Miracles

Miracles are a rare thing. Too rare. Keri passed away last night.

Neither chemotherapy nor radiation, Tibetan singing bowls nor prayer circles were enough to save her, to summon a miracle. She was surrounded by love and I hope that made her transition easier, more peaceful.

I'm sad that I didn't know her better, that my sister lost a friend. They met in the chemo lounge, each connected up via an IV drip to their own special concoction of drugs. (My sister can make friends wherever she goes!) It turned out that Keri's parents lived in my granddad's neighborhood, just a few doors around the corner. And a few doors from Dr. Bernstein, their oncologist.... they all got to know each other because of cancer. Debby and Keri soon became friends regardless of the cancer, in spite of Cancer.

If Debby didn't have cancer they would never have met. She would not have lost a friend... Debby would never have known the difference. Keri would not have mattered.

But she did matter. And I can't help but think that maybe my sister has a special angel looking out for her now.

Sometimes its hard

Hard to stay positive in the face of adversity. Somehow this guy Tom Bailey found me and posted on my blog, so in the interest of good blogosphere relations, I checked out his blog, which he bills a "a personal blog for people who know me" and says it "is not a business blog."

Well, I don't know him. But I like his blog anyway. Hope he doesn't mind if I pop over and visit every now and again.

Many of his posts are about staying positive. This is a message I need to hear often. I truly believe that we create our own reality, that we choose how we react, that negative thinking is a bad habit and only serves to make you feel bad... Unfortunately I don't always practice what I know.

One of the reasons I named my blog akajesais because of my nickname, JeSais, which began as a joke. Later, taking the name JeSais was my way to remind myself that I know more than I think I know.

I don't do New Years Resolutions. I think they are meaningless unless you have a plan for implementation in place, complete with milestones, and measurable goals. What I do try to do is assess at year's end my accomplishments. This is a good way to stay positive, to focus on what I did right.

I know this post a bit of a ramble. I hope like me, you'll all take a moment to take stock, look at what you've done right this year. Make a list. Check it twice. Did you go the extra mile for someone? Did you finish a project? Did you make someone smile? Did you do something nice for yourself? Remember one good moment-- a sunset, a raindrop, a conversation with a friend... Even if it was something small put it on your list. Because, afterall, big stuff starts with small stuff. Or a better way to say that is "a journey of a thousand miles begins with one small step."

Happy Holly Days everyone.

Say a prayer for Keri

Debby's friend Keri is not doing well. She's in the hospital and has been for the last 6 days. She can't eat. She can't talk. She can't see.

Keri has ovarian cancer... cancer that has metastisized. Spread. It's in her brain now and they couldn't get it all with Gamma Knife like they were able to do for Debby. So they had to do brain surgery. And radiation. And chemo... and it hasn't helped and it totally sucks and its unfair and I'm glad its not my sister Debby. I wish it weren't Keri either, but I'm really glad its not my sister.

So in the midst of all the ho ho hos and and nog drinking, raise a glass and say a little prayer for Keri. And even if your family drives you crazy, enjoy the moments you have with them.

Tagged. Why am I doing this?

It's the blogosphere's answer to a chain letter... a meme or a meme wannabe in the making. Sheila of GetSheila.com "tagged" me which means (a)I'm supposed to post in response to being tagged. and (b) I'm supposed to pass it on and I'm supposed to post the rules.

My post:

1. Like Sheila I count things. Mostly stairs and steps
2. I play air piano along with the music even though I've never learned piano
3. I imagine flying my car off a cliff, not in a suicide attempt, but rather in an attempt to be airborn... to fly. Of course I know this will not work, and I would die, so I don't do it.
4. I wait until the last minute to do almost everything. Then I stress over it and freak out. Doesn't matter what it is: paying a bill (thank god for online bill pay); making an appointment to get my hair done; writing an article/essay; etc.
5. I hate to shop. Really. Mostly because I hate to spend money AND because I usually know what I want, and then of course I can't find it so it becomes an exercise in frustration.
6. And speaking of exercise... when I do exercise my face turns bright red and freaks out aerobics instructors.

Passing it On:

Thats all. I don't know if I have 6 blog people but I'll give it a shot... Jes... leahpeah...and um, while we're at it Joe... terri (because she really needs to write a new blog post) and Jill the Muse (because she really needs to write a new blog post too) and last, but certainly not least, dear Ralph, so he too will learn the joys of the blogosphere. Sorry guys.

Remember, this is like a chain letter. You may ignore it if you like, or just do the post, no need to pass it on.

The rules:

Post a blog with your six weird habits/ things as well as the rules/ instructions;
Add to your blog a list of your six victims to be tagged;
Leave a comment for your six victims that says "You are tagged! Read my blog" (but you cannot tag the person who tagged you).

I am not a poet...

Not even a Prose Poet, as I discovered at last Saturday's workshop with Roger Aplon.

A prose poem is open ended. I like things wrapped up in a neat little box.

A prose poem is driven by metaphor. I'm not metaphoric in my writing.

A prose poem is dream-like, surreal. I'm real.

At any rate, here's what I came up with:

Today the sun shines like shards of glass piercing the soft blue sky and the ocean swell is from the south or maybe it's the storm that passed over Hawaii yesterday and today is the place to be in the town that is where we lived when I was five and six and maybe even seven. And now I stay out of the water, the smell, salt taste on my lips and bacteria that I fear may seep into my soul.

Today is the place I want to be usually and sometimes it is the only place that matters when life is unpredictable like a Vegas slot machine. One push of the button and you win or you lose and coins tumble like a thick chunky waterfall into a bucket, not your bucket but your neighbor's bucket and you want to be happy for him or her but you can't because your today has passed.

Today is a dream of birds flying, mocking squawking and swooping in and out of the pepper tree taunting me with their wings, but they don't know Today I will fly.

# # #
Not sure what it is but it is probably not a prose poem.

Poetry and Prose

On Saturday I'll be taking a workshop from published poet Roger Aplon-- The Prose Poem: Investigation and Discovery. I've met Roger once, briefly, at another event sponsored by San Diego Writers, Ink. He told me I wrote beautifully and I was too stunned to tell him I thought the same of his work. Not only does he write evocative poetry, he has a wonderful cadence and rhythm to his voice that lends itself so well to his poetry. His poetry reading voice is not the sing-song stacatto beat of a slam poet, but more like a melody of words that is performance, but natural as well.

Roger describes the workshop:

The prose poem is the child of associative & colorful prose. A bastard at best. Taking the economy of poetry & marrying it with the random experience of “story.” It can define a momentary, captivating glimpse at some “thing”: a chance encounter, a dream &/or any fragment that allows the reader to impose him or herself in or on that environment. The prose poem form allows greater latitude than strict “poetic” form where the line breaks must be of the most exquisite design. The prose poem is less formal, more given to risk & open-ended. A classic example of a renegade form. For this day we'll explore some prose poems & write some of our own, using as material our discussions, prompts, dreams & improvisation.

He says "This is an experiment as all prose poems are experiments. I'm looking forward to the investigation."

And so am I... and I look forward to the opportunity to play with words. And poetry, although not my strong suit, appeals to my desire to convey deep meaning with few words. As my writing coach says, I'm "more Joan Didion than Janet Fitch." I'd like to be a little of both, the minimalist approach of Didion blended with Fitch's mellifluous language.

Spam Spam Spam Spam....

This is from the Huh? file:

Sometimes the minivan of a class action suit self-flagellates, but a financial cowboy always graduates from a fruit cake of a ball bearing!

The defendant is gentle. When a briar patch is lazily snooty, the grizzly bear often is a big fan of a chess board of a turkey.

A light bulb related to the wedding dress prays, and the unstable support group reads a magazine; however, a bowling ball around a dolphin pours freezing cold water on a pork chop.

Sometimes a microscope goes to sleep, but another blood clot always finds subtle faults with the skyscraper!

I admit it, I read the SPAM sometimes. I'm sure there is some reason why they (the spammers) write the prose they do, probably to get around the SPAM filters, but my question is how does this work? the SPAM thing? are there really people who click on these emails, then actually BUY from people that have such unethical business practices? from people who can't write a decent sentence? and now I'm getting SPAM in Russian. Yeah, like I'm gonna click on that!

How much stuff do we need?

So, Black Friday has come and gone. I almost managed to stay away from the malls, but a leather jacket on sale for $50 enticed me to stop at Fashion Valley on the way home from taking my sister to the airport... at 10:30 pm. A great time to shop, by the way. The parking lot was clear, there were no crowds to deal with, but the store looked like a hurricaine went through it. And of course they didn't have the style I wanted in my size.

You can't see me shaking my head right now, but I am just thinking about it. I worked retail many years ago. When The Broadway was still alive. It was a second job for me so that I could earn extra money for a two month trip to Europe. The rudeness and messiness of people annoyed me then, but I swear it's gotten worse. I mean when did it become ok to, oh, say knock some shirt or sweater on the floor and pretend you don't see it, and walk away for some overworked eight dollar an hour employee to pick up? Seriously people. Will it kill you to bend over? to take a minute to hang it back up on the hanger? to just TRY to fold it back up and place it on the shelf?

And really, when you think about it, how much stuff do we really need? Do I really NEED a leather jacket? Sure it would be nice, and yeah, I got rid of (donated) my old pink puffy fiber-filled ski jacket and my fake leather jacket... but trust me, I won't freeze this winter.

