Nov 30, 2007

A Good Hair Day For Erica


Erica shows off her new coiff! Go hug her neck and wish her a Happy Birthday!


Hey, Erica! I'm glad you were born, darlin'!
What? When'd you get home last night? No, I'm not shouting!! THIS IS SHOUTING:

You said your birthday is 12 / 1 / 1975
which means you are 32 years old and about:

59 years 1 month younger than Walter Cronkite, age 91
54 years 5 months younger than Nancy Reagan, age 86
51 years 6 months younger than George Herbert Bush, age 83
44 years 2 months younger than Barbara Walters, age 76
42 years 0 months younger than Larry King, age 74
35 years 10 months younger than Ted Koppel, age 67
32 years 5 months younger than Geraldo Rivera, age 64
29 years 5 months younger than George W. Bush, age 61
24 years 5 months younger than Jesse Ventura, age 56
20 years 1 month younger than Bill Gates, age 52
15 years 3 months younger than Cal Ripken Jr., age 47
9 years 5 months younger than Mike Tyson, age 41
5 years 4 months younger than Jennifer Lopez, age 37
0 years 1 month older than Tiger Woods, age 31
6 years 7 months older than Prince William, age 25

and that you were:

25 years old at the time of the 9-11 attack on America
24 years old on the first day of Y2K
21 years old when Princess Diana was killed in a car crash
19 years old at the time of Oklahoma City bombing
18 years old when O. J. Simpson was charged with murder
17 years old at the time of the 93 bombing of the World Trade Center
15 years old when Operation Desert Storm began
13 years old during the fall of the Berlin Wall
10 years old when the space shuttle Challenger exploded
8 years old when Apple introduced the Macintosh
7 years old during Sally Ride's travel in space
5 years old when Pres. Reagan was shot by John Hinckley, Jr.
3 years old at the time the Iran hostage crisis began
not yet 1 year old on the U.S.'s bicentennial Fourth of July


Great Farookin’ Hair by Jimbo
Transplant Artistry by
Elisson

Subduing an Eager Cock

One of my favorite bloggers is the Irrelephant. He's such a good writer, and a seemingly good person. How could you not respect a guy that loves trains? Anyway, he's become a bit of a gentleman farmer, by virtue of having a small yard for chickens. Here's something neither I nor my dear mother knew about overzealous cocks:

I knew this wasn't going to do so I grabbed him around his middle, hoisted him up in front of all his ladies and held him upside down.

Yeah, I know that sounds strange and is probably just a little unsettling to younger viewers but I'm told by Chicken Experts that it's the most expeditious way to subdue an eager cock.

As a young girl, my Mom hated the cocks on her family farm, and actually wrung the neck of one randy rooster. But, I think her cock-subduing skills went by the wayside after marriage.

I am, after all, the last of eight children.

Nov 29, 2007

Like Pushing a Rope...twice.

My little town has its own Natural Laws of Inverse Proportion.

How quickly you need something will determine:

  • How slowly it will be bid on,
  • How much the vendor will expect you to do,
  • How much the contractor really believes the urgency to be.

How expertly you need it rendered will determine:

  • How little professionalism you can expect,
  • How void of ideas the vendor will be when faced with unexpected problems,
  • How many times it will have to be re-done.

I wish it were funny. Consider: There's a HUGE project that, when finished, will bring hundreds of thousands millions of folks to see your handiwork for at least the next 50 years. Yet, somehow it's just not important to do one's best work. "Just enough is good enough."

There is no glory in that kind of Slack.

That's the overarching, prevailing attitude in this town, unfortunately. I think it's the Tourist-Sucker Syndrome writ large. You can be as crappy as you like, and still make money because next week will bring in a whole new crop of pigeons to be played. Well and good if you're one of the local establishments here that hasn't dusted the baseboards or air-intake vents in almost 40 years. Why should you? Money for nothing and the checks are free...

Or consider a nice-enough restaurant that thinks itself on par with the tony establishments to the north. There is simply no comparison. Local advisers to the restaurant association here had suggestions for the lagging business. The owner was indignant! She was the Queen of Corridor into town! Of course she is. The City Council works very hard to keep good chain-restaurants away from the heart of the tourist district.

