area (250 miles away) who has the ability to diagnose rare sinus diseases within minutes. I will call them again today to see when I can get in to have my chance. Today, I am running at about 70%. This week is the week for rest and recouperation, cell regeneration, homeopathic remedies. 3 doses of anti-biotics have only served to make this worse. Antihistamines don't do anything at all (and I have now tried ten different kinds.) If this guy can't diagnose what I have, then please send in your suggestions to a witch doctor.

Truth

June 13, 2005

Looking back, I realize it was my doctor's sekatery who gave me the impression that there was nothing to see on the CT scan. To her I would say "You're FIRED". I finally made a belated appointment with him, still believing there was nothing to see, and was oddly surprised that there was a LOT to see.

There seems to be an enormous mass in my right sinus, something completely blocking my breathing and eating away at my overall health and well-being. It is so large a mass that it is sneaking into my left sinus. This is a problem. This alien thing, this monster who has taken up residence in my nose will require surgery to remove. Surgery scheduled for next week, with conditions. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

I want to be "normal" again. I've been running at about 60 - 75% since my return from Florence, and for a person whose norm is 120%, it drags. Like fighting underwater. I go in for pre-op this Thursday and I have a whole bucket full of questions to ask. How many of these have you performed? ... What should I expect? ... Has everyone washed their hands? ... If I die on the operating table, will I see Jesus? ...

A question or two.

Counting Down the Days from Polypopolis

June 17, 2005

For those of you who own any stock in Kleenex, you can thank me for any recent earnings. I am still having "episodes" of undulating polypie movement and overall allergic reactions to something within or without, in spite of heavy doses of Prednisone (to shrink the monsters for surgery), decongestants (which actually aggravate the situation, but who am I to forfeit comfort for reality?), and antihistamines. I went in yesterday for my pre-op visit to my doctor, who will be performing the out-patient surgery next Wednesday. Them dragons will be slayed. He has performed hundreds of these types of surgeries and teaches the procedure, as well. I have complete confidence in his abilities.

I've named my bulbous tumors Kudzu and Jumanji, although there are perhaps several more of them. Don't let anyone tell you its no big deal, either. These things set up housekeeping, then continue to grow. They are invasive and I have found photographs online that depict the swollen sinuses and noses of sufferers, discovering that these things can actually grow so large as to separate bone. There is a guy in my office who was describing the exact same symptoms as I'd had; he is opting to let it go. I will continue to urge him to see a doctor about this. These are nothing to play around with, kids.

Actually, I think mine are a lovely gay couple (they do keep a nice yard, if I may say so myself), moving in and rearranging furniture, adopting little polyps and awaiting approval to send them to the best polyp pre-schools, educating them in the best of polyp'esque invasitivity... yes, it is time for eviction. I had asked my doctor if I could save one or two of them; it seems my boss isn't taking me seriously when I speak of my pain and ills so I figured it might be fun to take them out, sew little eyes on them (in case they don't already have them -- I don't know exactly what appertures they have yet), and have a little polyp puppet show for the man in charge. Wouldn't that be fun?

My doctor says that won't be possible. He has to demolish them as he removes them. Takes all the fun out if it, doesn't it?

Have I mentioned how excited I am to have this accomplished? I am beside myself. That makes two of us, doubly excited, awaiting the big day. I cannot wait. But I'll simply have to. My mom is flying down to be with me, a wonderful gesture in itself, and I intend to make it one of the best experiences of my life.

Crop Polyps

June 25, 2005

Polypopolis is no more. The doctor said it was far more populated than previously expected. He said I do grow polyps. I grow polyp crops. The morning of surgery I was cleaning off my desktop (on the computer) and I began to delete a folder called "logs" because I have all the important logs already filed away. I realized after reading it that I hadn't looked at the files in this folder since November 22, 2002. There were two days of journaling, writings about what was going on in my life right before a trip to Italy. Here's an excerpt (with a little poetic affectation):

Nov 19, 2002
My main function of the next 100 or so hours is to figure out why my right nostril is paralyzed. I must discover what it is in me that created this, what I can do to release this, and what it is that I am holding onto. ... I will embark on an Italian wine-tasting spree next Monday (3 days before Thanksgiving, 2002), looking foward to learning about climate, region, grape and process.

Think of me, in a rented car ..., plowing down 2-lane roads through the Southern Italian countryside, me clutching the steering wheel to brace myself against my own progression. I think of the last month of sinus hell that I have gone through. I am clinging to something, I feel oppressed by someone, I am hanging onto something detremental to my own development and growth. Good to be away from soft tyrannicism for awhile.

This sinus stuff was around at least 2-1/2 years ago, in all its full regalia. Problem was: I was going to the Italian countryside with, Les, the wart hog whom I was needing to let go of. It took three months after that trip to feel human again. The next journal entry was for the 22nd and spoke of some wonderful old soul I'd met. Turned out to be the biggest dweeb this side of reality, so old thought logs aren't always what they're cracked up to be.

Right before surgery, when all the attending peeps were visiting my bedside, sticking me, taking my temperature (they ran this funky wand across my forehead and cheek, how very Logan's Run) they would ask questions. So I'd ask questions.

Of the anesthesiologist, I asked "so, do you use one of those cartoon mallets on my skull?" She said "yeah, why not!?" As they were readying me for the op room, I held up my nose and said "I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. D'Mille", like they've never heard THAT one before!! But I don't think they had...... I thought the guy holding the bag was gonna lose it. A good laugh was had by all, then I went completely unconscious. Anesthesia is so nice.

Waking up in the recovery room, my eyes would just sort of roll around in my head, then the lids would barely open, then close again. Those lights were bright!!! This very big, brown, teddybear man came over to attend to me, so I asked him "where's the candlelight?" He laughed and said " ma'am, if we had candlelight, you'd never wake up!" I asked "so, uh, where's the argument?"

I'm recovering well, already onto the next big thing (and finishing up the last big things, of course.) One tends to leave them big things as they are and pick them up where one left off in events such as this. I never count on the inevitable: that I will take on more next big things because I'm in hyper-creation mode anyway. I have to refamiliarize myself with my existing tasks. I have to set the stage for my burgeoning tasks. Help the flow happen quicker, better, deeper. Sounds like a slogan.

Boy, have I got my work cut out for me..... (there is an extreme metaphysical irony in that statement, but I guess ya just had to be there.)

The Heal

June 29, 2005

I'm having a bit of an episode tonight, somewhat of an allergic reaction to something that my face didn't like. My cheekbone started aching earlier today so I massaged it (if you've never had a face massage, run and get one immediately. It is magic.) I suspect part of my problem could be due to having artifacts removed from my skull, from my inner cranio-facial cavities, from having things unknown wrenched from my tender wet flesh. I looked and felt pretty good right after surgery and on through the weekend, then... Monday hit.

I sat from 5am until around 10pm at the computer, researching Flash sites for possibilities, staring at a computer screen all day and all night. In the interim, I decided to try and make my second, older computer work for me, but it had its own ideas. It just sits there tonight, all silent and mocking, a monument to my powerlessness over Windows 98 and its inherent problems.

I will wrench artifacts from its inner self someday and make it my beautiful and obedient slave. But for today, I let her rest. Let her have her way. So then Tuesday, yesterday, I took it a little easier because my eyes hurt. (I sit here now, typing away while looking away, off into the distance as I used to urge my students to do - "go on, daydream! it'll save your retinas!!" -- because my eyes are hurting again) and I worked until 7:30pm or so last night, then took a very hot shower and went to read my geek books. Then I wrote. Our eyes are some of our most precious possessions. Ask anyone who has ever lost their site.

Today I have worked since 4:30am (it is 8:30pm and I quit only a few minutes ago.) I couldn't sleep after 4:30am. I'm sure its the Prednisone. I'm also sure it is due to NOT working out for weeks now, not being at all active except for the yoga I had done for awhile before surgery. Now I have to wait until I can bend over again, so I am not getting much of any kind of exercise and that is just sad. I'm a highly physical person. I can't stand not being active. I will ask the doctor tomorrow at my follow-up if I can resume normal activity yet. Hell, I can't even blow my nose yet. Its FORBIDDEN. And considering I have to squirt saline solution up yonder every hour or so (okay, so I'm not on schedule today - I'm running at about every 3 hours or so), there is room for by-product. But who knows. I'm not allowed to look.