To be honest, I have boxes in the garage that I never unpacked when I moved into this place 2 years ago. And more coming as my sister and I divy up the remains of my Dad's life. Just thinking about finding space for all the new stuff makes me start to hyperventilate.

However, if you must buy me a present, consider my Amazon wish list.... linked in the sidebar of this very blog... or better yet, give me a call, let's go for a walk, have a coffee, take a class together, visit a museum, an art gallery...

My Thanksgiving Toast

Here’s to the turducken, gobble gobble quack cluckin right onto our thanksgiving plates next to Mama Stamberg’s cranberry relish (oh my god its so pink)
And the fresh green beans called haricot vert and the salad called mache tossed with pomegranate and parmesan and corn pudding made with creamed corn just like mom used to make.

Here’s to the white bread dressing with tangy crispy apples, pecans and a touch of cinnamon just like grandma used to make and a hundred dollars worth of New York apple and LA pecan pies.

And here’s to relish trays and roasted savory sweet potatoes, lumpy mashed potatoes and smooth brown gravy with Bisto and creamed onions and lactaid tablets and where are the peas anyway?

Here’s to ignoring the football game or games or whatever is on the television and margaritas, merlot or beaujolais noveau

and

Mostly here’s to friends who are family and family who are friends who have come together to make all this happen.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone...

end of an era? changes in the wind for SanDiegoBlog

Joe C. moved away from San Diego awhile ago. We miss him and his lovely wife Leahpeah a lot... he has been kind enough to keep SanDiegoBlog going, along with WebSanDiego and SanDiegoBloggers (which he sold off last month).

So the last of the SanDiego properties, SanDiegoBlog, is now up for sale.

Here's the dilema. I want to buy it, but I'm not sure I can make it worth the monetary investment, specifically I'm not sure I have the time to invest to make it worth the investment.

Aside from my job, which takes up a good portion of my day, I am working on a book, a memoir (I usually say very creative mostly non-fiction). I've got a good portion done, and am now revising, compiling all my work into a first draft, and hopefully getting a book proposal together for the Feb. 2007 San Diego Writers Conference.

I have two other blogs I neglect...
and there's all the other ideas I have, like a class on how to blog for San Diego Writers Ink, a multi-media one-woman show of my memoir, Reconstructing my Mother... some ideas I have for audio production... a painting I want to do....

any thoughts? advice? encouraging words? discouraging words?

UPDATE: I took a pass on SanDiegoBlog. I may or may not continue to post over there, and I'm totally ok with that. So, I guess that means I'm back to working on my book... stay tuned.

Road Woes

I was going to post something about the idiot drivers on the road. Lord knows I have enough fodder on my daily commute-- and I'm going reverse traffic!

But Sheila beat me to it with her post on Road Ragishness. Amen Sister!

Stay tuned, however, I may just post something anyway. When I get some time. Where does all the time go that we save during daylight savings time??

Oh, and BTW, Sheila has her own domain now. GetSheila.com. She's all grown up.

more albums

ok, so here's the rest of the list. And seriously, if you want any of them, let me know... would you read the list before you start laughing already?? sheesh...

Hi Fi Spectacular: Sounds Of A Thousand Strings (it was my granddad’s and has cool cover)
Carmen Cavallero Plays His Show Stoppers (see note above)
Pretenders, the one With Brass In Pocket And Precious
Carole King, Tapestry
Little Feat, Dixie Chicken (Hey, I lived in Virginia)
Blondie, Hunter And Parallel Lines
Pat Benetar, Crimes Of Passion (2 Copies, note I only have one copy of Parallel Lines) And In The Heat Of The Night
Culture Club, Colour By Numbers
Go Go’s, Beauty And The Beat (we got the beat!)
The Human League Dare (don’t you want me baby?)
The Cars Candy-O
Led Zeppelin Zoso (with Stairway to Heaven of course)
Fleetwood Mac, Rumours
George Winston, Winter Into Spring (my mellow, I’m sophisticated, I drink real wine with a cork in the bottle and listen to jazz phase)
Elton John Greatest Hits And Don’t Shoot Me I’m Only The Piano Player
Joe Jackson’s Jumpin’ Jive
Lynyrd Skynyrd Gold And Platinum And One More From The Road
The Doors Greatest Hits
Beach Boys, Best of
Gilbert O'Sullivan Back to Front (Claire, the moment I met you I swear... it had to be something. Somewhere.....)
Peter Paul & Mary, Best Of in orange vinyl. way cool.
The Band.
Simon & Garfunkel, Bridge Over Troubled Water (I think that was my Dad's at one time)
Jim Croce Photographs and Memories (aka Greatest Hits) and Cat Stevens Greatest Hits... I think I stole them from a friend. Well stole is probably too literal, let's say borrowed and never returned and lost touch with her bla bla bla. .... and I don't remember her name any more, except Rebecca, so there ya go.
and Foreigner Double Vision seems to have the name Terri B on it which is my cousin Terri, but she probably just left it at my house 20 years ago.

And more from the What Was I Thinking category: Barbra Streisand Greatest Hits Vol. 2 (Did I Have Vol. 1? ) and Neil Diamond You Don’t Bring Me Flowers

and finally. The last album I ever bought, Toni Childs, Union, circa 1988. Maybe even the last album pressed, who knows. Seriously, who knows? When did they stop making albums and switch completely to CDs? hmmm.

Albums anyone?

Does anyone still listen to albums anymore? Does anyone remember what albums are anymore? I thought that turntables and albums were making a little comeback, and maybe I could unload my collection, but I think I was mistaken. It was just a ploy by the department stores last year to unload some old stock of turntables by turning them into a retro nostalgic must have kind of thing.

and besides, my collection of albums is really nothing to brag about, but I will share my bizarre music taste with you, all 5 of my loyal readers, and the occassional drop in / drive by blog reader who finds me by searching for "pert boobs."
Feel free to let me know if you want any of them. For the price of postage they could be yours:

The Beatles
Yesterday and Today, the first album I bought with my very own money.
Revolver, Let it Be, Meet the Beatles, and The Beatles Again were my father's records but I've had them a long time.
Oh, and Sgt Peppers Lonley Hearts Club Band, commerative color printed vinyl edition

Blondie, Parallel Lines (2 copies)

Heart, Dog and Butterfly and of course Dreamboat Annie (which I can still play on guitar)

The Eagles, The Long Run and Hotel California

Supertramp, Breakfast in America and Even in the Quietest Moments

Styx, Paradise Theater

Jackson Brown, Running on Empty

The Who, Face Dances

Electric Light Orchestra, Discovery

I'll post more later. I'm tired of typing. But to round out this post I'll add

Olivia Newton John, Have You Never Been Mellow. Yeah. I know. What was I thinking?

Congratulations to Jill Badonsky

I always have to say outloud in my head "bad. on. sky." to remember how to spell Jill Badonsky's name.

Anyway, just thought I'd share the news from Publishers Marketplace:


NON-FICTION: ILLUSTRATED/ART

Creativity coach, artist and author of THE NINE MODERN DAY MUSES AND A
BODYGUARD Jill Badonsky's THE DAILY AWE-MANAC, a full-color,
illustrated guide to living with spirit, purpose, and humor that
includes a page for each day of the year with "Today I Get to" prompts
(instead of a To-Do List), writing exercises, inspirational quotes,
and much more, to Jennifer Kasius at Running Press, by Stephanie Kip
Rostan at Levine Greenberg Literary Agency (world).

It's great to be surrounded by successful people doing cool things... and if you haven't already checked out Jill's website, TheMuseIsIn.com, the Nine Modern Day Muse book, gotten on her email list, whatever, Just Do. She's lots of inspirational fun.

Do you believe in astrology?

I don't believe in astrology, but sometimes.... ya just gotta wonder.... Here's my horoscope for today, read after I wrote my last post:

The imaginative Pisces Moon stimulates our dreams and increases the intensity of our fantasies. Additional adrenaline comes from the harmonious trine between sexy Venus and electric Uranus. We want to break out of our restraints to let pleasure rule the day, but retrograde Mercury is forming a tense square with austere Saturn, isolating us from the objects of our desires. Even if we strongly crave freedom, it may feel beyond our reach at this time.


... I feel just like that. Weird, huh.

Feeling rather maudlin today

Not sure if it's the whole Dia de los Muertos thing, or more overwhelm from dealing with my Dad's estate, feeling like I am totally alone in the world now-- no parents to watch over me, no kids to distract me-- like I'm the end of the line. Or the middle, floating with nothing to hang onto.

To top it of my boss's mom just had a stroke, so I'm here listening to him talk on the phone.

"It's ok Mom, Laurie and I are taking care of everything. You don't have to worry about a thing."

And she is comforted. And it strikes me. Who is going to take care of me when I get old and dotty?

So I think about this quote from the movie "American Beauty." The character Lester says in voice over:

Remember those posters that said, "Today
is the first day of the rest of your
life?" Well, that's true of every day
except one.
(a beat)
The day you die.

It sounds good, makes an impact and all but it is not true. Even the day you die is the first day of the rest of your life. The rest of your life is just very very short.

