Tilting at the Windmills of My Mind

Do you have those moments, minutes, hours, weeks where you wonder if and where you fit into the scheme of things? Lately the hum of my mind, stuck in some cerebral groove like an old 33½ rpm, has been driving me crazy. I know what began this latest spiral of self-doubt and knowing that it is probably a light form of depression is half the battle. But, despite that knowing, I am still tilting at the windmills of my mind.

How do you make yourself see your worth? Know that you’re not just an albatross around the neck of those you want as your friends? I have no clue. Well really I don’t, but the sane part of me screams at the tilting part to take them at face value. I have great friends. Friends, who would not willingly harm me, would not willingly say something hurtful – even in their own pain. I am blessed. My husband, daughters, grandson, parents, and dog all love me. I am blessed.

Recently I’ve come to realize that in some respects many of my friends and family are in the same uncharted waters where I am barely treading to keep my head above. Many are ex-Mormons (friends, not family,) trying to figure out where they belong in the world. How to deal with their personal beliefs, their spiritual beliefs, and the lies and truths of their birth religion? I am blessed because, while I did leave my birth religion, I left because I needed to feel important to my beliefs and them to me. I needed to be true.

Christmas morning when I was twelve, I proudly sat in the choir loft singing with all the love I have inside me at the joy of Christ birth. My belief in Jesus Christ, my Lord Redeemer has always brought me to tears. So to be sitting there with my siblings that Christmas morning, having chosen church over opening presents, I was shocked into reality to find the choir berated from the pulpit for anxiously wanting to be at home opening presents instead of singing for the Lord. Well this wasn’t so for me, weeks before I’d snuck into my mom’s closet to see what I was getting. It was no big secret to me; see I really had chosen church that Christmas morning. I know you think my reasoning is convoluted. Don't despair, deviousness does have its pain.

Our previous minister and his family had been relocated after a decade ministering to our membership. So this special Christmas morning message of not measuring up to the Lord was brought to us by a new fire and brimstone, Bible thumping minister who must have failed to realize which type of Presbyterian Church he had signed on to. I cried all the way home and after a wonderful Christmas celebration had a heart felt discussion with my parents.

As I said, I was raised Presbyterian, but it wasn’t until a year ago that I came to even realize my father doesn’t believe Jesus is the Son of God. You could say the pronouncement, that Saturday morning, at my parent’s breakfast table left my mother and me… well, speechless. A rare occasion to say the least, and even more confusing in the light of what happened that Christmas day some forty years before. My mother and father had sat and listened intently to my problem and offered up the solution that, at the age of twelve, I could begin my discovery of other religions and faiths and chose which fit me best. Both of my parents backed my decision with the condition that I must go to church each Sunday. And no, Saturday Mass didn’t count, I had to go to Sunday Mass too. Ouch.

Wow, I can hardly imagine what my Ex-Mormon and Ex-Catholic friends would think at this proclamation in their lives. The church I’d been raised in was just two city blocks away from our house, and was one of many on a long stretch of La Mirada Blvd. So from the Presbyterian Church I went to the Baptist Church (whoa, not for me) skip the Friends Church, go to Mass with my cousin, to the Pentecostal Church with a friend whose Bible thumping father was the minister – it was good entertainment, but I wasn’t sure where God and I fit into the scheme of things. At Girl Scout camp we had a lovely, non-denominational, folk music based service (my fav.)

Finally I went and tested the waters of the Friends Church. When they spoke they were warm, inviting, and thought the same way I did. That the light of God was inside me, that I mattered in the scheme of God and the world. I’d found my home. That’s not to say I was a faithful Friend from day one, no, I am a child of the 60s and 70s. I have been a slut, a druggie, a loner, and very human, but I know that God still loves me. That Jesus died for me; I know that the eternal light of God shines inside each and everyone of us if we let it. That ever, loving light was mine.

Am I a good Quaker? Not very, I don’t attend meetings nearly often enough, I am not strong enough in my convictions to stand up in a fight of wills. When it comes to knowing the Bible and its verses I am terrible. I can not quote verse and scripture, and it’s not that I won’t go look them up, not that I don’t read the Bible, and not that I don’t believe in what is there – because I do, but because I know enough for me. I live fully on the belief that I should not judge other people, that I am loved for me, and that my religion is Jesus and is between me and God, and that violence against another – either personal or as a community is a crime against the nature of Christ.

The Bible charges us to witness to others. Unlike Jehovah Witnesses, Mormons, or some Baptist I don’t believe this means peddling my religion door to door. I find that vulgar and rude. To me it means being prepared to listen and discuss my beliefs with someone in their time of need. Or even my time of need. To give them succor and lighten their load, to show them the light inside of themselves.

I am distressed when I see my friends, new and old, ravaged by the lies of their religion. So devastating the realizations, that their faith is often tested and found wanting. Religions where the Church and those who run them have literally become more important that the God they are suppose to serve. When the power and money has corrupted those who serve, that they have become a force unto themselves.

In Genesis God create heaven and earth. He created man and woman, maybe not on an even playing field, but both were created along with the beast, birds, and bees. Oh, and those horrid little snakes. In Leviticus he handed down the laws of the Old Testament to Aaron and the Rabbis, laws for the serving Rabbis of the time that have spurred the basis of hatred over the millenniums. And with the beginning of a new age, God leveled the playing field with the birth, death, and resurrection of his son Jesus. He wrote two news laws that null and void all that went before and gave a gift of salvation equal to all, no man is placed above woman, no woman is placed above man – equality in salvation.

I weep that people once faithful to God have had their foundations destroyed by religion, a destruction so deep it rents the fabric of their daily lives, crushes their spirit, and questions all that they are, all that they believe. I will over come my depressions, because I am strong elsewhere. I hope they too will over come and see the strength and peace that comes from the light with in, the light of the Lord.
Sith.

American Idol Week Six – Pop Week

I am 7 for 12

Isn’t Gwen Stefani so cute? What a career. Mother, wife, singer, designer, and mentor, and she looks so adorable through out, very Orange County blonde – but I bet she’s never surfed. I am glad to know that she is going back to her band, and soon No Doubt fans everywhere will have new tunes from the pens of Kanal and Stefani to bop to.

Have you ever considered the impact that American Idol has on the American music charts? In truth it is mind boggling. My station plays a very eclectic mix of music; Adult Contemporary, Hot Adult Contemporary or CHR, a dose of Oldies (1967 to 1980), with some top ten Country thrown in for good measure. In today’s music market you don’t have a chart without it an American Idol or alum in the mix.

So what you are seeing today, will help calculate the Billboard Hot 200 album charts and Hot 100 singles charts. Consider the album chart and we’ll just look inside the 100 (because I don’t buy the subscription for the remaining 100 listings – cheap bitch, I know)

Formerly number one, Daughtry’s self titled debut is sitting at number 4 in its seventeenth week in the Billboard Hot 200, and has now gone platinum two times over, spawning to date two hits – the solid gold, number one for five weeks running It’s Not Over, and Home – this year’s Idol exit song.

Carrie Underwood’s Some Hearts is enjoying it’s 70th week in the Billboard 200, has been certified platinum, by the RIAA, five times over. Singles from her debut effort have taken her into the Hot Country Tracks chart four times; Wasted (# 6 this week,) Don’t Forget To Remember Me(#2), Before He Cheats (#1), and Jesus, Take The Wheel (#1.) And those are just the ones in the top ten.

Katherine McPhee’s debut is sitting at number 73, after peaking at #2 in its debut week seven weeks ago.

As you can see, the impact is huge. Millions of albums and singles sold; the power that turns your radio dial on. So let’s see how they did this week.

Lakisha kicked off the evening with a cover of Donna Summer’s The Last Dance. My immediate response, I thought this was Pop night – er, I’m not a disco person. She has far too much voice for the song. I just didn’t like the performance, although she was good.

Chris Sligh – Performed the Police’s Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic. Good song choice, when he started singing I thought of Christopher Cross for some reason. I didn’t think he was bad. But the darn echo effect was terrible, it kept pulling my attention away from the performance, but not enough to miss the flat spots.

Gina – I love Gina. Boy she picked a perfect song for her, The Pretender’s I’ll Stand By You. A great song choice, she performed it well, put her own mark on the song and sang her heart out. Kudos. She was the best female performance until Melinda sang. But I didn’t like the top she was wearing.

Sanjaya – Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!!!!

So many thoughts, none are positive and ranting won’t make me feel better about this guy. First off, what a suck up, last week, this week, next week, and the week after he will suck up. What’s with the hair? A Faux Hawk for a Faux Singer. Dude, No Doubt is a Ska band, they sing Ska songs, get a clue. No amount of Bath Water will help you.

Haley – Looked pretty, she chose a pretty song, changed up the arrangement, and sang a pretty cover of True Colors it wasn’t Cyndi Lauper and definitely not Phil Collins. It just fell flat for me.
Phil – chose Every Breath She Takes by the Police. I was impressed. I remember several weeks back he did a song, I can’t remember which, but he impressed me. In the weeks since I’d wondered why. Tonight I remember why, he was very good, wonderful, his ability shown through, and he under played the song perfectly. But the echo, sigh.

Melinda – wow, she too chose Donna Summers, but it was night in day for me from Lakisha’s performance. I don’t even like Heaven Knows but OH.MY.GOSH when Melinda sings it doesn’t make a difference if you don’t like the song, she is so wow factor.

Blake didn’t beat box tonight – and for me it was down hill from there. I love his beat box, it gives everything a Blake touch, tonight’s song was bland, but it wasn’t terrible, it was just bland. Oh, Blake sang a love song by The Cure.

Jordin – I can’t believe this girl is only 17 years old. She is so incredibly talented. Covering No Doubt’s Hey, Baby she remembered it was Ska, she gave it her own personality, she made it her own and she had a good time doing it. I loved it.