I've lost a ton of weight... POLYPS, THE PERFECT DIET ... and I'm hungry all the time. I know that is the Prednisone for sure. I was just noticing I look like crap. I look like I haven't had sleep in a week, when last Sunday I looked like a nubile young hippie, long blonde hair, tan skin, full lips, no make-up. I was hot. Now I look like Ma Kettle. You know: Maybe sitting scrunched in a chair for 3 days straight isn't the best healing method in the world. I'm off to do some stretching and meditation.

Listen up, kids, THIS is what computerism can do to you. I have a full day tomorrow and I don't know if make-up will cover this chaos.

Vacation Unknown

July 10, 2005

I take off today for the beach. I'll wrap up my healing completely what with all that organic salt water (as opposed to store-bought / prescribed ENTSOL, which is, in essence, BRINE.) I'll duck my head under and inhale. Then I'll have no polyps to worry about because the sinuses will then be inhabited by beautiful and strange sea creatures swimming about. Mermaids in my nose. Sea Monkeys.

Upon my return, I will begin the paintings for the August art show Body Language. I have prepared the canvases, even laid out a plan this morning at 4:30am. The ideas are pressure cooking. Incubating. I will also commence with the creation of my prototype redesign for the main page of the law site.
Lots going on in this head. Animation anyone?

Back in the Saddle

July 16, 2005

What a fantastic trip to an island. I dove both Monday and Wednesday and know that my sinuses are all the better for it. It was a short trip, but a perfect one. We hit the beach just as the weather was turning nice, then left as it was beginning to show signs of another tropical storm. 3 solid days of sun and beach and diving and salt water. I'm better than ever.

The diving was magnficent. I got the shots developed today so I will work on putting them up tomorrow. Thank you to my hosts: crabs, lizards, gar fish, and all.

July 24, 2005

Its been awhile since I've updated things, but the software learning curve has proven to be mocking yet provocative, urging me on while pushing me out, giving me the come-on while doling out the brush-off. She has been my mistress, my ellusive French curve, and he has been the fake wrestler, picking me up only to throw me down again... and again.... and again........ Surly bastard. I've worked all weekend on this stuff to develop several presentations for the firm. Lately I'm working too damned hard.

I've taken on the graphics for a new case, yet am wondering where I will find the funds to sign up for Foundry again this semester. It'll happen. It always does.

I've been eating like I've got tapeworm, but have not gotten above 110 yet. I can't give blood until I am at least 110. Now, I can give platelettes at 100lb. That makes about as much sense as nothing. I can understand not giving blood if I'm a little underweight, but cannot understand giving hours worth of platelettes when I'm way underweight. I have developed a great friendship, a sistership, with a woman who does this regularly. I shall ask her.

I had peanut butter ice cream pie at Logan's Roadhouse today. I ate almost all of it. If I'm not careful, I will blow up like a pufferfish.

July 29, 2005

Wow. I'm sitting here watching the intermittent rain shower, finally arriving today after a very hot, muggy, cloudy day, when all of a sudden a huge thunderclap branched across my area. It was like.... like the lightening and thunder in War of the Worlds (the recent Tom Cruise version) when the space ships were populating.... oh, wait. I don't want to give anything away to anyone who hasn't seen it. But I'm serious. I think the mothership has arrived.

All the rain has stopped, but every few seconds there is this ENORMOUS thunderclap across the sky. Everything fell dead silent (except the old Hedi Lamar movie I have on the box -- GOD she's gorgeous) and I could feel the electricity in the air. I'm amazed that it didn't blow out a transformer. One time I was on the phone with my grandmother during a storm and both of us got blasted with lightening over the line. It sent a huge bolt of electricity through the phone and both of us were earshocked.

Let that be a lesson to all of us. Stay off the phone during an electrical storm.

Oh, and there was the time on a perfectly gorgeous, sunny day, a few clouds in the sky, when suddenly a cloud came over the house I was living in and the lightening bolt blew out the transformer right outside my window. It destroyed a phone, a microwave oven, and blew out a light fixture. This is nothing to mess around with, kids. Heed my warnings.

The aliens have arrived.....

Body Language

August 7, 2005

The Sippora Body Language Show went very well last night. There is a problem, though, with having any sort of event, soirre, shindig, happening in the days surrounding a new moon.  It is a yin / yang thing. Upon a full moon, the yang is high and energy is at its peak, so planning a party during any of those days right before a full moon will ensure success and high activity. Having a party anywhere near or before a new moon, on the other hand, puts the action into a yin energy, which is calming, sedate, relaxed. Quite a few people came and a great time was had, but it was low-key. It was actually quite perfect for a show that displayed hundreds of paintings of bodies.

Rather than the outsides of bodies, I displayed the insides. Bones.

Brilliance and Eloquence Lost

August 8, 2005

Peter Jennings, the premier ABC News anchor, died last night of lung cancer. He was extraordinary, while lacking a "formal" education, as he traveled the world and told us of our lives. Beginning at the age of nine, he broadcast what he knew to be the truth. He embodied eloquence, exacting information, compassion, elegance, finesse. I know the world will miss him so much. I will miss him madly. I thought he was the most handsome, intelligent, kindest man I had ever seen on television.

They say he had a great sense of humor.  I would expect that.

I never imagined news like this, not told of the Newsteller. I just shake my head and wonder why these things happen to good people.

Happy Birthday to Me.

August 11, 2005

Last night an old friend took me out to dinner. I thought we were just going somewhere close around here, but at the last minute he surprised me by carting me to a wonderful new place on the west side, a brand new restaurant a friend of his owns. It was gorgeous, with murals made from mosaic tiles, light wood, smokey glass, fabulous food. It was a wonderful pre-birthday evening with all the accoutrements and a whole lotta flair. Quite nicely done.

I have a way too busy day, but I am looking forward to it. An early trip to a nursing home to make a proposal, lunch with friends, cake at the law office, home for a nap (I hope), then a well-deserved slumber party at a friend's house. This will be a very good birthday. My wish for today is that everyone else out there has a good one, too.

What Fun We Had!

August 12, 2005

It was a good one. I'm working on a slide show of the photographs from the slumber party. I'll alert you to their arrival. Lawd, Lawd, who knew several women could have so much fun on just a few appletinis. Let them eat cake.

I've now added the pictures of the Rodewald Art Show, held last May.  I told you I'd put them up here as soon as I could. Yes, this is "soon".

Meringue

August 17, 2005

My favorite time of day is twilight. Twilight is deep and fleeting, lavender and light breezes, quiet and profound. Twilight happens twice a day.   Lucky lucky me. As I look out upon the Blue Heaven tonight, my little paradise in the backyard, I had to wonder what it is that is making me so damned ravenous. I am experiencing this hunger like nothing else, I am craving something that I cannot imagine, something that isn't here, but I don't know what it would be.

I am embarking on the Perricone plan, and perhaps salmon just isn't doing it for me (I must say that, in spite of eating it about 3 times a day, I'm still not sick of it. Yet.) I have eaten steamed vegetables, drank green tea, snacked on walnuts. What in the hell do you Perricone people snack on, anyway?  Whatever it might be, it won't quell this craving. This is something much deeper, something my mind has told my body that it just cannot have.

And this hunger clings to me like the crust on bread, like butter in grits, like the meringue on my pie. Oh wait, that always tends to slide off. But then you can just sort of inhale it. I could inhale some slidden off meringue right about now. God, that would be nice.

Picture that.

Fun at the dermatologist... I went to see my skin doctor today and she said I look just swell. She was glad I was attempting the Perricone plan; she knows what sort of results it can bring. I could see several suspicious spots on my skin -- she saw only one and removed it. Out of 5 previous biopsies, 4 have come back precancerous. No biggie. It happens. Make a note:  it happens a lot and to a lot of people. Go see your dermatologist. You'll thank me later. Or not.

Austin, Texas

August 23, 2005

I had a great weekend of road rapture, then it was back to the grindstone this week. I took Saturday off to drive in beautiful cloud-dotted weather to Austin to meet with a couple of sets of friends. One set to see, the other to lunch with. Because of crossed wires, I know Austin better now than I ever have just to get to the first set of peeps.