That's why you can't find a Starbucks in the heart of town. It would actually constitute some righteous reckonin' of capitalistic competition, and that would be the end of so many dynasties here.

And that idea extends to every business of every level here. Salaries are low and housing/business prices are stratospheric. And everyone here votes Democrat. How can people afford to live here? Why, by getting a government job, of course!

Meanwhile, I have a deadline, and likely more than one television team showing up in a week for a big event. Every.single.part. of this project has had to be done twice. Except for the parachute.

My parachute is still doing its job, as it has been for the last two months, and it only cost me about 5 minutes of internet surfing, $69 and a bit of old rope I had in the trunk of my car. It's the only part of this project that has worked well, on time, the first time, and under budget.

Yeah, I'm underpaid.

Nov 27, 2007

"¿Por quĂ© no te callas?"



Photography is indeed an art.




Update! "Weekend polls showed that ever since the king of Spain publicly told him to "shut up" in Chile two weeks ago, support for Chavez's move to seize absolute power in Venezuela has fallen below 50%."

h/t Insty.




Picture stolen from Babalu.

Nov 24, 2007

The Retail Surge is Working?


Instapundit makes a wry observation about the media's reluctance to acknowledge the true strength of our economy, while consumers are busily exhausting their resources:

I admire their courage and self-sacrifice. But will this continuous hard service produce a broken consumer army?


See, that may be just the wedge-issue the naysayers need. This type of onslaught of consumerism and spending in the war on retailers will just encourage more guerrilla marketing tactics.

Pretty soon, the smaller retailer cells will follow al-Wally World's lead and will begin slashing and pulling down prices at all hours of the night, in an effort to empty our wallets and spread our spending around until it's as thin as a Clinton prevarication.

This is just the beginning of the escalation of hostilities. I'm waiting it out, however, and will enlist only when things are looking absolutely bleak.

I'm a patriot, sure, but I have my price, and we haven't reached that point yet.

Courage.

Nov 22, 2007

Soccer-noculars

Or Bi-Soculars. Or something. Happy Thanksgiving.



None of this disturbs me so much as does the guy in the bunny ears.

h/t: haha.nu

Nov 21, 2007

There Used to Be a Post Here

It is gone now. Thank you. That is all.

("save" and "publish" are two entirely different ideas, entirely different buttons.)

Now, back to your regularly scheduled blog reader pings...

Oh, and all the blame goes to Rachel Lucas.

UPDATE: For those who just hate a mystery... Rachel, she of the most excellent writing skills in the blogosphere, wanted to know if there was a good IQ test online, so folks were providing links. At around 11:00 last night, I decided to take one of the tests. Nevermind that I had worked two jobs that day and was enjoying the buzz of an adult beverage. So I got the results and posted them into the drafts folder of blogger for future amusement.

As I mentioned in the comments, the Jolly Roger and I have had an ongoing IQ-Test War. Neither has won it yet, as we both get the same score... whether higher or lower than that one that my panel of Slackers witnessed this morning. Right after I had showed the result to the JR, I went to return to my blog, but hit "publish" instead of "save". Those with evil little blog aggregators saw a post that stayed up less than 5 seconds. The rest of ya, well, you'll have to bribe Erica and maybe two others. Heh.

I have no desire to discuss my IQ with anyone, much less on my blog, because I think it the tackiest thing in the world. And it is. Gah!

So, Slackers and hangers-on, if you wanna give it a go sometime this Holiday, whilst in a tryptophan-induced coma, here's a link.
I just don't wanna know about it.

Nov 20, 2007

Florida Blogger Bash

I've come up with a name for it, just need a date and place:

Jean and Joan and a'Who Knows Who.

I'm thinking the post-Holiday blues will be kicking in around January 24th or thereabouts.

Gotta run. Ghost Stories tonight!

Nov 19, 2007

Saturday Special

Just because she seemed like someone I'd like to meet, I arranged to meet with Jean and Ponder some thing with her this past Saturday. I had planned on a peaceful cruise down A1A, with Gloria Estefan's
90 Millas crankin' on the absolutely awesome 10-speaker surround sound in my new Jetta; sunroof raked back to let in the inspiring Autumn liturgy of sun and sky while I worshiped to a Cuban beat. If the Buena Vista Social Club musicians aren't gonna be the house band in Heaven, I'm gonna have to stay here.