Chris R – Sang No Doubt’s Don’t Speak and all I can say is Boy Band. He just doesn’t cut it for me.

My Favorites for the week…
♫ Melinda
♫ Jordin
♪ Gina

Malakar was by far the worst, and he has to go, but I know he will survive because the Dark Force is with him.

So have faith. I know that while Malakar and the Dark Force will prevail more often than I want, the cream of American Idol will eventually rise to the top. Claim music charts and make millions. While the Sanjayas, Taylors, and Reubens will fade into music obscurity.

And I want to say thank you to Karin Tabke at well Karin Tabke for allowing me to guest blog for her, covering this week's American Idol performances.

Sith.

Adaptation: The Ever Changing Me

When I was younger, you know the starry eyed teen and young mother, I was up for a change. A change of scenery, a change of jobs, a change of seasons, change my kid, my men, whatever – I was ready. From California’s sunny clime, to the Oregon Rain Festival, to Fruehlingsfest in Germany I adapted while morphing into the person I am today.

But in the five decades of my life I have learned that I am no longer as adaptive to physical location changes (outside of a week of summer vacation) as I use to be. Note: Summer warmth means I’m much more adaptive; snow vacations are probably not my cup of tea. Snow: pretty to look at, but cold feet, fingers, and nipples are not my bag.

The changes in my mental make up are much more profound. Before – in my hip, so sure, younger days – I was firm on my platform (unless they were shoes) and would argue till you were blue in the face. Today I am eager to argue my stance, “the argue for the pure love of arguing, but usually nobody is wrong type arguing.” It also comes with a flip side, the adaptive part of me will change my stance when someone gives me a compelling believable argument. Oh, wait, that is called listening skills, right? In some respects isn’t that what survival and progress are all about? Communicating? Listening? Adaptation? I like this part of change.

I’ve noted over the past few years, as my job has grown from lowly DJ to whatever it is I do now, that I have tried hard to take the criticisms put to me, incorporate the good, and throw out the rest. Sometimes it comes with a bit of resistance, other times it blindsides me, and sometimes it just confounds the people who know me. I am trying to be a good manager. My problem, I’m not a good oral communicator – I know, too funny for a person who makes their living talking right?

There is a big difference between talking and communicating. Seven years ago I knew absolutely nothing about computers. Moving the radio station into the new millennium and working with state of the art equipment made me learn. I am willing to learn. So what does that have to do with talking?

Everything and nothing. You want to know about rock and pop music? If I don’t know the answer I will search until I find it. Pop trivia is like a narcotic to me, I’ve got to know, I’ve got to have more. You ask me, I will seek, and get back to you with the answer. Damn I wish Jeff Probst still did Rock & Roll Jeopardy! That was my game.

In today’s music world (like everywhere else) computers run the station. Explaining to you our current computer problem status and prognosis is almost impossible for me.

This week was almost too much. I am a bad manager. Why?
1) I have no clue how to delegate and be happy with the outcome, so I carry the burden and do it myself. (kind of like cleaning your kids’ room once in a while.)
2) Because I can’t communicate, everyone feels I treat them like mushrooms and leave them in the dark. It’s not my intent but that is the out come. If I have nothing new to disseminate, I will say nothing. Therefore, I don’t know how to communicate that in an acceptable way.

So with one computer down, one pantomiming congestive heart failure, and a third forever leaning heavy on the crash cart I was to the end of my rope. My head was swimming with the details and events of each computer and trying hard (yet failing) to not confuse it all. I failed to communicate with my crew. This weighed heavy on me all afternoon and evening long, I’ve no idea how to fix this in me. It doesn’t bother me to have someone tell me I am failing to communicate, because if you don’t tell me, I don’t’ realize it.

Wow, am I digressing or what. This was suppose to be about changing and adapting.

I won’t harbor bad feelings about a person who points out my problems to me, or something I’ve over looked, it if is done is a reasonable manner. Shit, I don’t even hold grudges against the two guys who raped me, or my first two husbands. Note: they are not two and the same. I don’t hold grudges. I can’t, grudges make no sense to me. I’m sorry is an apology, when heartfelt it is accepted, end of story. The actions might change where we were in our relationship, because that is how people work, but I won’t hate you and hold it against you, for say, hmmm, ever and three days.

So, to those whom I don’t communicate fully, my sincere apologies. The main production computer is back on line, but don’t use the second CD rom, it bit the big one. My production computer is still hanging on to the crash cart but works. And the AM on air, well it’s waiting for a specialist. Please have patience and watch this spot.

For the rest of you thank you for letting me get this off my chest. Wow, I needed it. To my first ex who tried to kill me. Twice. I forgive you, now please would you give Psam the $8250 in back child support, she could really use it. To ex number two, I forgive you for ripping my heart out, destroying our lives, and leaving a wake of devastation. I do wish you happiness – life is far too long to not be happy. To Bob who raped me in my freshman year, I really do forgive you and accept that I had a responsibility to the act. To Mark H who raped me in high school. I forgive you, you asshole.

Hey I said I forgive, I didn’t say I forget.

Wow, I feel a great weight missing, but don’t you wish a heartfelt “getting something off your chest thingie” would equated to losing inches off your thighs or something? Gosh, think of the better condition the world’s thighs would be in. I could forgo obesity.

Sith

American Idol Week 5 - The British Invasion

I’m 7 for 11

Not one single American Idol has ever sung and will never sing the first hit of the British Invasion. And all for a good reason, the first number one to hit American soil in the second British Invasion was an instrumental. Two years before the Beatles claimed the hearts of screaming, crying young American girls everywhere a group named the Tornadoes hit number one on the US Pop charts with the instrumental Tellstar (named for the satellite.)

I love British Invasion music; understandably, I was in the second grade when the Beatles landed. So I know the words to every one of the songs sung last night. I enjoyed the music. I enjoy the celebrity guest and thought Lulu especially rocked and got into the gig. So how did the Idols do? Not bad over all, even the guys seemed to bring it. But Gawd! What was with the crying girl? I mean Sanjaya is no Ringo, he’s not even a Peter Noonan, or for that thought a Peter Tork. Opps! Wrong invasion.

And we can now see the influence of the American Idolist style team. Jordin’s straight hair, perfection. Melinda’s new cut, very nice but it will take some getting use to. And Chris has put his glasses back on.

So let’s get down to it, how did they do in my humble opinion? Not bad over all. I’ll give them an 85, No one forgot the words and you could dance to it, well if you could remember how to pony, swim, or jerk. Oh, and I have to say, from the moment they announced the week was British Invasion, I knew Beat Box Blake would chose the Zombie’s Time Of The Season.

Haley – picked the right song, Billy Davis’ Tell Her. But did anyone notice she lost her breath twice during her performance?

Chris R – Sang a nasally rendition of Gary and the Pacemaker’s Don’t Let The Sun Catch You Crying. I wasn’t sold on this performance and felt he should have chosen a Bee Gees song. Gary wrote the song after his girl friend left him, it is a sad, lonely song, I didn’t get that from Chris’ performance. While Gary won back his girl friend with the song, Chris didn’t win me over.

Stephanie Edwards – I usually like this Idolist, but last night’s cover of Dusty Springfield’s You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me missed the mark. Edwards started the song off late falling behind the music, she caught up, but I never got caught up in the song.

Beat Box Blake – I already said it, I knew this song was perfect for him and he nailed it. Although that dancing thing is weird, it did match the song strangely. Now in all honesty Blake was flat once or twice, and fell behind at one point. And.Yet.I.Still.Loved.His.Performance. The best male performance for the night.

Lakisha Jones – darn, I wish she would have picked Cilla Black’s You’re My World, but no she chose Shirley Bassey’s Diamond Are Forever. Don’t get me wrong, it was a good performance, she became Shirely Bassey (literally,) but I really (along with Lulu) thought the other would have been a better choice. She was flawless and yet, I still wanted the other song.

Phil Stacey – Covering the Nashville Teens Tobacco Road was… a good choice, but when Stacey couldn’t hit the notes or wanted to power into the lyrics he yelled. And unlike the judges I thought the ending sucked.

Jordin Sparks - Truly sparkled, this was one of my favorite performances of the night. Choosing I Who Have Nothing was inspired. Her performance was inspired. Where as Lakisha became Shirely Bassey, Jordin became the song. Only 17 years old, wow. She blew me away, I was captivated by her performance, her voice, her.

Sanjaya Malakar – have you noticed Malakar is really close to malarkey? Just sayin’. Sanjaya chose the Kinks’ You Really Got Me, and really for him it was a good choice. But excuse me, The Kinks / Herman’s Hermits? No one would weigh the two against each other in song selection, it's apples and oranges. For the most part he performed well, there were parts I liked, but he’s Sanjaya and my enjoyment of his song was lost in the ending. And the fact that he’s Sanjaya. See this is where past performances tarnish the present. I am still hoping he’s gone.

Gina – I love this girl. She looks like a star. She chose Paint It Black by the Stones. My morning DJ thinks it should be Gina going this week. I disagree. She did have a bad start and she needed to hit her lower registers better, but I thought she did fine. She’s no Sanjaya. Thank God. I want to see this girl in a knee length black duster, black leathers, and white or burgundy silk. She just looks the part.

Chris Sligh – it was so nice to hear him say he’s a fan of the British Invasion. Great song choice, the Zombies’ She’s Not There was a perfect fit. Chris did a good job, enjoyable performance. Chris listens to his critiques, takes them to heart. And I do like him better with his glasses.

Melinda Doolittle – Goosebumps. I had never heard As Long As He Needs Me, but it will forever be a song I equate with her. Wow, stellar performance, hideous blouse. I like the haircut, but I liked her hair before.

Did you notice no one sang a Beatles tune?

The Best this week

♫ Jordin Sparks
♪ Melinda Doolittle

I am still begging America to send Sanjaya home, don’t let Vote for the Worst win again, the results are just to painful if he stays.