After that was settled and greetings were exchanged, I trekked through town to meet Vicki and Diane at the Hula Hut, right on the lake, for a great lunch and people watching. Austin is stunning. If I weren't so locked in here, I would move to Austin. It is no wonder that so many people move there. After lunch, we went to the new Whole Foods market to where it seemed everyone in the city flocked. It was divine, even if Whole Foods has gone so commercial, so mainstream.

Another great drive and I was home before nightfall. It was worth the several hours on the road just to see some old souls. I missed a couple of people because they had their own flocks to tend to, but it was a successful trip anyway.

Painting for the Ages

August 28, 2005

I did my "Art Expression" session at the nursing home lastThursday afternoon and it was one of the most wonderful days spent with strangers. There were, at first, just a couple of residents in their wheelchairs, pushed up to the table the attendants had prepared with plastic cover. I continued to prep the table with water jars, torn rags for painting with, paper sack "canvases" upon which to paint.

Soon a couple more women showed, their wheelchairs pushed into the room, their hands covered with latex gloves, their lovely little outfits covered with hospital gown smocks so they wouldn't get all painty. I explained to everyone that this was to be a session to express their feelings in art, to clear their minds of any distracting thoughts and just put the paint onto their surfaces. I instructed them to breathe....

None of us breathe correctly, so I reminded them every so often to take a good long deep breath and clear their heads. A few of them jumped into the project without prompting, but several of them were confused and didn't understand how to begin. I explained that the only rule was to enjoy themselves, and to breathe!, and to just get the paint onto their papers. They could use the rags or simply fingerpaint; we all ended up doing both and loving every second of it. As it ended up, about 8 women joined the group!!

Now there was this one wonderful curmudgeon at the end of the table who had no intention whatsoever of painting. She would say "I've got a house full of paintings, I don't want to paint anymore, I just don't give a damn!!!" To which I would answer "good! then you'll be the one to watch and tell us what we're doing right!" She just didn't want any part of it, except for the fact that she was right there with us and wasn't budging. She eventually nodded off as we carried on with our painting session.

The women were absolutely delightful. Each had their own sweet little ways, one who reminded me of my father's mother thought I was just silly. We all had such a lovely time. At some point or other during our session, each one smiled. What a wonderful gift I was given that day.

Guitars and Phonographs

August 29, 2005

A friend drove in this weekend and I had a most unusual musical experience (for me, anyway.) Danny Scmidt lives in Austin and records music that is a bohemian, magical, ancient, folk, deep, refreshing delight to the senses. He needed to shop for guitars, so he found a couple of places in town and we decided to hang out awhile. I had never been in a guitar store before.

They hung everywhere. Amateurs and novices came and went as he looked around for what he needed, a couple of shoppers sat on stools trying out the instruments. He picked out what I think were Wilson guitars to test. He picks well. I heard his sounds emanating from the strings, the wood, the embellishments that made them look a little too "Porter Wagner" (he didn't like the embellishments, either.) Mother-of-Pearl fluff.

Some guitars offered a woody, rich sound, others gave a more metallic, sharp resonance. So many factors go into what comes out of the guitar, such as the type and thickness of wood, the innards (there are innards in there), the neck, the strings. I did find out that OM means Orchestra Model. This is because back in the day (like the 30s of the last century) everyone played banjo instead of guitar, so in order to get the players to switch for the orchestras, they made special models of guitar, and the style has become known as OM.

It was a different kind of experience for me to be a part of, and I liked it. To sit there and hear musicians come in and try the music machines was rather mystical. I tried learning guitar a million years ago, but it just wouldn't click. I used to play the piano, but those aren't something you just haul around with you anywhere you go, so I have lost the ability.

My Dad takes old guitars and refurbishes them. Now that I know the price of a guitar, and how rare old guitars are now (Japanese buy them up in their quest for Americana), I have a great appreciation for his craft. Thank you Danny, and thank you Dad.

Guitars and Phonographs- Part Deux

August 30, 2005

I received a press release yesterday about Caroline Aiken, a blues / folk / gutsy musician from Georgia. I first saw her at a house concert here in town and it was one of the most amazing musical experiences ever. Most house concerts are, but Caroline made this one particularly profound. I wanted to alert you to what's happening in her life:

Press Release: August 21st 2005 -

Caroline Aiken suffers broken left wrist, surgery scheduled - some tour dates cancelled.

While riding her bike along a bike path in a small town in Georgia, guitarist, singer songwriter, Caroline Aiken had to strongly brake in order to avoid a car that had suddenly turned in front of her. Caroline was catapulted over her bike handles, landing with enough force to severely fracture her left wrist. She is resting at her family home in Georgia and awaiting her surgery scheduled for Friday August 26th.

Sadly for her fans and for her, Caroline was to embark next week on her fall tour to promote her new CD, "Are We There Yet Mama?". The Tour was to take her throughout the United States and over to the British Isles, Germany and the Netherlands. At this time, all plans are on hold for the immediate future until her prognosis is ascertained following her surgery.

Schedule Updates:

All of her August/September dates have been cancelled at this time except for the Sausalito House Boat Concert, Studio E in Sebastopol and Coopers in Nevada City. The website schedule will be updated as the facts unfold. Benefit concerts are being planned, check the websites over the next few weeks for more details. http://www.carolineaiken.com Much thanks to the venue's for their patience and support at this critical time.

Thanks to all of you for your kind thoughts, support and love.

As most of us know Caroline has spent much of her career performing for the benefit of others, now it is our turn to support her!

Lisa C Cowden
Friend and Business Mgr for
Caroline Aiken
Singer/Songwriter
www.carolineaiken.com
P.O. Box 877
Cedar Ridge, CA 95924
U.S.A.

The No-Smoking Section

September 12, 2005

A few of us have noticed over the past year or so that some restaurants are not following any of the specifically documented rules (now laws) that cities have laid upon the books, and smokers are still smoking where it isn't allowed while managers and owners turn their gaze. Many places are completely non-smoking, and the laws state that if there is a smoking section, it has to be provided outside of the common walkways and non-smoking sections, not in the path of those who are moving from one section to the next.

As it stands, this isn't so. Carrabbas (upscale Italian) and Rickshaw (sushi) are two stated culprits in this battle. A friend has now complained against their practice of forcing patrons to either walk through the "smoking section" (the bar) to get to their tables, or to allow all smokers to smoke wherever they wish. Now I have been made aware that there is no smoking anywhere, unless the smoking section is strictly for consuming alcohol. Because this wasn't planned for, most bars in restaurants are at the front through which all the restaurant-goers must pass to get to where they can dine.

Looks like a change is in the offering. The battle has just begun.

For a Smoke-Free World

September 13, 2005

I am an ex-smoker. Since quitting about 18 years ago, I have developed a severe sensitivity to cigarette smoke. This is unfortunate, but nothing that I can help, nor want to help. Considering the facts, its a ridiculously obnoxious habit, but I do understand the belligerence with which smokers will defend their vice. I did it, too. But I realized what I was doing to myself and my environment... and my friends, and I stopped. I went cold turkey. So I don't buy into the bullshit that it is "impossible" to stop without props or gum or patches or other crutches. I tried several times because I was smart enough to recognize the hazards I was exposing myself and others to, and I quit.

I am joining in the campaign to help my city give it up (cigarettes, that is; giving "it" up is none of my business) and clean out their systems, their clothing, their lives, rather than their bank accounts. Who is benefiting from a cigarette habit??? The tobacco companies, NOT the smokers. Only zippity dipshits would believe that they themselves have the advantage when they light up. Its one of the biggest farces ever played upon society, and too many eat it up like its a gift. The money they spend on cigs goes straight into the pockets of the cigarette manufacturers, while the exhorbitant taxes go to the government, and the smokers are stuck with medical bills in their later years as they waste away with lung disease.

I guess the good news, if there is any, is that lung cancer can kill a person relatively quickly. Within months, sometimes, rather than years, spreading quickly throughout the body to manifest as other cancers, such as bone and pancreas. I hear the pain is unbearable, but modern medicine has drugs that should take care of that.  Most of the time. The side effect to pain-killlers, though, is constipation. For days. Thrilling, ain't it?

So take heart, smokers, you will die a little sooner and faster than you expect, even if it is a lingering and ugly death. The drugs will dull the pain, the laxatives will unplug your butt, and those oxygen machines they put you on should help you get a little more air than without them. You cannot, of course, smoke around those things.  You would blow up, and lets not get into what a horrid experience death-by-fire can be.

