I remember the first time I saw the movie “Superman” with Christopher Reeves. I sat at the drive-in movie and watched Superman leap in the air, one arm raised high, and one leg bent at the knee.
“Silly Superman! That’s not how you do it!” I scolded.
“Whaddya mean, Jayne? Heh-heh, like you’ve ever flown before” retorted Chris.
“Of course I’ve flown!!! In my dreams, dummy! It’s simple: ya’ take three steps forward, one step back, and jump!”
“Sweeeeetttt. Dude, whatever you’re smoking, pass it to me.”
“Chris, are you telling me you’ve never flown in your dreams?”
“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”
I grew up thinking that everybody flew in their dreams. I mean, everybody in my family flew in their dreams. I had my clever three-two-jump, as opposed to a one-two step, method. My baby brother, Jason, flew by accident. He said he would dream that he was just walking along, maybe trip or lose his balance, and as he would try to catch himself, he would find himself airborne. He would then “swim” through the air. We had all lost hope that sister Julie would ever fly – but it finally happened when she was in college. Hey, what can I say? She was a late bloomer in most of the things she did in life….hell, she didn’t talk a all until she was almost three!
But my sister Joanne had the best flying stuff. See, Jo could fly in outerspace. Jo flew to other planets rescuing people and fighting evil. Jo was a hero. I remember sitting at the dinner table one evening discussing all of our flying dreams:
Jayne: So Jo, you can fly in outer space?
Jo: Yep.
Jeff: How do you breathe?
Jo: Don’t need to.
John: How come? Do your lungs change or something?
Jo: Don’t know. Just don’t need to breathe, that’s all.
Jayne: And you’re a hero?
Julie: That sounds silly: Jo the hero.
Jo: That’s not my name in my dreams.
John: Ya’ mean you got a different name in your dreams?
Jo: Yep.
Jayne: Well, what is it?
Jo. Fighter JoJo, Intergalactic Space Warrior.
I kid you not – this was sometime around the early/mid 70’s, and my kidsister is known to other galaxies as an Intergalactic Space Warrior. Fighter Jojo, no less. I was jealous. I wanted a hero name. I still want a hero name! I mean, Airplane Jayne is a cool nickname – the coolest! But a hero name…..
And so today – EUREKA! The Internet Gods smiled upon me – and led me to the
Super Action Hero Name Generator. So, in my next action hero novel that I will write, I shall be known as either Flame Gilder or Wind Pirate
WHO ARE YOU?
Saturday, August 20, 2005
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Ta-Dah!!
Okay, sweetie darlings.....I went to the Doctor (the nice, but not so cute one) this morning. He told me that my lump was just-a-lump-and-not-the-"C"-thing. So woo-hoo!
And he told me he could tell by looking down my throat that I had been a very good....and very quiet girl.....
Please stop laughing....it's still not funny!
And he told me that I could start talking a little bit. But I fear that may be like an alcoholic having a little glass of wine. But I am trying to not talk too much......
My love and thanks to ya'll (even those of you who relished telling me, "shaddup!") for all the good thoughts, vibes and prayers.
And he told me he could tell by looking down my throat that I had been a very good....and very quiet girl.....
Please stop laughing....it's still not funny!
And he told me that I could start talking a little bit. But I fear that may be like an alcoholic having a little glass of wine. But I am trying to not talk too much......
My love and thanks to ya'll (even those of you who relished telling me, "shaddup!") for all the good thoughts, vibes and prayers.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Driving through Life
"Most of the conflicts in the world have been perpetuated on the delusion that God needs help."
Lecram made the above statement in a recent post, and posed the following question:
How would I craft that?
Well, I would set the scene in a car! It is, after all, where we American's spend most of our time. Here's how the dialogue would go:
“Ya know, it’s faster if you take the freeway.”
“Sometimes fast isn’t the only factor. Sometimes, my son—“
“Hey! You’re driving on the shoulder! What’s wrong—Wow! Did ya’ see that car cross the middle line?! Geez we could’ve been hurt. So,dude, whatd’ya’ say yer name was?
“ My name? Son, have you forgotten my name so soon? My name is—“
“Hey! Whatza matter wit’ ya’ now! Quit driving in the middle of the ro--. Holy shit! I didn’t see that car stalled on the side of the road. Sorry….what were we talking about? (pause) Oh yeah! Dude! I ‘preciate the ride and all, but how far are ya’ going?”
“Son, I can take you as far as you are going. All I ask is that you let me drive.”
“That’s cool, man. I’ll let ya’ drive. I ‘m a cool passenger, dude--err–sorry, what’s your name, again?”
“Son – my name is—“
“Dude! Why’re ya’ stopping? We’re on the freeway! Ya need to move! (pause) Dude! (pause) Man!”
“Son….you must trust me—“
“Dude, I ain’t yer son, and why should I trus--. Sonofabitch! Didya see that! Holyshit! That truck just jackknifed in front of us! Dude, you must have good eyes to have seen that coming. Sorry I yelled at you ‘bout stopping, dude. –Whatdya say your name is?”
Lecram made the above statement in a recent post, and posed the following question:
How would I craft that?
Well, I would set the scene in a car! It is, after all, where we American's spend most of our time. Here's how the dialogue would go:
“Ya know, it’s faster if you take the freeway.”
“Sometimes fast isn’t the only factor. Sometimes, my son—“
“Hey! You’re driving on the shoulder! What’s wrong—Wow! Did ya’ see that car cross the middle line?! Geez we could’ve been hurt. So,dude, whatd’ya’ say yer name was?
“ My name? Son, have you forgotten my name so soon? My name is—“
“Hey! Whatza matter wit’ ya’ now! Quit driving in the middle of the ro--. Holy shit! I didn’t see that car stalled on the side of the road. Sorry….what were we talking about? (pause) Oh yeah! Dude! I ‘preciate the ride and all, but how far are ya’ going?”
“Son, I can take you as far as you are going. All I ask is that you let me drive.”
“That’s cool, man. I’ll let ya’ drive. I ‘m a cool passenger, dude--err–sorry, what’s your name, again?”
“Son – my name is—“
“Dude! Why’re ya’ stopping? We’re on the freeway! Ya need to move! (pause) Dude! (pause) Man!”
“Son….you must trust me—“
“Dude, I ain’t yer son, and why should I trus--. Sonofabitch! Didya see that! Holyshit! That truck just jackknifed in front of us! Dude, you must have good eyes to have seen that coming. Sorry I yelled at you ‘bout stopping, dude. –Whatdya say your name is?”
Friday, August 12, 2005
What if....?
A recent post by Lecram asked for that one moment you would want to remain in for all eternity. I pondered that for days: settling on one moment Thursday, only to discard and replace it with another on Friday, and then onto a different one on Saturday. And this is supposed to be a good thing? To last for eternity? Geez, almost seems like Hell to have to select only one.
So of course, since my (current) philosophy is “rules, schmules, we don’t need no stinking rules!” I decided, “What the heck. How about writing about a moment in your life that only in hindsight, do you realize was a crossroads?” You know, those seemingly (at the time) inconsequential moments that you look back on and say, “Hey! What if I had done ‘x’ instead of ‘y’?” What if I had stayed in Nebraska? What if I didn’t start skydiving? What if? One of my favorite whatifs, is Dominic.
Ah…..Dominic. Dom was Italian, and spoke little English. He came out to the drop zone one Saturday morning with (I think) his cousin. He wanted to, “how-a you say? I-a, wan to-a shjump from plane, yes?”
Geez, one look at his bod, and I just wanted to bounce on his abs….seriously.
But what was I thinking? I was “in a relationship” with Mike. I had to stop looking at those abs….those eyes…..dear lord those thighs….. And yet, there stood Dom in front of me, chest and leg straps undone.
“AirplaneShjayne. You-a help me, yes?”
Stop staring Shjay—jayne! Think about Mike! Your relationship! What relationship? More like a joke! Oh yeah, I was in a relationship. I had stopped seeing anyone else. I had decided that Mike was “the one.” Only one problem left with this relationship: I was the only one in it! Mike was still sowing wild oats.
But back to Dom….ahhh, Dom….with dangling leg straps.
I couldn’t let him jump from a plane looking like that now, could I? So I tightened up those leg straps, hooked that chest strap, (went to the store about 6 times in a row), and helped him put his helmet on.
“Follow me, Dom.”
And follow me he did – for the rest of the weekend! I had him eating dirt while jumping off the platform doing practice landings, and he fed me chocolate. He told me of his home in Italy, and I told him emergency procedures. I showed him how to pack a parachute, and he showed me his 6-pack abs. Before I knew it, it was Sunday afternoon, and time for him to shum –err - jump.
“Shjayne…”
“Sorry, Dom? Did you say something?”
“Shjayne….I’m a, how you say? Leetle nervous. Ah, maybe you can-a stand where I land, no?”
So, I stood where he would land. And land he did. Lordy, lordy with those beautiful arms (not to mention abs and thighs) he hugged me and whispered, “Shjayne. I would-a like to see you, yes? Maybe dinner, say, tomorrow in town, no? Here is-a where I am staying. Please say you’ll come?”