However, I arrived at Snack Jack's 20 minutes late! I hate being late and lost, so by the time I found Jean, all of my German genetics had taken over and I was revving and gunning and in full Alpha mode. My Slack? Gone. The Latin beat? Vanished.

Must. Find. Jean.

I'm hopelessly wound up, as Jean noted. She, however, is brim-full with good humor, (awesome smile!) polite listening skills and an undercurrent of warmth that flows from her soul. She wears the coolest specs, which I immediately coveted but never told her...and does the most neat-o work I've never heard of! Blonde and brilliant. Damn!

Immediately I felt like I was with a friend of many years, simply picking up where we'd left off. Catching up. I wanted to slow it down, but lacked a rev-limiter on my brain.She survived it and me, so hopefully we'll get together again soon.

Time for a Florida Cracker BloggerBash or some such. Soon.

Nov 18, 2007

Drive Time with The Jolly Roger

Elisson only thinks he knows what drafting looks like.

This is a video of the Jolly Roger doing what he does best--at a race he was in at Robling Road in Savannah, Ga. Obviously he Ain't Skeerd:



Somehow, driving in Mexico City was more of a challenge.



Here he is in Daytona:

Teaspoon Slide Guitar

This one's for Denny:



His name is Hannes Coetzee and he's from South Africa.

h/t: haha.nu

Nov 17, 2007

Listless

Here's a party that not only am I late to, but I have actually completely missed the invitation:

TO-DO LIST has been a magazine and a blog. Now it's a book, To-Do List: From Buying Milk to Finding a Soulmate, What Our Lists Reveal About Us, a collection of 100 lists and the stories behind them.

Love me. Love my lists. Meh. I'm not so sure it's such a great revealer of hidden motivations. For one thing, now that it's officially a meme-writ-large, how can anyone hope to write an honest list? I could care less about lists that other bloggers make because at this point, it's a contrivance. You might as well be planting questions for politicians to answer.

I used to be a devotee of The Sidetracked Home Executive. It's a great system for organizing your unwritten list of oughts and shoulds. But it, too, starts with lists. I've used it at work and at home and found myself happily organized, neat, and sleeping well at night having put all of the "screaming monkeys" of obligation tidily to bed in their little cages of conscientious compliance. Used to.

I also have a mental list of great blog names, book titles, stage names and quirky advertisement ledes. I still have a written list, somewhere, of printing-press terms that would make for great gymnastic moves or criminal offenses. Don't ask. It's so obscure to anyone outside of the printing industry as to be geeky beyond all hope.

All of my lists involve the manipulation of words and ideas. I can sit very still, Cuba Libre in hand, eyes closed, and be busily arranging my lists, rewriting my lists, organizing my lists and thinking of ways my lists can help me win fame and recognition. The casual observer might think I'm slacking, but I'm actually working my little feathery synapses to their molecular pins.

[Update: I changed the title of this post for something better. See? I can't help myself.]

Just this morning I was making a list of things that go "beep" in my house, car, purse, or desk. Why? Because one fine morning I'm going to wake up and find that beeping stopwatch wherever it's hiding and smash it with a ball-peen hammer. Yes, the rounded side. So that all of my frustration can be focused into one lovely, case-hardened pinpoint of satisfying destruction. And then I'm afraid the hounds of hell will be released and the cell phone will be next, then the coffee pot, the microwave, the smoke detector with ancient batteries, and EVERY FARKIN' BEEP that BILL EFFING GATES has ever programmed into the HELL that IS WINDOWS and that goes ESPECIALLY for the 2AM "Important Updates" that cause my computer to shut down and re-start with that farookin' loud WINDOWS theme turned all the way up because I was listening to Erica's latest earworm last night and forgot to turn the speakers down. And now I'm awake, dammit.

[Another Update: my Volkswagen dings incessantly for all kinds of reasons. A pox on the Germans! Can't leave the door open on it either, just to vacuum the darn thing. I sure hope some angels are gettin' their wings. Fargin' Krauts. Yes, I can say that cuz I are one.]

