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.

Could it be True??

Here's an email that recently showed up in my Inbox...


WINNING FINAL NOTIFICATION

We are officially informing you of the result of the Lottery Winners International programs held on the 3rd of January, 2006 as part of our promotional programs for the year 2006. Your e-mail address attached to ticket number 77007742781005-18721 with reference number 414-3721060 drew winning numbers 7-00-71-00-66-49 and credited to batch number 121cfc,which consequently won in the 3rd category via our electronic ticket as stated above. You have therefore been approved for a pay out of £1,800,000.00 (One Million Eight Hundred Thousand Pounds).

Just in case you can't comprehend 1,800,000.00 they spell it out for you.

CONGRATULATIONS!!!

Total funds have now been deposited and insured with our affiliate security firm (Bank) for transfer into your nominated bank account either by means of wire transfers through any of our correspondent banks or any other means suitable to you. We also advice that you keep your winning information very confidential as our security policy demands to avoid double claims/impersonation and unwarranted abuse of this program by some individuals.

Think I should give them my bank account number so they can DEPOSIT in my account? perhaps my SSN would speed up the transfer, and while I'm at it I'll just give them my place of birth, my mother's maiden name, my first pet's name, and my favorite super hero.


BLA BLA BLA !!!

All participants were selected through a random computer ballot system drawn from over 800,000 company and 1,000,000 individual email addresses and names from all over the world. This promotional program takes place annually and we hope with part of your winning you will take part in our next year £20 Million Pounds International Lottery.

Wow, they picked me out of all those people?? I must be "special"

To file for your claim, you will be contacting our Verification Department authorized to verify and process your claims for your total payment (You will receive more information upon your acknowledgment of this email).

I won't be contacting the Verification Department.
I won't I won't I won't

Please Note that winnings must be claimed not later than 31th of March, 2006. After this date all unclaimed funds will be included in our subsequent program coming up later in the year. In order to avoid complications always quote your reference number in all correspondence.

Hmmmm think I'll wait and let the lottery get really big with even more unclaimed funds.

To file for your claim, please contact our Verification Department:
Mrs.Doris carl

Reply Email : doriscarl11@edumail.co.za

If anyone wants to reply and claim the price... well it's your identity to give away as you see fit.

Now where's that offer from the son of an ousted Nigerian minister of something? I think he needs my help.

Soldier's mom encounters a protective wall of silence

Roman's lack of communication seems to say, 'Mom, Dad, don't love me so much.'
READ MORE...

By Sue Diaz

Be warned... get your hankies out. Sue really gets to the heart of things.
And she's a good writing teacher/coach if you ever see a workshop by her, I say attend!

A Tale of Two Welders....

This was the best article I've ever written for work. AND it was fun!

A Tale of Two Welders

Two welders, one in New Mexico, one in San Diego... this is their story. A story of, well, welding. Think of it as the Brokeback Mountain of Welding... well maybe not, but check it out. I'm kinda proud of this one.

A conversation

"What time do we need to leave?"

"We have to leave no later than 12:45," I said.

"OK, well, better tell me 12:30 so I won't be late."

Please oh please don't be late. I said to myself. My sister is always late. Usually she calls, but she'll call when she is supposed to be somewhere and say she's on her way. I don't know why she does it. Maybe its because she always tries to fit too many things into a day. Maybe she's afraid she won't have enough time. That life is too short. That maybe her life is too short. Sometimes its hard to get mad at her, because I know she's right.

"12:30" I said, then took a deep breath, quietly, trying not to make it sound like an exasperated sigh. "Please don't be late. This is really important to me." I repeated "12:30" at least six times before hanging up the phone.

I had made our appointment for the StoryCorps mobile booth two weeks earlier. I had a hell of a time getting through the crashing computer system and the phones, and trying to pin my sister down on a date and time that she would be available.

Thursday February 23.

Debby showed up on time, 12:30. We got to Balboa Park early, but the people before us had gotten there late, so we had a bit of time to kill. We chatted with the local KPBS volunteer, N.S. "No Say" Wright
and wandered aimlessly for a few minutes. Soon, Jackie, one of the StoryCorps facilitators invited us into the booth. She gave us the 411 on how the whole think works, gave us paperwork to fill out, and asked what we were here to talk about.