So fast forward to the next day. I went through the day on auto-pilot – just waiting for the five-o’clock whistle to blow, so I could too! Damn the torpedoes, and relationship be damned! I was tired of the double standard! I was going to eat Italian!! I threw open the door, stepped into the parking lot, strode confidently towards my car, gave a defiant tilt of my chin to Mike –
“Err -- Mike!?! What are you doing here?”
“Hey sweetheart. I—ahh—I thought you’d like to go to dinner. With me.”
Dinner with Mike?
Dinner with Dom?
Stay the course, or jump ship?
I could almost hear the Clash singing: “Come on and let me know: Should I stay or should I go?”
Argh, no time for the indecision that was bugging me. I had to choose.
And I chose Mike.
So, in hindsight, there was one major crossroad in my life: I chose to stay with Mike. Would I go back and take that other branch, knowing what I do now?
Probably not…..
But oh Lordy, lordy, do I remember those abs….and eyes…..and mercy me, those thighs…
So of course, since my (current) philosophy is “rules, schmules, we don’t need no stinking rules!” I decided, “What the heck. How about writing about a moment in your life that only in hindsight, do you realize was a crossroads?” You know, those seemingly (at the time) inconsequential moments that you look back on and say, “Hey! What if I had done ‘x’ instead of ‘y’?” What if I had stayed in Nebraska? What if I didn’t start skydiving? What if? One of my favorite whatifs, is Dominic.
Ah…..Dominic. Dom was Italian, and spoke little English. He came out to the drop zone one Saturday morning with (I think) his cousin. He wanted to, “how-a you say? I-a, wan to-a shjump from plane, yes?”
Geez, one look at his bod, and I just wanted to bounce on his abs….seriously.
But what was I thinking? I was “in a relationship” with Mike. I had to stop looking at those abs….those eyes…..dear lord those thighs….. And yet, there stood Dom in front of me, chest and leg straps undone.
“AirplaneShjayne. You-a help me, yes?”
Stop staring Shjay—jayne! Think about Mike! Your relationship! What relationship? More like a joke! Oh yeah, I was in a relationship. I had stopped seeing anyone else. I had decided that Mike was “the one.” Only one problem left with this relationship: I was the only one in it! Mike was still sowing wild oats.
But back to Dom….ahhh, Dom….with dangling leg straps.
I couldn’t let him jump from a plane looking like that now, could I? So I tightened up those leg straps, hooked that chest strap, (went to the store about 6 times in a row), and helped him put his helmet on.
“Follow me, Dom.”
And follow me he did – for the rest of the weekend! I had him eating dirt while jumping off the platform doing practice landings, and he fed me chocolate. He told me of his home in Italy, and I told him emergency procedures. I showed him how to pack a parachute, and he showed me his 6-pack abs. Before I knew it, it was Sunday afternoon, and time for him to shum –err - jump.
“Shjayne…”
“Sorry, Dom? Did you say something?”
“Shjayne….I’m a, how you say? Leetle nervous. Ah, maybe you can-a stand where I land, no?”
So, I stood where he would land. And land he did. Lordy, lordy with those beautiful arms (not to mention abs and thighs) he hugged me and whispered, “Shjayne. I would-a like to see you, yes? Maybe dinner, say, tomorrow in town, no? Here is-a where I am staying. Please say you’ll come?”
So fast forward to the next day. I went through the day on auto-pilot – just waiting for the five-o’clock whistle to blow, so I could too! Damn the torpedoes, and relationship be damned! I was tired of the double standard! I was going to eat Italian!! I threw open the door, stepped into the parking lot, strode confidently towards my car, gave a defiant tilt of my chin to Mike –
“Err -- Mike!?! What are you doing here?”
“Hey sweetheart. I—ahh—I thought you’d like to go to dinner. With me.”
Dinner with Mike?
Dinner with Dom?
Stay the course, or jump ship?
I could almost hear the Clash singing: “Come on and let me know: Should I stay or should I go?”
Argh, no time for the indecision that was bugging me. I had to choose.
And I chose Mike.
So, in hindsight, there was one major crossroad in my life: I chose to stay with Mike. Would I go back and take that other branch, knowing what I do now?
Probably not…..
But oh Lordy, lordy, do I remember those abs….and eyes…..and mercy me, those thighs…
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
I'm back in the saddle again....
okay, okay
- yes I do have ponies...
no it's not that kind of saddle....
yes I do know that the phrase means something else entirely and
no...it's not that kind of saddle either.....
what a sad pathetic QUIET life I lead.....
but okay! enough of the pity party. Anyone up for a game of charades? The four horses, two kitties and one bird have grown tired of playing, especially since they always guess wrong. I mean, hello!?!?!? The bird keeps guessing, "Whoo??Whoo?" And I keep giving the sign for "book! book!" Guess that's what ya' get for playing with animals.....
surgery went well, pain is tolerable - tylenol working fine.
Nurses were very nice at surgery center. Waited for an hour (!!!) in pre-op. Don't know what the delay was -- but used it to my advantage. Yes....I TALKED!!!! Hey, from ME, whaddya expect? Remember: I was never invited to the silent retreats......
Soooo...wheeled into surgery at 12:45, woke up at 1:25, went home to Donna's at 1:50. Don't like to stay too long at hospitals, because of previous horror stories. Ate jello cups and pudding -- Made me think of Bill Cosby commercials: Pudding! LIFE IS GOOD!
Came home from Donna's this evening -- I was ready for my own bed and TV. Ahhh, the comforts of home.
Thanks to all that have emailed me -- mostly filled with advice to shuddup.......
I'M TRYING!!!!
--and yes, Lecram -- I may be blogging wildly....or wildly blogging.....or perhaps I'll take a chance and just be wildly......silent.
- yes I do have ponies...
no it's not that kind of saddle....
yes I do know that the phrase means something else entirely and
no...it's not that kind of saddle either.....
what a sad pathetic QUIET life I lead.....
but okay! enough of the pity party. Anyone up for a game of charades? The four horses, two kitties and one bird have grown tired of playing, especially since they always guess wrong. I mean, hello!?!?!? The bird keeps guessing, "Whoo??Whoo?" And I keep giving the sign for "book! book!" Guess that's what ya' get for playing with animals.....
surgery went well, pain is tolerable - tylenol working fine.
Nurses were very nice at surgery center. Waited for an hour (!!!) in pre-op. Don't know what the delay was -- but used it to my advantage. Yes....I TALKED!!!! Hey, from ME, whaddya expect? Remember: I was never invited to the silent retreats......
Soooo...wheeled into surgery at 12:45, woke up at 1:25, went home to Donna's at 1:50. Don't like to stay too long at hospitals, because of previous horror stories. Ate jello cups and pudding -- Made me think of Bill Cosby commercials: Pudding! LIFE IS GOOD!
Came home from Donna's this evening -- I was ready for my own bed and TV. Ahhh, the comforts of home.
Thanks to all that have emailed me -- mostly filled with advice to shuddup.......
I'M TRYING!!!!
--and yes, Lecram -- I may be blogging wildly....or wildly blogging.....or perhaps I'll take a chance and just be wildly......silent.
Monday, August 08, 2005
Last dance....
As we speak, I am having a Donna Summer moment. I've dug "Last Dance" out of the cobwebs, playing it on my CD player, and singing --in my best Kathleen Turner voice --
"--Last dance, last dance to-night...."
Tomorrow, I'll be lipsyncing "Sound of Silence"
If any of you want to write me --
Let's rephrase that --
You can email me at: airplanejayne1@yahoo.com
Love and kisses....and all the smushy stuff,
APj
"--Last dance, last dance to-night...."
Tomorrow, I'll be lipsyncing "Sound of Silence"
If any of you want to write me --
Let's rephrase that --
You can email me at: airplanejayne1@yahoo.com
Love and kisses....and all the smushy stuff,
APj
Friday, August 05, 2005
Gone to the Dogs!
Oh my gosh! It is fascinating the information about one's self that one can learn on the Internet! No, I'm not talking about Googling one's self - although that is very entertaining.
Via a test site found courtesy of Jade ed Gypsy, I learned that my bodacious ta-ta's were named Tweedledee and Tweedledum. On another occasion, Lecram helped me learn my true I.Q., and I then discovered that, yes, I truly was Peter Pan.
I have now discovered that I am a bitch. A pretty cool one too! No, not that kind of bitch -- although I always thought it was an acronym for Boys I'm Taking Charge Here
--not that kind of bitch -- the four-legged dog kind.
Dog Name
I am an English Cocker Spaniel
Origins
....Originally from Spain. Cockers got their name for their expertise in flushing woodcock and other small game while hunting.
Personality
The English Cocker Spaniel is a hardy, energetic and affectionate dog. Excellent with kids; gentle and playful, but does not tolerate teasing well. It is sociable with strangers, a moderate barker, and obeys respectfully the orders it is given. Generally an outgoing breed,but some individuals can be reserved. Cockers should be trained very gently, but firmly, as they are sensitive but also rather independent.
So....what kind of dog are you?
(after you click on the above link, click on the "which dog are you" question on the bottom right side)
Via a test site found courtesy of Jade ed Gypsy, I learned that my bodacious ta-ta's were named Tweedledee and Tweedledum. On another occasion, Lecram helped me learn my true I.Q., and I then discovered that, yes, I truly was Peter Pan.
