| You Are a Bright Star Soul |
 Like a shining star, you have no trouble being the center of attention. duh. I am the Sun. Orbit me please. In fact, you often feel a bit hurt when all eyes aren't on you Hmmm.....don't know if I agree about feeling hurt when people aren't looking at me. I mean.... I LIKE being the Star, but I don't mind letting other people be the Star.....as long as they give it back to me when they're done.... You need to be number one in everything, no matter how trivial You say "competitive" like it's a bad thing! You know what "second place" is? Huh? Do ya? Hmpfh! "second place" is nothing more than "First Loser" Nuff said. And it's this ego that both hurts your confidence and helps you acheive True. Confidence can be rattled, but I try to persevere.
Me!?!? Dramatic!?!? Pashaw.... But I like the whole divine quality. And famous? in circles? does that mean I'll be orbiting? Just learn not to take everyone's reaction to you so personally! Why the frick not?!?!?!? Oops...sorry...gotta work on that ego thing.....
|
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Monday, March 12, 2007
Throat drama redeux
...feeling very deja vu....
Been sounding very Lauren Bacallish lately -- which, although it sounds quite sexy, feels like hell on the vocal chords. Kinda like irritating -
like sand.....or a rash......or squeaky voices.......or whiney voices......or the voices in my head......
According to Doc --seen this A.M. after a weekend of acid
-err, that's acid reflux, not the kind you drop...
and upchuck (yes, that kinda does drop)...
it appears that I probably have something on the chords again. "Many patients develop nodules and polyps on the scar tissue after a tumor is removed," assured the doctor this morning.
W.T.F.!?!?!?!
So, one prescription for acid (eliminator, not the other kind), an admonition to watch the spicy stuff, and a referral to my ENT doc (who is not available until May) and I was back in my classroom by 2nd period.
::Music, Maestro, please::
Tell me why?
I don't like Mondays.
Oh tell me why?
I don't like Mon-days.
Tell me why?
I want to sho-o-o-ot......
:)
Been sounding very Lauren Bacallish lately -- which, although it sounds quite sexy, feels like hell on the vocal chords. Kinda like irritating -
like sand.....or a rash......or squeaky voices.......or whiney voices......or the voices in my head......
According to Doc --seen this A.M. after a weekend of acid
-err, that's acid reflux, not the kind you drop...
and upchuck (yes, that kinda does drop)...
it appears that I probably have something on the chords again. "Many patients develop nodules and polyps on the scar tissue after a tumor is removed," assured the doctor this morning.
W.T.F.!?!?!?!
So, one prescription for acid (eliminator, not the other kind), an admonition to watch the spicy stuff, and a referral to my ENT doc (who is not available until May) and I was back in my classroom by 2nd period.
::Music, Maestro, please::
Tell me why?
I don't like Mondays.
Oh tell me why?
I don't like Mon-days.
Tell me why?
I want to sho-o-o-ot......
:)
Friday, March 09, 2007
Moses, Moses, Moses
From APj's Daily Reflections
“What a man!” I say to myself, “I wanna be just like him!”
If God really does look like George Burns (in my version), he has to have a huge bald spot on the side of his head! “Fine!” God curtly responds as he pulls the last of his hair out, “Aaron is coming. I will speak to you, you will speak to Aaron, and Aaron will speak to the people. All will be well…
--but don’t forget the staff…..just in case.
Exodus 3:1-4:17
Moses, Moses, Moses. When ya say his name, dontcha just picture Charleton Heston? – brave, silver hair blowing in the wind (God’s breath), unshirking, challenging Pharaoh to , “Let my people go!”
Moses, Moses, Moses. When ya say his name, dontcha just picture Charleton Heston? – brave, silver hair blowing in the wind (God’s breath), unshirking, challenging Pharaoh to , “Let my people go!”
“What a man!” I say to myself, “I wanna be just like him!”
SURPRISE!!!!!
Just like Moses, I find myself suffering from a terrible case of buhwhadifs……
“buhwhadifs?” you ask, “that sounds serious. Surely he recovered”
Yes, it is serious – and please don’t call me Shirley.
So, take a stroll with me – and my man, Moses:
Moses, (on the lam from the law after having murdered a man) finds himself on a Mt. H
orab with a burning bush. “Hmmm….." he mutters, "How is it that the bush is burning, but not burnt up?” and off he goes to discover that it ain’t no ordinary thing.
Just like Moses, I find myself suffering from a terrible case of buhwhadifs……
“buhwhadifs?” you ask, “that sounds serious. Surely he recovered”
Yes, it is serious – and please don’t call me Shirley.
So, take a stroll with me – and my man, Moses:
Moses, (on the lam from the law after having murdered a man) finds himself on a Mt. H
orab with a burning bush. “Hmmm….." he mutters, "How is it that the bush is burning, but not burnt up?” and off he goes to discover that it ain’t no ordinary thing. GOD IS IN THAT THAR BUSH!!!!!!
Moses, recognizing God by his speech, falls to his knees.
--so far, so good, eh?
Burning Bush, aka God, ever the consummate public speaker, tells Moses who he is and that He has seen the suffering of his people. “Go,” he orders Moses, “Get my people.”
::Race buzzer::
Announcer (off screen), “And we’re off!!! Holy Moses!! Look and listen to the budwhadifs coming from him!”
“Who am I to do this?”
“But what if they want to know Your name?”
“But what if they don’t believe me?”
“But I’m not a good speaker.”
Even as God (of course), answers and supplies all that is needed, Moses (as seen above), keeps coming up with another reason as to why he can’t do God’s will. Moses, obviously in utter despair, gives God my absolute fave line in the exchange:
“O Lord, please send someone else.”
Moses, recognizing God by his speech, falls to his knees.
--so far, so good, eh?
Burning Bush, aka God, ever the consummate public speaker, tells Moses who he is and that He has seen the suffering of his people. “Go,” he orders Moses, “Get my people.”
::Race buzzer::
Announcer (off screen), “And we’re off!!! Holy Moses!! Look and listen to the budwhadifs coming from him!”
“Who am I to do this?”
“But what if they want to know Your name?”
“But what if they don’t believe me?”
“But I’m not a good speaker.”
Even as God (of course), answers and supplies all that is needed, Moses (as seen above), keeps coming up with another reason as to why he can’t do God’s will. Moses, obviously in utter despair, gives God my absolute fave line in the exchange:
“O Lord, please send someone else.”
If God really does look like George Burns (in my version), he has to have a huge bald spot on the side of his head! “Fine!” God curtly responds as he pulls the last of his hair out, “Aaron is coming. I will speak to you, you will speak to Aaron, and Aaron will speak to the people. All will be well…
--but don’t forget the staff…..just in case.
Dear God,
Sorry I’m full of the “butwhadifs.” I’ll try to listen and do what you tell me. Perhaps, though, you could send me an Aaron. I’m kinda more like Moses then I thought….
APj
Sorry I’m full of the “butwhadifs.” I’ll try to listen and do what you tell me. Perhaps, though, you could send me an Aaron. I’m kinda more like Moses then I thought….