I could hardly get a word out without crying. I thought for sure I was going to totally blow this, that I would just cry through the whole thing and my voice would be a blubbering mess, incomprehensible... Debby said, "I don't know she didn't really tell me much of anything." Which of course was not totally true. I had told her about the StoryCorps and that I wanted to sort of interview her about mom, and that the recording would be in the Library of Congress. Forever. And, I sent her a link to the website....

I finally managed to cry/talk something along the lines of "I want to remember our mom who died in 1978."

When it was our turn to go into the recording studio, Jackie got us settled into a sort of restuarant booth like table rigged up with a couple of big microphones. Jackie's job, she told, was to manage the sound equipment, take notes for cataloging the recording, and keep the time. She also said she might ask for clarification if we talk about something or someone and its not clear...

It was a wonderful experience. Too often when I talk to my sister, we have so many other things going on. People in and out and around. Dinners to be cooked, dishes to be cleaned phones, televisions, music playing... this was just the two of us. Quiet time. Reflective conversation. Remembering or mother.

I managed to pull myself together, and only cried a couple of times. The more amazing thing was that Debby actually cried. She never cries. She's the one who always has it together. Solid as a rock. Composed. She drives me crazy but I love her anyway.

We received a CD of the conversation, with the instruction that we can make as many copies as we like, give them to as many people as we like, but we cannot sell it.
I may post snippets here on my blog if I can figure out how to do that.

StoryCorps

Modeled after the WPA of the 1930s, the Story Corps project is gathering oral histories of ordinary Americans. The recordings will be housed in the American Folklife Center at the Library of Congress. Forever. HOW COOL IS THAT??

I first heard about this project while I was lying in bed one morning listening to public radio. Hard to say WHICH day, as that is how I start every day, and sometimes the mornings blur one into the other....

KPBS, the San Diego radio affiliate station announced that a mobile story corps booth would be in San Diego starting on February 9 and the idea of interviewing my sister about my mom started to gel. To me, it represented a way to honor my mother. Then it started to take hold, like a pit bull with a bone. I couldn't let go.

When I first broached the subject with my sister, I sort of tossed it out there in the middle of making dinner. Casually. She responded the same way, saying “Sure” in that if-I-don’t-have-anything-better-to-do tone. I let it drop for the moment, plotting my strategy, biding my time, laying in wait for the opportunity to 1. Schedule an appointment once the StoryCorps people started accepting calls and 2. Nailing my sister down to commit to a time she would A. be in town and B. be available to go with me.

Whew. I did it. It wasn't easy, but after some frustrating internet time of "Sorry, This Page Is Unavailable At This Time Please Try Later" and then some "Um could you call back. Um our computers are down?" phone calls, I finally prevailed. I'll be interviewing my sister on February 23. I have 27 questions to ask her....

27

My mom was 27 when she had me.... here are 27 questions I want to ask me and my sister:

1. What's your earliest memory of Mom?
2. What traits do you think you inherited from Mom?
3. What traits do you wish you inherited from Mom?
4. What do you think you missed out on most because Mom died so young?
5. Why do you / don't you have any pictures of Mom in your house?
6. How do you think you would be different, as a person, if Mom were still alive?
7. Do you think you would be friends with Mom, or would she drive you crazy?
8. Do you think Dad would have been different had Mom lived?
9. What was your relationship with Mom like?
10. Do you ever dream about Mom?
11. How do you think Mom would want to be remembered?
12. If you could talk to Mom right now, what would you want to say?
13. What are the hardest times?
14. Do you have any traditions to honor Mom?
15. What is the image of Mom that persists?
16. Can you recall your last interaction with Mom?
17. What do you miss most about Mom?
18. What has been the hardest thing about losing Mom?
19. What is your happiest memory of Mom?
20. What is your most vivid memory of Mom?
21. How would Mom’s friends describe Mom?
22. Was there anything you disagreed about, fought over, or experienced some conflict around?
23. What about Mom makes you smile?
24. Were there any jokes Mom used to tell?
25. Was Mom religious?
26. Did Mom believe in an afterlife?
27. What don't you know that only Mom could tell you?