I'm posting this under the label "Enemies of Slack" although you can earn cred at The Slack for making lists and completely ignoring them. In fact, it's good for your health.

Nov 16, 2007

Stephen Green Takes a Hit for the Team

While selflessly watching the unwatchable and reporting back to the home crowd, Stephen Green, the inimitable VodkaPundit, suffered a terrible setback. He needs immediate help:

7:54pm My favorite cocktail shaker, a Christmas/Chanukah gift from a couple years ago, has developed a leak. I blame the speeded-up campaign season. Also, I wish I were kidding. It's a gorgeous shaker. I had to make this new martini with the Emergency Backup Travel Shaker. Sigh.


I would suggest this elegant flashback to a better time, featured of course, in UnCrate. Ever since I saw it about a week ago, I've been trying to think of a way to link it to Stephen without him thinking I'm mashing on him or something. Now I have a totally legit reason to pimp his excellent debate drunk-blogging and perhaps drum up some support for his liver.

Nov 15, 2007

From the Land that Gave Us AbbA...

Do they just live such a sheltered life in Sweden that everyone from there is congenitally convinced of their superiority--like a junior-high football captain in a small school from a small town? Because, the Swedes here are total goobers.

Having them on an association committee is like being asked to allow some "special olympians" into your particular game of hard-ball. Their English is poor, but they won't admit it. They don't understand half of the conversations, so they just keep insisting that their version of things is the better idea, or wait for someone to say something intelligent and then they jump in and repeat it as though they thought of it. Or maybe they're just practicing their English. Either way, they can't even fake a good, "ya'll" in their condescending written advertising for their business, instead opting for "you all" in quotes. And that is the least offensive of their typos. If you tell them there is a mistake, they stare at you unblinking and unresponsive. It's too precious. And the typos remain! Because the Swedes are convinced that they are superior! Assimilate, small-town hicks!

Folks, it takes quite a bit of a stretch to make my homies look like freakin' Einsteins.

The Swedes here knit their advertising out of reindeer sheddings and Publisher pre-sets and fill them with every picture and hokey clip-art they can pirate off the internet. And then they put this forth as a superior product to compete with a professionally produced brochure that has a theme, scheme, and message.

It would be cute and laughable if they weren't so serious, and closed to any real input. They plan to take over my little town, so they show up everywhere and insist they can do things better, and save us a ton of money if we'd let them design things, set prices for our business,dictate policy, and sell our products and act as agents and go-betweens--all the while insisting that they alone would be offered everyone's best rate. Because, you see, they have a website that is going to Rock Our World.

But the pitiful things they are so proud of would get them laughed out of any real city--hell, out of any real junior high school. There are kids in elementary school here that can design a better interactive website than the Swedish Contingency.

It must be that the Swedish lifestyle--plush and soft and cushy--never affords any sharp edges for their intellect and creativity to push against. Weeks and weeks of vacation, very little competition, bone-chilling cold, and mind-numbing music make for some very stunted cultural growth. However, they have millions of dollars, so they're never going to ask, learn or observe. They have come to conquer.

I've lived in another country where possibly I could have considered my learning and intelligence to be far superior to my host country's denizens. Fortunately, I was smart enough to know how much I didn't understand and how much there was to learn. But then, my object wasn't to conquer.

You know, if the peacenik Swedes are this determined to conquer, the worst that can happen to our country is that men may start wearing hot pants again. Other cultures, more determined and even more backward, just may insist on even more frightening cultural changes.

Just sayin'...

Nov 14, 2007

Music City Madness - Update!

Just found out that Greg Griffin, cousin to the Jolly Roger, has made the Sweet Sixteen on CMT's Music City Madness contest.

You guys rock! Thanks for all who voted previously.

He's up against some tough competition in this round, and I can't say that the boy-band is all that bad. Cute guys, fun song, fun video. Hard to compete with just the raw talent of a great voice and a very good song. Apples and Oranges to the untrained ear. Still, it's all good.

Go take a listen, if you like.

Wedding Notes

Gah. I'm the worst for updates.

The Wedding? Fabulous!

Her gown? Incredible.

The families? As strange and goofy as yours.