APj
Thursday, March 01, 2007
I wanna count da Rogue
The Rogue festival kicks off tomorrow. This is my 2nd as Moneypenny, and the third I will attend. Rogue has been very, very, good to me. I just want to share my virgin Rogue experience:
Three years ago, I had comfortably retreated to a very cozy (but lonely) hermit-like existence. I had my VERY supportive friends that had known me "4-ever" and I didn't feel the need for expansion. My friends felt differently....
Superman Steve had come to perform his show, "Adventures of a Substitute Teacher" at the 2005 RogueFestival. I remember feeling nervous (but excited), exhilarated (but simlutaneously terrified) about being in such a bubbly, eclectic mix of performers. Steve did a five minute show at Arthop (he followed some skinny Asian strumming on a guitar singing La-la, LA-la La-la-la...). After being totally oblivious to interest from some blonde guy with a camera --
HIM: How long have you been together?
APJ: Oh, we're not a couple, we're just friends.
HIM: Oh, you just came down from San Francisco to see the shows?
APJ: No, I live here.
HIM: Cool! You're not a couple, and you live in Fresno! Where are you going next?
-- Steve decided drastic measures were necessary:
This was no longer "RogueFestival: opportunity for Steve to make money." No....this was "RogueFestival: The OC"
--No, not the T.V. show......."Operation Circulation."
I know, I know. I'm sextarded. what can I say.
We went to Veni's, where many performers had gathered. Steve said he was going to network (ever the media whore, that one), and that we wouldn't leave until I had talked to three people-- and that the scotch-drinking-chain-smoking-Rasputin-channeling-Master-Rogue didn't count because he talked to everyone...
::sigh::
I went and sat at a table, and started talking to a fiddle player. Unfortunately, his fiddle talked more than he did, and I was beginning to think that maybe I had forgotten the art of gab (Horrors! Me? Unable to chat people up?!?!). Steve thought the same from across the room, but thankfully, I was saved by two foreigners that joined my table. One was a tall lanky New Zealander, and the other, the skinny Asian troubadour(I remember thinking, "geez, he could sing/stare the pants off a lion tamer! Glad he's so much younger then me...."). And talk I did. Rasputin joined us, as did Steve. I don't remember the entire conversation, but I remember feeling less and less hermitish, and more and more like the APj of old.
Throughout the festival, Steve and Rasputin introduced me to other Rogues. such as SSM (who, by the way, refused to talk to me until closing night. what a snob! He says he was suffering from VenueManagerMadness. I hope that's not stillgoing around), Blake, Dr. O, and John B ('nother story about those two later!). Before I knew it, I found myself drawn into the Rogue, and even getting de-Rogued. Uh-huh, I was excited when I heard the term too, but breathe, dirty boys -- that's just a BBQ.
And here I am, two years later: Rockin' and Roguein'
Thank you Marcel, for being such an enigmatic and excellent RogueMaster. Even though you have passed on the helm, it is your baby. Be proud. And thank you for inviting me into this world.
Thanks to SSM, even though it took two years for me to get your phone number. whatevah, you're still a good dance partner, so I'll keep ya.
Dr. O and John B (my Rupert), you guys are great. You make me smile and laugh.
CindyLou (who has moved from Whoville) and Jade Ed, thanks for letting me in -- you were the toughest nuts to crack, but the crack was worth it.
Devon and Dana: you both are unsung heroes. Thanks for always encouraging me.
Jag - you no longer scare me. I'm glad.
Mustang -- oh, mustang. Thanks for thinking I'm a warrior. Really, I'm still a scared little girl playing dressup -- but don't tell anyone.
And troubadour --I'm blessed to have gotten to know you. I still think you could sing the pants off a lion tamer....
Three years ago, I had comfortably retreated to a very cozy (but lonely) hermit-like existence. I had my VERY supportive friends that had known me "4-ever" and I didn't feel the need for expansion. My friends felt differently....
Superman Steve had come to perform his show, "Adventures of a Substitute Teacher" at the 2005 RogueFestival. I remember feeling nervous (but excited), exhilarated (but simlutaneously terrified) about being in such a bubbly, eclectic mix of performers. Steve did a five minute show at Arthop (he followed some skinny Asian strumming on a guitar singing La-la, LA-la La-la-la...). After being totally oblivious to interest from some blonde guy with a camera --
HIM: How long have you been together?
APJ: Oh, we're not a couple, we're just friends.
HIM: Oh, you just came down from San Francisco to see the shows?
APJ: No, I live here.
HIM: Cool! You're not a couple, and you live in Fresno! Where are you going next?
-- Steve decided drastic measures were necessary:
This was no longer "RogueFestival: opportunity for Steve to make money." No....this was "RogueFestival: The OC"
--No, not the T.V. show......."Operation Circulation."
I know, I know. I'm sextarded. what can I say.
We went to Veni's, where many performers had gathered. Steve said he was going to network (ever the media whore, that one), and that we wouldn't leave until I had talked to three people-- and that the scotch-drinking-chain-smoking-Rasputin-channeling-Master-Rogue didn't count because he talked to everyone...
::sigh::
I went and sat at a table, and started talking to a fiddle player. Unfortunately, his fiddle talked more than he did, and I was beginning to think that maybe I had forgotten the art of gab (Horrors! Me? Unable to chat people up?!?!). Steve thought the same from across the room, but thankfully, I was saved by two foreigners that joined my table. One was a tall lanky New Zealander, and the other, the skinny Asian troubadour(I remember thinking, "geez, he could sing/stare the pants off a lion tamer! Glad he's so much younger then me...."). And talk I did. Rasputin joined us, as did Steve. I don't remember the entire conversation, but I remember feeling less and less hermitish, and more and more like the APj of old.
Throughout the festival, Steve and Rasputin introduced me to other Rogues. such as SSM (who, by the way, refused to talk to me until closing night. what a snob! He says he was suffering from VenueManagerMadness. I hope that's not stillgoing around), Blake, Dr. O, and John B ('nother story about those two later!). Before I knew it, I found myself drawn into the Rogue, and even getting de-Rogued. Uh-huh, I was excited when I heard the term too, but breathe, dirty boys -- that's just a BBQ.
And here I am, two years later: Rockin' and Roguein'
Thank you Marcel, for being such an enigmatic and excellent RogueMaster. Even though you have passed on the helm, it is your baby. Be proud. And thank you for inviting me into this world.
Thanks to SSM, even though it took two years for me to get your phone number. whatevah, you're still a good dance partner, so I'll keep ya.
Dr. O and John B (my Rupert), you guys are great. You make me smile and laugh.
CindyLou (who has moved from Whoville) and Jade Ed, thanks for letting me in -- you were the toughest nuts to crack, but the crack was worth it.
Devon and Dana: you both are unsung heroes. Thanks for always encouraging me.
Jag - you no longer scare me. I'm glad.
Mustang -- oh, mustang. Thanks for thinking I'm a warrior. Really, I'm still a scared little girl playing dressup -- but don't tell anyone.
And troubadour --I'm blessed to have gotten to know you. I still think you could sing the pants off a lion tamer....
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
....And at the end of the day.....
(picture from Surf Camp)Lent has begun. This year, I did not give up white flour (egads, that sucked) – I have decided to spend forty days in reflection. I am journaling daily, and doing much soul searching – trying to focus on areas in my life that I need to stitch, patch, exercise, etc. And listening for His voice. Often, I talk too much (surprise, surprise). Other times, I tend to inject my will over His will. Today’s reflection was, “Today, I will listen for your voice, and I will not harden my heart.”