Family History :: 1978

I have a dream(board)

Last last Saturday, or maybe even the Saturday before that, I attended a workshop hosted by Jill Badonsky, to create a dreamboard.

I've done dreamboards before, and while I won't swear that everything I put on my dreamboard has miraculously come true, it is nice to spend some time thinking about what is important, about what I want to focus on for the new year...


Its about setting and more importantly visualizing goals, not making resolutions. I realize its semantics, but for some reason "resolutions" feel more negative than "goals."

The first step was to think about what we want for this year... then flip through magazines and rip out pictures that appeal to us, or somehow symbolize what we want without thinking too hard about it.

For this workshop, Jill suggested we use a bagua (the octogon in the center) to organize how we display images, with the center representing health (spiritual, emotional and physical). The other areas are:

Top left of the board is Wealth and Abundance
Top center is Fame and Reputation
Top right is Relationships
Left is Foundation / Home
Right is creativity / children
Bottom Right is Helpful people and Travel
Bottom left is knowledge
Bottom Center is Career / Life Path


What I discovered is that its all about me now. Me me me me me me me me me me me.
This is my year. Time for me to focus on my stuff. Do my thing. Be me! Me me me me me me.

Oh yea, and figure out who that cute guy is in the top right corner...

MFA?

To MFA or not to MFA...

that is the question.

UCSD is starting up a program, but it won't be up and running until Fall 2007

That is the rumor. No hard information yet. We'll see.

It's about time...

it's about time I posted for 2006
it's about time I figured out what I want to do, focus on, manifest for 2006
it's about time. Too much time spent doing nothing, thinking about doing something but basically not using my time wisely.
it's about time I got back to work on my project. My art. The story I want to tell. Just 30 minutes a day. It's really not about time. It's about inclination, dedication, persistence, and a feeling that I do deserve to be successful. Sure I do well at my job, I have great friends and family, bla bla bla... but what is stopping me from greatness? what holds me back? why don't I just get out there and do it?

Does blogging help or hinder? Do I really get anything out of this exercise in typewritten drivel that no one reads? Or is it just a distraction to pursuing "Reconstructing My Mother?" How easy it would be to let that go. To start something else. A short fiction piece, heck even a novel seems easier than delving into my past, my mother's past, trying to make some sense out of it, my life, such as it was, is, will be. Maybe I can just pretend to remember. Be like James Frey, and smash my life into a Million Little Pieces and reconstruct it on paper. Will people say I lied? Does it matter? What is truth anyway? Don't we all make up our own version of reality based on our experiences, our predjudices, our desires. Who hasn't exagerrated for comic effect when telling a story, or for dramatic effect. Does that make the story a lie? If the story is really a sum of all the details, then does it really make a difference that one of the details is off by one or two. Is there really much difference between 10,000 and 10,097?

Haven't read the book, so I can't say whether the disputed details really make a difference in the overall story, or if the story is well-written, but if you read the book, and it meant something to you, touched you, moved you, opened your mind to something you didn't understand before, then what difference does it make whether he lied or not?

Merry Christmas: God Bless Us Every One

ANOTHER one of my writing teachers, Sue Diaz, also got some good ink. This is from her pen, and really sums up what is important about Christmas, whether you are Christian or not:

A Christmas apart

A mother's story of a son away at war, the phone that may not ring, but the traditions intact

..... Thank you Sue (and Candace Toft too!) , for helping me become a "more powerful writer" can it have been over a year ago?? where does the time go?

One of my Writing Coaches...

My friend and writing coach Jill Badonsky got some good ink the other day in the San Diego Union Tribune.

Jill teaches classes every Third Thursday (say that ten times fast!) I consider her "classes" to be less like school and more like recess. There is a lot of writing, some Read, but no Critique. It's all about fun. We hang out for a couple of hours and play with words.