The Getaway Clothes? Hugo Boss suit for him, some stylish trench coat over *what?* for her! The getaway car? Shrinkwrapped and filled with balloons. As poor Paul emptied the balloons from one side, my sister gathered them up and reloaded them in from the other. Hilarious! Bubbles for everyone.

"No ifs, buts, or maybes, we're off making babies" lettered on the rear window. Other sister frowns, "but it doesn't say they're married." Yeeesh....

Pictures? Not yet. You see, I'm one of those people who needs to be in the moment in the moment. Stopping to take pictures is an analog, static procedure which dims the event and dulls the senses. I must live it, experience it, and enshrine it in my Monet of Memory. Fuzzy and evocative, my moments are mine to interpret as a whole entity. A well-paid photographer will capture what everyone else saw.

Me? I was there.

Nov 13, 2007

Cat-Door Death in My Little Town

Folks, this town plays for keeps.

"He's a big guy. I don't even know how he could fit through there," Elliot said. "Probably to get in and unlock the door. They said he had one arm through there and his head was caught in there like he was to reach up and unlock the door because there's no way he could fit through there."

You can't hire good help, or get a job completed on time, or motivate someone to do what you've paid them to do, oh no. But just let one little gal say, "No!" to some man, and watch the laser-like focus on a task: regaining lost ground at any price, any way, Right Now.

Proud. Stubborn. Dead.

I need to move away from this end of the gene pool.

Nov 12, 2007

Go Ahead. Make Me Care.

Cats are natural slackers. I am feeling this way, too, and am in awe of the sheer slackitude of this critter:


Yeah. I'm too lazy to post anything, but too tightly wound to not post something for you slackers to gawk at.

Nov 11, 2007

Subliminal Secret Agent

At last, there's hope for all the Beta Males out there! And for just a couple of sawbucks!

This is too good not to lift the liner notes directly from the website:

Turn into the ultimate James Bond, with this new experimental CD! Remain calm, cool and sophisticated at all times. Take risks. Boost your confidence. Tune into your inner powers of seduction. Become the ultimate man in just sixty minutes...


You know you want to listen to a sample.

And don't miss the Love Pack special, guys. Click on "listen to affirmations."

Special thanks to the Jolly Roger for this. I think.

From the Catfish Files

Forget the X-Files, although some of Catfish's emails would certainly earn that rating, and just get on the Catfish Files(TM) mailing list and get ready to fly.

Yes, it's perfectly safe for viewing. For doing? Not so much:

Satchmo Sentiments

The Newlyweds' first dance was to this beautiful bit of magic:


Nov 8, 2007

I Hate Memes...except this one!

cash advance


Heh. And I never went to college!

(Yes, of course it's total B.S. Still funny!)
Update: I'm getting smarter every day. (h/t Robin and Julie!)

Last Night Home


Our son will wed on Saturday. He lives in another state but is marrying a wonderful girl from Florida, and the nuptials will be not too far away from here.

So, he's spending the last days of his bachelorhood with the 'rents, sitting on the porch and smoking cigars with his old man, waiting for his Best Man to arrive from Australia, hasslin' his mom about her blog, getting heckled by his other buddies, and generally having a great time.

Plus, he brought home his entire wardrobe as laundry.

What, you may ask, is this fine young man reading while awaiting his wedding day? Some self-help advice? Some practical career manual? Some esoteric, transcendent philosophy?

Nothing less than my prized, signed copy of Freighter Captain that he's been whining for ever since I got it, the selfish brat!

Some things never change. He steals books from us all the time.

Now he'll have a very beautiful, well-read, and intelligent wife to steal them from. It's an even trade, however, since he's an excellent chef, artist, writer, and musician--and the most deviling prankster. (I fear what his victims/friends have in store for the getaway car.)

May God give them joy in this latest, and best prank: marriage!

Nov 7, 2007

Strictly Romantic

And just because it's still the best movie for dreamers. Your mileage may vary, but Dancing With the Stars can't hold a candle to Strictly Ballroom:


Nov 6, 2007

Three Comets in One Lifetime


Halley's, Hale-Bopp, and now, Holmes....which totally rocks the northeastern sky!

I guess you have to have an "H" surname to score some comet fame.

Do Smiths and Joneses never become astronomers?