Actual smoking laws for Houston:
http://www.houstontx.gov/health/Environmental/2005-245.pdf (a .pdf file requiring Acrobat)

Health risks due to smoking
http://www.smokefreehouston.org/health.asp

To those of you who still smoke: You smell very, very nasty, stale and bitter, like old man sweat mixed with motor oil, washed in wet cigarette butts, no matter how you try to cover it up. So please, just stay away from me. I made the effort to stop giving the filthy rich tobacco companies my hard-earned bucks, you can give it a shot, too.

Flying

September 18, 2005

I'm working on the new Macromedia Flash 8 Pro, corraling cats, watching the Emmys, eating Concord grapes, and finishing up sculpting my first wing for my new wing series. It will be bronzed, set high above a base to look as if it were in flight. Its very pretty. The wings are my effort toward honoring my angels.

I've been in close contact with my angels lately, reminding me throughout my moments that I am not in any class of control over my life. They've used all manor of hints and whispers, too, and a few slaps up'side da head. They've forced a few issues. I call it miraculous, they call it their job.
Fine. Then makin' wings is my job.

Blue Man is putting on an arresting little show right now; 'guys are pretty good sometimes.

Some friends have mentioned that they hadn't heard a whole lot on the pages lately about my bicycling. Well, I gotta do it to write about it. Actually, I've ridden road rid rided, I rode a couple of times this week, but not for long. It's 937 degrees outside. Typically riding is like flying to me. Not today. It was more like being in a convection oven.

I rode today, but got a late start, so I did about 75%. I began to think about a life metaphor as I rode, about how I always have the choice to turn around and stop the progress at any part of the journey, but I pull out my personal best to go on.

If I were to make the decision to turn around, I would have to endure all that which comes along with it: that I couldn't go the distance. Disappointment, a little frustration mixed with a tinge of guilt. But to actually stay on the path and go forward is easier than making that decision to turn back, because all I have to do is let momentum, perpetual motion, take me forward. To first wrestle with the decision to turn around (whether using the excuse of heat, rain, cold, tiredness, soreness, whatever) then to actually slow down and make the effort to twist my bike around and head the other direction, can be much more of a hassle than to just keep moving forward. In life it can be the same thing.

Beginning is the hardest part of the journey, as someone said, and it remains true in most all cases. Once you get a little momentum going, it can be somewhat downhill, compared to the decision and proaction to turn back and continue as before. If you stay in one place, or if you get going then twist back to what life was doing before, then you never experience any thrills, surprises, mystery, physical and mental elation, a better body. Begin, go the distance, then reap the faceted benefit of doing your best. My best? Seventy five percent when its 937 degrees outside.

Extremes

September 21, 2005

For those of you who've tried to call and all circuits are busy, I'm preparing for the storm by boarding up the windows, plastic bagging all my important papers, writing my name on the inside of my jacket. This is a rather serious storm, I just found out from the Mayor of Galveston. The weather service has reported 190mph winds, a 70 mile eye (unheard of), and storm surges all along the coast.

It is a mass exodus here, freeways locked up, lumber yards and grocery stores empty, people experiencing great worry and woe. I'm not going to pack up 4 cats and brave that drama unless I see that I will have to. I have the cat carts ready. I'll get the food and other accoutrements ready tomorrow.  I intend to stay as long as I see it will be somewhat safe.

If not, I will pack up the kids and head north (perhaps at the last minute, but perhaps i won't have to sit in the current traffic to leave the city.)  Not too sure what's gonna happen, but I do know it'll be wet and windy.

I will write more later, perhaps tomorrow.

Riding the Storm Out

September 22, 2005

The exodus doesn't seem to be working very well. The freeways are clogged to the gills with drivers, and so many cars are overheating and having brake problems. I'm watching this on my TV. There are snakes of lights along every freeway out of town.  One woman from Galveston said she'd gotten to the Galleria area (mid-Houston to the west of downtown), and from there to Hempstead, probably about 40 to 50 miles or so, took 10 hours. She said that's when it "opened up" and the speeds got up to 40mph.

How the hell could I leave if I had to?  It won't get any better on the freeways, so I'm simply going to board myself in and pray for the best. In addition to securing my home, I'm also packing a bag to take in case I'm forced to leave, and have the cats' things ready.

I went to sleep at midnight; I've been awake since 4am this morning. That's 4 hours of sleep. I will try to get some rest sometime today. I haven't been able to reach the nursing home to cancel our art expression session, but feel they probably know and have things to do themselves in preparation for the storm. They are much, much closer to Galveston than I am.

I had a friend come over last night to help me cut wood -- we will hang it today. Yep, I actually found some plywood. Miraculous considering Houston was almost sold out early Wednesday morning. I had plans to lunch with my beautiful little "kid" Lucy (I've mentored her throught the I Have A Dream Foundation for over 3 years now) so I picked her up before her school/work program office job. She immediately found out her company was closing for the day, so we decided to spend a little time together and hang. I mentioned that I was looking for lumber and asked if perhaps her boyfriend could come over and board up my windows later. Don't worry, I ALWAYS pay the two for anything they might do for me! 'Teaches 'em value.

As we searched for a place to eat, we passed a hardwood retailer, high-end wood for finishing and craftsman work, and she spotted the sign that said "plywood for sale". I asked if she was sure that's what it said, then wheeled around like a blonde in an SUV and pulled into the place. We walked in and ordered the last of their stock. If it weren't for Lucy, I wouldn't have this plywood to board up my home. She was my willing angel, finding the stuff then helping me to unload these 10 ENORMOUS sheets of plywood to the backyard. I thank this abundant and generous universe for giving me such a great kid in Lucy.  How'd I get so lucky?

Next big thing: masonry nails. The hardware stores are out of them. I went to Lowes and am standing there, eerily alone in the fasteners isle, when this very sweet gentleman walked up and began looking for the same thing.  He struck up conversation about the nails, both of us wondering if regular nails would do the trick of securing wood to masonry and brick. He looked just like the actor/performer Ice Cube, and was so gentle and kind with me.

After a couple of minutes of confusion, a young hispanic guy walked up beside us looking for something, Ice Cube turned to him and said "hey, you look like you know what you're doing..." then asked him what he might recommend for our tasks. The other guy, in beautiful broken (but about perfect) English, said that regular nails wouldn't do, that we would need... he struggled for the words... a gun type of thing. My hope was sinking considering I'd just spent $250 of money I didn't have on plywood and was looking for something inexpensive to complete my shopping spree.

After expressing my disappointment, the hispanic guy said NO, that they weren't expensive and they were just the right thing for the job. Then he lead Ice Cube and me to the next isle, where he found 3 CLASSES OF THE GUN THINGIE! $20, $44, and $75. There was only one $20 gun left. I selfishly said "dibs!" on it, but after we discussed how it is loaded and deployed, I decided I'd be glad to eat the dif and deferred the less expensive gun to Ice Cube. After the hispanic guy left, Ice Cube asked if I was sure, then wished me the best in this thing, and we parted ways, I a far better person for our encounter.

I met a couple of angels in that hardware store at that moment in time. I am so tremendously blessed for all the gifts I am constantly bestowed. Blessings on them and on theirs, too. God help us in this.... I am very scared. But watching those lines of 5mph traffic, cannot imagine jumping in with them, then running out of gas to try and get out of town, only to be faced with empty gas station after gas station. Four cats in tow.  I pray that I made a good decision to stay.

As Hurricane Rita Inches Closer

September 23, 2005

Its very eery this morning because of the darkness in my home. I am used to the street lamp beaming through the window, my own halogen light attached to my house that shines a greenish glow that lights up the darkness. My windows are all boarded up and it is very cave-like in here. I always choose my housing based on the number of windows, the amount of light I can receive. If I think too hard about being shut in like this I get very claustrophobic. I have left the front and two back doors as my escapes in case of emergency, but all the windows are blocked. I will wait until the first drops of drizzle or the first whipping winds to finally place a board vertical on the frames of the two back doors.

I pray my front "storm door" holds up nicely. I have a great friend who installed it recently and I'd hate to have to get him to drive those 250 miles to do it again!

