Shameless Plug

This is a shameless plug promoting my sister's (ad)venture as a Gyrotonic instructor.

Most of you know Debby's story...
in 2000 she was diagnosed with breast cancer.

It was caught early,
and after the standard course of treatment the prognosis looked good.



But (there's always a but), in 2004 it was discovered again, this time as metastisized breast cancer...
landing in her bones, specifically her pelvis. She was treated with chemo, and with radiation.

The drugs left her weak and thin and the radiation left her hip muscle damaged-- at one point she was even using a walker.

In her quest to regain her strength, and improve the range of motion in her hip, through a friend who is a physical therapist, she found Gyrotonic exercise. If you had seen my sister in 2004, you would not recognize her today. She not only looks great, she is successfully keeping the cancer at bay and her physical fitness has improved significantly. In fact, the attached postcard is a picture of Debby on the Gryotonic tower.

Debby liked the exercise system so much that she determined to become a certified Gyrotonic instructor, which she completed earlier this year.

The exercise system is similar to pilates. You work one-on-one with an instructor utilizing the machine's system of weights and pulleys for resistance training. I liken a Gryotonic session to something between a workout and a massage. The next day you definitely feel like you got a work out, and all the stretching and rotational movement makes you feel like you got a massage.

A private session is usually $65, but as a new Gyrotonic instructor, Debby is offering a first time client special of $35 for an hour-long session.... She's working out of a pilates studio in Encinitas on El Camino Real just north of Encinitas Boulevard. (The Pilates Place is located at 317 N. El Camino Real Suite 109, Encinitas, CA)

I know this is not for everyone-- maybe it's not in your budget, maybe Encinitas is too far-- but (see, I told you there's always a but!) maybe you know someone this would be perfect for, and you could pass this along.

If you have any questions, give me a holler, or an email, or call Debby direct.

Thanks for reading! No obligation to buy anything, ever...

Deadline.

Sorry I've not posted lately.... I don't really know to whom I am apologizing, the universe? the internets? the 3 people that read my blog? (Hi Leah, Joe, Sheila). Part of the "posting problem" is that I am on deadline to finish my book. Now lest ye get all excited thinking I have a publishing contract or something (I wish) the deadline is to submit a "whole" draft to my fellow writers -- and the professor-- who will be teaching the Master Class at the Taos Summer Writing Conference in July. I have been accepted into the class, limited to only 6 attendees, and with the expectation that said attendees have a 'whole" draft of their "novel length" piece ready for critique. HA HA HA.... what was I thinking? I'm writing at a snail's pace of 2 pages per week, and even turning those in late to my own Read and Critique group. I have 128 pages. Make that 130.... I should have 200 pages of "Reconstructing My Mother." My deadline is May 18 to be postmarked. No exceptions.
Like I said. WHAT WAS I THINKING?

Oh yeah, I've been depressed. April 15 marked the one year anniversary of my father's passing... not to mention the fact that I OWED the flipping IRS and I am totally broke and feeling completely pathetic and depressed and lonely and ugly even though everyone keeps saying how great my hair looks and my new glasses and "are you SEEEING someone..." yeah. right. did I mention that I was depressed?

In conclusion. I have a book to write. I just stopped in to say hello.

New Glasses

and a new hairdo too, but you can't tell in this picture.

Dare to Dream

I've not been posting much lately as you may (or may not) have noticed. I spent a few days in New York and since my return, it's been busy busy at work (where I have been creating blog posts). Oh, and I'm trying to write my book. I need to be done sometime in early May. Because I signed up for a Master Class. In Taos. With Gregory Martin... and it's hard to keep on track when people are pulling me in other directions and it's So. Much. Easier to do things for other people than do things for myself.

In New York I attended a conference, Blogher for Business, to learn how to utilize blogs in a business, how to measure effectiveness, what's the R in ROI... good stuff. I also met an interesting woman from Boston, Whitney Johnson. I'm not sure if or how she'll fit into my life, but you know the saying "when the student is ready, the teacher will come?" I've been reading her blog sporadically since my return from New York. I think there are some messages there that I need to hear.