Have you ever really thought about your heart? Tiny, vulnerable organ that you must have to live. No kidney – no death. Kidney missing? No problem, still alive. No brain, still alive. But heart stops? Dead. Dead, dead, dead.
Look where it’s located! – encased within a bone envelope. A skeleton frame, reminiscent of the briars around Sleeping Beauty’s tower, keeps it from being crushed or damaged.
And yet, look at the heart(felt) adjectives we use: heartless, cold-hearted, tender-hearted, and broken-hearted. And isn’t that how it feels? Broken.
But it’s not really broken, is it? Because, if it was,I’d be dead. And, if I’m not dead, it can’t be broken….
And so….at the end of the day……I’ve just got to step out. Be willing to be vulnerable, and trust that I will not be hurt.
Have you ever really thought about your heart? Tiny, vulnerable organ that you must have to live. No kidney – no death. Kidney missing? No problem, still alive. No brain, still alive. But heart stops? Dead. Dead, dead, dead.
Look where it’s located! – encased within a bone envelope. A skeleton frame, reminiscent of the briars around Sleeping Beauty’s tower, keeps it from being crushed or damaged.
And yet, look at the heart(felt) adjectives we use: heartless, cold-hearted, tender-hearted, and broken-hearted. And isn’t that how it feels? Broken.
But it’s not really broken, is it? Because, if it was,I’d be dead. And, if I’m not dead, it can’t be broken….
And so….at the end of the day……I’ve just got to step out. Be willing to be vulnerable, and trust that I will not be hurt.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Candy is Dandy
Okay......enough of the morose.....let's get back to the fun stuff.... Your Candy Heart Says "First Kiss" okay....as far as titles go. And yes, I think we can refer to it as being "First Kiss" I mean....did ya READ the post before this!?!?!? |
 You're a true romantic --duh. ...although I've always referred to myself as a cynical romantic. who brings an innocent hope to each new relationship. --we'll just glide over the "i" word and move to relationship. Yes, please. Where does the line form? You see the good in every person you date, and you relish each step of falling in love. --yes....I do see the good in everyone (although I've not really been dating much).....but I don't really like relish --especially not stepping or, egads...falling in it. I mean, yuck - I can't think of anything more gross than little pickled cucumbers.....
--Hey, forget "ideal V.day!" Mine was just great, thankyouverymuch. But a romantic dinner cooked by anyone other than me sounds fanfrickin-tastic!
--Yup. I'm sweet. and friendly. Call me.
Aw crap! But I'm a cynical romantic!!!! Does that mean I turn myself off!?!?!?!? ....hmmmm. no WONDER it's not been working.....
--oh, you must be mistaken. I'm not the hot one. I'm the CUTE one. I do have a hot Rogue bodyguard. And an incredible Rogue Enforcer. But I'm the cute one -- gotta love me!!!! |
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Almost Paradise
.....here's another honest gut-wrenching confessionally peek through the barricades into the heart-and-soul of APj.......
Prelude: Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. Voldemort left four months after this group scuba trip – I actually think the “girlfriend” was supposed to go on this trip, and that the others in our group (whose gazes were full of uncomfortable pauses and glances) knew it and her.
“When was the last time, APj?” Difficult question, but an honest one -an honest one that deserves an answer. But which last time: the last successful time? The last good time? Or the last attempt? And if the latter, whose? Our attempt, his attempt, or mine?
The last time I tried was in Fiji. I mean, where could be better than Fiji? Island Paradise. A buri on the beach. The wash of waves, whisper of winds. Morning swims and evening walks. Hikes through lush forests and kayaking with colorful fish. How could he resist?
I tried to do all the things I knew he had once loved about me: I sat close to him, casually caressing his inner thigh. My fingers lightly traced circles on the back of his neck, and I allowed my lips to slightly grazed his ear when I had to whisper. My heart raced as we walked from dinner to our buri. I changed into something naughty (and nice). He told me that he was going to shower……more than an hour later I watched him (through half-closed eyes) exit the bathroom and go to the other bed at the front of the buri.
When I tearfully asked him the next morning what he was doing, his reply was that he just wanted to sleep. And that he wasn’t interested in anything else, especially with me. He promptly left for the dining hall for coffee. Without me.
The remainder of my holiday was spent on wonderful morning swims, kayaking with colorful fish, and beautiful giant turtles. I explored the inner reaches of the island, hiking to the top of a waterfall. I took morning and evening walks along the beach, greeting the Sun as he rose and set, and listening to the Moon as she sang to the sea. Truly Paradise.
Each attempt I made after that was also rebuffed, and with each rebuff, I retreated further behind the barricades of my mind. And yes, you are right: although I have removed most of the barricades, many of them are still in place. It’s just too damn scary.
So, although I’d love to live up to my sexy name of Angel Providing Joy, and I am seriously Jonesing for Affection, perhaps Steph was closer to the truth when he dubbed me “Just Another Yearning…..”
Prelude: Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. Voldemort left four months after this group scuba trip – I actually think the “girlfriend” was supposed to go on this trip, and that the others in our group (whose gazes were full of uncomfortable pauses and glances) knew it and her.
“When was the last time, APj?” Difficult question, but an honest one -an honest one that deserves an answer. But which last time: the last successful time? The last good time? Or the last attempt? And if the latter, whose? Our attempt, his attempt, or mine?
The last time I tried was in Fiji. I mean, where could be better than Fiji? Island Paradise. A buri on the beach. The wash of waves, whisper of winds. Morning swims and evening walks. Hikes through lush forests and kayaking with colorful fish. How could he resist?
I tried to do all the things I knew he had once loved about me: I sat close to him, casually caressing his inner thigh. My fingers lightly traced circles on the back of his neck, and I allowed my lips to slightly grazed his ear when I had to whisper. My heart raced as we walked from dinner to our buri. I changed into something naughty (and nice). He told me that he was going to shower……more than an hour later I watched him (through half-closed eyes) exit the bathroom and go to the other bed at the front of the buri.
When I tearfully asked him the next morning what he was doing, his reply was that he just wanted to sleep. And that he wasn’t interested in anything else, especially with me. He promptly left for the dining hall for coffee. Without me.
The remainder of my holiday was spent on wonderful morning swims, kayaking with colorful fish, and beautiful giant turtles. I explored the inner reaches of the island, hiking to the top of a waterfall. I took morning and evening walks along the beach, greeting the Sun as he rose and set, and listening to the Moon as she sang to the sea. Truly Paradise.
Each attempt I made after that was also rebuffed, and with each rebuff, I retreated further behind the barricades of my mind. And yes, you are right: although I have removed most of the barricades, many of them are still in place. It’s just too damn scary.
So, although I’d love to live up to my sexy name of Angel Providing Joy, and I am seriously Jonesing for Affection, perhaps Steph was closer to the truth when he dubbed me “Just Another Yearning…..”
Friday, February 16, 2007
GET YOUR SEXY ON! I'M BRINGING PAISLEY BACK!