Sith

American Idol week 4 – I had a great title for this post last night, but that was last night

I’m 7 for 10

When I was growing up in the late sixties and early seventies, I loved Diana Ross and the Supremes. I watched any show they were on, all their specials, bought their albums, sobbed during Lady Sings The Blues. Did you know that when they were signed by Berry Gordy to Motown they were the Primettes? Yep, the female answer to the Primes… aka the Temptations. Then Diana became a Diva and began the spiral out of the spotlight.

Last night she gave the American Idol contestants terrible advice, if she gave them (individually) any advice. She told them to enunciate, to not cut any of the words, and project – okay that part was good advice. And it must be something in the Arizona air because I thought she was channeling my Aunt Maria. Basically what I got from her was, here’s a photo op on TV’s biggest two nights, smile for the camera and don’t screw up my songs, they are perfect as there are. Hence the death spiral from the spotlight.

What the majority of the contestants didn’t do last night was feel their song choice. Each week the judges implore the AI wanna be’s to make a song their own.

Every week Lakisha feels her song, she wears it like a dress. This week’s cover of God Bless the Child was no exception. Lakisha delivers a memorable performance each time she takes the stage. She becomes the song. I liked the dress, but it would have looked nicer in a textured silk, in a colour other than white. And she should have used a mic stand.

Melinda, this woman puts a new meaning into the word dynamite. Wow, She has star power. I didn’t know the song Home but she made me love it and her anew. She needs fresher brighter clothing.

Gina rocked with a nice performance of Love Child, but I think Ross’ advice was her doom.

Jordin, what a doll.

A blog I visit daily, Karen Tabek, commented that Haley’s response to her performance and missed words was endearing, I have to agree. In the past she seemed to think she knew more than the judges. This week she was human. My only critique with her song is that she didn’t feel it. Missing You is a haunting song of loss and heart break. Haley tends to power through a song instead of caressing and molding it.

With each passing week we are going to see what the American Idol fashion and hair stylist can do. I have to agree Chris S should keep his glasses, Melinda needs a fresher look, and that dress Haley was wearing? OHMIGOD, it was as bad as the blouse thingie that Carrie Underwood wore the week before.

The guys were total duds. While I didn't like either Chris' or Blake's takes on their songs, I give them props for the effort and attempts. As I said before, each week they are urged to take chances, make themselves stand out. I liked Beat Box Blake’s arrangement of You Keep Me Hanging On, but Blake himself sang it monotone and with absolutely no energy.

Chris, Endless Love, ugh, I hate the song all over again, but dude you tried.

Phil, hideous, you over sang I’m Gonna Make You Love Me.

The other Chris sucked the life out of The Boss.

Something that most singers in this competition fail to get at the beginning of each cycle of American Idol is that
1) the judges do know what they are talking about, and
2) they (the contestants) don't understand or feel their songs. Endless Love is a song that sucks, and Missing You - come on that is a heart felt song that should be sung with tears and emotion.

The Best
♫ Melinda
♪ Lakisha

God, people PLEASE I IMPLORE YOU vote out Sanjaya and put us out of his misery.

A Charges Leveled Introspective – you’ll find this boring

Friendships are an ever changing. Oh wait, you knew that didn’t you? My mom has always said I collect little lambs to take under my wing; to nourish, offer an occasional shoulder, to support. But I think it is what I get from the relationships that are important to me. The feeling of importance to another person, the give and take of thoughts, frivolities, humor, sorrow, and each other.

Through out my life, “best friends” or “bestest friends” have come and gone. What did I do? What didn’t I do? And how much should either side of a relationship have to deal with? In reality I don’t think it is any of these things.

I recently lost a bestest friend. We’d been buds for seven internet years, lived 2500 miles apart, spoke on the phone on occasion, and supported each other. We never met face to face. There were things about her I didn’t like, but the good out weighed the bad. There were things about me she didn’t like. See it’s a balance, the eternal give and take. And each time it is over I tell myself, “I won’t have another best friend, it hurts too much.” What a lie I tell myself. Despite being shy, I am a social person.

The good thing that comes of losing a best/bestest friend is the introspective period that follows. Considering all that has been said, can not be taken back, that will inevitably change who I was, shaping who I will morph into. Consideration of the charges:

1) That I always have to have the last word. I don’t believe that to be true, on the other hand most of my friends do not have to either, so it is a weird balance of last words.
2) That I can’t take a joke. My second husband said, as we were separating our lives and parting our ways, two things. 1) I have no sense of humor 2) I have no personality. Of all the things he said to me, besides I love you and good-bye, these have had the longest lasting impact on me. The I love you was a lie; good-bye has been long lasting and the truth; items 1 and 2 haunt me. So when my former bestest said I can’t take a joke, it rung like a death knell in the air. Maybe I can’t take a joke, I forever doubt myself or that I am not being understood and often let people know “that was a joke.”
3) That I run away pouting. I know that is not true. In the unspoken situation I left before I said words I could not take back. I do not intentionally speak words that will hurt. I do not enter into most arguments when both parties are mad; one of us needs to be grounded in calm.
4) And apparently I was throwing a temper tantrum. Hmmm, I guess a third party would have to decide that, and I’m not asking her to step into the middle of this, although I was accused of talking behind my bestest back, because I apologized to a third party about what was happening and told them I would be leaving if it continued. To her that talking about her verifies everything
5) I was also told that I critiqued others so harshly that I drove people away, and at least one person left in tears several times because of what I said. Of all the charges leveled at me, this one was the most serious to me. I have always tried to measure my critiques with a level of positive ness. So do I stand in judgment of the works of others that I am cutting and cruel? This will colour the way I look at the work of others and my critique for them for sometime. I have always tried to give two positive comments for every negative or comment of correction. Especially in poetry. Poetry is subjective, the levels of writing poetry are specific to the poet, as is the penchant of specific rhyme schemes. A five meter, every line rhyming scheme drives me crazy, but each poet has their own level of security, I in the past had commented on that, but in recent years only comment when I poet steps out of their personal comfort zone and ventures into their uncharted waters. It takes a lot of guts to do so.
6) That no one would give me input on my work, because I keep needing to be right.
Beyond asinine – I have no comment on this.
7) And her final salvo, beside I am not worth her time and effort was this, that I will write about our falling out. Hmmm she was defiantly right on that one. It took me time to think about it, consider, and weigh the words, intent, and content; to use the truths and throw out the superfluous, then to evolve from it. Writing about it helps me put it all in perspective, work it out. She will never read it, because she doesn’t blog, she doesn’t care, and I realize – because she is in self protect mode and defensive.

I will learn and grow from this. I will have more best friends (because I am a glutton that way,) but she will always hold a place in my thoughts and heart, for she was like a sister to me. Because she (and her influence) is part of who I will become tomorrow. I wish her the best, I wish for her someone who will understand her better than I did. I wish for her peace and good writing.

Sith

American Idol - Week Three

So far in the count I am 5 for 8

America last year you voted Chris Daughtry out, and Taylor Hicks American Idol. Once again, DUDES! What were you thinking? Taylor Hicks opening salvo into the album charts, released in December, is no longer in the top half of the Billboard 200 album chart. Chris Daughtry and band’s self titled debut, dropped just this past November, has made number one on the Billboard Album Charts, not once, but twice now and was certified double platinum this week by the Recording Industry Association of America, per Billboard and counts by Nielsen Sound Scan.

In keeping score, Carrie Underwood’s Some Hearts has gone and receive multi platinum status from the RIAA five times over – count them five times platinum and sixty two weeks on the Billboard 200. The girl rocks.

Now for the present – Each and every week (all three in counting) the girls have stepped up to the mic, claimed the stage and blown the guys out of the water. This week the chasm between gender talent was as wide as the Grand Canyon. And the sad part is, with the gender equality two, possibly three unworthy guys will make it into the American Idol top twelve, leaving girls far more talented out in the cold. A travesty.

So how do I break it down? The guys totally sucked this week, and I will never be able to forgive Jared for destroying my favorite Stevie Wonder song. Jared, If You Really Love Me is all about harmony – dude, step away from the mic. From Sanjaye to Phil the male talent walked out of the building with Blake’s last beat and reappear until Chris danced on to the stage.

The best guys of the night
♫ Blake, dude you rock, I loved the hip-hop, ska, reggae thing, but DO NOT DANCE.
♪ Chris Sligh, good vocals, the song didn’t do anything for me, but your voice made up for it.

Going this week for the guys…(well we can hope at least)
○ Sanjaye, totally lack luster and boring
○ Jared, argh you destroyed that song, my favorite Wonder song. Unforgivable.

From the first female performance of Wednesday night, game was back on. I feel dumb for repeating the same words of the judges, but the girls do bring their game to each performance. I think if Jordin could have held a high note for a while she’d have wowed the judges more, Benatar is in a league of her own and hard to copy, but I think Jordin is up to the task. I was kind of surprised by Melinda’s choice of songs, but she brought the house down. And LaKisha, well all I can say is, “Whitney, who?”

Well okay most of the girls. Haley needs to listen to the judges. Simon may lack finesse, but his critiques are spot on, listen to him Haley because right now you’re mediocre at best. Haley’s performance immediately reminded me of a beauty pageant talent round. I didn’t care for Stephanie’s song, but her voice was good. Sabrina’s performance was good, I liked the song, but I did not like the arrangement. And Gina, girl I like you, your spunk, and your style, but you did yell a bit.

The best women of the night…
♫ Lakisha, girl you’re gold
♪ Melinda, she brought home the bacon.

Girls I think should go home…(see I’m learning)
○ Antonella, I was a bit excited when I heard her choice, until she hit the flat notes, time and again
○ Haley, she knows it all so why bother critiquing her?