All this thinking makes me jittery, like I need to get out and do something crazy, move to Alaska or cash out my savings and to hell with sticking around here and hoping the real estate market bubble will burst enough so I can afford to buy a house.

And just in case you're curious, Merriam Webster Online defines maudlin as:

1 : drunk enough to be emotionally silly
2 : weakly and effusively sentimental

Etymology: alteration of Mary Magdalene; from her depiction as a weeping penitent

Yup, maudlin is a good word. Especially for Dia De Los Muertos.

Chemo Brain is Real...

If you're lucky you're not familiar with the phrase "chemo brain." Unfortunately, as you may know from previous posts, my sister Debby has breast cancer. This is the second time around for her. The first time was in 2000. She found a lump. A small lump, she had a little surgery and the surgeon got "a clear margin" which means no cancer cells on the whole outer surface of the 1 mm lump they removed. And they tested the lymph nodes-- all clear. Debby did a little radiation and a little chemo "just to be sure" as the doctors say, and poof, it was gone. She handled it so well she could have been the poster girl for the How to Survive and Thrive With Breast Cancer campaign. Heck, she even look fabulous bald.




By 2002 we were walking the Breast Cancer 3 Day 60 Mile walk in San Diego, and raised about 10,000 dollars between the two of us.

Well, in 2004 Debby had a little pain in her back. Thought she pulled a muscle, strained it at work or something. It didn't go away. After visits to the massage therapist and the chiropractor-- to no avail-- she mentioned it to her oncologist at a check up. After he chastised her for not coming to him first, he set her up to get some tests, and before we knew it, she was diagnosed again. This time with metastisized breast cancer, the little evil cells having landed on her bones (her back where she felt the pain) on her pelvis, oh yeah, and in her liver, lung and a tiny spot on her brain. I don't remember the exact sequence, it seemed to get a little worse with every doctor visit.... and before long she ended up in the hospital having seizures, on medication that left her legs looking like little toothpicks and her face puffy and round, "blowfish face" she called it.

She had gamma knife procedures, more chemo, more radiation... and at one point (a long point) she was so weak, her muscles so depleted, she could hardly get up out of a chair.

Now here we are in 2006. Debby still has breast cancer, but she's doing a lot better. Not a hundred percent, but to look at her you'd never know. Except for the little lump on her chest, her port, inserted just under her skin so the nurse doesn't have to keep hunting for a vein everytime she goes in for chemo. She still goes about once a month. "Chemo lite" Debby calls it.

Oh, and the point of this post, she has what she calls "chemo brain" which is apparently now a recognized side effect for some people who are on chemo:

CHEMO BRAIN NOT ALL IN YOUR HEAD
Article from the American Cancer Society:

"Researchers are learning more about "chemo brain," the memory and concentration gaps that plague some cancer patients after chemotherapy." More at the American Cancer Society Website....

Welcome Ralph to the Blogosphere!

So my friend Ralph FINALLY started his own blog. Lord only knows he has plenty to say, and a pretty sharp wit with which to say it... So I hope he'll keep at it. He's only written one post so far, but maybe with a little encouragement he'll post some more once he's back home and on his regular feed.

So, if you get a chance, pop on over and say hello to Ralph, aka Stack, the walking guy.

You can't make this stuff up...

I was thinking about writing something meaningful, showcasing my indignance over this whole Foley affair, but I'll save my political ramblings for another day.

This article on Washington Post caught my eye. Usually the best stuff in an article appears at the beginning, but in this case, the last paragraph is the best. You just don't find folks like this in Southern California:


... "It's all right for some people," she says. "But, bebe, if you had to pluck and skin and boil your own chicken, after catching it with a shark hook baited with rancid meat, and if the chicken weighed 500 pounds and tried to eat your leg off and then vomited on you, well, you might not want to eat that, either."

from "Bayou Belle by Birth, Gator Trapper by Choice" By Monica Hesse

Creativity is

I've been busy this evening. Here's my first doculogue/a montage of sound and pictures. This is what creativity is.

Grab a Hanky...

So, last April I attended the First Friday at The Grove, an open mic event for prose writers hosted by San Diego Writers Ink, and fellow San Diego writer James Spring was recording with the hopes of creating another story for This American Life (his first story aired in February, "Cat and Mouse"). So of course I said Yes you can record me. And James generously sent me this clip of me reading one of my essays, Me and Billy Crystal. Enjoy. Hopefully you'll hear bits of the essay, and perhaps conversation with me and Holly Fleming and James on some future TAL show, but for now, I hope you enjoy this. And thanks to James for allowing me to use this, especially since I have since lost the draft of this essay that was edited down to three minutes. Did you catch that? It's 3 minutes long, so get comfy.

Arrrrgh. Ahoy mateys

Shiver me timbers! Tis' Talk Like a Pirate Day

Yours Truly,

Scribe Prudence
What is YOUR pirate name?

We the Screenwriter

Don't you just love it when you're cruising the internet and start off looking for one thing, and then you click and click and find something really cool?

Well, I was looking at San Diego writerly links, and came across the San Diego Writers Conference, thinking maybe I'll go this year, maybe I'll try to get the first 30 pages of my manuscript polished enough to show to an agent, maybe I'll go rub elbows with editors, maybe.... and then I clicked and I clicked, and I found this:



Michael Steven Gregory is the executive director of the writers conference, and produced another movie that I've seen called "We, The Writer" which was pretty cool. And the best part is, he created a new word, "doculogue." Love that!

Musing about Creativity and Mental Health

I'm a firm believer that EVERYONE is creative. In some way or another. Some of us are writers, artists, photographers, others of us are mothers, scientists, and/or business owners. Whatever you do in life, being creative, being able to look at things from a different angle, makes life interesting, more fulfilling, and brings you closer to your bliss.

Why is it then, when we need it most, creativity escapes us? Like for me, right now. I really want to get lost in my own fiction, to make up someone else's life in a short story and live there awhile. But the muse is just not here for me right now. bitch. Oh, it's not her fault, I know I'm the one pushing her away, closing the door when she knocks, turning on the television to drown her out. But dammit, can't she see I need her?

Maybe I need to wallow in my misery right now, I don't know. I just know that I am struggling to get out of bed in the morning*, although I can't sleep at night, busy brain my sister calls it, and I WANT to want to spend time on my own projects, not the ones that were forced upon me by my father's death, but I can rarely muster the energy to do anything in the evenings except watch television, which of course makes me feel even more pathetic..

Gee, how did a post about creativity turn to that??

So I'm signed up for a class next Friday, a workshop on Overcoming Self Sabotage. Perhaps being depressed about my Dad is just an excuse to NOT do the things, to NOT put in the hard work toward achieving success in my creative endeavors, to NOT achieve success. Perhaps I am just sabotaging myself. I'm hoping that is the case, 'cause I'd much rather think that I am creatively brilliant, but emotionally stunted than to think that I am just a depressed hack.

The creativity hostess, Jill Badonsky, has put together this whole "Unleashing Creative Brilliance" weekend workshop and has teamed up with Dr. Robert Maurer. It looks like a great program, and Jill is a wonderful muse channeler, and she says Dr. Maurer is fantastic.

I also signed up for a workshop on the 30th of September, entitled "It's my story and I'm sticking to it" taught by Debra Ginsberg, through the San Diego Writers Ink.

Yeah. Just keep moving forward. I'm acting "as if" as Dr. Phil would say. As if everything were fine, as if I were not depressed, as if I am a brilliant writer.

* * *

*I should point out that not wanting to get out of bed has nothing to do with my job. I'm actually quite happy with my job at the moment, we have lots of fun creative changes in the near future, and I just got a nice little raise, that really isn't that little, but just makes me feel like I need to step up even more so we can continue to do more fun stuff.

PS: I just read this post and it reads like I'm manic or something. Yikes.

9/11 Can't avoid it.

I've been trying to avoid it, I rarely watch tv news, but here it is. September 11. Of course I wish there had not been such a tragedy, but what I mostly wish is the love and compassion we had for each other in the days following September 11 would have stayed with us. With me.

I remember for a while it was OK to look into the eyes of strangers. It was like you knew that everyone you met could have lost someone, or knew someone who lost someone, and it was ok to express your sympathy, to ask, did you know anyone? Where were you when it happened?.

I remember people were nicer to each other, they drove their cars more respectfully. Not like this morning when I, driving well over the speed limit, was still passed by folks who thought I was going too slow. And so I cursed them. Crazy drivers.

I heard more pleases and thank yous, and fewer exasperated loud sighs that are some sort of I-can't-talk-to-you-cause-you're-a-stranger code for "Excuse me."

I miss those days. I wish that feeling had permanently imprinted on the American Psyche, and that every time any one of us were to encounter that the gruff old man at the newsstand, that the girl down the street who never smiles, the lady in the beemer who just cut you off... maybe just maybe instead of getting pissed off, we could have a little compassion. Because maybe just maybe that person just lost a friend, a wife, a brother....

Skyline Drive

I've been missing my dad a lot today. It's Sunday. I miss talking to my dad on Sundays. Not that we ever had much to say, which is funny because we had a lot in common. Too much. So much it scares me. So much that it inspires me to clean out my closet, and take things to the Goodwill, which I did yesterday. Still more to go, I might add.

Anyway, so here's a couple of photos. Times were good then, even if I did have Farrah hair. And big glasses. yikes.