Note, however, we have a word POOL, not a word "pull" as the above article references. You know, like "pooling" our verbal resources. DOH!

Barbie: A Love Hate Relationship

I LOVED Barbie as a kid. Really Really. I would set up the most elaborate condos made of cardboard boxes. I even crocheted a bedspread for my Barbie. Correction, Barbies. I had tons of them: Barbie, Midge, Francie, Stacie....

I had one hand-me-down from my sister, an old straight-legged Barbie with blue eyeshadow and stiff blond hair. She looked old. I would name her something like Madge, or Louise and her role would be the mean step mother, or more often the mean lady who ran the boarding house where the other girls lived. My favorite was a Stacie doll, with beautiful long red hair in a pony tail that reached down to her waist. Another favorite was my traditional blond Barbie and a brunette who's hair was styled a la Marlo Thomas in "That Girl." Of course I only had one Ken doll. At some point, his arm came out of the socket, so he wore a rubber band "sling" the result of some exotic activity like skiing or mountain climbing. I had a Barbie convertible too.

I would play out intricate story lines that would make a screenwriter weep. OK, well, maybe a screenwriter for Made-For-TV mini series, as the story would go on for days. I hated having to put my Barbies away....

Then at some point I hated Barbie.... the idea of Barbie. The impossible ideal of Barbie. The skinny bitch Barbie. The skinny bitch with her perfectly pert boobs, and her teeny tiny waist. She even had perfect legs. If you consider thighs that are no wider than her arms perfect... Barbie wasn't knock kneed. Barbie didn't wear braces. Barbie didn't wear size 36" Levis. Barbie never had a pimple. Barbie had a perfect boyfriend (even if he always had to wear a sling).

But I never hated her enough to mutilate her!

I am nostalgic for for Barbie, for the love of Barbie. Or maybe its for the stories I created, I don't know. But a couple of years ago, some neighbor girls were selling some of their old toys to raise money for something. And there, in a bright orange felt suit, a Stacie doll with her lovely red ponytail. I bought her for a dollar, and she sits on my bookshelf. Right next to Janet Burroway's Writing Fiction

The War Effort

I don't know why I love these old vintage posters. They just crack me up. Everyone so happy to help out with the war effort....

On Giving

My boss Jim is so cool. And a really nice person... always positive and upbeat but not in an annoying overly perky yet fake kind of way. He told us the other day we are closing our office (Arc-Zone.com - gotta get the plug / link in) the week after Christmas and we all get the time off WITH pay, extra. How Cool Is That?

Anyway, he and his family (adorable 4-year-old Sienna and super nice wife Gina, who drop in every now and again with treats like Jamba Juice, and fun suprises) gave the gift of livestock this year.... through Heifer International. I just love this idea.

I wish I could Whistle a Polka

Old news, I know, but this story is so wonderful. You gotta love a world where a transvestite can make a living as a whistler.



ASSOCIATED PRESS. APRIL 8, 2005
AUSTRIA'S LAST PROFESSIONAL WHISTLER

"Jeanette Schmid, Austria's last professional whistler, who once shared a stage with Frank Sinatra, has died of the flu at 80, a newspaper reported March 10.

Ms. Schmid, better known as Baroness Lips von Lipstrill..... born as a man in what now is the Czech Republic"....MORE...

religion and god and stuff

I seem to be writing/thinking a lot about religious stuff of late. Maybe it began back in July when I met my mom's high school sweetheart... who asked if I went to church. Strange question that. I have never asked anyone that. It doesn't matter to me. I guess if pressed, I would say I believe in god, but not the kind the talk about in church. My god is more sort of the life force that binds us all together ("May the Force Be With You" always resonated with me.) I would include animals there too... not to mention ewoks. It's what is in us that is beyond the flesh and blood.

Then you have the Christians... they're everywhere, and they seem to be involved in scandals all over the place! Well, at least at the same rate as us non-bible thumpers. I really don't feel like going there now, though. Suffice it to say any time anyone tries to force anything down my throat I'm apt to reject it, and suspect their motives for being so adamant.