I have now discovered that I am a bitch. A pretty cool one too! No, not that kind of bitch -- although I always thought it was an acronym for Boys I'm Taking Charge Here
--not that kind of bitch -- the four-legged dog kind.
Dog Name
I am an English Cocker Spaniel
Origins
....Originally from Spain. Cockers got their name for their expertise in flushing woodcock and other small game while hunting.
Personality
The English Cocker Spaniel is a hardy, energetic and affectionate dog. Excellent with kids; gentle and playful, but does not tolerate teasing well. It is sociable with strangers, a moderate barker, and obeys respectfully the orders it is given. Generally an outgoing breed,but some individuals can be reserved. Cockers should be trained very gently, but firmly, as they are sensitive but also rather independent.
So....what kind of dog are you?
(after you click on the above link, click on the "which dog are you" question on the bottom right side)
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Adventures of Buck, part 4
Previous post
Oh! What’s happening? I feel that hand, that scary-hairy squirrel of a hand, grabbing me out of the dark. I’m being lifted, back into the light. Free at last, free at last, hallelujah thank God, I’m free at last! And thank God I’m out of that pocket! Not only did it smell like elderberries – I kept getting a strange desire: a desire to be in a tree….and eat nuts……and run across streets dodging cars……and a desire to runaway with some goddess named Sandra Bullock……
But what’s this? I can hardly hear, because the music is so loud.
Bowchicabowbow. Bump, bump, bowchicabowbow.
I’m still in his hands, and yet I’m moving….swaying…..dancing….
bowchicabowbow, bowchicabowbow.
Whoa! Hello ladies!!!! What are those? I’m being lifted, almost transported towards two amazing globes. Shaking globes. That strange squirrel man is calling out “Bambi and Tweedledum! Hatcher and Bullock!”
Foolish idiot squirrel! He’ll ruin it for both of us. The amazing globes are turning to leave. I must stop them! I try to speak--I try to say, “Hello Ladies!” But I’m only a buck!! I’ve got no lips…no mouth. How can I speak to them? How can I tell them I love them?
Bowchicabowbow, bowchicabowbow
Ahhhh, yes….I’ll dance for the goddesses. So I begin to shake. I shake my groove thing. I become a rumpshaker of a bill.
Bowchicabowbow, bowchicabowbow
The amazing globes turn back. They watch my dance. Oh, be still my heart, I think they want me! They are moving towards me….
And still I’m dancing…bowchicabowbow, bowchicabowbow……
and each shake of his wrist leads me closer to Utopia. Ah yes! The road to Utopia!
And still I’m dancing – bowchicabowbow,bowchicabowbow……
The squirrel man and I are in perfect rhythm – what a team! And as the music gently slows and then dies, the squirrel man tucks me gently between the comforting globes.
And for the second time today, I smell elderberries, and I weep; for this strange scary squirrel of a man has brought me to Nirvana.
Free at last, free at last, hallelujah thank the Scary Squirrel Man, I am free at last!
Oh! What’s happening? I feel that hand, that scary-hairy squirrel of a hand, grabbing me out of the dark. I’m being lifted, back into the light. Free at last, free at last, hallelujah thank God, I’m free at last! And thank God I’m out of that pocket! Not only did it smell like elderberries – I kept getting a strange desire: a desire to be in a tree….and eat nuts……and run across streets dodging cars……and a desire to runaway with some goddess named Sandra Bullock……
But what’s this? I can hardly hear, because the music is so loud.
Bowchicabowbow. Bump, bump, bowchicabowbow.
I’m still in his hands, and yet I’m moving….swaying…..dancing….
bowchicabowbow, bowchicabowbow.
Whoa! Hello ladies!!!! What are those? I’m being lifted, almost transported towards two amazing globes. Shaking globes. That strange squirrel man is calling out “Bambi and Tweedledum! Hatcher and Bullock!”
Foolish idiot squirrel! He’ll ruin it for both of us. The amazing globes are turning to leave. I must stop them! I try to speak--I try to say, “Hello Ladies!” But I’m only a buck!! I’ve got no lips…no mouth. How can I speak to them? How can I tell them I love them?
Bowchicabowbow, bowchicabowbow
Ahhhh, yes….I’ll dance for the goddesses. So I begin to shake. I shake my groove thing. I become a rumpshaker of a bill.
Bowchicabowbow, bowchicabowbow
The amazing globes turn back. They watch my dance. Oh, be still my heart, I think they want me! They are moving towards me….
And still I’m dancing…bowchicabowbow, bowchicabowbow……
and each shake of his wrist leads me closer to Utopia. Ah yes! The road to Utopia!
And still I’m dancing – bowchicabowbow,bowchicabowbow……
The squirrel man and I are in perfect rhythm – what a team! And as the music gently slows and then dies, the squirrel man tucks me gently between the comforting globes.
And for the second time today, I smell elderberries, and I weep; for this strange scary squirrel of a man has brought me to Nirvana.
Free at last, free at last, hallelujah thank the Scary Squirrel Man, I am free at last!
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Throat drama, part deux
Okay, so here's the latest adventures of "Chords de Vocalle de AirplaneJayne."
Friday found Jayne in the office of a very nice (but very married...darn!) Doctor F. Doctor F explained that he was going to rest an instrument called a videostrobe on my tongue. This instrument had a little camera that would peek over my tongue, and shoot pictures of my vocal chords. This entire event should take no longer than 15 seconds -- as long as I didn't gag......
"Oh Great!' I thought. "As long as I don't gag? How can I tell this very handsome (but very married...) doc that just thinking about gagging makes me gag?"
"Okay, Doc." I respond jovially, "I'll do my best."
So without much ado—
--great play at Woodward Park, by the way—
--Again, without further ado, cute Doctor F inserts his instrument into my mouth, and yes-- I gag.
“Sorry,” says the handsome (but married) Doctor F “My fault.”
Fantastic! Finally a man who’ll admit that it’s his fault when I gag!!!!
But (again), darn! He’s already married!
So, with much grace and at a slower pace, Doctor F. rests the instrument on my tongue, and tells me to say the letter “E” without stopping--
--Hey, I ain’t gagging, so if the letter “E” makes him happy, fine with me.
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
About 8 seconds later (which is all that’s necessary for a bull ride, thank you very much), cute (but married) Doc F is done. I think I need to repeat that: In 8 seconds. Doc F is done. 8 seconds. Done.
“Well done Jayne. Let’s take a look at the movie.”
So I look at the screen, and voila! My chords! In all their glory!
But ewww! What is that big thing on the side?
Doc F points out that lump runs from the bottom to the middle of my left chord. He feels that surgery is necessary, but tells me that he and Doc W (nice, but not as cute) will consult before my meeting on Monday.
Monday morning arrived, even though I made every attempt to stop it. I found myself (again) at the Doctor's office.
“Well, Jayne” says Doctor W, “This is not a normal nodule--”
Hello!?!? Normal? Jayne? This guy shoulda figured out that there’s nothing NORMAL about ME by now….
“--But it doesn’t look cancerous. I’d be flabbergasted if it was cancerous. Now, I have been flabbergasted before – but not very often.”
So – to conclude: Totally un-normal Jayne has an un-normal nodule on her left vocal chord. Cute (but married) Doc. F apologized for making Jayne gag, but took pictures anyway. Nice (but not cute) Doc. W wants to have Jayne over (to hospital) for sleepover (during the day) next week to remove flabber from chord.
The Gast is going to be that Jayne can not talk for 10 days after surgery.
Please stop laughing…..that’s not funny…..really – stop laughing!!! This is serious!!!
Okay, after you have gotten yourself under control, please help me figure out how to get us all set up on Yahoo IM so that I can talk –err I mean type at you during my recovery.
Friday found Jayne in the office of a very nice (but very married...darn!) Doctor F. Doctor F explained that he was going to rest an instrument called a videostrobe on my tongue. This instrument had a little camera that would peek over my tongue, and shoot pictures of my vocal chords. This entire event should take no longer than 15 seconds -- as long as I didn't gag......
"Oh Great!' I thought. "As long as I don't gag? How can I tell this very handsome (but very married...) doc that just thinking about gagging makes me gag?"
"Okay, Doc." I respond jovially, "I'll do my best."
So without much ado—
--great play at Woodward Park, by the way—
--Again, without further ado, cute Doctor F inserts his instrument into my mouth, and yes-- I gag.
“Sorry,” says the handsome (but married) Doctor F “My fault.”
Fantastic! Finally a man who’ll admit that it’s his fault when I gag!!!!
But (again), darn! He’s already married!
So, with much grace and at a slower pace, Doctor F. rests the instrument on my tongue, and tells me to say the letter “E” without stopping--
--Hey, I ain’t gagging, so if the letter “E” makes him happy, fine with me.
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
About 8 seconds later (which is all that’s necessary for a bull ride, thank you very much), cute (but married) Doc F is done. I think I need to repeat that: In 8 seconds. Doc F is done. 8 seconds. Done.
“Well done Jayne. Let’s take a look at the movie.”
So I look at the screen, and voila! My chords! In all their glory!
But ewww! What is that big thing on the side?
Doc F points out that lump runs from the bottom to the middle of my left chord. He feels that surgery is necessary, but tells me that he and Doc W (nice, but not as cute) will consult before my meeting on Monday.