Get Your Sexy Name
Get Your Sexy Name
Okay -- this one is NOT MY FAULT!!!!! To start with...Katie went and got me singing, "Get your paisely on" and I decided that yes, I really do want to bring sexy --- err--paisley back. and if I do (want to bring IT back) then I need a sexy name.A short while later (yes, the students are learning to use transitions -- and it's rubbing off on me....heh-heh, I said rubbing)-I went to visit that cheatin'cardplayer Solitaire, and she had a great new sexy name!
So.....which one?
Thursday, February 15, 2007
CLASS!?!?!? CLASS!?!?!?!? SHUT UP!!!!!!!
(title courtesy of Cheech and Chong)
One of the wonderful things about the English language is denotation and connotation.
Denotation de·no·ta·tion
–noun
the explicit or direct meaning or set of meanings of a word or expression. The denotation of “home” is the place where a person lives.
connotation con·no·ta·tion
–noun
the associated or secondary meaning of a word or expression in addition to its explicit or primary meaning: A possible connotation of “home” is “where the heart is."
As a teacher, I am fascinated with words that have similar denotations, and different connotations.
“Such as?” you ask.
Hmmmmmm…….how about:
Urge and desire.
What is an urge? What about desire? Are they synonyms, shades of meaning? Or what? Of course, the first place I go is to the dictionary:
urge
–verb (used with object)
to push or force along; impel with force or vigor:
–verb (used without object)
to exert a driving or impelling force; give an impulse to haste or action
–noun
an involuntary, natural, or instinctive impulse
desire
–verb (used with object)
to wish or long for; crave; want
–noun
a longing or craving, as for something that brings satisfaction or enjoyment
Looking at the denotations of these words, they are similar. They both deal
with forces, wishes, and longings.
Ahhhhh….but the connotations of each are so different. Urge is a baser word – more physical. An urge usually comes up suddenly; it can be fought and overcome. You can even ignore an urge; and when ignored, an urge usually dissipates.
-but desire; so different: desire grows from within – building, intensifying. Desire must be dealt with, even though you may choose to turn away from the object of your desire.
One of the wonderful things about the English language is denotation and connotation.
Denotation de·no·ta·tion
–noun
the explicit or direct meaning or set of meanings of a word or expression. The denotation of “home” is the place where a person lives.
connotation con·no·ta·tion
–noun
the associated or secondary meaning of a word or expression in addition to its explicit or primary meaning: A possible connotation of “home” is “where the heart is."
As a teacher, I am fascinated with words that have similar denotations, and different connotations.
“Such as?” you ask.
Hmmmmmm…….how about:
Urge and desire.
What is an urge? What about desire? Are they synonyms, shades of meaning? Or what? Of course, the first place I go is to the dictionary:
urge
–verb (used with object)
to push or force along; impel with force or vigor:
–verb (used without object)
to exert a driving or impelling force; give an impulse to haste or action
–noun
an involuntary, natural, or instinctive impulse
desire
–verb (used with object)
to wish or long for; crave; want
–noun
a longing or craving, as for something that brings satisfaction or enjoyment
Looking at the denotations of these words, they are similar. They both deal
with forces, wishes, and longings.Ahhhhh….but the connotations of each are so different. Urge is a baser word – more physical. An urge usually comes up suddenly; it can be fought and overcome. You can even ignore an urge; and when ignored, an urge usually dissipates.
-but desire; so different: desire grows from within – building, intensifying. Desire must be dealt with, even though you may choose to turn away from the object of your desire.
Urge……or desire?
Sunday, February 11, 2007
9 teenagers, 2 adults, and APj
So, I've just returned from taking the youth group on our annual ski trip. It rained all day Saturday -- so we stayed in playing card games and watching movies. But Sunday dawned with 20 inches (20 inches! ::shiver:: and gone to the store!) of fresh snow on the ground. Chains applied (again, back to the store...) and we were off!
No....I don't ski (anymore). I never was more than an adequate skier. But I do love to go to the snow. I've had the same snow outfit for over twelve years: black ski bibs (from when I used to ski), snow boots (still highly functional) and Erynn's old Adidas jacket from middle school. I mean, how sad is that!?!?!?
My bodyguard agreed that yes, I probably did really need (and not just want) a new snow outfit.So........ I went shopping. Aren't I cute?!?!?!?
Yes....the pink mittens must go......NEED brown ones.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
CAN O' WHUP ASS
SGL suggested that I needed to open a can of whup ass. So I went shopping -- and yes it's true: you CAN buy anything on the Internet.
I'm getting my new propane water heater installed tomorrow -- YEAH!!!! No more hauling water in buckets, or showering at the jim--err, gym. I need to wash clothes, do the dishes, change the linens, etc. But top o da list: hot shower for Laura -- err, half-pint -- err APthefrickingJ!
Went to see Tale's End at the Turtledove theatre -- looks to be a good show at the Rogue.
and....speaking of the Rogue..... life is going to get Roguishly busy here -- we had a volunteer meeting this weekend (note to all -- we need you -- YES, YOU!) Got money to round up, stages to rent and build, flyers to post, and money to carry and spend. Dangerous job -- that carrying of money(thanks Mustang! looking forward to using you again!!). Had a really great body guard from London last year. Hoping he's for hire again.
So....perhaps SGL was right! I did need to open that can......
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
FORGET FRONTIER GIRL....LET'S TALK ABOUT SEX!
I knew that would get your attention.
Not that I give much credence to horoscopes and all, but let's just take a moment and see how APJ stacks up:
Yes, yes, APJ, born on the 5th of November, is a Scorpio. Yes, right again! Guy Fawkes Day - the firstborn of Anarchists -- or true Freedom Fighters and
--psst!
who's there?
--just the voice in your head
which one?
--Duh. The cute one, of course. Did you know that "Rebelliousness against all conventions, political extremism to the point where hatred of the Establishment makes the SCORPIO an utterly unscrupulous terrorist?"
says who?
--says the Signs of the Zodiac
cool! What else does SotZ say about me?
--well, this is kinda like above. It says here that, "Scorpios need great self-discipline, because they are able to recognize the qualities in themselves that make them different from other humans, and to know their utterly conventional natures can be used for great good, or great evil."
egads! I can almost see Dr. Evil with his "quotation marks" Come on! I'm not all that bad. Maybe.....maybe I'm all that good!! Like a superhero!
--well, it says here that you do have a super power--
really! a superpower!?!? What is it? Tell me!
--Be patient (yes, yes, not one of your gifts).....let me read down a bit....hmmmm....here it is -- "Scorpios sometimes possess penetrating eyes which make their shyer companions feel naked and defenseless before them."
Wait a fricking minute! Are you telling me that I can make shy guys feel naked and defenseless? Really!?!? I think I'm gonna start staring a whole lot more-- I can almost feel the power rising--
--Yup! there's stuff on that too! According to SotZ, "Scorpios are the most intense, profound, powerful characters in the zodiac. Even when they appear self-controlled and calm there is a seething intensity of emotional energy under the placid exterior. They are like the volcano not far under the surface of a calm sea, it may burst into eruption at any moment."
Wow. I thought that was just sexual frustra--
--how is it you always manage to bring it back to sex!?!?!? Normal people bring it back to Do Re Mi, but you! You always gotta go there -- Fine. Fine. Here ya' go, pervert -- here's the sex part: "Scorpio is the symbol of sex and Scorpios are passionate lovers, the most sensually energetic of all the signs. Their overriding urge in loving is to use their power--"
power!?!?! I get to use my superpower eyeballs to make them naked and defenseless?