Now I have to say, did you catch the Visa commercial? The shoes that lady ended up with by the end of the commercial, too cute.

American Idol - Week Two

I am 3 for 4

What is this sass? I can’t believe it. Simon Cowell, may be a bit rough in his delivery, but he is nothing but honest in his critique of American Idol wanna be’s. And remember at this early stage of the game, 19 of them are just that, wanna be’s. Well no, that really isn’t fair or true. There are several who are total stars and will not be the American Idol 2007.

The past is a good example of this. Who the heck is Ruben Studdard, and what makes America think he’s an Idol? I mean really, “they” behind Idol boast big numbers for Ruben, but really his numbers are piddly. He hit two on the Billboard Hot 100 with Flying Without Wings in the wake of his victory and that was the best he did. And Sorry 2004, well damn he should be sorry. From that same season, which is two if you’re counting, Clay Aiken has listed in the Top Forty, Adult Contemporary, Hot Adult Contemporary Charts, and Mainstream, and while some think his popularity is waning, in truth that has yet to be seen. Then you have Kimberly Locke, her star is on the rise, each song she releases does better and is finding her landing consistently in the Adult Contemporary charts instead of the Urban or Dance Charts. Then there is Josh Gracin. Wow, what a country hottie. He is definitely the most successful of the season two finalist, including Clay and Ruben. Gracin has consistently has landed in the Hot Country Tracks top ten. From Season two Clay has sold the most, Josh has charted the best.

So what did I see last night? The boys were like hot and cold water. Beat Box Blake rocked on Virtual Insanity, the guy is definitely versatile. I wasn’t a fan of Sundance, but he made Mustang Sally ride. But then there was the hold cold side of the equation. It just didn’t’ seem like the guys learned. I mean what was Sanjaye thinking? So here is my break down and predictions for the guys…
♥ Absolutely loved Beat Box Blake
♦ Jared totally hit it with Let’s Get It On

Going this week
Sanjaye, there is no getting around it, dude sign up for American Idol camp
and I am stuck between Brandon Rogers and Nicholas Pedro (Brandon Dude what were you thinking?)


For the Girls, wow, LaKisha, Melinda, Sabrina, Stephanie, and Jordin have brought it two weeks in a row. I would vote LaKisha in right now, but Jordin touches my heart. I have to ask, Stephanie what in the hell was with that song, girl friend you are so much better. Huge improvement for Gina. So here is my breakdown…
♥ Absolutely loved Melinda
♦ LaKisah can probably do any type of song she wants

Going this week:
Alaina - honey give it up.
Antonella with Leslie and Haley vying for her slot to leave.

American Idol week one

I never watched season one of American Idol. I have no clue what was on, it doesn’t matter I’m sure it’s not on TV now, because well it is historical fact “What Calista likes, gets the ax.”

But I did pick up the show in season two and sat in silent shock when Josh Gracin was dumped in favor of Ruben (who?), Kimberly Locke was axed in favor of Ruben (who?), and Clay Aiken came in second to Ruben WHO? Oh, the inhumanity of it all, what a joke. Season three held the totally unmemorable, but totally rebounded in season four.

Season Five, well shit folks who in Season Five hasn’t gotten a recording contract? What it is eight now out of the twelve top finalists? As a DJ I watch the Adult Contemporary, Hot Adult Contemporary, and Hot Country Tracks Charts – so I have an idea of who did what, when, and where.

Season Six has come to the watch able portion of our programming. I love the competition. I love Simon Cowell, Randy Jackson is holding his own this year, and while I think you need two positives to replace a negative Paula Abdul just doesn’t cut it for me. She may the feminine factor to the show but she ads no knowledge or usable information.

With the first week of Season Six performances in the bag, we have been shown a definite demarcation line in talent. Night one, with three exceptions for me was lack luster. I know that Sundance was a favorite, but his butchering of Night’s In White Satin found me echoing my thoughts last week, “How did he make it?” I was embarrassed for Sanjay, and I missed about three of the early performance, or I just don’t remember them to comment. But I will say standout performances from Tuesday night include:
•Phil, who despite some pitch problems, really showed me his stuff.
•Chris Slight, who I just adore
•The Other Chris, who surprised me
♥And my final choice for Tuesday night kudos – Beat Box Brandon, the guy stole the show.

Wednesday night began spectacular and divided the wanna be’s with the true stars. Someone white will be going home tonight for certain.
•Stephanie opened the show wowing the universe
•Sabrina showed how it should be done – what a great selection
•Melinda can sing, but please someone help her dress and stand
•Jordin was awesome, this girl has a future – and you can’t go wrong with Tracy Chapman
♥I was a bit worried when the announced what Lakisha would perform, wow was I wrong the girl stole the entire show from a night of incredible and forgettable performances.

My picks for going home, tonight…
Girls: Amy Krebs and Alaina Alexander (although Leslie and Nicole were pretty bad)
Guys: Paul Kim and Rudy Cardenes (I didn’t see then all so, I’m shooting in the dark)

Thoughts?

Conversations OVERHEARD at Dinner

Ducky is delightful. Thursday night I arrived home to a refrain of Happy Birthday at the front door. There stood Ducky with a sinfully decadent truffle chocolate cake in hand, lit by a lone tea light, singing me into the house. He is so wonderful. Because of his 80-mile commute, Ducky normally stays in town on Thursday nights, but in honor of my birthday he came home and feted me pizza and cake. Could a girl be more blessed? I don’t think so.

Last night, to make up for the pizza (which was scrumptious – I’m a connoisseur of fine pepperoni pizza) Ducky took me out to dinner at the Adobe in Yachats. Since Thursday I’d been contemplating a cup of their to die for French Onion soup and wonderful North Pacific Salad. Of course when we get there, confronted by their menu I am suddenly in fits of confusion and indecision as to what to order (except the soup – folks that is a given, others may order clam chowder, but for me it is French Onion, end of story.) Filet and skewered prawns, prime rib, north Pacific salad – oh, the temptations – I was fine until the prime rib arrived at the table next to us. Ducky thought for certain I was a goner for the prime rib and about die from whiplash when I ordered the salad not two minutes later. Folk for me that is a fast landmark decision.

On a scale of one to ten the service was a five, edging towards six and yet I still tipped twenty percent. Er, Ducky tipped twenty percent. But the dinner conversations around us were pure elevens. Ducky and I chat in polite hushed tones; I even tone down my hideous cackle of a laugh when in polite public. We can converse entire evenings at home or in non-polite company with loud and rowdy voices, but in public we are quite civil. The other important fact to note here, is Ducky has worked around pneumatic tools for more than seventeen years; I have been a DJ for the same, we both lack good hearing skills because of our jobs.

Prime rib dad and fish n’ chips daughter, approximate age 6, (daughter not dad, although you will note that will be in question momentarily) were having a nice family meal, when non-descript mom, previously unheard from, piped into the conversation with, “She looks like me, I think.” This is the second comment from the table that truly caught my attention, prime rib having been the first.

I’m thinking, What, you’ve been her mother for six years now, and it’s only come to your attention now? Really, in most families this is a bone of contention from a child’s birth. I want you to note that between the time we ordered and were served Prime rib dad and family were served, ate, tipped, and left.

Before their quiet deportation, I noted that the family was from our hometown. He, a salesman, would now be on the road to parts beyond that would require him to be gone over nights on occasion, I didn’t discern what company he worked for, I didn’t know we had companies of that breadth here. And this one final tidbit that still has me cracking up, Prime rib dad, “I like knowing I am your protector. (Imagine puffing chest here) I heard you say my name in your sleep. I like being your hero.” Silence followed from the rest of the table. I mean really what do you say to that?

“Honey, your insecurity is showing.” “Quick, run he’s going to don those darn tights and cape again.” (Served with an understanding pat on the hand) “Babe, of course you’re her hero, she’s six.”

Shortly before being served, a full 40 plus minutes after ordering, the second couple sat at the table next to us. I wrongly believed they were one of those 40 to 50 something couples that were dating. Oh they were 40 to 50ish, but they were far from dating. First she deemed they both sit on the same side of the table for the view. Okay, it was 8 o’clock on a February night, pitch black to say the least, and the whole view boils down to seagull encrusted, wet grass against a backwash of dark ocean. Oh, and the mesmerizing search light of a lone crab boat. So I wrongfully assumed sitting on the same side of the table meant the same thing as sitting in the middle of the car seat when dating. Wrong. I guess she really did want the view.

Picking up the menu they began the debate over what to have. Apparently the menu in their room included Tapi, which the regular menu does not. Bummer, I can understand their frustration, Tapi is good, but so is the Swordfish, (and the only Halibut on the menu has a crappy béarnaise sauce on it - who wants to ruin a good Halibut?) which he soon discovered on the menu with much animated delight. That is until she discovered the filet with skewered prawns.

His previous animation was nothing in comparison. In a dramatic voice that equaled a theatrical stage presentation he asked, “Oh, where?” I mean ANIMATED THEATRICAL production. I began to wonder how far he would go to impress her for a second date?

I soon came to realize (as did probably the rest of the diners in our section) that they’d actually been together for eight years, were planning a trip to Hawaii soon, that included staying in a condo with extra room. “Maybe they should invite a second couple?”

Now, I know my husband his first thought at this comment was, Hmmm, I know what he wants. Hey, Ducky has his priorities, and all thought revolves around sex, this gives tv and movie watching an interesting monologue – but I digress. I also came to realize that she was TOTALLY in charge of all the couple’s finances.

He wants to go to Mexico, she says, “But, honey we can’t afford that, we’re already going to Hawaii.”

He says, “Oh we can do it, we’ll just budget it in.”

She says she wants to buy faded clothes so they fit right in with the locals (Hawaii – because you know he won’t get his trip to Mexico) and not stand out like tourist. He wants to wear his regular, comfortable clothes and doesn’t need faded clothes to be comfortable.