Monday morning arrived, even though I made every attempt to stop it. I found myself (again) at the Doctor's office.
“Well, Jayne” says Doctor W, “This is not a normal nodule--”
Hello!?!? Normal? Jayne? This guy shoulda figured out that there’s nothing NORMAL about ME by now….
“--But it doesn’t look cancerous. I’d be flabbergasted if it was cancerous. Now, I have been flabbergasted before – but not very often.”
So – to conclude: Totally un-normal Jayne has an un-normal nodule on her left vocal chord. Cute (but married) Doc. F apologized for making Jayne gag, but took pictures anyway. Nice (but not cute) Doc. W wants to have Jayne over (to hospital) for sleepover (during the day) next week to remove flabber from chord.
The Gast is going to be that Jayne can not talk for 10 days after surgery.
Please stop laughing…..that’s not funny…..really – stop laughing!!! This is serious!!!
Okay, after you have gotten yourself under control, please help me figure out how to get us all set up on Yahoo IM so that I can talk –err I mean type at you during my recovery.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Drama, dahling, drama
I know that many of you think I like to have drama in my life, so that it must remain "all about me." Let me start off by stating the obvious:
It IS all about Me......always.......Just accept that and move on!
Most of you don’t know this, but I went to the Doctor last week. I lost my voice around the end of April/beginning of May. I thought I was talking too much (Jayne? Talk too much? Go figure!) and had probably damaged my vocal chords. I figured it would be better when school got out. It didn't (get better), so I went (to the doctor).
Okay, as you know, most doctors thrive on finding new ways to freak you out. Here is one of their new ways: Doc stuck a tube up my nose. Hmmm, picture one of those cans of compressed air that you use to clean your computer keyboard...with a tube about twice that size. Doc squirted nasty bitter tasting stuff up my nose and instructed me to swallow said nasty bitter stuff.
Just as an aside: Why would a doctor make stuff that has to go down your throat taste bad? If YOU were that doctor, wouldn’t YOU try to make it taste better!?!?!?
But back to my story: At this point, I was a good patient and swallowed the nasty/narpy tasting stuff. Throat proceeded to get very numb; so numb in fact that it became quite difficult to swallow my own saliva. Saliva which was being mass-produced, probably because saliva glands knew I couldn't swallow and they thought it would be fun!
So now, Doc returns into room, with something that looks like a miniature vacuum attachment....or maybe some high-tech computer accessory: Long skinny (about half the width of a pen), sectional, firm-but-bendy cable-y thing with a light on the end.
Jayne's eyes get big as she realizes that Doctor intends to send that snake down her throat.....
Jayne's blood pressure increases when Doc informs her that he will be going down her throat -- VIA HER NOSE!
Yes and still, Jayne remains the perfect patient.....
Doc snakes tube down left nostril causing a feeling similar to someone dragging a finger along a sunburn: very uncomfortable, but not painful enough for you to haul off and hit them.
Doc snakes tube down right nostril -- and still, Jayne behaving and not kicking or hitting anyone....
"Hmmmm, yes," says Doc (either to me or my tonsils -- oh yeah! I don't have those anymore, so I guess he was talking to me), " Yes. You have a lump on your left vocal chord. It looks benign. But I do want you to come in for specialized test. A videoscope. We'll set that up for you."
Okay, let's review the words I heard:
lump. vocal chord. benign. specialized test.
As usual, Jayne plays research/doctor upon arriving home. According to what I have learned, most lumps on vocal chords are not cancerous. And the Doctor did use the word "benign" which is good. Most Doctors are pretty non-committal in diagnosis until they have test-data, so I don't think he'd use that word unless it looked pretty good. But it is a lump (not a polyp or nodule), and I don't want it there.....even though I'm getting told I sound like Lauren Bacall (older audience) or Kathleen Turner (a bit younger audience).
So, videoscope (or videostrobe?) is set for 7/29 at 9:00 in the morning. Results consultation witll be on 8/1 at 9:00 in the morning. Yes, I am nervous, but I am fine. I'm concentrating on the words and research of the doctors and myself, the kind words and prayers of my family and friends, and trusting that it'll all be fine. I just figure it's my turn (again) for some surgery. I don't want you worrying about me. You know I do this Doctor thing okay. But please keep me in your prayers. Never, ever, ever underestimate their power.
I promise to let you all know what's going on and soon as I know what's going on.
Love,
the Queen of the Spotlight,
Jayne
It IS all about Me......always.......Just accept that and move on!
Most of you don’t know this, but I went to the Doctor last week. I lost my voice around the end of April/beginning of May. I thought I was talking too much (Jayne? Talk too much? Go figure!) and had probably damaged my vocal chords. I figured it would be better when school got out. It didn't (get better), so I went (to the doctor).
Okay, as you know, most doctors thrive on finding new ways to freak you out. Here is one of their new ways: Doc stuck a tube up my nose. Hmmm, picture one of those cans of compressed air that you use to clean your computer keyboard...with a tube about twice that size. Doc squirted nasty bitter tasting stuff up my nose and instructed me to swallow said nasty bitter stuff.
Just as an aside: Why would a doctor make stuff that has to go down your throat taste bad? If YOU were that doctor, wouldn’t YOU try to make it taste better!?!?!?
But back to my story: At this point, I was a good patient and swallowed the nasty/narpy tasting stuff. Throat proceeded to get very numb; so numb in fact that it became quite difficult to swallow my own saliva. Saliva which was being mass-produced, probably because saliva glands knew I couldn't swallow and they thought it would be fun!
So now, Doc returns into room, with something that looks like a miniature vacuum attachment....or maybe some high-tech computer accessory: Long skinny (about half the width of a pen), sectional, firm-but-bendy cable-y thing with a light on the end.
Jayne's eyes get big as she realizes that Doctor intends to send that snake down her throat.....
Jayne's blood pressure increases when Doc informs her that he will be going down her throat -- VIA HER NOSE!
Yes and still, Jayne remains the perfect patient.....
Doc snakes tube down left nostril causing a feeling similar to someone dragging a finger along a sunburn: very uncomfortable, but not painful enough for you to haul off and hit them.
Doc snakes tube down right nostril -- and still, Jayne behaving and not kicking or hitting anyone....
"Hmmmm, yes," says Doc (either to me or my tonsils -- oh yeah! I don't have those anymore, so I guess he was talking to me), " Yes. You have a lump on your left vocal chord. It looks benign. But I do want you to come in for specialized test. A videoscope. We'll set that up for you."
Okay, let's review the words I heard:
lump. vocal chord. benign. specialized test.
As usual, Jayne plays research/doctor upon arriving home. According to what I have learned, most lumps on vocal chords are not cancerous. And the Doctor did use the word "benign" which is good. Most Doctors are pretty non-committal in diagnosis until they have test-data, so I don't think he'd use that word unless it looked pretty good. But it is a lump (not a polyp or nodule), and I don't want it there.....even though I'm getting told I sound like Lauren Bacall (older audience) or Kathleen Turner (a bit younger audience).
So, videoscope (or videostrobe?) is set for 7/29 at 9:00 in the morning. Results consultation witll be on 8/1 at 9:00 in the morning. Yes, I am nervous, but I am fine. I'm concentrating on the words and research of the doctors and myself, the kind words and prayers of my family and friends, and trusting that it'll all be fine. I just figure it's my turn (again) for some surgery. I don't want you worrying about me. You know I do this Doctor thing okay. But please keep me in your prayers. Never, ever, ever underestimate their power.
I promise to let you all know what's going on and soon as I know what's going on.
Love,
the Queen of the Spotlight,
Jayne
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Jonah and Jayne
Once upon a time, there was a man named Jonah. One day, God told him to go to Nineveh. Jonah didn’t want to go to the evil, debauched city of Nineveh, so he exercised his God-given right of free will: Jonah got on a boat and sailed in the opposite direction of Nineveh. But God had a different plan; a plan in which Jonah went to Nineveh. So God sent a terrible storm to harass the boat, providing the very first example of the phrase, “Don’t mess with Mother Nature.” The sailors grew terrified: what should they do?
Throw Jonah overboard? Row to shore? Either way could anger Jonah’s Lord.
Throw? Row? Throw? Row?
Jonah finally provided the answer, and told them to throw him overboard…into the raging sea...unto certain death. However, let us remember, it was God’s plan, not Jonah’s plan; so the sailors sent Jonah into the raging sea…and God sent Jonah into the mouth of a great fish.
Talk about a captive audience! Jonah….in the whale….in the sea! Upon reflection of the events that led up to this address change, Jonah acquiesces, repents, and tells God, “Okay, you win. You sent me to the depths to die, but you brought my life up from the pits. What I have vowed, I will make good.”
And then God’s great fish, very unceremoniously, vomits Jonah onto dry land, and on his way to Nineveh.
Which is where he should have been going in the first place!
There’s more to this story, but this is the part that I’ve always liked. Why? Because Jonah not only thinks he can do anything he wants to do, he exercises his “free will” in doing so: he defies God, not only by not going to Nineveh, but by sailing 180degrees in the opposite direction! While Jonah’s busy doing “his own thing” instead of “God’s Thing,” look at the havoc wreaked around him: damage caused not by him, but because of his defiance. Only when Jonah’s forced to see the power of God, does he bow to God’s will. Only when his environment is God-provided and controlled does Jonah reflect upon whom he is challenging, and concede. In the end, in spite of his free will, Jonah accepts God’s will, and heads for Nineveh.