These were taken at Skyline Drive in Virginia, circa 1980...

It's funny, I totally remember that day, the way the crispy Fall air tasted like apple cider, and caramel. I remember those overalls. I loved them. And that red sweater with a hood was soft.



And me and my Dad were ok. Not perfect, missed my mom, but we were ok.

Jean Berg took the picture. She was cool. I always wished my Dad had married her.

This just gives me chills

I met this gal at the Blogher conference (I know, I know, shut up about that conference already, would ya!) But seriously, Amanda rocks.
Here she is singing a capella, one of my favorite songs. AND she does it well.



And I didn't know she could play geetar. Great arrangement:



I'm inspired! don't worry, I won't sing, but I am working on putting some AUDIO up, the result of playing with my new digital audio recorder that I love. Stay tuned. Maybe tomorrow. Darn these weekends are too short!

8 Days

Eight days, really nine into September and I am just now doing a blog entry. I've not been doing any writing lately-- just can't seem to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard. I tried to revive a story I started about two years ago. I never knew what to call it, though the working title is "Just Friends" I never knew if it was a short story? a novella? a (gasp, dare I say?) Novel? or perhaps a screenplay? I actually have written a lot of bits and pieces, and put it into screenplay format figuring that the art director, the set designer, the director, Oh yeah and the actors, would fill in all the details. So basically I have a very flat story.

I think the story is still a good one... my main character is Randall, who lives in a small town somewhere in the south. He has been in love with Thelma since the 2nd grade. Never told her. She went off to college, stayed out in LA, met someone... Beatrice. So, Beatrice and Thelma decide they'd had enough of LA living, and as Thelma's mom passed away she inherited the family abode, so they come back to this town to live. Oh yeah, no one knows they're gay, but Randall sees them kiss and is devastated. So that's basically the situation. The story is where it gets more complicated. As in writing it.

My biggest problem is Point of View (POV). When I'm writing creative non-fiction / memoiresque personal essay, POV is quite straightforward. It's me. It's all about me and what I think and what I know and how I feel. With fiction, it's not that simple. Am I writing from an omniscient third person POV as narrator who knows what all the characters are thinking? Or is it limited third person, perhaps only inside one person's head? Or do I write as first person and really get into one character? Which character's story is this? Who do I identify with?

Anyway, I tried to take it out of screenplay format which is heavy on dialogue and light on things like narrative descriptions-- unless of course you have a soliloquey, which is not only hard to spell, but hard to get away with unless you are Shakespeare. So, I stripped out all the direction, and ended up with a lot of dialogue, in what now seems to me to be a gay themed Harlequin romance. bleckh. Not that there is anything wrong with that, the gay part that is, it's the Harlequin thing. bleckh. And the fact that there is no clear POV. Who's story is this anyway?

Maybe I'll just work on something else....

Almost Perfect Birthday

Sunday was my birthday. I won't say here how many years I have on me... it's shocking to think about it really, especially when I listened to some of the items on Beloit University's Mindset List, a compilation of the cultural view of the freshmen entering college this Fall. Yikes. I'm old! Number 6, "There has always been only one Germany," strikes me because my roommate grew up in East Germany, and actually escaped just before the wall came down. The whole Iron Curtain thing always fascinated me. Susann, my roommate, learned Russian in school. I don't think for her life was horrible, but she definitely grew up knowing they didn't have freedoms and they did not have a lot of choices like we have. Her mother's family lived in West Germany and only occassionally could her mother get a travel visa, and then it was only for her. No family vacations to the West...

I digress. Back to my birthday. I started the day with my coffee, the newspaper, and the CBS Sunday Morning show I love. It was a repeat, but I enjoyed it anyway. Susan Sarandon, one of my favorite actors, was featured.

Next I lounged some more, and then got ready for my massage at Sante Day Spa, conveniently located very nearby. ummmm. The afternoon was full of more lounging, some reading, some channel flipping, and then off to see Little Miss Sunshine for the 5 o clock show. I had seen the movie last weekend, and enjoyed it so much. No, "enjoyed" is too passive a verb. I don't think there is a verb for this in English, maybe not in any other language in the world. This movie made me cry, made me chuckle, and most of all made me laugh so hard that tears streamed down my face and I could barely breath. It is poignant, quirky, and a little sad, but mostly it is funny in a heart-warming kind of way.

After the movie we went to The Beach House, a local restaurant which is located, suprisingly, overlooking the beach. I wanted to catch the last glimpse of sunset, have a drink, and eat some ceviche. This is where it got not-quite perfect... they were out of ceviche. I had been tasting that tangy, spicy lime infused fish all day. The good part was I was with my sister Debby, my roomie and my good friend Ralph. And the waitress redeemed herself by bringing a chocolate mousse with a candle. So all in all, an almmost perfect birthday.

PS: what about trackbacks?

I tried to do a trackback on my last post, but I'm not sure how to do it, or even if I can do it using blogger.com. Any tips would be appreciated.

The Post is Posted!

They are pretty quick on the draw over there at AskPatty.com! not only did someone (Jody) comment the instant yesterday's post went up... they already loaded up my mini-essay on Buying a VW Beetle.

Please do cruise on over there (like the automotive reference?) and check it out if you haven't already. And feel free to post a comment. Maybe tell the folks at AskPatty how much you loved my essay, what a great writer I am, and how you'd love to read more from me :-) maybe they'll want to hire me to do freelance work!

Seriously, do check it out. I had a lot of fun writing it.

The Secret is Out...

Considering that (a) only three people read my blog and (b) publishers are not taking numbers to see who gets to offer me a book deal, the fact that I am good writer is pretty much a well-kept secret.

Now before you (all three of you) get too excited, no I wasn't offered a book deal. I was, however, asked to contribute a post over at AskPatty.com about my experience buying a car. I'll update you when it goes live.

If you haven't heard about this site, check it out. "The Ask Patty.com, Inc. web site is a safe place for women to get advice on car purchases, maintenance and other automotive related topics." The panel of automotive experts are all women too. I am absolutely enamored with the site, not because I'm a car afficionado, but because the business model is genius. Heck, the fact that they have a business model and not just a buy out strategy is genius!

I met Jody DeVere sipping Yahootinis at Blogher 2006 last month. We had some great discussions around the table about women, and given the nature of the AskPatty website (which started as a blog to test the market) the talk turned to car buying. Everyone had a story.

The team over at AskPatty is not only creating great online content to educate women, they are harnessing the buying power of those women to make changes in the auto industry. Specifically, they are offering a sort of Good-Housekeeping-Like Seal of Approval for dealers that tow the line.

Car dealerships can subscribe to the AskPatty.com online service by completing the Ask Patty ‘female friendly’ certified dealer training program. Women consumers can search for certified dealerships in the newly launched version of Ask Patty.

Dealers that become ‘female friendly’ certified can expect an increase in car sales to women and an improvement in their retention and loyalty ratings from women consumers. Certified Dealers will display the Ask Patty logo on co-branded marketing and advertising campaigns. Additionally, dealers will be able to link their websites to AskPatty.com which will provide a new source of qualified women consumers who consider Ask Patty a trusted brand.

So next time you buy a car, and are looking for a dealer, look for the AskPatty sign. And stop first at the AskPatty website, do a little research, read my post, and maybe ask a question or two from their team of experts.

Call for San Diego Bloggers

ATTENTION all 3 people who read my blog:

Dan Gillmor, a blogger (also author of the book “We the Media”) and head of a small nonprofit working to enhance citizen media, contacted me for help in getting the word out about this project, Strong Angel.

Basically Dan is part of a team of people coming together to experiment in how to better respond to disasters. Dan's part of the team is looking for efficient ways to communicate and get services to folks who may really be in need in the event of a disaster.

This sounds like a fascinating project, especially given some of the relief efforts spearheaded via blogs post Hurricaine Katrina.

strongangel3

Why I Hate Condos Reason #187

My sister is Back East dealing with my Dad's estate. Specifically trying to clean out the Condo. So we can sell it. So we can pay the IRS. Fun, I know. And it's her birthday today. Fortunately my Uncle Bill aka Tio Willy is there helping her.

ANYWAY, as I mentioned it is a condo. We were hoping to have an estate sale. Not that we thought we'd get a bunch of money from the stuff, but rather it seemed an easier way to move things out than just hauling it away. And a couple hundred bucks would be nice to have to pay for the airline flights, the rental cars, the hotel rooms, the meals out, the extra cell phone minutes...

So back to the CONDO. They have stupid rules. You can't put up signs advertising an estate sale. You can have an estate sale, you just can't tell everyone where it is. You can put up a little 3x5 card, I guess on the bulletin board, but that is only on Mondays. You can't put up a sign on a Wednesday. Only Mondays. Mondays is the index card sign day. And don't get me started on when you can use the elevator for hauling stuff... that's a whole nother issue.

PS it's my sister's birthday today. She's not having fun on her birthday... any ideas on what I can do for her when she comes back??

Being versus Blogging

I've been thinking about this a lot lately, especially since returning from BlogHer. So many people there with their laptops blogging away during the welcome speech, tap tap tap. During the panel discussions, tap tap tap. During breakfast, lunch.... tap tap tap... well most of them stopped for drinks poolside in the evening... but you get my drift.