I've been able to make and receive a few phone calls, but phone service is patchy probably due to everyone using their cell and land lines extensively to let others know what's going on. Its 4:40am on Friday, this must be my new "bewitching" hour. I've awaken at 4am both days so far, and I am hoping to get some sleep a little later so that I can brave the winds and rains when they come. I'm watching the waves come into Galveston on tv, they estimate landfall at around noon to 3pm today. I don't know if there has been an update to the hurricane's arrival in Houston, but yesterday they said it would hit around 2am Saturday.

When Katrina hit, we hardly even got any real rain here in Houston. It did rain, gave us some much-needed water, but nothing like it could have been. I hear we're on the "clean side" as long as it makes land somewhere east of Galveston. I am hoping it comes ashore somewhere relatively unpopulated, hoping this as I watch them film multi-million dollar homes all boarded up on Galveston island. People who left the island knew they may never see their homes again. My neighbor across the street is hosting a guest from Kemah (close to the coast); he said he bought his house about 2 months ago, had to leave his Harley because there was no way he could load it up on his RV,which sits in the median in the center of the street -- kinda scary if the wind picks it up and tosses it.

Speaking of toss, I have a rather thin but very tall tree in my backyard, right in the center. If it gets rough, this could be uprooted. My next door neighbor has an enormous tree in her front yard, but the base seems thicker. Unfortunately, I've seen many thick-trunked trees uprooted like weeds when the winds hit hard.

I have a metal shed in my backyard.  I have a wood-framed greenhouse in my backyard. I hope they survive.  I hope we all survive. I see now that Rita may hit closer to Beaumont, which is east of Houston and a little closer to the coast than we.

They're talking about people who turned around on the freeway due to the horrific traffic jams, hearing yesterday about people getting heat stroke, having to pull over and park for hours after having to sit in traffic for hours. I'm not sure what these people were thinking: many of them have no food or water (???) but were fleeing their homes. What happened was that all those who really were in danger drove up the major freeway to escape the coast, which is 50 to 60 miles from us. Then so many people NOT in danger panicked and hit the freeways as well. As organized as the coastal evacuations were, there were no specifics in place for those in higher areas, so they just took to the roads, clogging them to the point of stagnation.

People have sat on the freeways and in surrounding parking lots for hours, only to make the decision to turn around and try to make their way home. There are reports that some cars jumped the median, then drove north in the southbound lanes. I saw a little of this on tv yesterday.

TV. Fascinating medium where we can watch a hurricane approach from off the coast of Africa, then make its way to wreak havoc on such a fragile species. Such a fragile and boneheaded species. I heard that hurricanes are like weather's chimney, a way of venting heat away from the poles. I estimate that if we are experiencing any sort of global warming, and the air becomes progressively warmer over time, then we will regularly experience more severe hurricanes.

The reasons Houston is sinking, and we as a coastal area must endure such catastrophic occurences: http://pubs.usgs.gov/fs/fs-110-02/Fact%20Sheet%20110-02.htm

The Democrats tried to eliminate greenhouse gasses back in '98: http://www.ncpa.org/ba/ba282.html

Aftermath of Rita

and Visions of Mad Max

September 25, 2005

6:30pm ,', After breaking a hammer trying to wrench the boards free, we headed out to Lowe's where we purchased a new hammer and a whole host of other sundries to work with. Upon our return, I discovered the electricity to be OFF AGAIN. I was livid. Called the electric supplier TWICE to report the outtage, wanting to know why it was on then off again. Now I suspect it was because they were working on the railroad track lights way down the lane and had to bust my circuit to get the trains on track again.

As you'll see below, and I wanted to get their names right this time, Greg Hurst and Lisa Feronda are my very favorite newscasters of hurricane Rita. They were always concise and professional, and never lost their cuteness. They will have my vote once they're put in for an award.  My friend Pattie says it could be the news anchor's version of the Emmys.... the Nemmys. Give Greg and Lisa the Nemmy award!!

Phrases of the storm: Shelter in place, and HUNKER DOWN!!!!

9:15am ,', Besides losing electricity at around 2am Saturday morning, hence losing my phone service (Vonage), then braving the worst of it listening through the cracks in my house, all was well in Laceyville and surrounding areas. I am told the old mansion the law firm is located in (the firm I work for) braved the storm very well. It was built after the turn of the last century, and built to last. I love that old house. It is about 10 miles further south than where I sit, and in a neighborhood I love very much.

From local and friends' reports, most of Houston and even Galveston and cities spotted north remained relatively unharmed. Great news considering the storm reached a category 5 while in the Gulf. But we all learned a few things:

• 1.) If you're gonna evacuate several cities, begin as soon as possible, and do it in stages. Same thing with allowing folks back in.
  
  
• 2.) open up the freeways' contra lanes (those going in the opposite direction of the exodus) immediately.
  
  
• 3.) mobilize troops early, get their trucks loaded, station them at posts thought to remain untouched until the danger has passed (when I saw the dozens of 18-wheelers bringing in provisions and comfort, my heart swelled for the efforts of my own Mayor and the Mayor of Galveston, how they didn't hesitate to ask for help, how they learned from others' mistakes)
  
  
• 4.) keep plenty of plywood on hand, whether you need it or not.... oh, and masonry nails, or that really cool bullet gun I used to shoot my nails in that may never come out of my masonry.
  
  
• 5.) storms sometimes reach a peak, then begin to die down even before hitting land. Rita did this beautifully.
  
  
• 6.) you always want to be on the "clean" side of a hurricane. I think we were a little too clean. Barely any much-needed rain.
  
  
• 7.) to get down on my knees and thank those inventors who came before us for their creations of air conditioning, fresh water, and ICE.

Earthquakes or terrorist attacks? You're probably on your own. There are some good articles out there right now about those things. Great suggested reading.

I used my non-a/c time to clean up the yard from all the fallen branches and debris. Nothing big (yay!), but still a mess. I am watering the lawn because we barely got an inch of rain in my area. I think all those blowing winds not only blew the chance of rain out, but also blew all the mosquitos out. They'll surely find their way back to me. They always do. I also took off the plywood from 8 of the 11 windows I had covered. Handy Lace. Gimme a hammer and I'll be glad to get things started. Don't worry: I have a wonderful man-friend coming over to do the heavy lifting.

I am about to clean up Lacey Central of all the flashlights, lanterns, the ice chest that still has ice in it from Friday!, .357 Magnum with the bullets brought to me Friday by a good militaristic friend of mine, and all the water bottles I have handy. Also: laundry time and clean up the back yard. I got my work cut out for me.

As for the Mad Max Syndrome..... I fortunately had a full tank of gas because I hadn't tried to leave with the rest of the panickers, so when the sun began to set and I knew I'd be in a pitch black house with no ice to keep the food cold, I trekked out last night before it got too dark in search of ice. There was only ONE gas station open, empty of its gas, but selling the hell out of warm beer and simple snacks (and lotto tickets.) He only had one bag of ice made because their electricity had just been turned back on. He had to give that bag to a drunk who had asked for it first. I told him I would be back. When I returned a couple of hours later (after dark; my home alarm system still worked just fine with its back-up battery system) he had made one bag of ice for me. They are now my favorite convenience store.

But driving down the street, seeing these ghostly abandoned gas stations with no provisions, well it was just spooky. In Mad Max, gasoline was gold. In Houston during hurricane Rita (and in paths out of the city) people were dumping out water jugs and bottles to fill them with gas. Survival methods were at their peak. It seemed everyone was in such perfect cooperation, I even heard stories of how calm and civil everyone was on the freeways during the mass exodus, sitting there in 100+ heat, engines running or not, sweltering with everyone else who just wanted to get out. Our people, once again, have given me such great pride. This is why I continue to live here with the mosquitos, the heat, and the humidity. This is why I love my big little town.

Riding Rita

formerly Educating Rita (the hurricane)

still September 23, 2005

10:40pm ,', I'm about to try and get a little sleep. But before I do, I wanted to give you another dose of be-hatted anchors...

The lovely Lisa Veronda (I think that's what her name is) as the Jester, that cute anchor, I never remember his name, as the chef. He's cookin'. Hell, they're both cookin' (but she begged to be the Jester.)

In all seriousness, though, I am watching a major fire in a couple of buildings in Galveston, but the fire department was there immediately and is fighting it with all they got. You go, boys. I am so proud, once again, of all my community, all my naybers far and wide. Then, at 10:57pm.....