He wants to put something on the credit card (it was this part of the conversation that made me realize they were well established as a co-habitating, co-financing couple) because (and I didn’t catch what it was) cost more than $100. She doesn’t want him to use the credit card, because it cost sooo much to charge and she pays it off every month.

“Those $35 finance charges kill us.” I’m thinking, Girlfriend, walk away from Capitol One.

But, HE really wants it. And he pays for everything with cash that is under $100. “Pluuuuueeeease.” WTF?

“Did you really mean I can’t go golfing tomorrow morning? I really want to golf tomorrow morning.”

“No, we can’t afford it. It’s $100 for green fees.” (I guess this is what he wanted to put on the card. So I’m thinking he really wants to go to Sandpines or Salishan, and boy, this morning was perfect for golf.)

“But I really want to go golfing. And I got a bonus I can use to pay for it.”

“Well, if you go golfing, do I get jewelry?”

In my family this is called a Sandy moment (the name of Ducky’s exwife) Ducky says she’ll get the jewelry and he still won’t get to golf.

Sith

100 Things About Me, 2007

1) I’m not getting older, I’m getting better
2) Well, except for that weight thingie
3) Ducky says, “Yous not fat, Ewes fluffy.”
4) I sheepishly like that he says that.
5) Looking back, half a century seems like a little thing;
6) Looking forward, a half century more seems daunting, but science says it could happen
7) Why does all the energy seem to come in the first half of life,
8) When I have a ton of mountains to scale in the second half?
9) I still hate snakes
10) No I mean really, REALLY HATE snakes, they are the root of all evil
11) Oh wait, root of evil (and greed) = President Bush = snakes
12) I mean, we’re talking really evil, and arrogant
13) I’m never arrogant and I’m just occasionally evil
14) But not because I try, I think it just pops up.
15) My daughter says I have a wicked sense of humor
16) Which works well with my leave ‘Em laughing philosophy
17) Or at least leave them with a smile on their face and in their heart
18) The slut in me knows it was the girls laughing and the boys smiling.
19) I’m good.
20) I believe in reincarnation.
21) My life lesson was anger,
22) But I think I perfected the blow job while I was at it
23) I told you I am good (is that arrogant or self assured? I’m confused)
24) Just ask Ducky, and 48 ex-boy friends or husbands
25) Well no, you can only ask about 40 of the ex-boy friends and two ex husbands
26) There were those I was learning on (only one has the right to complain)
27) And then there was Scott; he doesn’t like BJs (excuse me, are you human?)
28) Yes, I remember all their names. And yeah, I know, a BJ does not a boyfriend make.
29) While I may not be proud of being fat, I am very content with my former slut status
30) I’m sure much to the horror of my siblings and parents?
31) Can you imagine the trial I was to my parents?
32) And having to have been a younger sibling couldn’t have been easy, Imagine trying to figure out what they meant by, “Why can’t you be more like your sister?”
33) At fifty one I am apparently irreverent
34) I am exuberant, I try to be pert
35) And I do revere God
36) But everything else is open for debate.
37) Why? Because if you disagree or don’t know, ask questions
38) If you disagree, debate to learn or teach
39) Be willing to change your stance and accept when I’m right, or yeah wrong
40) Hey it could happen.
41) Life is far too long to be sad
42) And far too short to not be happy
43) You should love your job, I do
44) If you don’t find a new one, the money can’t be that worth it
45) You should love your mate, I do
46) Don’t let the romance go dead in your relationship
47) Romance helps keep you young
48) Go on a date, give a card just because, I do
49) Not just because today is my birthday, but that helps
50) Celebrate everyday
51) Celebrate everyone you love and adore
52) Thank God.
53) All my best friends are religious in their way, but none are religious in the same way
54) I love diversity
55) All my best friends are Aquarians or born in May (now isn’t that weird?)
56) Oh, wait, except my mom, she was born in October
57) Hmmm, I will need to rethink this
58) Okay, all my best friends were born.
59) My dad and my grandfather are my two heroes, but Anwar Sedat and Martin Luther King, Jr run a close third.
60) They were totally different, and so very much alike (my father and grandfather.)
61) My mother amazes me,
62) My daughter impresses me,
63) My grandson is my absolute joy,
64) My husband is my other half and loves me for all my faults
65) He’s my Ducky, my confidant, my very best friend
66) He mixes dip and flavored chips
67) This just grosses me out
68) I like my meat rare, his must be well done
69) I like salad, squid, and mushrooms
70) He thinks chocolate, dip, crackers, cheese are the seven food groups.
71) My breast are still perky at 51
72) If Ducky had his way there would be a picture here to prove it
73) I just lost my three best readers – hey guys wait comeback.
74) I try very hard to mend my ways
75) Some people think I am wishy washy because I chose to find the positive
76) I believe it take two positives to replace one negative,
77) With some people it take just a boatload of positives.
78) I lack self-confidence at times.
79) I will always strive to tell you the truth.
80) I may have been a slut, but I am a truthful ex-slut. - Mary Magdalene was a slut and Jesus liked her - a lot
81) See there is hope for us all, this I truly believe.
82) Oh wait; there is that irreverent thingie again.
83) Phat!
84) One really bad thing about me, well besides hating snakes, I do talk about some people behind their back, which totally places on question numbers 19 & 23, while underscoring number 13.
85) I don’t hold grudges, I just have a very long memory
86) To prove this, I do not harbor ill will against either guy who raped me
87) I do still fear one of them
88) I thought I didn’t, but he was at my 20th class reunion, I had to leave
89) Wow, I thought I was past that; now I know better. I didn’t go to my 30th reunion.
90) I use to conduct Rape Awareness classes with the Oregon State Police
91) It was a great coping and recuperative tool for myself, I hope I helped others – talk about it.
92) I have a letter of accommodation (some where) from the Oregon State Police for service during the 1996 floods.
93) Pride made me want to frame it,
94) A flaw in my memory made me forget where I put it for safekeeping.
95) I wrote letters to my loved ones for when I die someday
96) I am going bald
97) So far it doesn’t bother me…too much.
98) For all my bravado I lack self confidence – thank you ex-hubby number two
99) My internet friends are just as important as my walking world friends, maybe more so.
100) I am blessed with an abundance of love to give, love to share, and never lack.
101) I love lollipops
102) Watch this space

Arlo The Tank

Four years ago I was mourning the loss of my beautiful Kya, a Rhodesian Ridgeback that had been my constant companion for thirteen years. During that time I knew I’d soon be seeking a new friend to fill the lonely times when Ducky was away. A friend to be lazy with, a friend to walk with, a friend to cuddle and share my popcorn with.

On April 10th 2004, my mom and I took the day off and drove the 200 miles to Ridgeway to pick up my new best friend. The breeder had named him Tank. The sort of name you might expect for a Mastiff, Bull Mastiff at that, but kind of a peculiar name for a Basset. Until you hear his story. Expected to litter on February 12th, the breeders weren’t too surprised a few night early to hear the bitch making a bit of a commotion from their family room. From the vicinity of couch interior they could hear a puppy crying. That’s right inside the couch. No that wasn’t Tank, how do I know that? Because Tank was firmly stuck in the birth canal and couldn’t come out by power of the bitch, the owner, or himself. 35 miles later the Vet unstuck him and Tank entered the world, followed by six more puppies. As you can guess he was huge from moment one.



But see, he’s so damn adorable. Oh well most of the time. He took almost four months to house-break. Ducky was almost to the breaking point. He only tried to chew up a few shoes, no bras, or furniture. But, beware the socks on your feet. To this day, three years later, he will snatch them right off your unsuspecting feet. He delights in sock snatching, which between him and the ones Ducky loses in his recliner, we are missing socks. One of his favorite things? To sit with his back to Ducky and have him rub his feet on his back. They were made for reach other.

Happy Birthday, Arlo!

Now when you stop to think that he is a normal healthy three year old Basset, I will let you in on a few…er…Basset/Arlo facts.

• Male Bassets tend to weigh 65 to 70 pounds. Arlo weighs 83
• All Basset Hounds KNOW they are lap dogs. Arlo is well aware of this fact.
• Bassets do not like baths. Arlo is no exception.
• Bassets are stinky dogs. I have a hard time smelling him, Ducky doesn’t.
• Hounds howl – I use to have blood hound that was the definition of this hound fact. Ducky had to teach Arlo to howl. I’m jealous of this little feat, Arlo won’t sing for me.
  Bassets are just big dogs on little legs.
• Arlo can reach almost anything on a counter you don’t want eaten.

Arlo loves ice cream on Friday nights. It maybe Saturday, but he will get ice cream.
Happy Birthday, Arlo.

Growth verses Teenage Mentality

I feel we all need to give back to not only Mother Earth as good stewards, but to our communities. Ducky is in total disagreement, which makes me wonder sometimes how we ever get along. But we do, maybe opposites do more than attract.

I am so off course.

Every other Monday evening I teach, err.. maybe that is the wrong word, advise, no that would mean they listen to instruction, okay I baby sit a bunch of teenage guys during an hour long radio program. The concept is sound. They come in 30 to 40 minutes prior to 7pm and put together their show, go on the air, and produce a 55-minute radio program. It is their show and adults beware. No topic is apparently taboo, despite station policy.

They delight in changing up their music, having no concept in genre, continuity, or well for that matter anything. So last night was a bumpy musical trip, to say the least, as we went from Hansen to Queen, to some head banging Christian group whose name has been seared from my gray matter, to Marvin Gaye and Matchbox 20 (which was totally hacked) while discussing the merits of text messaging as a form of upper intelligence communication. I would love to believe this means they are expanding their musical horizons, and knowledge, but I know better.