How easy it is to get obsessive about this whole blog thing like Sheila. I find its a bit like when I got my first "real" camera (an SLR Pentax) and all of the sudden instead of being in the moment of things, I was picturing how the scene would look through the lens of a camera. In one way I was seeing things in a different way, maybe more artistic. In another way, I was too busy setting up the shot that I wasn't enjoying the scene at the moment.

When I started working on my creative non-fiction piece, Reconstructing My Mother, the same thing happened. Every conversation I had with anyone about my mother was potential fodder for an essay soon to be submitted to my Read and Critique group. This still happens by the way, so watch what you say about my mother!

So, is everything we do a blogable event? Do we pass up activities so we can blog? Do we stay up too late writing posts, cruising other blogs, posting comments, tracking back?

How obsessive are you about your blog?

Let's Fly Naked!

Shoes, no shoes, liquids, no liquids, gels, no gels. Carry on luggage? Yes. No.
Nail clippers? No. Yes. Pocket knife? No. Yes, if its teeny tiny. Knitting needles? no. Baby food? Yes. The list of TSA restricted/approved items is not only ridiculously long but just plain ridiculous. In these times of airline cutbacks (no more free peanuts, and only "food for purchase" being offered) Now airline passengers are not allowed to bring beverages on board. Not even beverages bought at the airport, which I'm assuming have already been screened if they are being sold on the "secure" side of the checkpoint. Perhaps I'm just naive.

Why is it ok to have baby food but not adult food (or rather drink)? Have you ever had to hang out with me if I'd dehydrated? Let me tell you, I can get downright cranky. I feel really bad for those flight attendants, who in order to line the pockets of the company execs have taken some serious pay cuts and more than likely they can not count on the pension plan they were promised now have to put up with cranky unfed dehydrated passengers dinging the damn bell everytime they want a water refill. Flying just can't be fun anymore.

Of course I'm also a bit of a conspiracy theorists. It seems a little convenient that as W's approval ratings have tanked, we all of the sudden have a new threat, and gee isn't it a good thing we're out there fighting the war on terrorism. HEY, how 'bout we conduct ourselves in a manner that doesn't piss everyone off?? Why do we expect every other country to be concerned about "world opinion" but we don't give a hooey?

So my plan for the future.... let's be nice to everyone and Let's Fly Naked!

Something insightful

Not. Nothing. I have a serious case of writers block. Bloggers block even. I'm pretty sure it's because I'm sad. Feeling rather alone here these days. My roommate's out of town, my sister's out of town, my best friend lives in LA, my other best friend is on a business trip. You'd think with all this extra time, 'cause I have no socializing to do, I'd be able to write, but nothing's coming. And I miss my Dad. I had a good cry tonight. Sundays are the hardest. I used to talk to my Dad on Sunday mornings. After the CBS morning show, after my coffee and my newspaper. So now my Sundays feel off.

Today I spent most of the day filling out paperwork for the Probate Court. The initial inventory of assets is due August 24, four months after we (my sister and I) qualified as executors. Those four months went fast. And now I'm stressed about the money, especially since I just sent a check, from my personal funds, to the funeral home to pay for the funeral. ouch. It's expensive to die. Actually, I guess for the dead, it's not, it's expensive for those left living. Not to mention emotionally draining. And in my Dad's case, he didn't leave things in good order. As an example, one insurance policy still had my mom as the beneficiary-- my mom who died in 1978. So I had to get a copy of her death certificate, which finally came in the mail, so we can make a claim for the insurance funds. But that's just one tiny example.

Bottom line is this is so overwhelming.

Hey LeahPeah!

Hey Leahpeah (I had to say it again so I could link) Did you know your blog sent 187 people to my blog this month so far? That means that WAY more than 187 people actually read your blog, and that I have WAY too much time on my hands if I'm worried about tracking stats on my little blog!

But seriously. That is a bit intimidating. Like maybe I should write something incredibly insightful and meaningful to entice these 187 people to come back and play. Instead, I'm using up my creative brain cells at work. The brain cells that work on automatic pilot for things like breathing and eating and sleeping are working just fine. But the creative ones are tired by the time I get home. I've spent the day (with the exception of an email here or there) writing about welding. This week its been about helmets, welding helmets, auto-darkening welding helmets to be specific. Oh, and I also wrote about nozzles (front end parts for TIG Torches), but you can't read that until the article comes out in Practical Welding Today.

So maybe I'll write something inspirational tomorrow.

I Rock!

After a few hours of pulling out my hair, searching google, and every How-To-HTML website out there I finally figured it out.... how to actually make a Form work, specifically a Contact Us form, or even more specifically a Talk To Me form. I haven't incorporated it into the front end navigation yet, but feel free to test it out and let me know if its working. In case you missed it, that link is:

Talk To Me!

comments are cool too.

Blogher Post #2

I had all these grand ideas about blogging some of what I learned at Blogher, writing about the cool people I met there, some of whom are now on the side bar, but he writing thing, well, that really hasn't happened.

I got to Blogher by volunteering on the Audio team, our mission was to record all the panel discussions and workshops to be turned into podcasts. Cool idea, and since I am interested in audio (I'm an NPR-O-Holic with dreams of getting a story on This American Life) I thought it would be a great opportunity to learn a bit about how this thing is done. And I did. I learned, but most of all I just jumped in there and did it. I looked cool (ok, I looked like a dork but I felt cool) sitting at the controls, head phones on, tinkering with and monitoring input levels. As if I knew what I were doing HA! Well, it did make me brave enough to pull out my new M-Audio Micro Trak Digital recorder and interview some fellow Bloghers. The question was "Why do you blog?" and here are some answers, edited into a little soundprint called Why Blog (mp3 format). Not sure this is the best way to do this, I think I can make it so a little player shows up here in this post, and you can play when you click, but I haven't learned that part yet. So you'll just have to click on the MP3 and launch your own audio player. It's under 2 minutes and about 500K.

Thanks to the following Bloghers for lending me their voices:

Life After Breakfast
Her Bad Mother
Fire on the Poop Deck
LeahPeah
Jennster and
Susan at 2020Hindsight

apologies for the creative yet not perfect editing... my first turn with Audacity.

Bad Kitty Mommy

.
I admit it, I'm a bad kitty mommy. It's not that I don't love my cat. Truly I do. In fact, I'm the only one who does. Which makes it even worse...

A little over a year ago she was diagnosed with diabetes. Feline Diabetes. So I had to give her insulin shots twice a day. I was diligent. I researched. I changed her food... I got up and out of bed at 6 am every morning to give her a shot. And I only stabbed myself with the needle twice! And her BG levels went down. (BG is blood glucose for those not so diabetes savvy folks out there).

Then the UTIs started. That's urinary tract infection for those not urinary-tract-savvy folks out there. It was a mess. Literally. And we were all miserable. So I took her to the vet each and every time. She didn't like the first medicine. She actually threw it up even though the vet said it was the right one for the type of infection it was based on the lab re$ult$. It was bad. We changed medicine. Problem was that only worked for a short time and I ended up at the vet again, and again and again. And then the Veterinary $pecialty Ho$pital which cost me a lot of money. Thank god I had it, but now, I don't.... which brings me to the next bad kitty mommy example. I never did get her in for a follow up (Read my posts about my dad, and you'll know why). The only good news here was her BG levels were too low, so I got to take her off of insulin, and sleep until 7 am.

And finally, bad kitty mommy example number 3. My cat has trouble walking. Which may be damage from the diabetes. Or arthritis, or could be because she is a Maine Coon and has hip displaysia. and I've been hesitant to take her in because of the money issue, especially when they start saying words like MRI, but now I don't have a choice becuase the UTI is back, and her legs aren't getting any better, and it makes me cry when she tries to jump up onto the sofa to hang out with me and she can't. Truth is I haven't wanted to deal with it because I am afraid that she will have to be put down or something and I don't think I can handle that right now.

Shamu doesn't use his blinker

That's right. Yesterday on the way to work, I watched Shamu of SeaWorld fame zooming in and out of traffic heading north on the I-5. My first thought was, if that were me in that Volkswagon (I drive a Cyber Green beetle)


I'd be glad the windows were so darkly tinted! I mean that car has a tail fin! and a dorsal fin!

and no blinker.....

PS this photo is from 2003 when I bought my car.

Blogher post #1

I admit it. I'm not the avid blogger I pretend to be, which you'll realize if you stop by and peruse the sporadic posts.

I'll post more about Blogher 2006 later, I'm exhausted, but for my first post, I thought I'd mention the first person I met, Steve, who was at the Blogher conference with his mother-- an 80 something year YOUNG blogger. I admit, I get a little teary-eyed thinking about it. And jealous too. How wonderful to be able to share this crazy technology thing with your mom.

I wonder if my mom would be a blogger. I know she was an avid letter-writer, as I have a shoebox full of letters she'd written to my grandparents, to my dad when he was a sea, letters home to my sister and I from vacationing sans the kids in the Orient. I just don't know if she would have embraced this new technology.

I know my dad read my blog, at least a few times. He mentioned once that he liked what I wrote about my sister. But I don't think he ever got into the blogging thing in general. He did own all the latest computer equipment (he was an engineer). I also found out he even had an I-pod. His music list was very varied: from Hawaiian slack key guitarists Keola and Kapono Beamer, to Diana Krall, James Taylor, Bob Dylan, Paul Simon... I'm sure I could come up with more, but I'm very tired. Too many late nights, too little sleep.