Why I Have a Dog

Yes, it's likely as old as the hills, but that won't stop me:


h/t haha

Nov 4, 2007

Mandeville, Louisiana - Thanks!


You are visitor number 10,000, and it's always an honor to see you here!

10,000 visitors in 3 months. I have no idea if that's good or bad. Maybe it's all down hill from here.


Probably time for me to quit:



The Center Can't Hold

“The net regards hierarchy as a failure, and routes around it.”

Alan, over at Fresh Bilge, links to The Most Fascinating Thing I've Read since the penultimate Most Fascinating Thing I've Read. It seems the Center is breaking into nodes. From Hyperpeople:

What this means is that we all have the capability to create our own large-scale, low-cost wireless networks within our grasp. Meraki is already proving this in San Francisco, where Google and Earthlink had been fighting the telcos for years to get a city-wide free wireless network installed. Last week, Earthlink pulled out – they just couldn’t fight the politically power of AT&T. Meanwhile, since February, Meraki has been offering free Meraki Minis to anyone in San Francisco who wanted to donate a little of their own broadband to a free municipal WiFi network. Lately that network has been growing by leaps and bounds – no easy feat in a city which effectively broken up by a series of large hills. The “Free the Net SF” project already has almost 14,000 users – that’s nearly triple the number two months ago – and hundreds of nodes. It is proof that us mob can seize control of the spectrum and use it for our own ends.


That's just a tiny little speck on the thought horizon. This is the sort of gearhead writing that captures the imagination unlike any science fiction. Coupling this with Forbes' latest article about maverick bankers lending money to the poorest people in Mexico by sending out loan officers on scooters into the small villages to do "credit checks" of the most basic kind--talking to neighbors--makes for a new world order that no politician has the power to bring about. Or even stop, it seems.

Oh yes, you'll want to read the whole, long thing. Science fiction, or inevitability?

Sorry for the gearhead post. I'll try to keep that to a minimum. Extra tip of my beautiful, veiled hat to TJICistan.

Nov 3, 2007

Flight



Yes,
I think
on certain days
I would like
flying in a balloon
on days when I don't give a damn
where I go
or where I land
abandon myself to the wind,
like a hopeful seed
from some wistful flower

i'd plant myself
near new vistas
new neighbors
and grow naturally
to be as beautiful
as all the dreams
held deep
inside this
hopeful husk

my roots would sigh
in the rich loam
of life,
wriggling with joy
like a child's toes will
in the tides and sands
of summer beaches.
my chin would
point impudently
at the sun
my leafy arms
would gather in
the day
drinking in dews and desires

yes,
on certain days
dangerous, delightful breezes
call me upward
tugging at my tatters
until i just
have to
let go...


-2003

It Has Been My Experience...

...that the more blonde highlights I have in my hair, the higher my salary goes; regardless of whether my boss is male or female.

I need a raise...

Nov 2, 2007

Jungle Journey

We were visiting friends we had met in a small church in the inner city of Jacksonville. Chuck H. had been a tail-gunner in 'Nam, and his wife was the sweetest Valdosta peach in Georgia. Both had Jawja accents thick enough to grill for 10 minutes and still leave the insides of their words all soft and warm. Chuck and MaryNell and their five children regaled and reeled us into their world of the Huastecan jungle. We couldn't help but follow. All the way to Tamazunchale, Mexico.

With our 6 year old son in tow, we loaded up the old Corolla and made the 1,700 mile journey to visit our friends and learn to love what they loved. Arriving there, we were greeted by Virginia, their maid, who was, if possible, the very, very southern version of a Georgia peach. So demure and in charge and wonderful was she! So Aztec were her origins that to make her stoic heart laugh became an obsession with Chuck and MaryNell. In the safety of their home, Virginia learned to laugh much and tell wry jokes. As far as we knew...

My "See It and Say It in Spanish" book saw me through that wonderful week. I already had a proclivity for language and the connections of thought and sound, so it was that by the end of the week, I could listen to simple conversations and not miss too much.

We marveled at the large "little town" on the side of tropical mountains dotted with orange trees and banked by a good-sized river. The temperature was easily 110 degrees on a summer day, with humidity to match. The local tianguis, or market day, was not to be missed. My first taste of Canteloupe-Ade on that hot afternoon was a slaking sensation never to be forgotten!