He as a cowboy, she as Audrey Hepburn (please don't make fun of my "screen captures"):

9:03pm ,', This is amazing: dozens and dozens of 18-wheelers were coming down 610 freeway, headed in an enormous convoy to the Reliant Arena. They're from FEMA, the coast guard, the National Guard, search and rescue, on and on and on, endlessly to wait out the storm, then be mobilized to areas they will be needed the most. This is astounding, unprecedented. Sadly, so many had to pay for this fast pre-action with their lives in hurricane Katrina.  To see a line of headlights in the night that stretched for a mile, coming down the freeway in one straight line, flanked by flashing red and blue lights, in gusting winds and drizzling rain,
Dis is beautiful.

...while the weather men and women keep getting blown away.

8:41pm ,', This newsman on the seawall and his cameraman are getting blown around. They just showed a seagull perched carefully on the wall sitting out the storm. I'm wondering how long they stay out there til they're sure its not a good idea... I taped some more windows and prepared the hallway for entertaining. Seems safe, but who the hell knows.

Earlier, a banana tree in back blew in half, but it had huge leaves and a bunch of bananas on it, so it was quite topheavy. No biggie: another tree bent over a week or so ago because of its bananas and big leaves. No wind that day. I'm not worried about banana trees anyway.  I'm worried about that 60' water oak (or is it white oak?) in the back. Spindley, tall, lanky, but conical, which is good.

Then I was doing some prep work AND MY ELECTRICITY WENT OFF. Stunned, thinking "no! I'm not done yet!" then realizing there were some lights on in my bedroom, and a nightlight here in the kitchen was glowing. I went outside to throw the breakers and everything was just like new again. Sure makes ya appreciate the finer things in life. Lets hope I still got it after this is all over. Either way, s'okay.  I've got my almost new, twice-used cooler filled with filtered ice and ice bowls for refrigeration. Cell phone's on the charger til it ain't. Even my electric toothbrush is charging. IPod? Charged. Laptop? Charged. Porta DVD player? Charging... hang on.....

Just found more flashlights - one is actually a 3-in-one little plastic one that has a strobe, a regular spotlight, and a stationary light. Neato. Got two small hurricane lamps if I run out of battery power. I've had all of the above for years.  I must be a true Texan - I am quite prepared without even doing much. I even have a T-shirt on that says "America: Not Your Average Candy-ass Little Nation".   I'll cross out America and put 'Texas'.

6:14pm ,', There is a bar open on the seawall in Galveston and there are quite a few people sitting on the deck watching the storm arrive. Sure, its dangerous and they all could meet their maker, but I gotta admire their spunk. Stupid spunk, but spunk nonetheless.  I hope they continue to run live from this place, but doubt the tele station would let their people stay. Liability. But the bar folk. Hey, what the hell.

Check out this picture.

4-ish pm ,', Good radar of the storm here, and thank you for that, Susan!! I have a note to myself that says "car", reminding me to move my car at the last minute.  I want it to be up against the house... I think. The note makes the weatherman look like he's wearing a terribly ridiculous square hat (later: I just decided I'm gonna go ahead and start making little hats for the weatherman to wear.) He's telling me that winds may be from the north/northeast if we're on the "clean side", so to get to the southwesterly side of the house for maximum protection. Otherwise, its anybody's guess (he didn't say that - I did.) It is kinda weird though. Perfectly odd thing to experience and endure.

5:45pm ish, maybe 6pm; who's keeping count ,`, A picture of Dr. Neil Frank - as King. If they stop moving the camera, I'll try and get a shot of the men about town...

To answer a question: yes that is a little Jester's hat on the left side, at the ready. I call this Hurricane Preparedness. Ya gotta have anchorman hats.

earlier in the day ,`, For those of you who don't live along the Texas coast, since Wednesday night we've had all 4 major television stations on constant broadcasting. I am watching CBS, perhaps the absolute best broadcasting I've seen yet, and they're showing live video of this hurricane, this monster, as it approaches Galveston. Big kudos to the camera operators for that, and awards should go to the local station KHOU for their efforts to inform the communities of the severity of this storm.

As for those live shots, they are surreal as hell. You can see this storm arrive, menacing and beautiful, see the cloud bank push forward with all its attendant rings and cloud trails. Indeed a profound and monumental moment for Texas. For all of us who love photography (I the consumate amateur) it is frustrating not to be able to capture those shots on film. My dear friend, the photographer gary faye would make them some of the most stunning shots you'd ever lay eyes on.

Allan, a great and very funny friend (see his website here), just sent me a shot of his upstairs windows after boarding them up so I decided to post the shots I took just in case I had to send something to the insurance company:

Morning pictures, about 10 am-ish ...

Did you know you could whack off a Plumeria (like those above) stick it in dirt, baby it a little, and it'll grow into a new Plumeria? I should be more worried about them, but because of their amazing ability to procreate, to clone, I'm not. But then I guess that wouldn't be like cloning. That'd be more like us taking an appendage, sticking it in dirt, and it growing into one of us. That wouldn't be cloning really. I digress....

and what to do with all that patio furniture that won't fit into the shed or the greenhouse???:

Because I have nothing better to do today than wait for hurricane Rita to hit, I was dicking around on zeldman.com and, click after click, came across this photo on flickr:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/bmj/35430853/in/photostream/

which looks suspiciously like the one I took last halloween (minus satan):
you may have to scroll down a little
http://www.laceycrawford.com/hal04/lagrig9.html

Same priest? Probably. And yes, I do snap a better shot.

Don't worry, kids. I'm not playing on the computer while the bombs fall. Nothing is really even happening in Galveston yet, in fact a few local officials are enjoying the winds while they can before they have to go inside and "hunker down". Who in this storm watch started that phrase, anyway?

I've got all my stuff in the middle hallway, all the cat carts lined up to put the babies in, a marble-topped coffe table covering two, while I'll cushion the top of the kennel for the smaller cats. Me? I'll pull a mattress on top of me if I think the roof wants to cave in.

I just scrubbed down and shaved up in the shower (hey, auntlace, how come you never hooked up that webcam???) and cleaned up for perhaps the last time til after the storm. I've been talking about taking a little "me" time to do my nails and catch up on my reading. Looks like I'm gonna get it. But until then, I do like playing with my new Flash on the 'puter.

I got an email from a friend who tells me to let go of the fear, to be the willow. Consider that done, consider me the willow. I'm fine, now that I have built my fortress and know that I can take care of my babies. If it were just me, it wouldn't be so precarious, but them babies are depending on me to make them safe. I promise to do my very best.

My prayers and my heart go out to the families and survivors of the bus fire that occured on their evacuation journey to Dallas early this morning. What a horrific tragedy that really should never have happened. I knew something bad could come of all that traffic, all those people who mobbed the freeways who didn't even have to, but my very worse thought was road rage. I wish now that it was that minor. I cannot grasp the meaning of this terrible incident. I probably never will.

Normal

October 2, 2005

Head in Flash 8 Pro, working on wings, redesigning an extra-curricular web site, painting bugs, still cleaning up the yard, about to bike... life is somewhat back to normal.

I went to an art show at Mindpuddles last week, Thursday right before class, which benefit a child advocacy group. My Lucy is now 17 going on 18 (good gosh, 2 more months??) and once she graduates this year my work with her on a high school level and with the I Have a Dream foundation will end. We will, of course, always be friends. She will always be "my kid". Child advocacy was suggested to me about a year ago, and ever since I've had these little pokes that brings it back to my consciousness.

Its serious stuff. It is an enormous responsibility.  It takes a very special person to uphold and carry through this type of work. I'm not sure I have the innards to pull it off, but there are ways to begin slowly and build the foundation, adding to the mix a little at a time, moving into complete immersion.

If any of you out there have been a child advocate or have worked in that capacity on some level, please don't hesitate to email me with your experience. The child advocacy group will be contacting me with information, but I would like to have as much as possible under my belt before launching into something requiring so much responsibility and dedication. I've never had children but can say with complete conviction that I love Lucy more than I could ever have imagined, so much that sometimes it is unbearable. I will always want the best for her, I will always be there for her, but soon it will be time to take on a new task and a new child. I want to be ready.