--no. you do not. You "use power to penetrate beyond themselves and to lose themselves sexually in their partners in an almost mystical ecstasy, thus discovering the meaning of that union which is greater than individuality, and is a marriage of the spirit as well as of flesh."
.............
Okay all ya'll, don't remember chasing rainbows, imaginary or not, anywhere near my or Uranus yesterday.......but I'm willing to use my superpowers to shine the light on any emotions that may be trying to hide. And, although the anarchist in me would rather defuse or detonate a bomb, I will try to be brave and say what hasn't been said (yet).....when the opportunity arises.....
Not that I give much credence to horoscopes and all, but let's just take a moment and see how APJ stacks up:
Yes, yes, APJ, born on the 5th of November, is a Scorpio. Yes, right again! Guy Fawkes Day - the firstborn of Anarchists -- or true Freedom Fighters and
--psst!
who's there?
--just the voice in your head
which one?
--Duh. The cute one, of course. Did you know that "Rebelliousness against all conventions, political extremism to the point where hatred of the Establishment makes the SCORPIO an utterly unscrupulous terrorist?"
says who?
--says the Signs of the Zodiac
cool! What else does SotZ say about me?
--well, this is kinda like above. It says here that, "Scorpios need great self-discipline, because they are able to recognize the qualities in themselves that make them different from other humans, and to know their utterly conventional natures can be used for great good, or great evil."
egads! I can almost see Dr. Evil with his "quotation marks" Come on! I'm not all that bad. Maybe.....maybe I'm all that good!! Like a superhero!
--well, it says here that you do have a super power--
really! a superpower!?!? What is it? Tell me!
--Be patient (yes, yes, not one of your gifts).....let me read down a bit....hmmmm....here it is -- "Scorpios sometimes possess penetrating eyes which make their shyer companions feel naked and defenseless before them."
Wait a fricking minute! Are you telling me that I can make shy guys feel naked and defenseless? Really!?!? I think I'm gonna start staring a whole lot more-- I can almost feel the power rising--
--Yup! there's stuff on that too! According to SotZ, "Scorpios are the most intense, profound, powerful characters in the zodiac. Even when they appear self-controlled and calm there is a seething intensity of emotional energy under the placid exterior. They are like the volcano not far under the surface of a calm sea, it may burst into eruption at any moment."
Wow. I thought that was just sexual frustra--
--how is it you always manage to bring it back to sex!?!?!? Normal people bring it back to Do Re Mi, but you! You always gotta go there -- Fine. Fine. Here ya' go, pervert -- here's the sex part: "Scorpio is the symbol of sex and Scorpios are passionate lovers, the most sensually energetic of all the signs. Their overriding urge in loving is to use their power--"
power!?!?! I get to use my superpower eyeballs to make them naked and defenseless?
--no. you do not. You "use power to penetrate beyond themselves and to lose themselves sexually in their partners in an almost mystical ecstasy, thus discovering the meaning of that union which is greater than individuality, and is a marriage of the spirit as well as of flesh."
.............
.........
......
...
...
.....sorry......went to the store.....
--so....big shot -- since you got me all worked up, what's my horoscope say for today?
A magical quintile between beautiful Venus and opulent Jupiter sets the stage for sensual enjoyment. We are more likely now to take direct action, as the best opportunities look better and b
etter with passing time. However, keep in mind that the long-term effects of yesterday's Jupiter-Uranus Square can have us chasing imaginary rainbows throughout the year.Keep in mind that your desires originate within your unconscious mind. Shine the light of awareness onto your hidden emotions. You can defuse an uncomfortable situation by saying what hasn't yet been said.
A magical quintile between beautiful Venus and opulent Jupiter sets the stage for sensual enjoyment. We are more likely now to take direct action, as the best opportunities look better and b
etter with passing time. However, keep in mind that the long-term effects of yesterday's Jupiter-Uranus Square can have us chasing imaginary rainbows throughout the year.Keep in mind that your desires originate within your unconscious mind. Shine the light of awareness onto your hidden emotions. You can defuse an uncomfortable situation by saying what hasn't yet been said.Okay all ya'll, don't remember chasing rainbows, imaginary or not, anywhere near my or Uranus yesterday.......but I'm willing to use my superpowers to shine the light on any emotions that may be trying to hide. And, although the anarchist in me would rather defuse or detonate a bomb, I will try to be brave and say what hasn't been said (yet).....when the opportunity arises.....
Monday, January 22, 2007
JUST CALL ME LAURA FRICKING INGALLS WILDER!
So.....it has been one week since I time travelled back to the 19th century. I remember 
fondly watching "Little House on the Prairie." I loved Michael Landon,
fondly watching "Little House on the Prairie." I loved Michael Landon, - and why not!?!?!? after all, his first name is Michael
-loved the cute prairie dresses, the simplicity of the time. "Gee," I would think to myself, "It was so much easier then--"
"EASIER!?!?!?!?" I mutter each evening as I go to the gym to showe--err---to work out and THEN shower.
"W.T.F.!?!?!?!" I complain each morning and evening as I fill my 5 gallon buckets with water from the outside tank to fill house toilets with -- so they'll flush.
Hmmmm! Betcha some of youse didn't think about that, eh?
So -- the latest update, I got an outrageous quote from the solar company, and should know tomorrow how much, if any, they will cover.
Either way, tomorrow:
"To Solar or not to Solar, that is the question....."
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Murphy's Weekend
Murphy came to stay this weekend. Do you know Murphy? He's quite famous -- he's written his own Law -- and people often quote it.
"You know Murphy's Law...."
And there he was -- staying at the Ranchette! I know I should be flattered, but I'm not.
I went to bed around 11:30 Saturday night. I knew it was going to be a cold one -- frost warnings everywhere, and the wind machines running to keep the oranges from freezing. Imagine my surprise when I awoke at 2:00 AM - FREEZING! "Hmmmm....I'm not an orange, so why am I freezing?" I asked myself. I crept out of bed to go bump the thermostat up. Imagine my horror and shock upon seeing that the temperature INSIDE my house was 52 degrees.
Yes, 52 degrees. Long story short, the propane company "forgot" to deliver propane last week. And since it has be fanfricking cold, I ran out of propane. No propane, no heat. "No problem!" I told Murphy -- who had appeared, grinning, out of nowhere. "That's what a fireplace is for!" I smugly pulled my boots and robe on and made a dash outside (24 degrees) for wood.
Thinking I had the entire problem solved -- propane set to be delivered on Tuesday -- I set about my business on Monday.
::Ring! Ring!::
"Hello?"
"Ms. Jayne? This is Susan. It seems your solar has busted -- and all the water is streaming down your roof."
Long story short -- again -- It appears that Murphy was not satisfied with freezing Jayne, he wants stinky Jayne too. The solar panel froze and broke the water line. I've had to shut the water off at the outside tank - which means......yes...you've got it! No water in the house. No water in the toilet. No water. So, until it's fixed it means showers at the jim -- err, gym and filling the toilet prior to flushing the toilet.
postscript I escorted Murphy to the gate, and watched him leave. I'm sure he'll try to double back.
"You know Murphy's Law...."
And there he was -- staying at the Ranchette! I know I should be flattered, but I'm not.