Her latest post, What Not To Wear, first attracted my attention because I love the show What Not To Wear. And then, it got me thinking about dreams.

How do successful people become successful? What's the difference between someone who dreams and someone who Does? Do you have to live your dream at the expense of other people? How do you keep good boundaries while at the same time keep good relationships? And if you do change, if you do decide to pursue your dream, have you noticed that sometimes that choice upsets the balance of "power" in a given relationship?

I have more to say... but no time for now. What do you say?

Dreams of an NPR-o-holic

oh
so
tempting.
Anyone
want
to
play?

Why I'm Ordering Showtime

First Fridays March Missives

In case you missed March's First Friday at The Grove, hosted by San Diego Writers, Ink, you can hear the stories here.... no, not here, here, on FirstFridayProse.com.

Be sure to check out the soon to be classics, "Foreskins" by Eber Lambert... "Big Wheel Depravation" by James Spring, and of course, "Geckos" by yours truly... Enjoy!

Oh, and Victoria did an entire 3 minutes in second person. Very impressive, "When Crazy Taps You on the Shoulder."

Puppies!

Last year my neighbor lost both his dogs-- within about 6 months of each other. He'd had them both since puppyhood. He taught them tricks. They were good dogs.

So now my neighbor got a puppy. Jaegger... not sure how to spell it, it's like Jaeggermeister, but Jaegger means hunter in German.

ANYWAY, this is an old old picture. Puppy is about a month older now. This is the first day he came to live with Kevin.

He is an Australian Cattle Dog-- Jaegger, not Kevin.

Kevin went out to Alpine or some other godforsaken town east of here to go LOOK at the puppies. This little guy was the last one. He was in a kennel. The breeder didn't let him hang with his puppy brothers and sisters because she didn't want them to bond. Because somehow it would be harder when they were given away. Also, she never loved on the puppies... she didn't want to bond with them. This poor guy had never walked on grass before! Kevin is such a softie. I think he would have bought all the puppies if they were there.

A Vintage Sewing Pattern Give-Away

So, I have these vintage sewing patterns. I posted a mention over at Leahpeah's blog, and Leah said she's interested in a couple of the Vogue patterns. Then Andrea emailed me and said she was interested... so I took pictures of the rest of them and offered them to her. And she's claimed a couple. The rest are up for grabs.

They will be mailed to you at no charge. I do not want payment. I think they are only worth a couple of dollars and mostly I want to make sure they go to someone who will use them.
I would ask that in return, you send a photo of the finished product you create....

This one is one of my favorites.
I imagined myself wearing this dress dashing around the streets of Paris....
on my way to an important meeting.
To meet an important man.
And I look stunning.
In reality, I wandered Paris with my sister.
I mostly wore jeans.
And instead of a sassy scarf,
I wore a backpack
slung over my shoulder.
Tres chic. Quelle fromage!




This one gal in the gray pantsuit her leg kicked,
flicked. Out to the side,
displays a certain joi d'vivre.
I picture myself wearing the
white fringed pantsuit. (far right)
It MUST
be
polyester.

Where's the party?


So I'm offering them here to you, dear readers. If you'd like to claim one or more, Contact Me. First come, first served.

You can see all the vintage sewing pattern photos at Flickr. I've noted "Claimed by..." in the photo description.

Did I choose purple or did purple choose me?

I just discovered this purple women group, and realized I am in fact purple myself, evidenced by my last post. The work is one I created in 2001.

And now I have a definition for what purple is... and it appears I fit the bill, having no children.

Growing up I always assumed that I would marry and have children. Afterall, isn't this what little girls do? grow up, get married, and have children.