I know it seems strange that I mention a "BlogHim" in my first post about the BlogHer conference, but seriously, he was the first person I met. I sat down at a table with my coffee, and he was there. He may have said something before asking "Do you know my mom?" but I don't remember.

"No, should I?" I answered, instantly outing myself as a blog community illiterate. And just to clarify I added "I really don't know anybody."

"Well you do now, I'm Steve."

So thanks Steve for making me feel not quite so intimidated. Next time I want to make sure I meet your mom, though-- she really seems cool.

I did meet lots of incredible women, doing cool stuff in audio, video, social activism, community building, and just plain good writing. As soon as I get some sleep I'm sure I'll be able to focus some of my thoughts and get them down on ether.

Happy Birthday To Me!

Today is the 2 year anniversary of my blog!!
I'll blog more about that later....

BlogHER

Yup. I'm going. I feel like I'm crashing the party though. I signed up, no wait, I didn't actually sign up, I volunteered to be on the Audio Team even though I have no experience whatsoever. I did finally buy the digital audio recorder I wanted so I have something to contribute. A few cryptic emails from someone named Mir and someone named Toy and I'm in. Not sure about the cocktail party, do I have a ticket? Is that included with my pass? Do I have any choice in what I want to record? I'm excited and nervous all at the same time. There are going to be some 700 women there! that's a lot of estrogen in one place! I may have to wander over the San Jose Grand Prix to get a little testosterone fix.

Pain

The blisters on the balls of my feet are almost healed. I was hoping that by the time the blisters healed I would stop feeling pain, but that was just wishful thinking.

I got these blisters marching behind my father's casket wearing high heeled shoes in the pouring rain, rain that masked my tears and seemed particularly fitting for a funeral.

Walking behind the caisson seemed like a good idea, but it was farther than the funeral director led us to believe, and the soldiers marched faster than he led us to believe, or maybe it just seemed that way because of the rain and the burgeoning blisters. I took my shoes off and walked on the asphalt road, bits of gravel digging into my soles less painful than the blisters, less painful than the hole in my heart.... a hole that has not yet healed. I miss my dad.

but wait, there's more...

One other good thing that came out of my Dad's death was the opportunity to see my cousin Terri, the daughter of my mother's sister (also now passed). It was great to see her. I also met her husband Kenny, and my 2nd cousin Bradley.

I should also mention that my friend Ralph came out with Debby and I for moral support and to help deal with the "stuff" in my Dad's condo. It is overwhelming to sort through someone else's life, and determine what to keep and what to sell and what to toss. My friend Martin also came down for moral support... My sister Debby also had several friends drop in. It is all appreciated very much.

Thankfully, my Dad had a will, which makes some things a little easier, but the best advice I can give anyone, especially those of you with children, children or anyone who may become executor of your estate, be sure to have your affairs in order. I know it is difficult to think about, but as they say, the only thing certain in life is death and taxes. If you don't have a will, get one. NOW. Make sure the beneficiary information on ALL your accounts, bank accounts, life insurance policies, IRAs, etc are up-to-date. My mother, who passed away in 1978 is still listed as beneficiary on several policies, which really slows things down in settling the estate and paying for things that need to be paid for. (finerals are expensive)

NOLO is a good place to start. Know the laws in your state, and plan accordingly.

The funeral

We laid my dad to rest on July 5, 2006 at Arlington National Cemetery. He is interred with my mom. We hosted a full military honors funeral, complete with marching band, caisson, and gun salute. The reception took place in the Hall of Honors at the Women in War Memorial. I suppose as far as funerals go, it was a nice service, and it poured down rain. Matched my mood just fine.

It was nice, too, in a weird way to have some time with friends and family. We met my 2nd cousin Gail from Michigan... though she says we've met before (I was 2 I think and don't remember) but she was a hoot-- wish we'd known her all these years. We also re-connected with other cousins from my Dad's dad side of the family: Jay from New Jersey and Craig from Boston as well as cousins and uncles from my Grandma's side, Uncle Tommy and Uncle Johnny, cousin Tom and Roseanne, Laura, Chris, sort of a swirling mass of relatives.

Many of my Dad's collegues attended as well, most touching was Nancy H. coming in from Missouri just for the funeral. She said my Dad was a very important mentor to her over the years. And many long time friends also attended-- a couple of Naval Academy classmates, some shipmates and some other workmates from Dad's post-Navy days.

My sister and I also had several friends come out for moral support. Thanks to everyone for coming and honoring our Dad. And to Aunt Mary K and Uncle Bill (and cousin Katie) who were right at the center with Debby and I providing much needed support.

I managed to squeak out my poem, First Dance, at the funeral, and bid aloha to my pop. Here's the poem I read, written in 2002, I gave it to him for Father's Day that same year:

Bamboo covered walls,
tiki torches, and
drinks served in coconut shells

Tropical music lingering in the air

The Maui Lu Hotel Lounge.

This was the real thing, not some mainland reproduction

I wore a polynesian print halter dress
and white strappy sandals
My first grown up shoes

He was tan and tall, or so he seemed to me
Dark hair,
smiling eyes,
elegant in his blue aloha shirt and white slacks

He held out his hand and asked me to dance

I don't remember the song,
but I do remember
the way I felt
when I stepped up
onto the tops of his shoes
and he twirled me around the room

Daddy's little girl.

Not. Good. Enough.

My sister’s mad at me and I’m not sure why. I guess its because I’m not doing enough, but I don’t know what to do. And some days I’m so overwhelmed with sadness and anger I have to wrench myself out of bed, leaving barely enough time to drink coffee and dress before I have to leave for work. And when I get home from work, and running errands, and make some dinner I’m too tired in my head to do anything more than watch something absolutely inane on t.v.

And when I’m at work, I’m not doing enough there either. I feel horribly guilty spending work time on personal business, faxing the caterer, calling the bank, the lawyer, lawyers, faxing the accountant, the insurance company, companies. And when Anne asks me if have any hours to deduct from my PTO, I should say, “Oh take three hours off for the time I spent talking to Merrill Lynch, and RSVP caterers, and the emails I sent, and the obituary I wrote.” But I say nothing, knowing that between the time I already spent back east, which was Not. Good. Enough. and the upcoming week in July for the funeral, which is also Not. Good. Enough. I am actually 40 hours in the hole on my “vacation” time. And the knot in my stomach gets tighter and my breath gets a little more shallow and my lip juts out and my throat closes and the tears start to slip out of the corners of my eyes and run down the sides of my face. Sometimes if I tilt my head back I can stop them, but sometimes all I can do is take off my glasses and press the palms of my hands to my eye sockets and hope for the best.

So yeah. It sucks, it’s not fair that my sister is in DC dealing with a condo full of crap and I can't help her, and I can't be whatever she needs me to be, and it’s not fair that I’m spending my current and future vacation NOT traveling to Alaska, NOR sunning at a villa in Mexico or Greece, but instead I’ll be hauling bags of paper in and out of a condo in DC and attending a funeral.

I’m so tired of feeling Not. Good. Enough. as if every small step forward I make is not covering enough ground, as if the tears I cry are not wet enough, the sobs are not loud enough, I’m not upset enough, concerned enough, caring enough, supportive enough. I have to take care of myself too, you know. I have to earn a living and pay my rent and keep up with my writing, otherwise I will not survive and will Never. Be. Good. Enough.

Father's Day

So yesterday, I spent the day shopping. Not for a to-be-mailed-late gift for my dad, but a dress for his funeral. There's intense irony there that I'm not sure how to articulate.

Finding a proper dress for a funeral is really hard. There are so many things to consider.

First, of course, it must be black... or dark gray or some somber color, for a somber occassion.

Second, it should be somewhat sedate... nothing too low cut, nothing too bling. It's a funeral, not a night out on the town.

Third, it should fit. This is the hard part for me. Short, round, if it fits over my butt, it's way too big across the top and always too long rendering me into a frumpy mass of WHATEVER.

So Marshalls had nothing, I did pick up a fabulous pair of shoes however.

Ross-- nothing-- so I had to go to The Mall. I never go to The Mall. I hate The Mall. Everything is so expensive. And usually ugly, thus making the entire experience completely dreadful. I didn't want to spend a lot of money on this dress anyway, figuring I would probably never wear it again.

I still remember the dress I wore to my mother's funeral. I was 13. My dress was blue (back then it was hard to find a black dress for a child). It was a nice dress, and it hung in my closet after that. Same with the chocolate brown silk top I wore to my grandma's funeral. And the blue dress shirt I wore to my granddad's funeral. I expect the same fate for whatever new item I purchased for this funeral, to be relegated to the back of the closet, buried there forever.

I parked at Sears. I always park there, mostly because it's the only way I'm sure to remember where I parked. I think my grandma used to park there. Besides, I thought maybe, just maybe, I could find an inexpensive black dress there.

I did find one completely shapeless floor length dress, which if I had a good tailor just might work.... So I headed over to Robinsons-May. Which no longer exists, proving just how long its been since I went to The Mall so I ended up at Macy's. I couldn't even find the Women's Dresses there. Sure, they had some cute tiny little dresses in the Junior department, and some oh-so-trendy dresses in the designer sections, but no basic, boring dresses, the kind you wear to work in grey cubicles, or to go to funerals. The "Special Occassion" dress section doesn't include funeral attire.