I went to bed around 11:30 Saturday night. I knew it was going to be a cold one -- frost warnings everywhere, and the wind machines running to keep the oranges from freezing. Imagine my surprise when I awoke at 2:00 AM - FREEZING! "Hmmmm....I'm not an orange, so why am I freezing?" I asked myself. I crept out of bed to go bump the thermostat up. Imagine my horror and shock upon seeing that the temperature INSIDE my house was 52 degrees.
Yes, 52 degrees. Long story short, the propane company "forgot" to deliver propane last week. And since it has be fanfricking cold, I ran out of propane. No propane, no heat. "No problem!" I told Murphy -- who had appeared, grinning, out of nowhere. "That's what a fireplace is for!" I smugly pulled my boots and robe on and made a dash outside (24 degrees) for wood.
Thinking I had the entire problem solved -- propane set to be delivered on Tuesday -- I set about my business on Monday.
::Ring! Ring!::
"Hello?"
"Ms. Jayne? This is Susan. It seems your solar has busted -- and all the water is streaming down your roof."
Long story short -- again -- It appears that Murphy was not satisfied with freezing Jayne, he wants stinky Jayne too. The solar panel froze and broke the water line. I've had to shut the water off at the outside tank - which means......yes...you've got it! No water in the house. No water in the toilet. No water. So, until it's fixed it means showers at the jim -- err, gym and filling the toilet prior to flushing the toilet.
postscript I escorted Murphy to the gate, and watched him leave. I'm sure he'll try to double back.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Mommy Dearest.....
So....Erynn came home for Christmas. We had a lovely Christmas eve: drove down Christmas Tree Lane looking at the lights. 
Then we drove thru a neat area that puts luminarias (candles in a bag) throughout their entire neighborhood. Very, very cool. Christmas Day was good -- spent with friends. Christmas evening she and I watched A Muppet Christmas Carol.
Yes, Lecram, I agree: it IS one of the best versions around. But then again, I love anything with a muppet....
Boxing Day was spent shopping -- as is my tradition. And then it was time for Erynn to head for home.
--and all hell broke loose!
Boxing Day was spent shopping -- as is my tradition. And then it was time for Erynn to head for home.
--and all hell broke loose!
::ring ring!::
"Yes, sweetie?"
"Mummy (she thinks she British sometimes) -- what does it mean when the little light that looks like a battery comes on?"
"It means something's wrong with your battery (smart Mom, eh?). Are you out of Fresno already?"
"Yes."
"Is it steady or flashing?"
"It flashes about every minute or two."
"Keep driving. You should be alright."
Ever have one of those moments? I could hear the rimshot. I could feel the thunder. So (said she later), could Erynn. But "keep driving" she did.
::ring ring!::
"Yes, sweetie."
"Mummy, (not the wrapped in cotton kind), the car just died."
"Where are you?"
"I don't know! There's no signs around."
Note: now, if you were driving a car with a blinky warning light, wouldn't you kinda keep track?
"Sweetie, call Roadside. They'll come help you. Then call me back."
::ring ring!::
"Yes, sweet--"
"Mummy, I hate them! ::sob sob:: They made me walk to the next exit to tell them the name, and then they said ::sob sob:: they still didn't know-- they told me ::sob sob:: to call 9-1-1
." Note: now, first, let me say, Erynn is a truly strong and fantastic girl. She works and pays for most of her schooling, gets good grades, and basically blows everyone away with how put together she is. But she sucks at car drama.
Long story short -- I called kowboi -- or Handy Andy, as I like to call him (but only when he's not close enough to hit me). We drove to McFarland, where Erynn was waiting at McDonalds -- after a McOfficer gave her a McLift. Kowboi discovered the problem, and MacGyvered it so we could get it back to Fresno. And we almost made it! Got as far as Kingsburg before it McDied. So I called roadside, had them come get the car and tow it to Fresno. I called some of the Rogues to let them know we were returning and to meet us at Headquarters.
a big thanks, again, to kowboi. A very Handy Andy to take on a trip.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
A Christmas Meme from Cosima and Lime....
1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate?
Up until a year ago, the answer would have been a hands-down-hot-chocolate. But I went to San Francisco for New Years and had the most incredible Egg Nog……Actually, I had 3 egg nogs…..and a couple of martinis……but no worries!! I wasn’t driving. “Why wasn’t I driving?” you inquire. Because Kermit learned he wasn’t a tree frog.
2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree?
Santa always wrapped the presents in a particular paper. We called it the “Santa Paper.” Yes, yes, not very original – but effective. Santa didn’t put tags or ribbon or bows – he just used “his” paper. Worked great until Erynn discovered “his” paper shoved under the couch in July…..
3. Colored lights on tree/house or white?
This year I’ve gone with multi on both the house and the tree.
4. Do you hang mistletoe?
No – because the only kissables at the house are the cats. And they’re not good kissers…..But I do think I’ll shove a sprig in my pocket next year for use on shopping sprees.
5. When do you put up your decorations?
I like to put them up the weekend after Thanksgiving, although I it was the 2nd weekend in December this year before I was done. But I insist that the decorations stay up thru 12th night. Christmas officially ends on January 6th.
6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)?
Actually, I don’t have holiday dishes. I’ve always wanted a set: I’d really love to have the set with the 12 Days of Christmas on them.
7. Favorite Holiday memory as a child?
One year I won a 7 foot stocking from a local store. I wrapped up stuff from the stocking to give to my brothers and sisters.
8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa?
I woke up and heard Santa putting the presents under the tree I crept down the hall to get a peek: saw Mom, Dad, and my two older brothers putting the presents under the tree. Went back to bed. Told my little sister Jo-jo. She had already figured it out.
9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?
Duh. What a stupid question. When Erynn was little, she knew she could talk me into opening a present every day for a week before Christmas!
10. How do you decor
ate your Christmas Tree?
It is a mouse tree. Seriously. All mice. Stop laughing! Really! It’s even got an Angel mouse topper. And Drummer-mice that hang on the lower boughs and play Christmas carols. I mean it! Stop laughing! The only non-mouse thing is the choo-choo that goes around the base: it’s a Rudolph train. If you ever see a mouse train, please buy it. I want it.
Oh…..and I’ve started a Wizard of Oz tree……
11. Snow! Love it or Dread it?
I love snow, especially at Christmas. I would love to spend Christmas snowed in at a cabin in the mountains. With Brad Pitt….or George Clooney……or Daniel Craig.
Back off Lelly!! You haven’t even gone to see him in Bond yet!.
12. Can you ice skate?
As a small child in upstate New York I could! They used to flood the tennis courts and we’d skate there. Shhhh…..don’t tell my mom, but we used to sneak out onto the lake and skate too..
13. Do you remember your favorite gift for Christmas?
That would have to be the Budding Beauty Vanity. Or my guitar. Can I choose both?
14 . What's the most important thing about the Holidays for you?
Letting my family and friends know how much they mean to me.
15. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert?
chocolate. Anything chocolate.
16. What is your favorite holiday tradition?
Erynn and I drive around on Christmas eve looking at the lights and decorations on houses. We try to find new places each year.
17. What tops your tree?
You’re probably still laughing, right? Yes. As I told you above: it’s an Angel-mouse.
18. Which do you prefer giving or receiving?
Yes.