Score: God Won
Jonah Lost (days)
Personally, I connect with Jonah. At various times in my life (almost regular intervals), I have found myself in the midst of the raging seas, all because I wasn’t going the direction that I knew God wanted me to go. And so, with an oft times heavy hand (but thankfully, no great fish), my course was corrected. I would be steered in the right direction, until suddenly, out of seemingly nowhere, I’d find myself again on that raging sea, once again asking myself:
“Am I ignoring my Nineveh? Is there something or somewhere else I’m to do or be?”
Throw Jonah overboard? Row to shore? Either way could anger Jonah’s Lord.
Throw? Row? Throw? Row?
Jonah finally provided the answer, and told them to throw him overboard…into the raging sea...unto certain death. However, let us remember, it was God’s plan, not Jonah’s plan; so the sailors sent Jonah into the raging sea…and God sent Jonah into the mouth of a great fish.
Talk about a captive audience! Jonah….in the whale….in the sea! Upon reflection of the events that led up to this address change, Jonah acquiesces, repents, and tells God, “Okay, you win. You sent me to the depths to die, but you brought my life up from the pits. What I have vowed, I will make good.”
And then God’s great fish, very unceremoniously, vomits Jonah onto dry land, and on his way to Nineveh.
Which is where he should have been going in the first place!
There’s more to this story, but this is the part that I’ve always liked. Why? Because Jonah not only thinks he can do anything he wants to do, he exercises his “free will” in doing so: he defies God, not only by not going to Nineveh, but by sailing 180degrees in the opposite direction! While Jonah’s busy doing “his own thing” instead of “God’s Thing,” look at the havoc wreaked around him: damage caused not by him, but because of his defiance. Only when Jonah’s forced to see the power of God, does he bow to God’s will. Only when his environment is God-provided and controlled does Jonah reflect upon whom he is challenging, and concede. In the end, in spite of his free will, Jonah accepts God’s will, and heads for Nineveh.
Score: God Won
Jonah Lost (days)
Personally, I connect with Jonah. At various times in my life (almost regular intervals), I have found myself in the midst of the raging seas, all because I wasn’t going the direction that I knew God wanted me to go. And so, with an oft times heavy hand (but thankfully, no great fish), my course was corrected. I would be steered in the right direction, until suddenly, out of seemingly nowhere, I’d find myself again on that raging sea, once again asking myself:
“Am I ignoring my Nineveh? Is there something or somewhere else I’m to do or be?”
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Taking Inventory
Terrorists struck London on 7/7, and although it was halfway around the globe, it affected me as emotionally as 9/11 New York, Pennsylvania, and D.C. did. I find myself, once again, overwhelmed with emotions: anger, fear, sadness, helplessness, confusion, and hopelessness. But tonight I forced myself to ”take stock” of all the good things and blessings in my life.
Here’s my inventory:
1. I am grateful that my friends across the pond are all okay. And that some are so much more than acceptable…
2. I love my new Rogue friends who have taken me in….even though I sometimes wanna poke the wild animals.
3. My daughter, Erynn ROCKS! Somehow, still not quite sure how, I did that absolutely perfectly!
4. I am in a better place, physically, emotionally, mentally, than I was three years ago.
5. Cream cheese frosting on vanilla wafers is perfect comfort food. Forgettabout the calories.
6. Aspiring is inspiring.
7. I am lucky in the fact that I get paid to do something I am good at AND that I love to do.
8. I am proud to be an American, but I am not proud of some Americans
9. The “Party Elements” will always be elemental to my survivial.
10. Chocolate really does make everything better.
How ‘bout you?
Here’s my inventory:
1. I am grateful that my friends across the pond are all okay. And that some are so much more than acceptable…
2. I love my new Rogue friends who have taken me in….even though I sometimes wanna poke the wild animals.
3. My daughter, Erynn ROCKS! Somehow, still not quite sure how, I did that absolutely perfectly!
4. I am in a better place, physically, emotionally, mentally, than I was three years ago.
5. Cream cheese frosting on vanilla wafers is perfect comfort food. Forgettabout the calories.
6. Aspiring is inspiring.
7. I am lucky in the fact that I get paid to do something I am good at AND that I love to do.
8. I am proud to be an American, but I am not proud of some Americans
9. The “Party Elements” will always be elemental to my survivial.
10. Chocolate really does make everything better.
How ‘bout you?
Saturday, July 09, 2005
*JUST FOR LELLY!
"Going to the store"
Poor Lelly, she must think that all we do on this side of the pond is "go to the store." I mean, Jade and I discuss our favorite movies, and Jade's gotta go to the store.
A long long l-o-n-g story short -- (and edited).....
"Going to the store" came out of cyberque one:
an intelligent discussion, begun, I believe, by Jag, speculated on a future cashless society. Different modes of "cashless" were explored, moving from paying via debit cards, to body implants, to DNA...
But how to get DNA?
This is where discussion when straight to the gutter...and all the men volunteered to do the shopping forever!
Thus, when a dazed look comes over their face, they have, in essence, "gone to the store."
SSM, does that about sum (so to speak) it up?
Poor Lelly, she must think that all we do on this side of the pond is "go to the store." I mean, Jade and I discuss our favorite movies, and Jade's gotta go to the store.
A long long l-o-n-g story short -- (and edited).....
"Going to the store" came out of cyberque one:
an intelligent discussion, begun, I believe, by Jag, speculated on a future cashless society. Different modes of "cashless" were explored, moving from paying via debit cards, to body implants, to DNA...
But how to get DNA?
This is where discussion when straight to the gutter...and all the men volunteered to do the shopping forever!
Thus, when a dazed look comes over their face, they have, in essence, "gone to the store."
SSM, does that about sum (so to speak) it up?
Monday, June 27, 2005
Quit Touching Me!
Have ya’ seen that commercial? -- The one where the older brother is (almost) touching the sister’s arm, and she keeps saying, “Quit touching me.”? How did SunnyDelight find out about my older brother?!?! His given name was Jeff. Currently, he is known as Pastor Jeff. But back then….well, I thought of him as SATAN(and the echo goes, “satan,satan,sata--)
“Oh surely, you jest,” you protest.
No, I do not jest….and don’t call me Shirley.
Oh, you want proof? Ha! Where to begin? Where to begin?
Exhibit A
Perhaps we should start with something where you see the power and superiority of Jeff's brain. What a chess player: start at checkmate and work backwards...and remember all the moves necessary! Here's a play-by-play, ala Memento style:
Step G: Jayne protests that, "I hit him because he was picking on me! I told him to stop!"
Step F: Jeff proclaims it was self defense, because, "Jayne hit me first!"
Step E: Mom calls Jeff into the kitchen to get his side of the story.
Step D: Jayne runs crying to Mom, "Mom! Jeff hit me!"
Step C: Jeff hits Jayne in the arm.
Step B: Jayne slaps Jeffs hand away, and gripes, "Cut it out! Leave me alone! Quit picking on me!"
Step A: Jeff pokes/picks at air around sister Jayne, while repeatedly uttering, "Pick, pick, pick, pick--"
Step H: Jeff announces with much innocence, "I never touched her."
Which was true! How many hours did that take to work out!?!?!? Sheer genius! But used for evil purposes....
Exhibit B
It was a dark, cold night. Mom and Dad had gone out – one of those rare occasions – and left Sata—Jeff in charge. (Why they left him in charge, when John was older, we could never figure out.) JoJo and I were awake in bed and whispering to each other. I glanced around, making the bogeyman visual safety check of the room, and realized that the closet door was slightly open. This would never do! Who knows what could be hiding in the closet? There could be a monst--
“JoJo! The closet door is open! Go close it.”
Being the obedient little sister, she leapt from bed, pushed the door shut, and flew back to bed. Mission accomplished. The whispered conversation continued, but when I made the next bogeyman visual safety check—
“Jo! You didn’t close the door good! It’s open again! Go close it!””No way! You close it this time!”
So, taking a deep breath, I jumped from bed, pushed the door closed (hard), and leapt back into bed. Again, mission accomplished – but I was wary. I kept glancing back to the door during our conversation. Waiting for the slightest movement, or hint of move—
“JoJo!” I whispered/warned, “The door is open, again.”
“Jaynie” she whimpered, “I’m scared.”
“Jo, don’t cry. Keep talking, pretend like you don’t notice. Maybe I can sneak—“
--and the door continued to open – steady, not fast, but fast enough that you could see it. And fast enough that I knew there was no way I could get to the door fast enough.
“Jaynie, I’m scared! What are we gonna do?”
I started to answer, but then the monster came out of the closet. It was so tall, it had to bend it’s head to get under the door. It had a hat on, so we couldn’t see it’s face, and a long coat. It was moaning, coming towards us, with its’ arms reaching towards us –
JoJo and I scampered to the farthest corner of the bed, and still it came forward. We screamed…we prayed….to no avail. The monster was at the foot of the bed. It had something in it’s hand… was reaching towards it’s head…. Sheer terror took over, and Jo and I clutched each other screaming for someone to save us—And the monster snatched it’s hat off, and turned on the flashlight in it’s hand
“Boo!” screamed Jeff.