---

Silica and Me

October 9, 2005

After a splendid breakfast of Belgium waffles and a long bike ride, I spent most of the afternoon yesterday at school, pounding away at the encrusted slurry on my newly poured bronze bra. Before pouring, the bra on its sprue system is dipped as many as 17 times in a liquid slurry which is made up of silica and other ert ingredients (as opposed to inert.) After a thick shell is created and dried, holes are cut in the shell that surrounds the bra, then the piece is placed in a kiln upside down to burn out all the interior, leaving a hollowed impression of the piece within the shell into which the molten bronze is poured (after the holes are plugged up again, of course.) The bronze fills all the channels that were once a bra and sprue system, and now that bra and sprue system are one. They are the solid bronze piece inside.  Just like a bronze and slurry M&M.

So after the thing cools, I make my way to school to chip all that hardened slurry shell off my bronzed piece. It is like chipping away at granite to get to the art within, it is so exasperatingly hard. This hardened slurry stuff is murder, clinging to the piece as if it were the piece. But then, what wouldn't cling to my bra like that? The shell is necessarily hard to hold the entire structure together as hot liquid bronze is poured into it. As I chip away at it, the silica dust flies, creating a silica cloud all around me.

This morning, nursing what I'd thought was a cold or a sore throat coming on as I squirt Zicam gel up my nostrils, it dawns on me that I have a sort of silica poisoning. Yes, I DO wear my bug gas mask in the entire duration of prepping this piece for pouring, from the slurry dipping to the metal grinding, but the silica is invasive. Silica causes silicosis (big surprise there) as well as Black Lung.

Hey, ya think the silica coulda had something to do with the development of nasal polyps???

Its not out of the realm of theory anyway. Not at this point. I've been bronzing for about 4 1/2 years now and have tended to these sore throats and almost-colds for about that long, as well. I began to develop this particular all-too-familiar sore throat / sinus pain early last week, just about the time that the silica was flying as an imperceptible dust throughout the studio. Could just be a coincidence; I get this same "stuff" every Fall, during pollen season, allergy season..... just about the time we begin working heavily with the silica. I'll call my ENT and make an appointment for this week.

dammit.

One very amusing thing that happened while I banged away at the shell to get to the bronzed art inside was this little song bird who accompanied me as I worked. The foundry area is situated outside in an enclosed courtyard surrounded by trees and live bamboo screens. As I hammered, I began to hear this beautiful birdsong trickling into my work area. I would stop the hammering, the bird would chirp a couple of times, then stop his singing. I hammered, the bird made its bird sounds. When I really got after it on the hammering, the bird really got after it on his singing.

At first I figured it was just making calls to some other bird for positioning or perhaps mating (I know: out of season.) But after I began playing with the timing, realized that it was singing to my pinging. In fact after a few rounds, rather than make its typical double strings of song, it would make several shorter sounds to mimick the "tink tink tink" of my hammer.

It made me giggle out loud. It was the most beautiful and harmonious thing that could happen. This little bird was playing back-up to my banging on the slurry shell.

Today: The Art Festival. Bright sunshine, good friends, street after street of great art. It will be a good day.

Out of the Blue

October 24, 2005

A friend mentioned that I hadn't written anything in awhile, and lo and behold, I hadn't. Been a little busy as I'm trying to rest and heal. But heal I have, and rest I still am, so I reckon a few lines would do me some good. I walked the trails today rather than bike, but only because I logged about twenty miles this weekend in the saddle, so to speak. Bike seats tend to bruise, so I'm letting those parts rest, as well. It was one of the most beautiful weekends in the history of weekends, and I enjoyed the daylights right out of it.

Outdoor cafes, lunching on patios, running around scouting for winter togs, bicycling without melting. The air is crisp, clean (as it can be in this urban environment), the sky a sharp azure blue. I leave the back door open as I grind the metal on my new bronze pieces. The cats love the great outdoors. One of the big girls figured out a way to jump from the bbq pit chimney to the greenhouse roof. She knows she done wrong. Teaching the babies bad habits, too.

Flash is coming along; I feel I'm right on top of the learning curve and headed down the easier side of it. I've created several animations and have used action script enough to be comfortable with it (its the equivalent of saying "my grandmother cooks well" in Spanish, which I still can't say. In fact, it would probably come out like "my cooked grandmother tastes well", leaving me to fend for myself down at the police station. I have the feeling the action script will pull the same big joke on me, displaying something porny and inappropriate rather than clever and businesslike.) I worry too much.

The date at the top left of this page is in Flash. It is selectable, too, typically and historically unusual for a Flash environment.

Back to work. I am about finished with the third of three designs for the main page of the law site I maintain. Only one will be chosen and I already know which one that will be. Call me psychic.

the saddest day of them all

October 29, 2005

A friend of mine has suffered such great loss in his life, and now someone else he loves slipped away in the night. This is the worst day of all, the worst in all the land, so terribly sad and so tragically real. All I can do is be there for my friend. I am certain he is not alone, and I am so thankful for that.

Why bad things happen to such good people stuns and dumbfounds me, causes me to shake my head against the world and my fist against the sky. Makes me wonder what in the hell God had in mind.

I have a girlfriend who lost two of her sisters. My mind cannot even imagine losing my one. I knew a guy from my youth whose sister was murdered. I don't know if he ever got over that. The deepest pain will be experienced when a loved one, who is young and hasn't yet fulfilled a life, goes away. Has to go away. They leave us here to try and make sense of their passing, trying to hold onto whatever memories we have of that person who has to go.

I really thought everything was going to be okay. I cannot stop crying. I had to stand on the outside looking in. There was nothing I or anyone else could do. At 2am I finally drifted off to sleep. At 6am I awoke to the thought of what happened the night before. I knew that if he had slept, he would awaken to that same thought. That is the worst thing about sleep: waking up to reality.

I can't be there, but he knows I am always here. It is all I or anyone can do now. That and to send my love. Love is everything, and it is all we have when there is nothing else. Love like there is no tomorrow because things may never be this way again.

Freak Show

November 3, 2005

Once again, on All Hallow's Eve, a good time was had by us all. The Freaks, Weirdos, and People Watchers all gathered at La Griglia for a night of fun and merriment, wine and song, great food and great scenery.

You can share in the voyeurisms here....

We have also added a new page full of links to all the Picture Shows.

Bronzed Beauties

November 18, 2005

Its been awhile (again) since my last cyber babbling, but for good reason: I got a rather enormous art commission. I have sold sets of my Weapons of Mass Seduction - the bronzed bras and panties. After years of toil on my Bronzerware, I have sold several pieces to a private collector. I wanted this task to be a quick in and out, mainly so that I could see these beautiful things emerge once again, but also to get it done and get on with my holidays.

It seems that every Christmas (and Thanksgiving, for that matter, but I'm not really into Thanksgiving) I am saddled with a few major time-eating obligations. This holiday season is no exception. But this is such an enjoyable task, a lovely little job that I do with great zeal. The deal was struck two weeks ago, I picked up my first check last week, and I deliver the first set next Monday or Tuesday.

Fast Track Art.

Actually I'm setting my own dates and schedules for the impetus to get them done. I'm a hard pile-driver. My shoulders and back ache like they never have before, I have metal in my eyes from the "chasing", all my nails have broken off, but I am happy and terribly proud to have hit such a plateau with my art. I will be hanging with some of the greatest artists in the world. (Actually, one of my bronzes sits with some of the greatest artists in the world in another collector's home, so you'd think I'd be used to it.  This is something one never gets used to.)

Hopefully I will get the chance to get the CAPS gala up online sometime this weekend. If not, then perhaps during Thanksgiving. Just another workday for me, another chance to get some important things done.

The Fire in the Fox

November 29, 2005

And a Happy Post-Thanksgiving to each and every one of you, near and far, American and otherwise. Mine was spent working, catching up on that which was put on a back burner while I created the animations for the workaday site o' mine. I'll just make sure I make up for lost holiday time at Chris'Kwan'ukkah.

You can call me a Firefox fanatic, but frankly I am tired of creating web pages that are forward-compatible, look fabulous in Firefox's meticulously designed browsers, but break in the latest IE browsers because of their own poor design bugs and unnecessarily quirky habits. Therefore, I have placed (temporarily) a Get Firefox! button, bigger n' life, on my main page, and will have a constant button here on the log page. Trust me, mi amigos, its the browser of choice for those who give a damn about security. IE is frought with patches and fixes, and it still allows adware to be placed on my system.

I call that irresponsible. So I'm taking up the responsibility and giving you various buckos and buckarettes the option of downloading the greatest browser since the advent of the internet. I've been using Firefox since shortly after its first release and was immediately addicted. Go see for yourself.