I've always believed that having children, raising children, is a huge responsibility. One that should not be taken lightly. It's a responsibility I believe is better to undertake with a partner.
So, at this point, even if I am fortunate enough to find a nice boy to settle down with, I'm thinking bio-babies are out of the question.

And I'm ok with that. I never had a yearning for babies. And lord knows there's plenty of other people out there who have the emotional tools to become great parents.

I am Purple

Sometimes a little red
full of passion
Sometimes a little blue
sad and serious
The color of the early night sky
or fresh and fun like posies and plums
A symbol of royalty
of ceremony
I am sometimes powerful
I am Purple.

How to Cut a Perfect Heart

Valentine's Day, like every holiday, was a big deal in my house growing up. I have fond memories of my Mom, decorating the house with paper hearts and flowers, and making a special meal (which somehow involved red food dye?)

I even remember very clearly Mom teaching me how to cut out a perfect heart, folding in half diagonally a square of red or pink construction paper, and cutting the outside edge in a swoop, then unfolding to reveal a perfectly symetrical heart.

Now, especially since I am single, Valentine's Day is not quite so much fun. It's the one day of the year when you (I) feel particularly pathetic without a mate. But don't feel too sorry for me. I did get two Valentines so far. From my aunt and uncle-- they send silly ones every year and this year was no exception, plastic cupids included. And I got a Valentine from my roommate, who is of course going out on a hot date tonight. Oh, and my sister wants to take me out for dinner. But not tonight because she'll be in L.A. for a gyrotonic training session.

And if I get totally desparate, there's always Neil's Emergency Valentine Day Hotline over at Citizen of the Month.

And if I start to feel really sorry for myself, there is always V-Day, a global movement to stop violence against women and girls.

And finally, I can thank god (or would that be gods?) that I don't live in ancient Rome and am neither a goat nor a dog on February 15 for the festival of Lupercalia, which is the origin of the conveniently calendared christian St. Valentine's Day

[Lupercalia ] began with the sacrifice by the Luperci (or the flamen dialis) of two male goats and a dog. Next two patrician young Luperci were led to the altar, to be anointed on their foreheads with the sacrificial blood, which was wiped off the bloody knife with wool soaked in milk, after which they were expected to smile and laugh [NOT SURE I'D BE LAUGHING WITH BLOOD DRIPPING DOWN MY FACE] ; the smearing of the forehead with blood probably refers to human sacrifice originally practised at the festival.

The sacrificial feast followed, after which the Luperci cut thongs from the skins of the victims, which were called Februa, dressed themselves in the skins of the sacrificed goats, in imitation of Lupercus, and ran round the walls of the old Palatine city, the line of which was marked with stones, with the thongs in their hands in two bands, striking the people who crowded near. Girls and young women would line up on their route to receive lashes from these whips. This was supposed to ensure fertility, prevent sterility in women and ease the pains of childbirth. This tradition itself may survive (Christianised, and shifted to Spring) in certain ritual Easter Monday
whippings.

And speaking of St. Valentine... did you know there really is not a St. Valentine, but rather that St. Valentine may refer to one or all of three martys that showed up in the history books around the same time that the Pope outlawed public pagan rituals. Hmm.

So, Happy Valentine's Day, V-Day or Lupercalia, or whatever you may be celebrating.

San Diego Blogger Awards

Doing my duty here as a responsible citizen of the blogosphere, and a little shameless plug for myself and my own little blog:

SanDiegoBloggers.com is requesting nominees for the San Diego
Blogger Awards - Blogs to Watch in 2007.....

..... [Email] ..... blogs [at] sandiegobloggers.com with the category and URL of the blog you nominate. Any additional notes or insight into why you nominate each blog
would be greatly appreciated.

The site says on February 28th, 2007 the nominees will be posted and finalists chosen, so I'm not sure what the deadline is for nominations....