Much to my dismay during the whole pre Queen discussion, the ring leader choose to do what he assumes is Freddie Mercury’s persona. Why he felt it was accurate or right I’ve no idea. I was appalled. Male teenage mutants are in total disassociation with the rest of a world that does not revolve around football and high school. They’ve no idea that their preconceived notions could offend or hurt someone and are truly shocked when such a possibility is pointed out to them. Maybe I am too sensitive, but I don’t think so.

When he wasn’t doing a stereotypical Freddy Mercury impersonation, he was dissing on one of the groups mom’s for not letting her son on the internet or to My Space. He sees no recourse for his comments; my discussion surely did not phase him or make a difference in his future thought patterns. And while I believe he will grow up to be a nice, probably well mannered slop, I have to wonder how that transformation can possibly take place when I see the idiot he is at the moment.

As I grow older I look back with total shame at some things I’ve done in the past to one or two people. I’m a nice person, but there was a time when I was not. I’ve always been a crusader for the underdog. And yet I could find a person to verbally abuse. I had my “little lambs” under my wing, as my mother would say, but there would be someone I would pick on. You know someone who just didn’t quite fit in, just like me. Why, in the hell did I think that I could abuse another sweet person? Who the fuck am I? I use to get my ass kicked all over the play ground when I was a kid, people would taunt me, make fun of my name – Furby is a difficult last name to grow up with. And in my middle teens instead of sucking it in and making someone else’s life a better world because I could be a nice, loving, caring person, I was a total fucking bitch.

I’ve learned, I’ve never let go the harm I did to others. I know I have grown because of it, and I would like to get the opportunity to tell one specific person how incredibly sorry I am for my past behavior. I believe in reincarnation. We are all here for a reason, and I’m here – AGAIN - because I’ve have life lessons to fix. Okay, just one, anger, according to my numbers, but personally I think two. I needed to become a kinder, gentler being. And through that realization and discovery I know there is hope for the mutant teens out there who live in their own little galaxies. I just hope they find it before they damage the next Kip Kinkle.

Sith

Dream Soul

You Are a Dreaming Soul

Your vivid emotions and imagination takes you away from this world So much so that you tend to live in your head most of the time You have great dreams and ambitions that could be the envy of all... But for you, following through with your dreams is a bit difficult You are charming, endearing, and people tend to love you. Forgiving and tolerant, you see the world through rose colored glasses. Underneath it all, you have a ton of passion that you hide from others. Always hopeful, you tend to expect positive outcomes in your life. Souls you are most compatible with: Newborn Soul, Prophet Soul, and Traveler Soul

What Kind of Soul Are You?

Well, you know me, I had to go see what was up after finding the link posted at Lisa's every so tauntingly giving me come hither look that says, "Click me, Click me, you know you want to...just one little click." So like Alice falling down the rabbit's hole I clicked for all I was worth. And I came up with Dreamer Soul. I did it again, changing the answers and still I got a Dreamer Soul. hmmmmm. Was Alice this frustrated or did she just chew on the mushroom?

They say we don't see our selves like others do, I don't see my self this way at all. Well half way maybe. But I don't tend to wear rose coloured glasses. So come on you know you want to click the little link. So what are you?

Ask Me If I Need Help

My pet peeve is women (er people) who can’t do for themselves. You know the ones, the stereo typical female who cries at the drop of a hanky when something goes wrong that is totally fixable, a mere bump in the road of life, but they turn to tears and mush. Oh, they grate me to my very core. Yes, everyone has hers or his strengths, and of course the flipside are those darn weaknesses.

Fully equipped, I totally suffer the superwoman complex, the Baby Boomer woman who has a full time career and a full time household (okay truth, now that the girls are on their own a part time household.) I make dinner, keep a clean house, help with the outside chores, and still have time to write. I’m pretty independent, and I’m willing to try most anything that doesn’t involve snakes. I’ve been through two and a half husbands (Ducky is intending to hold on) so that independence has served me well. This trait of mine drives my Bestest Friend insane.

Earlier this week my mom, now into her 70s, called and asked if Ducky could come and take her hot-water heater to the dump. Not a problem, we packed it in the truck and hauled it to recycling yesterday afternoon. Just a few short years ago my folks would have done this themselves, but my dad now is in the advance stages of emphysema and while he still does A LOT for himself, this was something my dad and mom shouldn’t have even attempted. In retrospect last night I realized just how far my parents have come. They have limitations, they realize those limitations, and now can ask for help without shame. This struck me with a full frontal force blow that should have popped my shoes right off my feet. Not only that, they did it with laugher and happiness to see us (not that they shouldn’t I AM the joy of their lives, ahhh huh! You’re buying all this right?)

Back History….My parents come from polar opposite backgrounds. My mother was born with the tarnished silver spoon in her mouth (a fast fading fortune, it’s the other side of the family that has all the investments fortune, but that is another story.) My father was born in the back hills of West Virginia, one pair of socks, made it through the 10th grade (because that is all they offered) and became a self made man. They are both self-doers, both self starters, both self reliant, both strong willed, and they are both very intelligent. They are both my heroes.

They passed these wonderful traits on to me (along with a love of arguing) and I have used them well. In the past when two husband’s walked out, after the prerequisite tears of anguish, self flagellation for being unworthy, I came the realization that life and I must go on, and I did. Then came Ducky. When our house needed a new roof, Ducky and I looked at each other, talked with a brother in law, and said, “We can do this.” And we did. There is a spot in our front yard that never grows anything so we decided to put in flagstone, we talked with my dad about it, and we said, “We can do this.” And we did. When we decided the house needed new flooring we said, “We can do this.” And we did. Then we looked and saw that we needed a whole new room, and damn, why not a covered deck? We said (after the foundation and framing were done by someone else), "We can do this" and We did. Kind of Godly don’t cha think?

Epilog: Through these accomplishments came the realization that I am allergic to baby sun block, not tar paper. I am allergic to cement, ate the skin right off my fingertips (and please don’t notice the hump in my flag stone.) Note, pay someone else to sand the mud.

Someday I won’t be able to do these things. Heck, I may not want to do these things for myself. But I am stubborn and my daughters will make me wear the Sandra Bullock sign that reads, “Ask me if I need help.” I’m hoping before that comes to pass I will learn to accept help gracefully, learn to ask for help gracefully when I need it. It won’t be an easy admission and will be a weighty burden to bear when the appointed time arrives. I’ve being doing for myself since right after the earth cooled. I don’t’ want to be a burden, I don’t want to give up early in life (when is early and how do you recognize the right time?) Lord, please grant me the grace to recognize, in time, my limitations without being a bitch about it. I have time, (what about forty years, I figure I should being asking, hmmm around 90 or so.)

So tell me, what is your strength? What is your weakness?

Sith
Cele

I Dig Rock 'n Roll Music

I Dig Rock n’ Roll Music

When I was a kid, I was in Girl Scouts. Even when most kids were really embarrassed to be in scouting, I loved it. I proudly told people I was a scout for nine years. I still tell people I was a scout for nine years. Tonight that appreciation was underscored in an unusual way. I am the fire maker in our house; in fact, just yesterday Ducky said I build a much better fire than he does. My reply, “I learned in Girl Scouts.”

The fifth annual Winter Folk Festival offered two days of Americana, Celtic, and Folk music; two folk classics headlined festival’s concerts. I really wanted to go see the Highwaymen last night and really I should have bought tickets. As a festival underwriter the station received tickets to the concert and a pair for the Sunday concert fell to me; the group headlining the day’s music, The Brothers Four. Wow.

I have always loved folk music and I thought that love came from learning the songs in school. I, naively, believed everyone knew those songs, having learned them in grade school. But I think I was wrong. As we sat in the Florence Events Center excitement began growing inside me. At the opening cords of the first song, my heart started beating faster, and I turned to Ducky and questioned, ”Yellow Bird?”

The look on his face was classic, “You’re asking me?” Sure enough the Brothers Four opened the concert with their rendition of Yellow Bird. Now I’ll admit the reason I know all the words to the song is because we sang it in Junior High chorus as part of our competition repertoire, Ducky on the other hand gave me a look as I sang that loudly spoke, “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Then the group blended in to Sloop John B. and Ducky was singing too. An awesome beginning to a concert that had most quietly sitting in their seats, applauding with gusto at the end of each song. Then they delved deeper in to the folk bag and drug out Woody Guthrie’s This Land Is Your Land, Pete Seegers’ Where Have All The Flowers Gone, If I Had A Hammer, and Arlo Gutherie’s City of New Orleans I was joyous. Singing low I realized, that except for the man seated behind me with the WONDERFUL voice, no one else was singing. I looked around watching silent lips, wondering how could this be? We learned these songs in school.

Afterwards, standing in the foyer waiting for them to come autograph my CD a lady asked to see my disk because she didn’t know if she wanted to buy it. She’d been to the concert the night before and was surprised she didn’t know many of the songs. Tonight she knew more, but she wasn’t sure the disk was for her. Heretic. Even without my glasses on I could tell the LP was full of great music. She bought a copy for herself. Now, I’m not an autograph hound and as the crowd to see them grew in size and clamor I decided to leave. I had the CD and that was the important part, along with that heady feeling you get after a great concert.

As we walked to the truck I asked Ducky what he thought, what his impressions were, and commented that I was happy he’d sung along on a few songs. His reply startled me as much as the lady’s comments in the foyer. He hadn’t known too many of the songs. With Ducky’s comment came my epiphany, I knew these songs and I had a love of these songs, a love of this music that brought tears to my eyes with the first cords of The Greenleaves Of Summer. I HAVE AN UNDYING LOVE OF FOLK MUSIC because of Girl Scouts. Folk music led to my love of Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, The Mamas and the Papas, to Cat Stevens, Peter, Paul, and Mary, Loggins and Messina, and Bob Dylan. Thank God for Girl Scouts and all the lessons it taught me.