My mom believed in God. I think I forgot that about her...

And then I found the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. I was so excited, I invited all my friends to join me.

Julie declined to join me, saying "Thank you, Jenn. But I have recently joined Our Lady of Fettuccini here in Alhambra and there are so many Olive Garden dinners coming up that I don't think I'll have time for your church." heathen.

Ralph said "If it ain't freshly made Angel Hair then I'm not going."

Yea, well, I guess they are both goin' to hell. Or McDonalds, I'm not sure, I'll have to check the tenets of my new faith, but no more pasta thumpin' for me!

Betrayed.

I almost hate to post this after yesterday's post about hippies and bible-thumpers... but this bit of news is so disturbing... Greed is gonna take this country down.

Rep. Cunningham Pleads Guilty to Bribery, Resigns
The veteran lawmaker admits receiving $2.4 million from military contractors and evading more than $1 million in taxes.

By Tony Perry, Times Staff Writer

SAN DIEGO — A tearful, trembling Rep. Randy "Duke" Cunningham (R-Rancho Santa Fe) resigned Monday after pleading guilty to receiving $2.4 million in bribes from military contractors and evading more than $1 million in taxes. MORE....

and in case you're not familiar with my representative.... here's a nice little story about him:


Fighter ace has not been strong on subtlety
By Dana Wilkie COPLEY NEWS SERVICE

***************************************************



I feel betrayed, and I didn't even vote for him... I imagine those folks who voted for him feel the same way I felt when I found out Clinton had sex in the Oval Office with an intern! disgusted. outraged. betrayed. That he would be so disrespectful of the office to which he was elected, and would trade in the respect of his constituency for [ ] a piece of ass or [ ] a mansion and a Rolls Royce ... not sure which is worse.

What Cunningham will forfeit with his plea bargain deal: More than $1.8 million in cash, his interest in his Rancho Santa Fe home and more than a dozen antiques, pieces of furniture and rugs.

Don't feel too sorry for the tearful trembling old guy though. His retirement salary from the Navy --probably about 5K a month-- will do him just fine. Not to mention some sort of pension from Congress.

and Word UP Dems... let he who is without sin cast the first stone and all that... you need to stop the finger pointing and start coming up with a VISION. Folks want to be FOR something, not just against the other guy.

What the World Needs Now...

Is more people to take the time to get to know other people, people that are different than they are.... the world really would be a better place. We are really not that different when you get right down to it, whether you're a bible-loving Christian from Texas or a pot-smoking hippie from the Rainbow family. We all want a nice environment, we want everyone to have enough to eat, to be healthy... we believe in some kind of higher power, god, allah, yaweh, whatever...

This story pretty much exemplifies what can happen when we let go our predjudices and learn to fly together:

A Gospel and Granola Bond
Two radically different sets of volunteers arrived in post-Katrina Mississippi to feed the hungry, and their lives were changed forever.By Elizabeth Mehren, Times Staff Writer

WAVELAND, Miss. — Days after Hurricane Katrina hit, they began cooking together in a grocery store parking lot: evangelical Christians from Texas and Rainbow Family flower children from all over.... MORE...

The Real America...

Too bad we can't re-elect Jimmy Carter

"This isn't the real America" by Jimmy Carter

IN RECENT YEARS, I have become increasingly concerned by a host of radical government policies that now threaten many basic principles espoused by all previous administrations, Democratic and Republican.

These include the rudimentary American commitment to peace, economic and social justice, civil liberties, our environment and human rights.

Also endangered are our historic commitments to providing citizens with truthful information, treating dissenting voices and beliefs with respect, state and local autonomy and fiscal responsibility.... MORE...

http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/commentary/la-oe-carter14nov14,0,7164514.story

Anne Rice Born Again

Eeegads. Can it be true?

Congratulations Debby!

My sister just (well last week) completed her initial training to become a Gyrotonics instructor.

If you don't know what that is, you're not alone...

If you are curious, check out the gyrotonics website.

Yeah! Debby!!

Finally!