As a last resort, I went to Nordstroms. I knew I should have gone there first even though I knew it was gonna cost me a lot more than Marshalls would have. Suprisingly, there was not a huge number of dresses to choose from, however, there was one, the right one. It's a basic black and white print dress, right at the knee, so not too short, not too long. Its vee neck line is flattering, and the basic black insert makes it sedate. The print looks a little Diane Von Furstenburg but without the sticker shock. Only 78 dollars. Ouch.

My roommate says its a nice dress that I'll wear it again. I doubt it, but we'll see. At least I'll look nice for the funeral.

Crawdaddy Weekend...

I mean Crawberts: Joe and Leah. Yeah! They came down for the weekend from Simi Valley, which I'm not really sure where that is, but I think it was far. They made the rounds around San Diego county and stopped to visit me. So we had a party.

Leah made some yummy dip thing out of cool whip and cherry flavored yogurt. The yogurt was organic, so does that make it healthy? hmmm. Anyway, mix that up and dip in some strawberries and you have a delicious treat! Thanks Leah. Oh yeah, and they left me lots of chicken that never made it to the grill, instead its in my freezer waiting for the next barbeque opportunity.

Sunday I was going to maybe go to brunch, but ended up writing instead, completely re-working a short fiction piece that I already submitted to my Read and Critique group on Saturday morning. Oh well. Then I went to a literary event hosted by San Diego Writers, Ink. I'll post a "review" later.

Sunday evening I spent at my sister's eating dinner and going through old photos so we can put together a montage / homage for my Dad. I'll be scanning those photos over the next week... there's some funny ones.

Is it Friday yet??

Debby Update

From my sister... since everyone keeps asking....

Just a quick note to let you all know my PET scan results were good. my liver and lung are clear. The PET showed something still going on in the hip so i will check it out at radiology and may have to do a little more radiation depending on the mri. Very good news although I was secretly looking forward to going bald for the summer. I have also forgotten what a drag shaving is.

love to all and thanks for all those prayers and good wishes

debb


....she's doing great. Looks great. No apparent effects from the gamma knife. All is good.

--Jenn

Things I wish I didn't know about...

Gamma Knife comes to mind today because my sister will be undergoing gamma knife (again) to remove a something (lesion? micro-tumor? fleck of dust?) from her brain.

So next Wednesday I will get up at 5:30 am, pretend like I am happy to take her (which I am happy to do, just not happy that it has to be done) and hang out with her while they zap her brain with nearly microscopic beams of radiation, guided by a computer-generated digital map of her brain pinpointed to the exact spot where the anomoly is and then anhililate it. This is supposed to minimize damage to the surrounding brain tissue. It is sci-fi medicine at its finest, and given different circumstances I would find this fascinating. Instead it makes me sad and scares me.

And while we're on the subject... other things I would rather not know about:

Chemotheraphy
Cancer: breast, liver, stomach, and basically all forms of cancer
Depression
Alcoholism
OCD/Hoarding

When Darkness Morphs into Light...

You get rainbows. And that's what happened today.

This weekend was tough for me. I was very sad, especially on Sunday, a day I would usually talk to my dad. It felt like a dark weekend. Sunday especially, the clouds rolled in, and the wind got cold and damp, and before morning's light the rains came hard and fast and I listened.

I still haven't deciphered what I heard last night, but this morning there was a rainbow over the ocean between the dark clouds and the sun. I imagined there were dophins playing in the surf below and I felt a little better.

I Hate Mother's Day

Harsh, I know, but I hate that I don't have a mom. I hate going out on Mother's Day Sundays and seeing other people feting their mothers with champagne brunches and lunches and dinners.


I guess come June I'll hate Father's Day too...

Here's the official word

The obit from the Washington Post,
and a really nice write up from one of his classmates
US Naval Academy, 1956, "Hard as Nails Tough As Bricks"

George Thomas Kortes Simpson ’56

Captain George T. K. Simpson, USN (Ret), died on 15 April 2006, at home in Falls Church VA. He was born in Virginia on 1 February 1933, the son of Rear Admiral and Mrs. Maurice Simpson (Dental Corps) USN (Ret) of Sedley VA, and served a short stint in the Fleet before entering USNA. He was a Midshipman Officer on the First Regimental Staff, and graduated with distinction with the First Company, where he helped many of his classmates stay afloat academically.

George served first in the destroyer USS Daly before post-graduate work at the University of California, Berkeley, where he earned an MS in Mechanical Engineering, and was designated an Engineering Duty Officer. Subsequent duties as an EDO were mainly in ship construction, maintenance and repair; and included service in the fleet oiler USS Mispillion, fleet repair ship USS Delta, Ship Superintendent Long Beach Naval Shipyard, and staff, Commander-in-Chief U.S. Pacific Fleet. During further shore duty, George earned an MBA in Financial Management at George Washington University, and served on the staff, Supervisor of Shipbuilding, Conversion and Repair San Diego; staff, Chief of Naval Operations in Maintenance Policy; and staff, Commander Naval Sea Systems Command in several key management and policy positions in both the Engineering and Field Activities Directorates. Among his awards were the Meritorious Service, Navy Commendation, and Navy Achievement medals.

Following USN retirement in 1986, George immediately started work for Integrated Systems Analysts (ISA) in Crystal City as Corporate Ship Systems Engineering Technical Director, where he continued supporting the Fleet with great dedication and imagination in the areas of Fleet Maintenance and introduction of new corrosion engineering technology. More recently, George served as marketing and sales manager for Ship Systems Engineering, and was honored as Governmental Sales Manager of the Year for two consecutive years. He retired from ISA in 2002, but continued work for ISA on an as-required basis as a consultant.

George was predeceased by his wife, Donna, and is survived by his daughters Debby, of Encinitas CA; Jennifer, of Solana Beach CA; a brother Bill, of Aptos CA; his companion Georgianne Abbiati, of Montpelier VT; and many grateful shipmates, ship captains and crews. A graveside service of committal is planned for July 5, 2006, at Arlington National Cemetery. Donations in his memory may be made to the Navy-Marine Corps Relief Society.

NOTE: I would recommend the NMCRS Education Programs fund. Dad was a big proponent of education... and always supported my sister and I in our academic goals.

Details on the actual funeral/burial service are as follows:

2:30 pm July 5, 2006 Gather at Arlington National Cemetery reception hall
3:00 pm Full Military Honors Funeral Procession and Committal Ceremony
4:00 pm Reception for friends and family at Womens Memorial Hall of Honors

My Dad

I'm an orphan now, I guess... my dad passed away sometime Friday night. He hadn't been doing well... a mild stroke a couple of months ago, and an aeortic aneurism that needed surgical attention, scheduled for next month. I didn't think he would make it through the surgery, but he didn't make it to the surgery.

I just talked to him Thursday evening. I'm glad I called him back. Sometimes I didn't, at least not for a few days... and I had just talked to him on Sunday when we had a good hour long conversation. He knew I wanted to pursue a story idea that involves attending the Barbie Collectors convention in Los Angeles in July. He thought it sounded like a great idea. And he wanted to help me out. He called on Thursday to tell me he wanted to send me a check. He was always good at sending money. I told him it would be appreciated, but certainly not needed, that I was fine, financially, and that he should save his money to take care of himself, especially if he needed help after the surgery.

He wasn't a part of my daily life. He lived on the East coast still and I live out here in San Diego area. I could have made more of an effort. He could have too. It made me angry that he didn't take better care of himself, that he was somewhat of a mess, that he didn't always take care of stuff that needed taking care of. But he was my dad. The only one I had. And I really loved him a lot.

He was fun too; we had some good times together. Like me he wasn't the loud life of the party, but he liked to observe as part of the group, but close to the sidelines. He didn't tell big jokes like granddad (his dad) but he had a quick wit. He was sharp and smart and knew a lot about a lot of things.

The picture above is from one summer ages ago, when I was in college. I lived in D.C. and worked at the Fish and Wildlife Service, an office job through the Summer Youth Employment Program. Dad and I spent a lot time together. We commuted to the city together, and even hit the occassional happy hour all you can eat roast beef buffets.

I last saw him around my birthday in August of last year. We talked once a week or so. I am missing him a lot more than I thought I would.

The last thing I said to him was "I love you." I hope he knows I meant it. Because even though having a relationship with him was difficult, I did love him. He did the best he could. I did the best I could. I'm still doing the best I can... I hope its enough.

Once Upon A Day...

Was originally titled What A Difference A Day Makes, which makes me hum the tune, so I'm glad the original title was changed.

Lisa Tucker's third novel, Once Upon A Day, and honestly the only one I've read, is good. At least so far. I attended the book launch party in Los Angeles on Tuesday, April 11. Lisa is a friend of a friend. Michelle wanted to go to LA and I thought it sounded like a fun evening soiree.

While it was not quite the soiree I expected, seeing as how Lisa is a critically acclaimed novelist, and LA is, well, LA... the event was indeed fun. It was really nice to be able to actually talk to the author, and she is very open and friendly. Most of the small crowd were students of hers from a course she'd been teaching through UCLA Extension, so we had a good discussion about the writing process, and even some insider scoop on the publishing process.