Okay, so I have to ask, if you love folk music too, do you love folk dancing? If you love folk music are you a head banger too? Because I really love Led Zepplin, David Bowie, Eric Clapton, and Clannad. Thank God I’m a DJ. And if you love music, do you know why? Does it speak to your heart? Is it the sound track of your life? Does each person you love come with a song attached?

You will be asked to put your pencils down in 10 minutes. The clock starts now.

I love my computer

I've been on the internet for about eight years now, which is pretty funny when you consider it took my boss about a year to drag me kicking and screaming to even use my computer at work.
Now you can't get me off of it. Rose sent me this cartoon in a forwarded, forwarded, forward (you know the ones) and it just so spoke of me that I had to share - because I know it speaks to you, too.

It doesn't bother me that all my friends are online. No it doesn't, not at all. My friends are caring and loving. My friends are talented and versed. My friends will offer up their arguements, share their laughter, and shed their tears over crimes, the sublime and the humorous. My friends are in Utah, Pennsylvania, Oregon, Colorado, California, Arizona, Montana, Minnesota, Kansas, England, Demark, Canada, and where you are.

With my friends I spread my wings. Learn things I'd have never known.

In cyberspace I am wize. And sometimes I am downright dumb. I have a sense of humor (despite what exhubby number two said.) In cyberspace I have a personality (now that number two is history that is true.) In cyberspace I can be me. I can wax poetic, even if I don't recognize iambic pentameter. In cyberspace I can laugh about my double zipcode, menopausal butt.

So who are you in cyberspace?

Honor His Legacy

I was raised in a diverse household. My dad complained loudly about Mexicans and had his token black friend, but never considered himself racist. It must have been Oscar (a great guy,) his token black friend and the fact he didn’t feud with our next door Mexican neighbors or the Cubans across the street that led him to this belief. I’ve no clue. He said he picked up his opinions in the army.

My mom, on the other hand, believes in equality and diversity. She taught us to question values and action, not skin colour or birthright. Which is pretty good when you consider my mother comes from a formerly aristocratic, upper crust family of lost wealth and position. She is the reason I believe, so strongly, in equality. My father is the basis as to why I stand firm on those beliefs.

So you can see, I saw first hand a battle of wills and beliefs right at home. My mother urged us to make friends of all based on themselves; my dad had a VERY loud cow when a black friend of mine asked me to the prom. We moved six months later to Oregon, I can honestly say it had nothing to do with David.

I remember the day Kennedy was shot, both of them. I remember the day Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was shot. I remember the day Anwar Sadat was shot. I have (to this day) no understanding of how someone could hate so much, they would kill for it, I now know it was fear, ignorant, hateful fear, but I still don’t understand it. These men who worked to make the world a better place, whether it was in just their own corner of the world or on a larger platform, paid for their beliefs, and today most of them are honored for their groundbreaking vision.

I know my position won't be accepted by most in a positive nature, but I have to ask, how would Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. view affirmative action? Isn’t it a principal that stands in direct opposition of everything this great visionary stood for? And what is so affirmative about that action? Doesn’t affirmative action promote racial discord? Doesn’t affirmative action promote a division of races? Doesn’t affirmative action promote segregation to an extent? True, not all programs that are promoted place black students in black only schools, but doesn’t it tell those students that they couldn’t have gotten there without affirmative action? What is so affirmative about that?

r. King said it so poignantly in his “I have a Dream” speech on that hot August afternoon in 1963,

“The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.”

We cannot walk alone. Wow. He noted that the black community was rising up, but that brothers all must link hands and as one walk to our free destiny together. Whites can not do that chained by hate. Blacks cannot do that chained by hate. Our destinies are entwined, and we can not move forward through the actions of hatred, fear, or segregation.

Honor diversity, all. God, thank you for the memory, vision, and wisdom of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Jesus Christ (the first non-violent revolutionary – to quote Stephen Stills,) and those who have gone before and after to unite a nation (their nations) as one, not divided by race, sex, or religion, but by the brotherhood of man.

Sith

It’s Just Too Big A Risk Factor

Ducky and I were driving down I-105 the other day and noticed that the Oregon Lottery was up to $131 million. Wow, that’s a lot of bird feed. Now you might have noticed, I didn’t say it was Megabucks nor did I say it was Powerball. Why? Because I don’t play the lottery, and really never have (really never have equates, rarely in Celespeak.) My mom buys tickets every week, I’m not really sure why. My dad never forgets to remind my mom to buy THE tickets, I think it’s just to have something to bug her about. Ducky buys tickets just a wee bit more often than I do.

As we were driving home from our kindly friend’s wake we had that great hypothetical question discussion, What Would You Do If You Won The Lottery? Of course it’s hypothetical, when was the last time YOU won the lottery? Okay, when was the last time you knew someone who won the lottery? Not close? When was the last time you heard of someone, you knew, who knew someone who’d won the lottery? See it can get unwieldy; playing six degrees of separation to Kevin Bacon would be easier. In our hypothetical Q&A session Ducky and I always conclude we wouldn’t buy a bigger house. (Thank God we’re on the same page, because this could be a deal breaker.) Buying a new house is what everyone does when they win the lottery.

It comes down to this: there is Ducky, there is me, and there is Arlo. Two people and a Bassett that weighs more than an average teen, we don’t require a lot of space. The only time our little 1,044 square foot house feels small is at the holidays. And then it feels wonderful. I love having the family for Christmas. But that is only one day a year. If I’m lucky it’s a weekend and they stay overnight – well Psam and Ben do anyway if she doesn’t have to work. But for the rest of the year our house is perfection. So why would I want a bigger house? It is just more space to accumulate junk. There would be just more surface to grab dust. And there would be more corners to collect cobwebs. I mean really it is cleaning waiting to happen. I ask you, who would do that to themselves?

Plus, when you win the lottery suddenly “friends” and “long lost family” crawl out of the woodwork. My dad has a saying, “If you can’t come see me when I’m alive, don’t come see me when I’m dead.” (actually that’s my saying, too) My dad is talking about not having a funeral and being cremated, but doesn’t it pertain to winning the lottery? Sheesh, when was the last time the government did something for you besides licensing and taxation? And yet, they will be the first with their hand out, wanting their fair share.

The lottery is just to big a risk. A government backed pyramid scheme. Who needs the stress, excess family, and cleaning? See it just causes more cleaning to prepare for the family that is going to show up (uninvited) offering to help you with your tax audit by the government when they didn’t get a big enough share the first time around. It’s insanity I tell you, who thought this through?

Of course, you know, I could buy Arlo a new collar. Pay off the girl’s college loans, and replace the heater in Ducky’s car, and pay someone to clean my flowerbeds once a year.

So what about you? Bigger house?

If I am the moon, am I a verified Lunatic?

I got this from Lisa, who got it from Sid, who.... I love blogs.

You are The Moon

Hope, expectation, Bright promises.

The Moon is a card of magic and mystery - when prominent you know that nothing is as it seems, particularly when it concerns relationships. All logic is thrown out the window.

The Moon is all about visions and illusions, madness, genius and poetry. This is a card that has to do with sleep, and so with both dreams and nightmares. It is a scary card in that it warns that there might be hidden enemies, tricks and falsehoods. But it should also be remembered that this is a card of great creativity, of powerful magic, primal feelings and intuition. You may be going through a time of emotional and mental trial; if you have any past mental problems, you must be vigilant in taking your medication but avoid drugs or alcohol, as abuse of either will cause them irreparable damage. This time however, can also result in great creativity, psychic powers, visions and insight. You can and should trust your intuition.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

And Along Came Blogging

And Then Came of Blogging

Over the years on the net (ooh all eight of them Cele) I’ve been involved with three writing groups. And over those eight years I’ve resisted joining others. Why? Because being involved in one writing group, and a weekly workshop is enough for me.

My daughter, a poet of quality work in my esteem, introduced me to Red Rose’s Workshop back in the days of Live Universe. I loved the group from the first night. It challenged me, got me back into writing, and lead me to a fulfilling hobby of continuity critiquing for some incredible authors. Then Live Universe, folded. Drats! I built my website for the group and we moved to our current location. The main core has never changed, but people have come and gone and more are welcomed. Through the workshop I joined Writerspad. When two of my friends left to build their own group they invited me along as a moderator. I’ve been happy with The Write List (TWL) now since gosh, 2000 or so.

And then came blogging. Wow, what a concept, the promotional and networking dream of a tool for writers and readers. Writers have the opportunity to hone their skill, draw in potential readers, and build a community. Readers have the opportunity to test drive new authors.

Remember that comment about one workshop and one writing group being enough for me? Oh my friend that does not hold true for blogs. I am a blogging slut of the highest degree. I will blog anywhere I find fit. With anyone who turns my head with their enticing words, come-ons, and contests. Hi, my name is Cele and I’m a blog-a-holic. (nods to Lisa in the corner, good donuts girlfriend.)

An ongoing discussion on the merits of blogging at TWL recently included the following statement by a publisher of all people.

"Blogs about writing are great, but they won't sell books."

I won’t name names, she’s a delightful and successful woman with her own publishing company. But I feel she is operating under a false impression. Or, as strong as I feel about this, maybe I’m operating under a false impression. I feel blogs by writers, and blogs about writing, sell books. Why? Sheesh, well because I buy a lot of books based on what I read and who I read at blogs. Aren’t I the model that all sales calculations are based on? Me, Jane Doh! American consumer.

So my questions today (for the whole 4 people who read my blog) for either reader or writer are theses:
1) How many blogs do you read and why?
2) What attracts you to specific blogs and keeps you coming back?
And 3) Would you or do you buy books because of blogs you frequent? Hmmm, maybe that is three and two half questions. I’m a product of new math so it’s hard to tell.

© 7 January 2007 Calista Cates

gods of Tomorrow

gods of Tomorrow

I am Queen Procrastinator. No way you say! It can’t be! Well I am here to tell you all it is true with a capital QP.