The beam of light revealed that Jeff was riding on John’s shoulders, a long coat draped over the two of them.
Yes, I know, funny, eh? ...UNLESS IT’S YOU COWERING IN THE CORNER!!!
Exhibit C
I had just finished reading the book, The Exorcist. As I was only in 8th grade, I had to “sneak” read it, because my Mom thought it was too scary for me to read. (Note to Mom: you were right – the book still scares the shi** out of me!). My friend Emily C was spending the night (side note: it is a wonder that any of my friends ever spent a second night at my house..). We were discussing the book when suddenly the sofa bed…well it kinda jumped up in the air a bit.
“Emily! Stop it!”
“Jayne, I didn’t do anything”
“Oh…well, maybe we put too much weight on part of the bed or something.”
So, we went back to our conversation, and as it drifted towards the Devil (the real one, not Jeff!), the bed jumped again – but higher!
“Jayne! That’s not funny! You’re scaring me!”
“Emily! I swear I didn’t do a thi—“
And at this point the bed began to….well to pitch and bounce, for lack of a better description.
And so yes, I found myself, once again screaming….and praying in bed, clinging frantically to my friend as the sofa bed went satanically insane.
And then we heard laughter – but human laughter.
And out from under the sofa bed came….yes you guessed it – Sata—I mean, Brother Jeff.
Oh, I could go on and on – about the time he wanted to see how long I could hold my breath, so he held my head under water….or the time he closed the bedroom door to make JoJo and me cry because we were afraid of the dark……or the time –
But that’s not the point, is it? It’s that commercial – that crazy commercial makes me remember my brother Jeff….and I smile. I smile because as cruel and mean as his jokes were, in hindsight they are hysterical. I think it’s even more hysterical that he has an entire congregation that is impressed with his piety…his goodness…..his sincerity.
Perhaps one day, I may get brave enough to don that bear skin rug….and make an entrance into his church…..possibly during a midnight mass.
Hmmm….what kind of bears do they have in New Orleans?
“Oh surely, you jest,” you protest.
No, I do not jest….and don’t call me Shirley.
Oh, you want proof? Ha! Where to begin? Where to begin?
Exhibit A
Perhaps we should start with something where you see the power and superiority of Jeff's brain. What a chess player: start at checkmate and work backwards...and remember all the moves necessary! Here's a play-by-play, ala Memento style:
Step G: Jayne protests that, "I hit him because he was picking on me! I told him to stop!"
Step F: Jeff proclaims it was self defense, because, "Jayne hit me first!"
Step E: Mom calls Jeff into the kitchen to get his side of the story.
Step D: Jayne runs crying to Mom, "Mom! Jeff hit me!"
Step C: Jeff hits Jayne in the arm.
Step B: Jayne slaps Jeffs hand away, and gripes, "Cut it out! Leave me alone! Quit picking on me!"
Step A: Jeff pokes/picks at air around sister Jayne, while repeatedly uttering, "Pick, pick, pick, pick--"
Step H: Jeff announces with much innocence, "I never touched her."
Which was true! How many hours did that take to work out!?!?!? Sheer genius! But used for evil purposes....
Exhibit B
It was a dark, cold night. Mom and Dad had gone out – one of those rare occasions – and left Sata—Jeff in charge. (Why they left him in charge, when John was older, we could never figure out.) JoJo and I were awake in bed and whispering to each other. I glanced around, making the bogeyman visual safety check of the room, and realized that the closet door was slightly open. This would never do! Who knows what could be hiding in the closet? There could be a monst--
“JoJo! The closet door is open! Go close it.”
Being the obedient little sister, she leapt from bed, pushed the door shut, and flew back to bed. Mission accomplished. The whispered conversation continued, but when I made the next bogeyman visual safety check—
“Jo! You didn’t close the door good! It’s open again! Go close it!””No way! You close it this time!”
So, taking a deep breath, I jumped from bed, pushed the door closed (hard), and leapt back into bed. Again, mission accomplished – but I was wary. I kept glancing back to the door during our conversation. Waiting for the slightest movement, or hint of move—
“JoJo!” I whispered/warned, “The door is open, again.”
“Jaynie” she whimpered, “I’m scared.”
“Jo, don’t cry. Keep talking, pretend like you don’t notice. Maybe I can sneak—“
--and the door continued to open – steady, not fast, but fast enough that you could see it. And fast enough that I knew there was no way I could get to the door fast enough.
“Jaynie, I’m scared! What are we gonna do?”
I started to answer, but then the monster came out of the closet. It was so tall, it had to bend it’s head to get under the door. It had a hat on, so we couldn’t see it’s face, and a long coat. It was moaning, coming towards us, with its’ arms reaching towards us –
JoJo and I scampered to the farthest corner of the bed, and still it came forward. We screamed…we prayed….to no avail. The monster was at the foot of the bed. It had something in it’s hand… was reaching towards it’s head…. Sheer terror took over, and Jo and I clutched each other screaming for someone to save us—And the monster snatched it’s hat off, and turned on the flashlight in it’s hand
“Boo!” screamed Jeff.
The beam of light revealed that Jeff was riding on John’s shoulders, a long coat draped over the two of them.
Yes, I know, funny, eh? ...UNLESS IT’S YOU COWERING IN THE CORNER!!!
Exhibit C
I had just finished reading the book, The Exorcist. As I was only in 8th grade, I had to “sneak” read it, because my Mom thought it was too scary for me to read. (Note to Mom: you were right – the book still scares the shi** out of me!). My friend Emily C was spending the night (side note: it is a wonder that any of my friends ever spent a second night at my house..). We were discussing the book when suddenly the sofa bed…well it kinda jumped up in the air a bit.
“Emily! Stop it!”
“Jayne, I didn’t do anything”
“Oh…well, maybe we put too much weight on part of the bed or something.”
So, we went back to our conversation, and as it drifted towards the Devil (the real one, not Jeff!), the bed jumped again – but higher!
“Jayne! That’s not funny! You’re scaring me!”
“Emily! I swear I didn’t do a thi—“
And at this point the bed began to….well to pitch and bounce, for lack of a better description.
And so yes, I found myself, once again screaming….and praying in bed, clinging frantically to my friend as the sofa bed went satanically insane.
And then we heard laughter – but human laughter.
And out from under the sofa bed came….yes you guessed it – Sata—I mean, Brother Jeff.
Oh, I could go on and on – about the time he wanted to see how long I could hold my breath, so he held my head under water….or the time he closed the bedroom door to make JoJo and me cry because we were afraid of the dark……or the time –
But that’s not the point, is it? It’s that commercial – that crazy commercial makes me remember my brother Jeff….and I smile. I smile because as cruel and mean as his jokes were, in hindsight they are hysterical. I think it’s even more hysterical that he has an entire congregation that is impressed with his piety…his goodness…..his sincerity.
Perhaps one day, I may get brave enough to don that bear skin rug….and make an entrance into his church…..possibly during a midnight mass.
Hmmm….what kind of bears do they have in New Orleans?
Monday, June 20, 2005
Entitled: HOW YOU GET A NICKNAME....or -- BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU SAY, IT MAY COME BACK TO BITE YA!
WARNING: Nicknames have a way of just...happening. As you know, I love nicknames, and usually try to find one for everyone. Sometimes the name comes quickly, sometimes they come slowly....but....they always come. Ewww, you nasty dirty mind. Out of the gutter! Geez, Jade was right! To the story!
So there I was, bright red and sure that I’d not heard what I thought I’d just heard.
And the Viking Princess, or VP, (aka Kajsa) is screaming, “What did he just say?!?!?”
And Superman Steve….well, Steve’s jaw has dropped, he is blushing (and hey, I’ve known the guy for ten years, and never seen him blush), and he’s frantically reaching for the answering machine—
“Did your little brother just say what I think he said?”
“Steve,” ordered Kajsa, “Rewind that tape! Oh my go—“
So, as the tape rewinds, let me fill you in:
I had just arrived in SF for one of Steve’s shows. Steve and I were catching up on all the latest Party Element and Rogue gossip, when the VP (who doesn’t gossip nearly as much as Steve and I, but we love her anyway) interrupts--
“Oh, Steve! Your brother Dave called while I was on the phone. I let it go to voice mail.”
Now, my friends, - let me interject some back story here (again), as that voice mail tape is rewinding: Dave is Steve’s little brother. Like Steve, Dave was also bitten by the comedy bug: he is a standup comedian in Philadelphia. Very quick, very witty. I met him once – five years ago when Steve did his very first standup show. Funny guy….nice guy--or so I thought, until
that tape started playing.
“Hiya Steve! Hiya Kajsa! Dave here. Yea, went to see Joe Jackson last night. Good show! I’m on my way – gonna do a show at ______________. Hey tell Airplane Jayne I said, “Hi –“
Steve is beaming. You can almost hear his thoughts, “What a good kid brother. He remembered APj was coming up this weekend. He’s saying, ‘Hi’ to my friend”
“How sweet,” I thought, “What a nice kid brother—“
And the tape continued “Heh-heh , yea – tell Airplane Jayne ‘Hi!’ – I wouldn’t mind – ya know – a ten cent ride—“
This is where we came in on this story – Me blushing (which takes a lot, mind you), Kajsa squealing, and Superman Steve gob-smacked……
Multiple playings of the tape had the three of us rolling on the floor and me laughing so hard I was in tears.