Being the good friend of a friend that I am, I bought the book.

From the first chapter, which Lisa read at the not-such-a-soiree, I was hooked:

Stephen Spaulding was very happy, and you can't say that about most people. He hadn't sought happiness, but he recognized it. This was his gift: to know what he had.

When it was gone, of course he knew that too.....

See what I mean? Don't you just want to know what he lost, what happened? right from the beginning.

And when I got home two hours later, at 11 pm, I had to read more. And read more I did, until 2 am. I had to go to work the next day, so reading past 2 am would not have been prudent. 2 am was even pushing it, but I was falling in love the characters: Stephen, Dorothea and even Jimmy.... and I can't wait to read more.

I'll post a more thoughtful review once I finish, but I would encourage you Get This Book. It's well written, the language is beautiful (but not stilted or difficult to read if you know what I mean) and the story itself is compelling.

My one big complaint is that the book tour did not bring Lisa Tucker to San Diego. I am so tired of San Diego being treated like the orphan step child of Los Angeles. And I can tell you this, Mr. Publisher if your listening, we could have gotten a good crowd for Lisa... We are the 6th largest city. We have a lot of people here, a high percentage with college degrees (34% as opposed to the national average of 21%). These are people who buy books. There is a vibrant and active writing community here that includes several independent book sellers, one MFA (writing) program at San Diego State, one MFA (writing) program in the works at University of California at San Diego, and excellent English/Literature programs at Point Loma Nazerene College and University of San Diego. And that's not even taking into account community organizations like San Diego Writers Ink.

Who Am I?

Someone recently (like an hour ago) asked me to write a mini-bio. I think he was looking for just a couple of lines, but hey, I'm a writer. I write! This is what I've come up with so far:

Jennifer (aka JeSais) is an online marketing guru by day (or so she likes to tell her boss), and a writer by night. She is a regular contributor to SanDiegoBlog.com and maintains her own blog at akaJeSais.com.

She has written articles for community newspapers featuring local events and people and has published technical articles in national trade magazines.

“Super Chicken to the Rescue,” her first (and let’s be honest, her only) short story was published as part of a colllection of short stories from Mrs. Tanaka’s 2nd grade class.

She is currently working on a creative non-fiction piece entitled, “Reconstructing My Mother.”


(I'd explain the "Reconstructing My Mother," but there's really no way to get around the serious topic and it really doesn't fit in with tongue in cheek tone of the rest of the bio)

Who are you people?

I just checked my web stats. I am suprised, amazed, no flabergasted, that anyone actually reads my blog, besides me, of course. No one ever leaves a comment. Except Leahpeah...

My stats page shows that there have been 16,607 "successful requests" for pages on my website. Of course I realize that some of this is just anonymous web spiders and such crawling through, but there have to have been a few actual people besides me here.

I have to wonder, of course, how it is that strangers find my blog. So, as a good internet marketing genius (or so I like to tell my boss) I check the keyword phrases that folks used to find akaJeSais. I'll do this like David Letterman's Top Ten List Drum roll please....

10. exotic scent poetry -erotic
For those of you who are not google-savvy, that means someone was looking for a website with exotic scent poetry, where the word erotic was NOT there (hence the '-" sign). My page not only comes up on the first set of results, it is listed at number 8. Is this a new genre that I didn't know about? is there exotic taste poetry too?

9. my dreamboard
Page one. Site number 3. It ranks above dreamboard.co.uk, people in the BUSINESS of selling CDs on how to create a dreamboard. They should hire me!

8. how to get a tiny waist
I am somewhere beyond page 9 of the search results on google. I gave up looking for my listing. If you did not give up, and found my site while looking for health and fitness tips, you are in the wrong site. Click your back button now. Return to Google, or Yahoo! or MSN search and keep looking.

7. candace toft
Nice that folks are looking for her. She is a terrific writer, and a great teacher. I have mentioned here a couple of times. You'll find the link listed on page two of the google search results.

6. grant pecoff
I wrote an article for the Del Mar Times about Grant. He used to show at the 101 Artists' Colony in Encinitas, then moved on to open up his own gallery, and I believe he is off painting the world now. Nice guy, talented artist, you'll find the link to the article on page 3 of the search results.

5. mediterranean sun poems
Lord only knows how someone found my site with a search query like that. I logged 48 clicks myself through google results before giving up. I did take a little side trip to read about The Myth of the Mediterranean Sperm (I didn't know there was such a thing). And yes, I was a little more tenacious than in my search for how to get a tiny waist; Mediterranean sun does sound nice, but California sun is fine with me.

4. tiny waist
Again with the tiny waist. Not on my site.

3. stacie doll
Page two. A testament to my recently renewed fascination with Barbie and her cohorts.

2. her tiny waist
Again! Is this a hint? I have just one thing to say to you people looking for a tiny waist... LOOK ELSEWHERE!

1. pert boobs
Yup, that's right. Pert boobs. Number one search query to find my site. I am sure anyone who clicks on the link to my site after searching for "pert boobs" will be disappointed on SO many levels. First of all, my site doesn't come up until page 6. Although with this entry, repeating "pert boobs," so many times I'll probably climb right up the google ranks.

I have to wonder what compels a person to first search for pert boobs on the internet, then slog through 5 pages of search results, scroll down to the bottom of page 6 to click on

akaJeSais: December 2005
The skinny bitch with her perfectly pert boobs, and her teeny tiny waist....

And discover I'm talking about Barbie. There are no pictures of nubile nudies, and NO PERT BOOBS on this website. Anywhere. I myself am disappointed. I do not have pert boobs, never had them-- well maybe when I was 12.

Bottom line is, I am perplexed by you. All of you blog readers out there reading anonymously, lurking, searching for pert boobs and tiny waists...

This I believe

One of my favorite radio (NPR, of course) segments is This I Believe.
Ever since I heard the first installment, an essay by Isabel Allende, I have wanted to write my own this I believe essay, but have not been able to distill my beliefs down into three minutes. One of my core beliefs is that creativity, that being creative, is important in ALL aspects of life whether you're a business owner, a scientist, a writer or a painter. Creativity is where the ability to solve problems comes from, among other things.

Today I heard an essay by an Affrilachian poet. (don't you just LOVE that word!?)

Frank X Walker is an assistant professor of English at Eastern Kentucky University. The author of three poetry collections, he was awarded a prestigious Lannan Literary Fellowship in 2005. (which is probably why he writes so well!)

This man stole my essay! He reached right into my heart and grabbed it. At almost every line, I wanted to shout "YES" or maybe "NO." Instead, I lounged in bed, and let the words flow over me, seeping into my soul.

Morning Edition, March 27, 2006 · I believe that what we often call survival skills is simply creativity at work.

Here's a little from my, uh, I mean Frank's essay:

"I believe that the highest quality of life is full of art and creative expression and that all people deserve it. I believe in a broad definition of what art is and who artists are: Barbers, cooks, auto detailers, janitors and gardeners have as much right to claims of artistry as designers, architects, painters and sculptors."

So, what do you believe??

eBay

I've figured it out, why eBay is so popular. It's fun! Fun, fun, fun! You don't actually BUY anything, you WIN! How cool is that! and if you do it by beating out 25 other bargain hungry shoppers, and pay twice what the item is worth, then it's even better!

We had that happen at work. We have an eBay store where we list some of our regular items, and auction items we've taken in on trade. We listed two welding machines, used, not tested. We don't regularly sell or service these machines, but thought we could make a little money, and clean out some space in the warehouse so we put them on eBay. A massive bidding war ensued. I mean seriously. For one machine, the bidding ended at $850. Another similar machine went for $462 on eBay. But that's what happens when people get into bidding for winning sake, not for buying sake.

I had a similiar experience myself. I went on eBay to look for a Barbie. First let me tell you why. It started right here in this very blog, "Barbie A Love Hate Relationship". I then developed it into a piece I read at San Diego Writers Ink First Fridays Open Mic at The Grove in South Park. Then I took it further once the news of Ken's makeover hit the wires... only I decided to write the real story. I researched Mattel and Barbie and told the "real" story about his alleged makeover. I won't tell it here, I'm trying to sell the story to The National Enquirer, but let me just say, makeover or rehab?

At any rate, I became interested in Barbie again, and headed off to eBay to see what a vintage Barbie goes for. My first turn with the cyber bidding paddle netted me a pretty good deal. I got a vintage 1961 Barbie, just like my old Madge, for $30. Considering a 1959 Barbie (mint condition of course) had recently sold for over 4K I felt like I got a deal. She arrived safe and sound, and even clothed!

My next turn at eBay almost ended with me emptying out my checking account, or maybe maxing my credit card, whichever was higher... I wanted a "Stacey" Barbie, and I wanted her real bad. And so did some other Barbie collecting bitch, who kept outbidding me. I'd think I was safe, go do something, and come back a couple hours later only to find I was no longer the top bidder. I WASN'T WINNING. I was mad. And I had money. I wanted to WIN WIN WIN. Something came over me. I became a maniacal shopper, clicking furiously on the Bid Now button, 47 dollars, 52 dollars, 60 dollars, 65 dollars. It was crazy. Sixty-five dollars for a Barbie doll? I suddenly realized how NUTS that was, and I bowed out of the race… but I’m tellin’ ya, I coulda taken that other bidder down if I really wanted to.