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...