Later, we accompanied Chuck on an evening excursion out into the jungle, to visit with friends in a small village. They wanted to hear him preach to their little congregation. After driving for almost 90 minutes over treacherous roads disguised as goat paths, we crossed a stream and parked the Bronco. From there, it was another hour long hike on the side of the mountain, through pastures of cows and Brahma bulls, past banana trees and naranjos, into the almost invisible village that consisted of thatch-roof huts, serious men, silent women, grinning little kids, and small animals.

We were welcomed, all along our hike, by one traveler or another, with the strangest touching of the hands... a fingertip handshake. It seemed so strange and uninvolved to greet another this way, and yet it was the stoic way of the ancient indigenous DNA there. So by the time we arrived in the village, we were almost "old hands" at this new greeting. We were ushered into one of the low, dark huts of earthen floor and neat appointments of rough-hewn stools.

The closeness of the hut's air, and the heaving lungs of the hikers all made for a sauna atmosphere of painful heat and sweat. From somewhere, a rather elegant offering of sweet, hot coffee in a plain cup was produced. I would have killed for an ice cold Coke at that moment and thought for sure the coffee would do me in, but within five minutes I felt refreshed and cool as a cucumber. I made a quick mental note of that heat-stroke cure for later.

We stayed for the church service and heard our friend, his rich Southern drawl not lost within his Spanish, speak plainly to these lovely folks whose native tongue was actually Nauhautl. He had a smile that was as genuine as a puppy, and a love that could not be feigned or faked in front of so honest a group of human flesh. I try to remember sometimes, that moment of completely human, and yet transcendent connection that I felt with both the man whom we admired and the people he would move heaven and earth for. A Real reality exists, not just because we think so, but because we can love so.

If any redemption is available for those who can at least appreciate such a moment, I hope that that salvation will extend to my penury of spirit when I need it most.

We said our goodbyes at midnight and ventured out into the massive, non-electric darkness of primeval night. Moonless, marvelous--lit only by stars--our path regressed through the orange-tree pastures. I was slipping along the rain-soaked path in my flip-flops now laden with clay globs, struggling with a long skirt and breathing out fearful blessings on the various Brahma beasts that greeted us out of the darkness with their shiny noses and great, horned heads. A more imposing and unsettling sight you can't imagine! Especially within the shock of your immense vulnerability. It was better to not think too much as I walked along.

A bumpy return to Tamazunchale, a sleepy tumble into humid sheets, the deadened sleep of exhaustion seemed an insufficient respite from the day's grueling journey. Too soon we were awakened by the clanging of the ice factory next door, the crowing of every rooster in town, the joy of children scrambling about. They bothered Virginia for tortillas and scrambled eggs and canteloupe and made her laugh at their American exuberance.

Our week quickly evaporated into the mysterious jungle atmosphere, and we three headed home with bright eyes and excited chatter. But the memories and friendships made there would take us much further, and we knew it even then. We had, after all, already picked out a place to live in that peaceful valley just off Carreterra 57...

Alas, it wasn't to be.

The sleepy town of Mexico City and 20 million of our closest friends awaited us.

Nov 1, 2007

November



November, half-sister to winter's cold heartache
brings thoughts that are sharp and as thin as the trees.
Sits still as a child who yearns to be noticed,
entreats me to rest 'fore the upcoming freeze.

I'll sit here aware in mysterious quiet,
pondering new years or old seasons' charms
And yearn to be loved when December's indifference
brings me inside to be warmed in your arms.

Every Silver Lining Has a Cloud


Now, that there's a post title just waiting for content.

Probably won't have to wait very long.

Update: I haven't made the first payment on my awesome new silver Jetta, and I put a dent in it. Sigh.

Informal Survey to Help Kelly Out

Kelly (mom of SIX!) is having an existential moment. She can't help it, she's been reading Ayn Rand, so yeah, a lot to think about.

Today, she's thinking about what women produce in the modern world, now that they don't churn butter or make soap:

I mean, I produce supper out of thin air every night..does that count? I produce miracle solutions to seeming impossible problems every now and then..does that count?
...I need to think about what would happen to the world if MOTHERS quit...


I think nobody could ever find their stuff ever again.