So perhaps that will at least answer, in part, the question of what the hell I've been up to: I've been doing web sites, still doing the art, and planning on doing far more of both in the near future. If you haven't heard from me, its probably because the only time I've found to talk on the phone or by email has been at approximately 2am, but you guys were all asleep, so I made another pot of Chai Tea and went back to work. For the good of mankind.

Hit the Ground Running... or, uh, sitting.

December 9, 2005

When I first moved back here 5 1/2 years ago, I wasn't working but my days were packed full of activity. The entire day would pass and I wouldn't get everything done. I was a whirr of constant activity, but I was happy and had time for new friends. About three and a half years ago, I had the equivalent of two 8-hour day jobs and had just bought a house, so the whirr turned into a tornado, but still had time for friends. Yesterday, my intended day off, I was so busy I couldn't think straight, didn't get enough done, seemed to be late for everything, but I had a few minutes of time for dinner with a friend.

With those thoughts I realize what is most important. Work does not equal happiness, it is merely a vehicle for getting the bills paid and buying the gas that will get me to my friends. This, of course, won't keep me from papering my desk with post-its, doing most of my shopping online, or combining my outings to see friends with my work errands. Its a way of life.

Sadly, with all this work work work work work, I have found myself in rather bad physical shape. No time for the bike, hardly any time for walks, too tired in the morning for yoga, my lower back can hardly support any activity for longer than a few minutes. This is coming from a girl whose back muscles were so thick and healthy that when she bent over a little, the ridges of the muscles of the lower back almost hid the spine. I had a powerful lower back, a powerful neck, legs that would endure a morning workout, a day of work, an evening of dancing, and want to go back for more. Now its all I can do to crawl out of bed and stay upright at the computer to check emails.

This ain't sad, its disgusting.

So now if you wonder why I haven't contacted you or made enough time for you, just know that I am working to build up my melting muscles so that you won't find me puddled around my office chair, jelly arm reaching up to try and phone 911.

Its colder than hell outside. Just above freezing, I thought this was the tropical zone. Hibiscus and banana trees, philodendrons bigger than houses (I swear, I'm not making that up) and highheel, rhinestoned flipflops as fashion statements. I slept in my cowboy flannels last night, each cat curled as close to mommy as she could possibly get. It was a warm and toasty night.

Last night was the last night of class for this semester, but not for me. I will go in this weekend and sandblast the second set of undies, the white set I thought I had finished. But our instructor suggested a better way of patination on the pieces, so I will remove what is there and try his formula. White. Patina white. The third set will be red.  I have already ordered all the chemicals and will try recipes from my new patination book. Keep your fingers crossed.

I will also be welding the strap to the bra -- it has one that is completely intact, but the second one is missing in action. I'll find it, weld it on, then patina it along with the other pieces. I'm also going to whack on the hardened silica that surrounds the third bra. I expect this to take several hours, and in this weather I doubt there will be any songbirds keeping the rhythm to my hammering. I have discovered that if I wet the silica, I'm not surrounded by a cloud of the toxic material as I chip away at it. Its gonna be a rough weekend. I'll wear my gasmask.

Double Jeopardy

December 13, 2005

I learned, in all its horrible glory, that I am deathly allergic to cigarette smoke. No big surprise considering what is in that smoke, but I had once been a smoker and haven't done that in many years, had once worked in restaurants and clubs, and haven't done that in years, so I was rather surprised at my body's reaction to hanging out with friends in a couple of smoke-filled clubs Saturday night.

Oddly, I had had a strange premonition that I shouldn't go out on our "girls-night-out", but did it anyway because I'm constantly putting my girlfriends off in favor of working. This was my breakout night, my opportunity to re-establish those friendships that I hold so dear. My mistake was going to clubs and sitting inside, rather than sitting outside where there were heaters, a fountain, no crowd, and no cigs.

There was another mistake made....

After attending the Box Show opening (my art not included because I'd had no time to produce any for the show) at Mindpuddles earlier in the evening, we wonderful women met up at Chaise Lounge with a couple we knew and had seen at the gallery. A friend of mine owns the club, and I'd told him earlier in the week we would be in attendance, so I thought it was all such a nice idea. As we sat, the only guy in our group, "Guy" (that's his name, I'm not making that up) went to get the other girls drinks, overlooking me as someone who might be thirsty. Thanks a lot, Guy.

I took the lead, and responsibility for my own libation, and went up to the bar to get a cocktail. As I stood there waiting for the bartender, this man at the bar, we'll call him "the creepy man", struck up small talk. I went along with it, answering his somewhat innocent questions, replying to his thoughts on the bartender's habits. I got my cocktail, paid my money, left my tip, then went back to my table. Guy and his date were already pretty lit when we gals arrived, so the evening was off to a loud and obnoxious start.

Guy's date was slurring her life to me as Guy was flirting with one of the women I was there with, our little gang of five was in high conversation over nothing of great importance.

Fairly soon, the creepy man got up from his perch at the bar and meandered toward our set'ee of sofa, chairs and tables, and positioned himself on one side of our group, seated in a chair, as he played with his cell phone like there was something interesting going on with his screen.

He sat there for awhile, and I got uncomfortable. I mentioned it to the women I was with and they became uncomfortable. After a few minutes he got up and went back to the bar, and we peeps proceeded to enjoy ourselves once again.

A few minutes later, the creepy man got up and came back over, sitting in the same chair beside our group. I got really uncomfortable. The women got really uncomfortable. I moved from my spot facing our group to the little sofa that one of my girlfriends, Maia, sat on, and our backs were to this creepy man. She took the lead and began acting as though we were "an item". This probably wasn't the best idea, considering that most men I know would find that enticing rather than a hint to hit the road. Creepy man just sat there. At one point he got up, walked around our group to the other side, then pretended to look at the photographs on the wall. He then went back to the bar, then came back to his chair next to us.

At this point Amy, one of the girls-night-out women, told Guy about creepy man. Guy was the only guy in our group. Amy didn't know Guy very well, and didn't understand that Guy is the type to take immediate attention to whatever might be going on, and alcohol simply amplified his attention. He jumps up and begins saying that he's going to kick the creepy man's ass. Poor Amy. She knew pretty quick that it mighta been a slight misjudgment on her part to voice her concern to Guy. Too late. So Maia had to get up from her spot, I had to get up from my own spot, we all had to talk Guy down from his heat, as creepy man stood there wondering what had happened.

Creepy man even asked me "I don't understand what happened... what did I do wrong?" I looked him in the eye and said "you scared me." He said he only wanted to give me his number.... ??? What? Wasn't there some other way of doing that without creating a sense of the willies???

Men: When faced with an attraction to a woman, you gotta think what would James Bond do? (kinda like WWJD, but WWJBD.) Bond would, of course, send over a bottle of expensive champagne with a note from the waitress saying

"you are the most stunning of all the women of the world -- (000) 555-1212"

with your phone number, of course. Got no cash for champagne? He was sitting at the bar while I ordered a drink. He could have either had a drink sent over or ASKED THE BARTENDER what I'd had, and had it sent over, with phone number. Don't drink and don't approve of it? (then get the hell out of bars) send a note over with the waitress. 'That simple.

Guy was bucking up to creepy man, Maia stepping in between the two to prevent a fight, as Amy and I stepped outside to try and cool down the environment. I tried to explain to the doorman what was going on inside, but none of it really made sense ("well, there is this creepy man, and this guy with our group, whose name is really Guy, who wants to kill the creep, and my girlfriend, who isn't really my girlfriend because we're not gay, but we were acting as though we were because we wanted creepy man to leave us alone, but of course, no creep in the world would leave a couple of gay women alone because....") Nope. Didn't make much sense to me.

Maia was great, Amy was so sweet, we left and met more friends at an "underground" bar, which wasn't underground at all, nor was it covert, nor secret, nor fun-filled, but was filled with more smoke. As I conveyed this story to a new one joining our band of friends, he said "hang on, I'm getting a phone call..... Hey! its Jerry Springer and he wants to talk to you!!!" One of our group got wasted out of her skull, coming onto Maia because she actually fell for the gay thing, so we all decided it was time to go.

I was bed-ridden most of the day Sunday, and this after only a couple of drinks the entire night before because I didn't want to feel bad the next day. No more clubs for me.