Julie and Mirna and Susann and me at
The Del Mar Fair...  "they" changed the name to the San Diego Fair,but to me, it will always be the Del Mar Fair.






Tongues.




Suprise!





Scarry...

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

Taos.
I was going to do this: http://www.thewritingsalon.net/home-taos.html but a friend, who had gone in 2004 said something along the lines of "DON'T GO!" and when I said, "but I thought you loved Taos," she replied, "Taos yes. The workshop, no." I was so close to putting my money down, and had started to dream of Taos...

Thank god I had another friend who had gone to Taos the year before, but had gone to: http://www.unm.edu/~taosconf/index.htm
Michelle said this was the best conference, not too schmoozy, lots of great events, and of course, Taos. So I signed up for the Creative Non-Fiction workshop.

The Welcome Letter from the teacher scared me.

He assigned three books:

The Situation and the Story: The Art of Personal Narrative by Vivian Gornick;

I Could Tell You Stories: Sojourns in the Land of Memory by Patricia Hampl; and

This Boy's Life: A Memoir by Tobias Wolff .

I assigned myself one book: Mountain City by Gregory Martin

The teacher also requested we submit 10-25 pages of our manuscript via email a week before the workshop... Manuscript? What manuscript? I didn't know I was working on a manuscript!

Anyway, after several false starts, I managed to cobble something together, starting with a piece I wrote about banana bread... I titled it "Reconstructing My Mother" and sent it off. In return, I received via email the 10-25 pages of manuscripts from each of the other 12 workshop attendees... and an assignment to provide a written response, 1-2 pages typed for each. I planned to drive, figuring I would have time to wind down from my life, and get into a more meditative space mentally, so I had less than a week to do it in!

My instructor,Greg Martin, looks like a sweet twenty something young boy, dark curly hair, dimples even for gods sake, but in reality he is a stern task master! and in his 30s. On our first evening, at the welcome dinner, he handed us each a packet 3 inches tall .... more reading material, earning our class quite a reputation around the Sagebrush Inn, our "campus" for the week.

Suffice it to say he is very smart, very driven and quite intense. Fortunately he is kind, and he is a good writer and a good teacher. He really knows his stuff. I learned a lot about the craft of writing, and where to go for more.

I did manage to see some of Taos, as I arrived early and had one complete day (Sunday) to tour: I wandered the plaza in the early morning, and went to the Pueblo, and then the Pow Wow.

Our schedule was full with not only homework and classes, but with other activities: author readings, panel discussions, open mic events and other such literary stimulation. It was great fun.

I was, however, very tired; the intense intellectual schedule, combined with the heat (90s) and the dry dry air, and high altitude have conspired against me. No headaches from the altitude though. (nearly 8000 feet!)

It turns out I picked a good conference ultimately. One of the 10 Best according to USA Today.
It was an awesome experience.

I shoulda been a detective

I'm getting pretty good at it. Finding things. Finding people.
...

I found my mom's high school sweetheart... in Corpus Christi Texas. That story is being written for my book-in-progress, "Reconstructing My Mother." Due out in stores... well, sometime after I finish writing it, and find a publisher, just a few details to work out!

I found my cousin Troy and through him, found my cousins Terri and Todd and Travis who apparently have this cool gaming business in Tallahassee.

I'm sad that I lost my cousins in the first place. Not sure how it happened. They used to live down the street from us. Then they moved to Saudi Arabia, contact got sporadic as we all moved to different cities, states, countries. Things got weird after Papasan died... we all went our seperate ways and had our lives.... then Tia died... and now I find out Uncle George died too. Seems strange that we were so close at one point, and to not even know the fundamental details. It's sad. I want to stop that. I don't have much family left, and lord knows my family doesn't seem to have the longevity gene firmly in place.

Friends come and go... but family is at least supposed to stay on the Christmas card list, even if you don't send Christmas Cards.

My Mid Year Resolution: SEND CHRISTMAS CARDS THIS YEAR! Lord knows I've bought enough of them!

Reconstructing My Mother

I'm working on this project, to reconstruct my mother's life... it is very daunting, overwhelming, interesting, exciting, frustrating and fun. And it makes me cry sometimes.