For me there is always tomorrow. And tomorrow does not always bode well when I’ve put off doing something at work. Now I’ve been lucky, providence has helped me out of a bind several times when tomorrow turned into today. But how often can you tempt the gods of Tomorrow? I’m not about to flaunt my procrastination, tempt fate, or failure so I’ve learn to make myself DO IT NOW.

I’ve long learned to admit my procrastinating ways, to let others know. Hey, this is me procrastinating Cele, what do you mean you want it tomorrow? Do you really know when tomorrow will arrive? I do, so don’t stop me, because I’m doing it now. That’s right, now. I’ve long learned that the best way for me to get around my procrastinating ways, is to address the problem now. And it seems to work.

Except when it comes to writing…er and taking down the Christmas Tree I have long learned to not put off jotting down that thought for a poem. And yet for all that knowing I still put off jotting down that kewl little line that comes to mind. You know, the one that the entire poem will hang on and shows up just when I’m falling asleep. I mean shit, how hard is it to get up for a nano second, run to the computer, and type in to my edit file a line? And yet friends and neighbors, I will procrastinate and say manãna.

No longer. My poem for the week is done. Remember this week’s topic is Beginnings I spent three days pawing and fawning over my 24 lines, and I’m happy with the result. My rhythmic voice seemed to show up. Thank you Lord, it’d been on hiatus for a while now. I’ve now blogged twice for the week, some kind of record I’m sure. Procrastination cured, hardly. It’s just on hiatus.

I am a realist you know.

Happy 2007

Happy 2007

I’m not one for making New Years’ Resolutions. Why? Because I’ve always (like most Americans) failed miserably at even the teeniest of self set goal. But this year I thought to set two for myself, well a third one is whispered in the deepest, most unreachable depth of my soul and is known only to me. The other two mentioned are public.

First, I want to write more poetry; 2006 was abysmal for me. I have years where I have written at least a poem a week. In 2006 I was lucky if I wrote one poem month. How could I possibly consider myself a poet on that sort of diet? Oh yes, I’ve lots, truckloads, and tons of excuses, but they are now in the past. And towards the end of the year I began blogging more. That is a positive, but I need more self–action. This week’s Writer’s Workshop topic is Beginnings, kind of apropos don’t cha think? Well okay, I set the topic each week myself so that I shouldn’t play on such a coincidence. But it is the start of a new year, a new attitude.

Second, I’m going to blog more. So I thought I’d start with January 1st, okay I meant it to be the morning, not evening of the first day of a new year, but well at least I hit the first 24 hours. See excuses already and new parameters already. I don’t plan on blogging daily, but more often. I plan on being inspired by the world and bloggers around me. Whether it’s a MeMe, or world altering events I want to blog, and get a poem in.

Speaking of MeMe’s I read a really good one already today. From Joshilyn Jackson over at Faster Than Kudzu, here’s the Booky Goodness MeMe…

DIRECTIONS
1. Take five books off your bookshelf.
2. Book #1 -- first sentence
3. Book #2 -- last sentence on page fifty
4. Book #3 -- second sentence on page one hundred
5. Book #4 -- next to the last sentence on page one hundred fifty
6. Book #5 -- final sentence of the book
7. Make the five sentences into a paragraph:

Here is mine:

I was six years old the first time I had an inkling God would not always protect me. “Do you see her in the Sala showing her legs and listening to the radio?” I was torn between an ugly urge to throw them all out and glee at the idea of new clients.

“I guess we better go on in and say hey,” I said. And anguished after all that had been left undone.

My five books were…
1) Wives and Sisters – Natalie Collins (she writes a killer first sentence.)
2) Thrilled to Death – Jennifer Apodaca
3) Middlesex – Jeffrey Eugenides
4) gods in Alabama – Joshilyn Jackson
5) Rumors of War – Peggy Tibbets (didn't you think Peggy and Joss went together well?)

So join in if you dare, it wasn’t as easy as it looks (I’d originally picked Jane Austen, then another, then another looking for a second line – wow, now I’m cheating in blogdom.) So watch out for me in outer blogness, because you all know I’m a joyful blog slut.

Sith

Dining On Humble Duck

I think it was in late November I challenged Bishop Rick to a friendly wager. Loser in the Las Vegas Bowl blogs for the other. I had started writing before the bowl, ripped up, deleted, erased, all in abject frustration to capture the right words and succintley place them on paper. Then the game played it self out and my blog wrote itself. I won't call either inspired.

I’m not sure which was more excruciating; watching the Ducks embarrass them selves in the Las Vegas Bowl, or wrapping Christmas presents the whole time. Both sucked, of course not as big as my Ducks did. The hot slogan of our times, “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.” But this was too monumental a lapse in sanity for it to remain unknown. Why? Because they aired the whole cursed, gridiron fiasco on national TV. Much to the delight of BYU fans everywhere and Bob Stoops who to this very moment is still jumping up and down yelling at the screen, “See. See. See.”

BYU’s Cougars looked great and played a great game against the scrimmage team that showed up at Sam Boyd Stadium. BYU was sharp, decisive, executing almost every play like the fine honed college athletes that they are, a testament to the quality of Mountain West Conference football. Ah, but the Cougs also had a hidden ace up their collective sleeves. A secret threat unleashed covertly upon an unsuspecting Oregon squad (long before either team hit Las Vegas.) Offensive coach Gary Crowton. Yes, an insidious plot hatched to make Nick Allioti look better (that doesn’t’ take much) and yet, despite the assistance of Crowton’s ineptitude, Allioti (and the Ducks) are still defenseless.

Mon Dieu, Cele. Boo hoo. I know you are thinking, “Cele’s a fair-weather fan.” Honey, there is no such thing as fair weather in Oregon. Just rain and wind, therefore I’m in it for the long haul. I love my Ducks, and of course, there is always next year. Mike Bellotti says he’ll be back (and despite his inability this year to pick the correct quarterback) I still like this guy. Mike, please look at your freshman quarterback and see the future of Duck Football. Its name is Nick Costa. Coach, demote Leaf and Dixon to backups, give Costa the ball and stand back.

And while I’m at it, what on God’s Green Earth were you guys thinking? Those helmets have got to go. Bring back the Mallard Green O’s (well of course they have to now, the piss yellow ones are jinxed, and we all know how superstitious athletes are.) In fact Oregon, get off the fashion wagon and play some football, who cares that you have 48 uniform combinations, you only play 12 games a season, 13 if you are (un)lucky. That means 35 of those combinations are redundant. Think of the tuitions that could be paid with the money saved on redundant uniforms, and those ugly pee yellow helmets. And the training time the team will recoup when not having to decide with uniform combination to wear. It boggles the logical mind.

To the Cougars, I wish you the best and give you kudos for a game well played. You gave your seniors (or they gave you) the final victory of their college careers. A great winning season full of happy memories to keep you warm during the long Wasatch winter.

But, next year could you please beat up on Notre Dame? And while you’re at it, cut your teeth on some Sooners. Bob Stoopes is fun to watch when he’s whining.

Now Bishop Rick is the winner of our little wager, so really the blog is his to call.

Cele

ABC's of MeMe

ABC’s of MeMe

A- Available or single? Heee, hee are you looking?
B- Best Friend? Ducky, my husband
C- Cake or Pie? Hmmmm, Banoffe pie (okay I’ve only had it once, but it was decadant)
D- Drink of Choice? Coffee
E- Essential Item? Mascara
F- Favorite Color? Green first, cinnamon second (today)
G- Gummi Bears or Worms? Worms, Benjamin shares them with me
H- Hometown? Florence, Oregon (well I was raised in LaMirada CA)
I- Indulgence? General Hospital (I’m a junkie)
J- January or February? February, left over sweethearts
K- Kids and names? 1 and 2 halves – Krista, 30, Jenny 32, Missy 26
L- Life is incomplete without? Laughter and love
M- Marriage Date? July 23rd (you do mean the most recent, right?)
N- Number of Siblings? 3, 1 sister, two brothers
O- Oranges or apples? pears
P- Phobias/Fears? Snakes – and there’s nothing unreasonable about it.
Q- Favorite Quote? “Snakes, it had to be snakes.” Harrison Ford in Indiana Jones
R- Reason to Smile? My grandson - Benjamin
S- Season? Spring – need you ask?
T- Tag three people! You, you, and you over there
U- Unknown Fact About Me? I tried out for the roller derby when I was 16
V- Vegetable you hate? Beets, I always thought that is what your parents gave you when they were mad.
W- Worst habit? Procrastination
X- X-Rays you've had? Denta scan, kind of kewl, but expensive.
Y- Your favorite food? Ice Cream – BJ’s Cappaccino Fudge…or a rare, BBQ’d steak
Z- Zodiac? Aquarius

Friends are gifts you give yourself

Friends are gifts you give yourself

Merry Christmas! The adage is old, but the content forever
up to date and constantly being up dated, Friends are gifts
you give yourself. I learned a rhyme as a Brownie all the way
back in second grade.

Make new friends,
but keep the old.
One is silver
and the other's old.

It's as simple as that. In this season of giving I want to say thank
you to my friends. The old ones who are gold, the shiny new ones
who are my silver, and the ones I will make in 2007. You are my
constant companions. My inspiration. My conscience. The
humorous gifts I receive every morning.

Rose, Natalie, and Peggy. The friends who will be with me long into
my old age. You are my countless blessings each and everyday.
Thank you for the yesterday's we've shared, the today's in which we
laugh and cry, and the tomorrow's that will be countless wonders.

Jake, Jen, Joss, and Mir you are such delightful surprises.

My gold and my silver. Provocative. Invaluable. Constant. Sinfully delicious.

To my new friends. Rick, Mary Lisa, Jazzy, and Sideon I look forward to
many mornings of coffee and blogs.

Merry Christmas!
Sith
Cele