Jayne: But Steve, what exactly is a “Ten cent ride?”
Steve: I don’t know. But I say, let’s call him and find out. (dialing phone on speaker.)
Ring-ring! Ring-ring!
Dave: Hey big bro!
Steve: Hey Dave. Whatcha doing?
Dave: I’m going on in 20 minutes! Whazzup?
Steve: Well, we’re kind of confused. Just exactly what is a “ten-cent-ride?”
Dave: (wicked/nasty laugh) Heh-heh, well –
Jayne: (not wanting to hear, especially after “heh-heh) Yes, Dave dahling, just exactly what are you expecting to get for ten cents?
Dave: (stammering) Ohh! Airplane Jayne! Ohh! Ahhh, probably ahh, not much of anything now, huh?
Needless to say, we called Dave at least ten (ha-ha) times over the weekend – harassing him relentlessly. Poor child….but I don’t feel sorry for him – not at all! After all, he brought it upon himself.
But on the bright side, Dave did get what he truly has been wanting for five long years…..no, not that, you dirty minded Rogues! He finally got a nickname! He is no longer known as “Dave,” Steve’s kid brother…..He is now known, affectionately, as:
Ten-Cent.
So there I was, bright red and sure that I’d not heard what I thought I’d just heard.
And the Viking Princess, or VP, (aka Kajsa) is screaming, “What did he just say?!?!?”
And Superman Steve….well, Steve’s jaw has dropped, he is blushing (and hey, I’ve known the guy for ten years, and never seen him blush), and he’s frantically reaching for the answering machine—
“Did your little brother just say what I think he said?”
“Steve,” ordered Kajsa, “Rewind that tape! Oh my go—“
So, as the tape rewinds, let me fill you in:
I had just arrived in SF for one of Steve’s shows. Steve and I were catching up on all the latest Party Element and Rogue gossip, when the VP (who doesn’t gossip nearly as much as Steve and I, but we love her anyway) interrupts--
“Oh, Steve! Your brother Dave called while I was on the phone. I let it go to voice mail.”
Now, my friends, - let me interject some back story here (again), as that voice mail tape is rewinding: Dave is Steve’s little brother. Like Steve, Dave was also bitten by the comedy bug: he is a standup comedian in Philadelphia. Very quick, very witty. I met him once – five years ago when Steve did his very first standup show. Funny guy….nice guy--or so I thought, until
that tape started playing.
“Hiya Steve! Hiya Kajsa! Dave here. Yea, went to see Joe Jackson last night. Good show! I’m on my way – gonna do a show at ______________. Hey tell Airplane Jayne I said, “Hi –“
Steve is beaming. You can almost hear his thoughts, “What a good kid brother. He remembered APj was coming up this weekend. He’s saying, ‘Hi’ to my friend”
“How sweet,” I thought, “What a nice kid brother—“
And the tape continued “Heh-heh , yea – tell Airplane Jayne ‘Hi!’ – I wouldn’t mind – ya know – a ten cent ride—“
This is where we came in on this story – Me blushing (which takes a lot, mind you), Kajsa squealing, and Superman Steve gob-smacked……
Multiple playings of the tape had the three of us rolling on the floor and me laughing so hard I was in tears.
Jayne: But Steve, what exactly is a “Ten cent ride?”
Steve: I don’t know. But I say, let’s call him and find out. (dialing phone on speaker.)
Ring-ring! Ring-ring!
Dave: Hey big bro!
Steve: Hey Dave. Whatcha doing?
Dave: I’m going on in 20 minutes! Whazzup?
Steve: Well, we’re kind of confused. Just exactly what is a “ten-cent-ride?”
Dave: (wicked/nasty laugh) Heh-heh, well –
Jayne: (not wanting to hear, especially after “heh-heh) Yes, Dave dahling, just exactly what are you expecting to get for ten cents?
Dave: (stammering) Ohh! Airplane Jayne! Ohh! Ahhh, probably ahh, not much of anything now, huh?
Needless to say, we called Dave at least ten (ha-ha) times over the weekend – harassing him relentlessly. Poor child….but I don’t feel sorry for him – not at all! After all, he brought it upon himself.
But on the bright side, Dave did get what he truly has been wanting for five long years…..no, not that, you dirty minded Rogues! He finally got a nickname! He is no longer known as “Dave,” Steve’s kid brother…..He is now known, affectionately, as:
Ten-Cent.
Saturday, June 18, 2005
I really CAN fly!
Okay, okay, I know that YOU know that I know that I really can fly...but now I have proof! Verification! And, keeping in line with NCLB and the current beliefs and practices of our education institutions, my proof and verification is in the form of a test, no less:
You scored as Peter Pan.
Your alter ego is Peter Pan. You are a child at heart. Anything you believe is possible, and you never want to grow up.
Peter Pan 94%
Ariel 75%
Donald Duck 75%
Goofy 75%
Sleeping Beauty 69%
Cinderella 69%
Cruella De Ville 63%
The Beast 63%
Pinocchio 44%
Snow White 38%
So, which Disney character is your alter ego? Am I hanging out with a bunch of Goofy's, or Beasts? Take the quiz, and post your ego (ha, ha, now that is something you all have) as a comment.
You scored as Peter Pan.
Your alter ego is Peter Pan. You are a child at heart. Anything you believe is possible, and you never want to grow up.
Peter Pan 94%
Ariel 75%
Donald Duck 75%
Goofy 75%
Sleeping Beauty 69%
Cinderella 69%
Cruella De Ville 63%
The Beast 63%
Pinocchio 44%
Snow White 38%
So, which Disney character is your alter ego? Am I hanging out with a bunch of Goofy's, or Beasts? Take the quiz, and post your ego (ha, ha, now that is something you all have) as a comment.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
That's Amazing!
Gosh, I do remember some dumb TV show that used that as a catch phrase: "That's Amazing!" Usually, it wasn't anything so amazing....it usually was something that was just kinda stupid. But yesterday, I participated it something that was really amazing. No, really, it was amazing. I auditioned for "The Amazing Race."
Go on, giggle, laught, snort, whatever. Get it out of your system. It's okay, I don't mind! I admit it: I loved that show. Say what you will about all the reality TV drivel, but that show sucked me in. I found myself tuning in weekly to cheer on Meredith and his wife, and to boo at Rob and Amber. Cheryl, one of the teachers I work, and I would sit and strategize what WE would do in their places: "That would be so fun....what if......"
So of course, when we saw the ad on TV that there would be open auditions....we bit. Filled out the 10 page application (ugh), submitted pictures (double ugh), and stood in line for an hour.
The audition consisted of a 3 minute video (egads, those are worse than pictures: triple ugh?) of why we thought we should be on the show.
So, all my bloggy friends, on this side of the pond and t'other: be prepared! If we're chosen, I'll expect a list of your family/friends from around the globe that I can call for help when we are trekking thru their/your part of the world.
"Hello?"
"Hi. You don't know me, but my name is Airplane Jayne, I'm a friend of --"
"Oh yes! APj! ____________(insert appropriate name) told me you might call"
"Oh good. Well, you see, we've lost all our money, because we were too slow, and got to the checkpoint last. Could you loan me some--Hello? Hello? Is anybody there?"
Go on, giggle, laught, snort, whatever. Get it out of your system. It's okay, I don't mind! I admit it: I loved that show. Say what you will about all the reality TV drivel, but that show sucked me in. I found myself tuning in weekly to cheer on Meredith and his wife, and to boo at Rob and Amber. Cheryl, one of the teachers I work, and I would sit and strategize what WE would do in their places: "That would be so fun....what if......"
So of course, when we saw the ad on TV that there would be open auditions....we bit. Filled out the 10 page application (ugh), submitted pictures (double ugh), and stood in line for an hour.
The audition consisted of a 3 minute video (egads, those are worse than pictures: triple ugh?) of why we thought we should be on the show.
So, all my bloggy friends, on this side of the pond and t'other: be prepared! If we're chosen, I'll expect a list of your family/friends from around the globe that I can call for help when we are trekking thru their/your part of the world.
"Hello?"
"Hi. You don't know me, but my name is Airplane Jayne, I'm a friend of --"
"Oh yes! APj! ____________(insert appropriate name) told me you might call"
"Oh good. Well, you see, we've lost all our money, because we were too slow, and got to the checkpoint last. Could you loan me some--Hello? Hello? Is anybody there?"
Sunday, June 12, 2005
best damn or dumb joke ya' got
okay - I'm feeling a bit silly, so sue me. But I'm feeling like this is a pretty funny bunch, so I want ya' to post your favorite dumb, silly, stupid, whatever joke as a comment. This has been my favorite joke for over 30 years......swear:
Bob, the accountant, decides to give it all up, move to the country, and become a farmer. He decides that to be a farmer, ya' need three things: a chicken, a rooster, and a donkey. So Bob sells all his worldly possessions, buys a farm, and heads to the livestock yard one fine Saturday morning. He approaches a woman in front of a stall full of chickens.
"Pardon me," he inquires politely, " but I would like to purchase a chicken"
"Yessir. You's from town, right?"
"Yes, ma'am. Is that a problem?"