Anyway, if you want to nominate me, go ahead. And if it will persuade at all, you might be interested to know that the only thing I've ever won is a kite flying contest in the second grade. I had the most beautiful kite. It was made of pink gift wrapping paper and my mom helped me cut out flowers made of yellow, white and blue tissue paper to glue to the front of it. Unfortunately it only flew for just one moment. One glorious moment before it came crashing down to earth, suffering structural damage that could not be repaired in the field... sigh...

Complete info the San Diego Blogger awards can be found on the SanDiegoBloggers website. I'm thinkng my category would be Personal Blogs and Writing. I wish it were Travel and Adventure, but I have not been doing much of that lately... maybe next year.

Gyro Debby

My sister got her Gyrotonic tower purchased, and set up at The Pilates Place in Encintas. It looks like some sort of ancient torture device, with all those straps and weights, but its actually pretty gentle, and a nice workout. I got my first Gyrotonic session last night.

I'm a little sore today... and I feel like you feel after a good yoga class or a massage, where the lactic acid and toxins that were trapped in your joints are released, which is good, but I should have been drinking water to flush them out of my system.... next time. And a lot of the little muscles in my sides and abdomen are, well, lets just say I can feel them. I know they are there. Like they jumped out and said, "hello! you have some muscles here!"

BY the way, this is neither the studio where my sister is teaching nor the exact machine she uses for teaching (though it is my sister as the gyro model in the picture here)

Cough Cough Gasp Gasp

I still want a cigarette. I quit last Friday. Mostly. I've had a couple since I quit. Oh well. I'm doing fairly well all things considered. Is there ever a good time to quit?

Last month we (my sister and I) finally got my Dad's condo on the market... it took a long time to clean it out, and then we fixed it up a little, which of course cost more and took longer than we had planned... but we got it on the market. Our first offer after a week on the market was for 30K under the asking price. AND they wanted us to pay closing costs. What the buyer didn't know is that we were not desparate. Yet. So we waited. And yes, gone are the days of homes on the market for 2 days and bidding wars, and such, but a month later we got another offer.

Today we accepted the offer for our Dad's condo. For the asking price, except they want us to pay 5K towards closing costs. So, instead of waiting longer, paying another real estate tax bill, and more HOA fees that are outrageous ($540 / month) we accepted the offer. So keep your fingers crossed for us. We need to be done with this. Get the IRS off our backs, settle my Dad's estate and be done. And yes, it feels good, but also, it made us sad today. So we cried.

And I wanted to go smoke. Even though many of my Dad's health problems were directly related to his smoking, I wanted to smoke. How sick is that?

Very Zen Amanda

OK, I know some of my readers (one of the three of you out there-- Hi Uncle Bill!) probably think I am all hip and savvy about this blog thing, like I'm in the know, but the truth, I am pretty clueless. Well at least oblivious to the behind the scenes emailing and cyberstalking and ugly commenting that goes on. Those people don't read my blog. Thank god. I suppose if my blog were more popular I might get some of that. Or not. Who knows why people do the things they do.

I met Amanda, Just Amanda, of Very Zen last July at Blogher. I didn't really know she was one of those quazi-popular bloggers... she just seemed like a nice gal, and I checked out her blog and she has a quick wit and a heck of singing voice, so I dropped in on occassion. Well, apparently she's had enough.

So... So long Just Amanda. Wishing you well....

Suprise Suprise Suprise

Sheila's post about suprise parties got me to thinking about, well, suprise parties!

I don't have any horror stories, in fact just the opposite.

1. My sister's 40th birthday party. She had earlier in the year gone to a 40th birthday for a friend. It was a catered, private dinner cruise. It was lovely. She said she wished she could do that for her 40th birthday, but she couldn't afford it. When I looked into it, and even asking my granddad, and my dad to pony up, I couldn't really afford it either, but I got an idea. I coordinated a suprise dinner cruise for her. I snuck into her house (ok, I had a key) and fortunately she had synched her Palm pilot with her address book on her computer, so I was able to nab her entire address book, and invite all her friends. Then, her boyfriend arranged a "dinner" for her with another couple. Steve told her, "Sorry I couldn't do a private yacht, but we thought a dinner cruise would be fun." and my sister pasted a smile on her face as they boarded the Hornblower boat and said, "How nice," in that voice that was tinged with a little "oh you cheapskate I would rather eat at a nice restaurant."