I've been searching through the one high school yearbook that survived family moves across country (hers and ours) and deaths (hers, her mother's, father's, sister's) There is no family home to go back to. No family to go back to. They are all gone.

The items left are in a box that mostly lives in my garage, but has been visiting the living room floor where I periodically sit and open it, pulling things out to examine them. Its funny what's left of her life. Of course there is my sister and me, and her jewelry, and the tutu doll from Hawaii that we made together, some mementos from her travels in Europe... and of course our family photos and memories. But the questions that tickles my brain, who was she. As a person.

Maybe I'll never know, but I've begun the journey to discover not only her past, but maybe mine as well....

Wikitorial

Crazy. I don't get the purpose of this, except that it makes for an interesting wordplay...

From the June 12. 2005. LA Times:

“Watch next week for the introduction of "wikitorials" — an online feature that will empower you to rewrite Los Angeles Times editorials.”
...full notice here

Wikitorials?

To change an "editorial" which is (according to Wikipedia) a statement by a news organization, expressing opinion ...bla bla bla...
How can another one person change another person's editorial? That is in essence changing what is being expressed as their opinion. I don't get it.
Couldn't folks just write in and express their own opinion, and not change someone else's. Oh wait, those are called Letters To The Editor!

Balance

Merriam Webster Online has as the last definition for balance "mental and emotional steadiness"

There's nothing about balancing work and the rest of life. Not that I expected some sort of How-To, or that I really have much to complain about, but given that balance, or the lack thereof, is such a problem in our society, you'd think the dictionary would reflect that.

I know I have it easy. All I have to do is work from nine to five. You'd think I could find time for fun stuff like like blogging. Or working on my own writing. I don't have kids to take care of, or a husband to consider, and yet I still struggle with finding the time and space, mental space, to work on personal endeavors even when I know they are good for my soul.

So, instead of working on my personal projects, my brain is filled with words for things like Titanium Welding, or EZ Wipes, or grinding tungsten. What's up with that?

Amateur

When did the word "amateur" take on an almost negative connotation? Merriam-Webster Online defines "amateur" as:

1 : DEVOTEE, ADMIRER
2 : one who engages in a pursuit, study, science, or sport as a pastime rather than as a profession
3 : one lacking in experience and competence in an art or science

Usually the first definition is the preferred... seems to me, however, that in the vernacular, the third definition is preferred.

This is on my mind because at work we are trying to come up with a term for our customers... many of whom are not professional fabricators, for example, but may actually be quite proficient. If we call them amateurs it could be taken by some to be insulting.

I may just have to call the verbivores....

sky

Infinite colors filtered through water laden clouds into light blue light of day, dark blue light of night.
Always there reminding us that possibilities are endless and no matter how hard we try we can never touch the edge.
sky.

I write

I write every day for ten minutes. In my dreams.
I write my dreams
I write because I cannot speak my heart.
I write words and phrases and sentences that sometimes say nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.

I write to cry. I write to laugh. I write even when it's wrong.
I write stories of lives real and imagined and half remembered.
I write so that I can remember.
So that others will know who I am.
I will know who I am.

rainbow

Purple streams of consciousness pierce the silver clouds of your minds' sky as yellow arrows flow north along the red rock canyon floor.

The infinite sound of whispering wind and thoughts not spoken aloud are held close-- tucked away in a pocket of truth, or in your pink terry cloth bathrobe.

A blue pearl of sanity rolls out onto the floor and
no
one
is
there
to
catch
it.

Your heart beats the rhythm of green primordial ooze bubbling up through the earth's core filling the universe with questions left unanswered.

"Where does the rainbow end, on your soul or on the horizon?"


________________________
inspired by pablo neruda's
Book of Questions
and
a writing workshop with Jill Badonsky

Poetry Slams and such

I've been away from the poetry scene for a while, but I'm going to check out the Cardiff Library Poetry Slam tonight. More to see some friends than to hear poetry, but who knows, I may find it inspiring none-the-less.