"No's, but round these here parts, we's don't calls em chickens. We's calls em pullits. You's wanna buy a pullit, right?"
"Yes, ma'am, I'd like to purch--err, that is, I'd like to buy a pullit."
So the woman sells him a pullit, and directs him towards a stall across the way, full of roosters.
"Goodday, sir. I'd like to buy a rooster."
"Howdy son. You's from town, right?"
"Yes, sir, is that a problem?"
"No, son. But round these here parts, we's don' calls em roosters...we's calls em cocks."
"Oh, thank you sir. Yes, sir, I'd like to buy me a cock then."
And so the old man sells him a fine cock, and sends him to the stall next door, containing one donkey.
"Sir, is that donkey for sale?"
"Sonny, this here is an ass! We's don't calls em donkeys, we's calls em asses. And this here ass is the last ass left in da whole market. Ya wan him?"
"Oh, yes sir! Thank you sir!"
And so Bob now had all the animals he needed. The old man helped Bob up onto the ass, and exclaimed, "Oh! Ah almost fergot ta tell ya: Sometimes dis here ass can be kinda stubborn. If he stops, just give him a slap on his rear. He'll start moving. Have a good day!" And with a parting slap, Bob was on his way.
Bob was doing fine for a few miles, when suddenly his mount stopped. He gave him a nudge with his heel, to no avail. He tried to give him a slap on the rear, but his hands were full. He was about to slide off the asses back, when he spied a young woman approaching.
"Ma'am? Ma'am? I was wondering if you could help me? Would you mind....
could you hold my cock...
and pullit...
while I slap my ass?"
Bob, the accountant, decides to give it all up, move to the country, and become a farmer. He decides that to be a farmer, ya' need three things: a chicken, a rooster, and a donkey. So Bob sells all his worldly possessions, buys a farm, and heads to the livestock yard one fine Saturday morning. He approaches a woman in front of a stall full of chickens.
"Pardon me," he inquires politely, " but I would like to purchase a chicken"
"Yessir. You's from town, right?"
"Yes, ma'am. Is that a problem?"
"No's, but round these here parts, we's don't calls em chickens. We's calls em pullits. You's wanna buy a pullit, right?"
"Yes, ma'am, I'd like to purch--err, that is, I'd like to buy a pullit."
So the woman sells him a pullit, and directs him towards a stall across the way, full of roosters.
"Goodday, sir. I'd like to buy a rooster."
"Howdy son. You's from town, right?"
"Yes, sir, is that a problem?"
"No, son. But round these here parts, we's don' calls em roosters...we's calls em cocks."
"Oh, thank you sir. Yes, sir, I'd like to buy me a cock then."
And so the old man sells him a fine cock, and sends him to the stall next door, containing one donkey.
"Sir, is that donkey for sale?"
"Sonny, this here is an ass! We's don't calls em donkeys, we's calls em asses. And this here ass is the last ass left in da whole market. Ya wan him?"
"Oh, yes sir! Thank you sir!"
And so Bob now had all the animals he needed. The old man helped Bob up onto the ass, and exclaimed, "Oh! Ah almost fergot ta tell ya: Sometimes dis here ass can be kinda stubborn. If he stops, just give him a slap on his rear. He'll start moving. Have a good day!" And with a parting slap, Bob was on his way.
Bob was doing fine for a few miles, when suddenly his mount stopped. He gave him a nudge with his heel, to no avail. He tried to give him a slap on the rear, but his hands were full. He was about to slide off the asses back, when he spied a young woman approaching.
"Ma'am? Ma'am? I was wondering if you could help me? Would you mind....
could you hold my cock...
and pullit...
while I slap my ass?"
Saturday, June 11, 2005
Salud or Salute?
"Major" Airplanejayne. Okay, Lecram has started putting pics on these blogs, so here's one. Actually, if ya' close one eye and back up, it ain't too bad!
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Waters don't part..
A recent conversation with my friend contained an exchange in which I was encouraging him to trust the journey he was on, and his response that he did, and that he also believed that things worked out how they were supposed to work out.
Most of you have read about my fall from the sky, and how it affected my life, faith and relationships. I think many times things happen in our lives that only truly in hindsight are we allowed to see The Hand involved.
I had always wanted to teach. My skydiving accident came during College, Part One. As it became impossible to work and go to school fulltime, I changed directions, and began working with computers and accounting. After working 18 years as an accountant/controller (yes, I know, totally does not fit wit my personality), I decided to go back to school (“College, Part Two”), finish my degree and get my teaching credential. “The waters don’t part until your foot gets wet. Keep walking, and the waters will keep parting,” was the advice from my spiritual advisor.
Two months into the beginning of the journey, the company I had worked at for 18 years started to “belly up.” The owners asked me if I would stay through the end, which would probably be 6 months. Somehow that six months expanded to the year that it took for me to finish my bachelor’s degree. Waters still parting….
So, I had my bachelor’s degree, but no teaching credential, and no job. Again, no problem. Two small construction companies asked me to come in monthly to prepare their financial statements and check their books. A friend who owned an appliance repair business asked me to computerize her accounting system. After taking a test required by the State of California, I was now qualified to work as a substitute teacher. It wasn’t as much money as I was used to making, but it was somehow enough. Waters still parting….
I would be starting my final student teaching, which basically meant that I would be working as a teacher for three months, fulltime, FOR FREE! As if that weren’t enough pressure, my partner and husband of 20 years chose this moment to leave our marriage. His parting advice was, “Just go back to accounting. You’re a great accountant. You don’t have to be a teacher!”
So, there Erynn and I were: no job, no money/no financial support, no husband/father. Looking ahead, all I saw was a huge wave of water, towering over me. “Perhaps I should just turn around and go back,” I announced to the wall of water I suddenly realized was towering over me.
“Keep walking, and the waters will part,” came the response, as quiet as a whisper (yes, Kien, as quiet as an angel’s whisper.)
And so walk, I did. My baby sister financed my divorce and my parents supplemented my income. “Income” was earned by working afternoons, evenings and weekends doing accounting work for anyone I could find. Waters kept parting……
So I kept walking. Finished my teaching credential, picked up two additional credentials, got my dream job teaching, kept the house, putting daughter through college, and getting on with my life.
Only now as I reflect over my recent journey do I see how daunting the task, and how high that wall of water, was. All the time I was walking, my focus was in front of me and I merely had to concentrate on moving forward; not stopping, not looking back. I had faith that I would be able to take another step BECAUSE I had been able to take a step.
And so, just let me pass on the words from my spiritual advisor -- and that were whispered to me as encouragement -- and that have become part of me:
“The waters don’t part until your feet get wet. Keep walking, and the waters will keep parting.”
Most of you have read about my fall from the sky, and how it affected my life, faith and relationships. I think many times things happen in our lives that only truly in hindsight are we allowed to see The Hand involved.
I had always wanted to teach. My skydiving accident came during College, Part One. As it became impossible to work and go to school fulltime, I changed directions, and began working with computers and accounting. After working 18 years as an accountant/controller (yes, I know, totally does not fit wit my personality), I decided to go back to school (“College, Part Two”), finish my degree and get my teaching credential. “The waters don’t part until your foot gets wet. Keep walking, and the waters will keep parting,” was the advice from my spiritual advisor.
Two months into the beginning of the journey, the company I had worked at for 18 years started to “belly up.” The owners asked me if I would stay through the end, which would probably be 6 months. Somehow that six months expanded to the year that it took for me to finish my bachelor’s degree. Waters still parting….
So, I had my bachelor’s degree, but no teaching credential, and no job. Again, no problem. Two small construction companies asked me to come in monthly to prepare their financial statements and check their books. A friend who owned an appliance repair business asked me to computerize her accounting system. After taking a test required by the State of California, I was now qualified to work as a substitute teacher. It wasn’t as much money as I was used to making, but it was somehow enough. Waters still parting….
I would be starting my final student teaching, which basically meant that I would be working as a teacher for three months, fulltime, FOR FREE! As if that weren’t enough pressure, my partner and husband of 20 years chose this moment to leave our marriage. His parting advice was, “Just go back to accounting. You’re a great accountant. You don’t have to be a teacher!”
So, there Erynn and I were: no job, no money/no financial support, no husband/father. Looking ahead, all I saw was a huge wave of water, towering over me. “Perhaps I should just turn around and go back,” I announced to the wall of water I suddenly realized was towering over me.
“Keep walking, and the waters will part,” came the response, as quiet as a whisper (yes, Kien, as quiet as an angel’s whisper.)
And so walk, I did. My baby sister financed my divorce and my parents supplemented my income. “Income” was earned by working afternoons, evenings and weekends doing accounting work for anyone I could find. Waters kept parting……
So I kept walking. Finished my teaching credential, picked up two additional credentials, got my dream job teaching, kept the house, putting daughter through college, and getting on with my life.
Only now as I reflect over my recent journey do I see how daunting the task, and how high that wall of water, was. All the time I was walking, my focus was in front of me and I merely had to concentrate on moving forward; not stopping, not looking back. I had faith that I would be able to take another step BECAUSE I had been able to take a step.
And so, just let me pass on the words from my spiritual advisor -- and that were whispered to me as encouragement -- and that have become part of me:
“The waters don’t part until your feet get wet. Keep walking, and the waters will keep parting.”
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