19. Do you like Candy Canes?
duh. What a stupid question……
20. What is your favorite Christmas Song?
Traditional: Silent Night, Holy Night.
But I love Kathy Mattea’s version of “Mary, Did you Know?” It makes me cry. And…as we all know….it’s not Christmas unless Jayne cries.
Mary Did You Know
Merry Christmas, and God Bless you.
1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate?
Up until a year ago, the answer would have been a hands-down-hot-chocolate. But I went to San Francisco for New Years and had the most incredible Egg Nog……Actually, I had 3 egg nogs…..and a couple of martinis……but no worries!! I wasn’t driving. “Why wasn’t I driving?” you inquire. Because Kermit learned he wasn’t a tree frog.
2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree?
Santa always wrapped the presents in a particular paper. We called it the “Santa Paper.” Yes, yes, not very original – but effective. Santa didn’t put tags or ribbon or bows – he just used “his” paper. Worked great until Erynn discovered “his” paper shoved under the couch in July…..
3. Colored lights on tree/house or white?
This year I’ve gone with multi on both the house and the tree.
4. Do you hang mistletoe?
No – because the only kissables at the house are the cats. And they’re not good kissers…..But I do think I’ll shove a sprig in my pocket next year for use on shopping sprees.
5. When do you put up your decorations?
I like to put them up the weekend after Thanksgiving, although I it was the 2nd weekend in December this year before I was done. But I insist that the decorations stay up thru 12th night. Christmas officially ends on January 6th.
6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)?
Actually, I don’t have holiday dishes. I’ve always wanted a set: I’d really love to have the set with the 12 Days of Christmas on them.
7. Favorite Holiday memory as a child?
One year I won a 7 foot stocking from a local store. I wrapped up stuff from the stocking to give to my brothers and sisters.
8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa?
I woke up and heard Santa putting the presents under the tree I crept down the hall to get a peek: saw Mom, Dad, and my two older brothers putting the presents under the tree. Went back to bed. Told my little sister Jo-jo. She had already figured it out.
9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?
Duh. What a stupid question. When Erynn was little, she knew she could talk me into opening a present every day for a week before Christmas!
10. How do you decor
ate your Christmas Tree?It is a mouse tree. Seriously. All mice. Stop laughing! Really! It’s even got an Angel mouse topper. And Drummer-mice that hang on the lower boughs and play Christmas carols. I mean it! Stop laughing! The only non-mouse thing is the choo-choo that goes around the base: it’s a Rudolph train. If you ever see a mouse train, please buy it. I want it.
Oh…..and I’ve started a Wizard of Oz tree……
11. Snow! Love it or Dread it?
I love snow, especially at Christmas. I would love to spend Christmas snowed in at a cabin in the mountains. With Brad Pitt….or George Clooney……or Daniel Craig.
Back off Lelly!! You haven’t even gone to see him in Bond yet!.
12. Can you ice skate?
As a small child in upstate New York I could! They used to flood the tennis courts and we’d skate there. Shhhh…..don’t tell my mom, but we used to sneak out onto the lake and skate too..
13. Do you remember your favorite gift for Christmas?
That would have to be the Budding Beauty Vanity. Or my guitar. Can I choose both?
14 . What's the most important thing about the Holidays for you?
Letting my family and friends know how much they mean to me.
15. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert?
chocolate. Anything chocolate.
16. What is your favorite holiday tradition?
Erynn and I drive around on Christmas eve looking at the lights and decorations on houses. We try to find new places each year.
17. What tops your tree?
You’re probably still laughing, right? Yes. As I told you above: it’s an Angel-mouse.
18. Which do you prefer giving or receiving?
Yes.
19. Do you like Candy Canes?
duh. What a stupid question……
20. What is your favorite Christmas Song?
Traditional: Silent Night, Holy Night.
But I love Kathy Mattea’s version of “Mary, Did you Know?” It makes me cry. And…as we all know….it’s not Christmas unless Jayne cries.
Mary Did You Know
Merry Christmas, and God Bless you.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Sucked down the Rabbit Hole
This is the story I've struggled with the most. I've started it often -- but never finished it. Either is was funny -- and it's not a funny story. Or it was depressing -- and I've grown tired of depressed. Or I didn't get it right. Or I was afraid you'd think I was fishing for sympathy.
I'm not. I'm not any of the above. But I did need to get this one out. Allya'll that know me, know the "end result." Somya'll know the beginning, somya'll know the middle. But I felt that allya'll needed to know why this time of year -- the time of year that used to be my absolute favorite time of year -- is now my wobbly-est time of year...
According to my family, “It’s not Christmas unless Jayne cries…”
40 years ago, it was my budding Beauty Vanity, 30 years ago, it was my guitar. 25 years ago, my first Christmas away from my family, 20 years ago, Erynn’s first Christmas. These were all “true” Christmases. They were Christmas because Jayne cried.
And then, there was my Christmas four years ago. The year I got sucked down the rabbit hole—
I was driving home from church – I’d just finished doing my annual Christmas pageant. Erynn hadn’t been there – she’d had an improv rehearsal. But where had Mik-
::ring ring::
“Michael! Where were you?”
“Where are you?”
“I’m on my way home – did you forget about the Christmas pageant?””Oh – yeah! Guess I did – how’d it go?”
“Great! Everyone liked the li-“
“Where are you?”
“I’m on my way home – do you need something?”
“Nope – just wondering where you are.”
“Yeah-yeah, I’m on my way home. I’ll tell you all about it in a bit.”
::click::
“Home in a bit” was delayed by a quick trip to the store.
::ring ring!::
“Jayne, where you at?”
“Sorry, babe – had to stop at Target for tape.”
“Oh – okay. See you in a bit.”
And then, I’m pulling in the driveway. It’s a long, dark driveway. I punch the garage-door opener, and pull the car in. As I get out of the car, I’m surprised to suddenly find a strange car pulled in right behind me.
“Can I help you?” I ask warily.
“I’ve got family court papers for you.”
“Oh, you must have the wrong address—“
“What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Jayne. Jayne Day-Richardson.”
“Nope. Right person. Right address,” he curtly responds as he hands me a thick stack of documents, “Merry Christmas.”
Shell-shocked, I take the papers. Surely this is a mistake – But it’s no mistake: the papers have his name vs. my name. “He must be dying – or he’s won the lottery” are the only two thoughts in my numb brain. Autopilot guides my feet into the house – “Where’s Dad?” I ask Erynn. “He’s not home,” she responds from the couch, “But someone has been here twice looking for you.” I continue to the back of the house – still on autopilot. “I’m gonna take a shower, sweetie, okay?” I’m aware of her response – I’m just not sure what it was. I turn the shower on – having no intention of getting in – I just need it to drown the sound.
I dial his number. No answer.
Pain like an arrow pierces my brain: He didn’t take the truck in to be worked on – he took the truck.
I dial his number. No answer.
Another arrow pierces and runs me through: he didn’t take the horse-trailer to be painted – he took it and hid it.
I dial his number. No answer.
Another arrow pierces and runs me through: he wasn’t getting rid of old clothes last week – he was moving them.
I dial his number. No answer.
Yet another arrow pierces and runs me through: this is why he didn’t want both of our names on Erynn’s car.