But when she entered the ship's dining room she saw there were oh, say 30 or 40 of her friends-- friends from all over the US-- and family-- also from all over the US and she was totally, completely utterly suprised. It was awesome.

2. 2004. The worst year of my life so far. (although 2006 is in a tie at this point) I was turning 40. My granddad had died in February. I had to find a job, find a new place to live and move. And I was turning forty. Oh yeah, and my sister had cancer. Real bad cancer. Stage 4 breast cancer. In her liver, her brain, her bones. She was in bad shape. And we were settling my Granddad's estate. And everyone was totally focused on helping Debby get better, and nobody gave a shit about me. Poor me. My life sucked.

August. The week before my birthday. My aunt and uncle and my cousin Katie were visiting, to deal with more estate business, to go through stuff in the house... to visit my poor cancerous sister. No one cared about me. Poor me. And my sister, too tired from chemo, said, "Why don't you come here for dinner." So I said, "OK."

"And why don't you stop at Trader Joe's and get some wine."

Trader Joe's was on the way, so I said, "No problem."

It was weird that she insisted I stop at Trader Joe's, not Ralph's or Vons... Aunt Mary K and Uncle Bill had gone over earlier. Katie was in the car with me. And I as I turned onto the street where Trader Joe's is... and turned into the Trader Joe's parking lot, I notice a whole bunch of people standing around holding balloons.... and one of those trucks with a giant, mega sized basket, a basket for a balloon. And I see my Aunt Mary K, and my Uncle Bill, and hey, what's my friend Julie doing? she lives in LA! and there's Karin! and Tina! and Scott! and Ralph ! and Catheryn... and I stall my car, and the person behind me honks because I'm not TURNING. INTO. THE. PARKING. LOT. FAST. ENOUGH. But who cares! Tears are streaming down my face and I'm laughing and crying at the same time, because they do care about me. No one forgot my birthday. My sister remembered my birthday. She arranged a balloon ride for me. For me and a bunch of my bestest friends. She's the best sister ever.

Blogger acting wonky?

We're testing the new Carmen Electrode blog... go on, google Carmen Electrode... you know you want to ... she has a new look, and we moved her blog to our our new dedicated server (this is work related stuff)

So long, farewell, etc 2006

I had in draft form this post about saying adios to 2006. It was a crappy year. I'm glad to see it go. But the truth it its not quite done with me. So I really can't say goodbye yet. Lord knows I need to soon. I have things to do this year, that just aren't getting done.

I really need to work on my book, Reconstructing My Mother. I've not been writing much, except blogging, and writing articles for welding journals, which really doesn't count. In fact sometimes I wonder if I use up all my words doing these other kinds of writing... but the reality is that the memoir project is an emotional place to be and I'm not strong enough right now.

But now I have a deadline. I'm pretty much signed up for (not yet paid, so I can still get out of it) taking a Master Class in memoir at the Taos Summer Writing conference hosted by the University of New Mexico. Which is where I started this book in 2005. The teacher for the master class is the same one I took from before, Gregory Martin, author of Mountain City and teacher extraordinaire. He's already given me the OK to come to the master class. Now I need to have a first draft done. It does not need to be pretty, it just needs to be done. And done by the beginning of June. What am I nuts?? don't answer that.

Anyone have any tips on how to just do it? Even 5 minutes a day seems like to too much right now. It's like I'm sabotaging myself. I mean I just spent 1/2 an hour creating this post when I could have been working on my book. So now I have to beat myself up about it which just makes it worse. And I know I'm doing it and I still can't stop.

thar she blows!

Whale watching on Monday. Click on the image to see it bigger and better. More later. I'm tired.