I dial his number. No answer.
An arrow as wide as a car knocks me to the floor: this is why everyone acted so strange in Fiji – they knew that “this” was coming.
I dial his number.
“Yes.”
“Michael.”
“Yes.”
“Michael. What have you done?”
“Jayne. It was time—“
“Michael. What have you done? Is this how you –“
“Jayne. We aren’t happy. It “
“Michael. Where’s the talking? Where’s the trying to fix?”
“Jayne. I can’t talk to you. You never listen. You never support-“
“Michael. How can you do this – now? Erynn graduates in six months. I’m getting ready to do my student teaching. You do this now? Two days before Christmas? Without talking?”
“Jayne, it was time. You never—“
“Michael, don’t. I can’t believe that this is how you do THIS. After 21 years – you let some stranger serve me papers in the driveway. What were you thinking?”
“Jayne. I’m not happy. And I deserve to be happy. That’s the most important thing in life, right?”
“No, Michael. Actually, the most important thing is our daughter. What—“
“Well, you know Jayne – that’s another problem. You always put her first—“
I don’t remember how the conversation ended. I remember climbing in and sitting on the floor of the shower – letting the water course down my arrow scarred body—sitting there, shaking and crying…..
-cause it’s not Christmas, unless Jayne cries……
I'm not. I'm not any of the above. But I did need to get this one out. Allya'll that know me, know the "end result." Somya'll know the beginning, somya'll know the middle. But I felt that allya'll needed to know why this time of year -- the time of year that used to be my absolute favorite time of year -- is now my wobbly-est time of year...
According to my family, “It’s not Christmas unless Jayne cries…”
40 years ago, it was my budding Beauty Vanity, 30 years ago, it was my guitar. 25 years ago, my first Christmas away from my family, 20 years ago, Erynn’s first Christmas. These were all “true” Christmases. They were Christmas because Jayne cried.
And then, there was my Christmas four years ago. The year I got sucked down the rabbit hole—
I was driving home from church – I’d just finished doing my annual Christmas pageant. Erynn hadn’t been there – she’d had an improv rehearsal. But where had Mik-
::ring ring::
“Michael! Where were you?”
“Where are you?”
“I’m on my way home – did you forget about the Christmas pageant?””Oh – yeah! Guess I did – how’d it go?”
“Great! Everyone liked the li-“
“Where are you?”
“I’m on my way home – do you need something?”
“Nope – just wondering where you are.”
“Yeah-yeah, I’m on my way home. I’ll tell you all about it in a bit.”
::click::
“Home in a bit” was delayed by a quick trip to the store.
::ring ring!::
“Jayne, where you at?”
“Sorry, babe – had to stop at Target for tape.”
“Oh – okay. See you in a bit.”
And then, I’m pulling in the driveway. It’s a long, dark driveway. I punch the garage-door opener, and pull the car in. As I get out of the car, I’m surprised to suddenly find a strange car pulled in right behind me.
“Can I help you?” I ask warily.
“I’ve got family court papers for you.”
“Oh, you must have the wrong address—“
“What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Jayne. Jayne Day-Richardson.”
“Nope. Right person. Right address,” he curtly responds as he hands me a thick stack of documents, “Merry Christmas.”
Shell-shocked, I take the papers. Surely this is a mistake – But it’s no mistake: the papers have his name vs. my name. “He must be dying – or he’s won the lottery” are the only two thoughts in my numb brain. Autopilot guides my feet into the house – “Where’s Dad?” I ask Erynn. “He’s not home,” she responds from the couch, “But someone has been here twice looking for you.” I continue to the back of the house – still on autopilot. “I’m gonna take a shower, sweetie, okay?” I’m aware of her response – I’m just not sure what it was. I turn the shower on – having no intention of getting in – I just need it to drown the sound.
I dial his number. No answer.
Pain like an arrow pierces my brain: He didn’t take the truck in to be worked on – he took the truck.
I dial his number. No answer.
Another arrow pierces and runs me through: he didn’t take the horse-trailer to be painted – he took it and hid it.
I dial his number. No answer.
Another arrow pierces and runs me through: he wasn’t getting rid of old clothes last week – he was moving them.
I dial his number. No answer.
Yet another arrow pierces and runs me through: this is why he didn’t want both of our names on Erynn’s car.
I dial his number. No answer.
An arrow as wide as a car knocks me to the floor: this is why everyone acted so strange in Fiji – they knew that “this” was coming.
I dial his number.
“Yes.”
“Michael.”
“Yes.”
“Michael. What have you done?”
“Jayne. It was time—“
“Michael. What have you done? Is this how you –“
“Jayne. We aren’t happy. It “
“Michael. Where’s the talking? Where’s the trying to fix?”
“Jayne. I can’t talk to you. You never listen. You never support-“
“Michael. How can you do this – now? Erynn graduates in six months. I’m getting ready to do my student teaching. You do this now? Two days before Christmas? Without talking?”
“Jayne, it was time. You never—“
“Michael, don’t. I can’t believe that this is how you do THIS. After 21 years – you let some stranger serve me papers in the driveway. What were you thinking?”
“Jayne. I’m not happy. And I deserve to be happy. That’s the most important thing in life, right?”
“No, Michael. Actually, the most important thing is our daughter. What—“
“Well, you know Jayne – that’s another problem. You always put her first—“
I don’t remember how the conversation ended. I remember climbing in and sitting on the floor of the shower – letting the water course down my arrow scarred body—sitting there, shaking and crying…..
-cause it’s not Christmas, unless Jayne cries……
Thursday, December 07, 2006
VOCABULARY
We are a family of word-lovers. My mother instilled in each of us a desire to know words. Instead of “said” we were encouraged to use replied, retorted, exclaimed, whispered, shouted, admonished (personal fave) – well, you get the picture. There were a couple of word rules:
1) we couldn’t use it if we didn’t know what it meant. And
2) we couldn’t say it unless it was in the dictionary.
This was my mother’s way of keeping us from cussing – wouldn’t work so much now, ‘cause “those words” are in many dictionaries -But it worked just fine back then.
We couldn’t call each other f*ck*rs, bi$ch@s, as$ho(es, or even ba4t#rds – cause we couldn’t find them in the dictionary. But phenomenal alternatives were found, and creative compounds built: Mucus-hound, Feces-dweller, larvae-lover.
What a wonderful life, eh? (Rhetorical – yes, it WAS a wonderful life…..)
Poor Jason...
Jason is my youngest brother, and as a child he received quite the pickings on by his five older siblings. We would call him names...he wouldn’t know what they meant...he would look them up... – and cry... and then we would heartily laugh.
Jason spent oodles of hours with eyes in the dictionary....
One day, I was sitting outside with my sister JoJo and her boyfriend – the boyfriend we all tolerated, but considered a fecal-dweeling maggot-munching, toad-toting fiend.
“Whatcha doing?” Jason asked.
“Noneofyerbizness, Four-eyes,” Danny sneered.
--see why we didn’t like him? I mean it’s one thing to pick on your OWN sibling…
“Hey,” I retorted, “Don’t call him that—“
“It’s okay,” interjected Jason, “I don’t care what he says. He’s a hemorrhoid!”
“A what!?!?” I choked.
“A hemorrhoid,” Jason calmly repeated.
“Jason,” I admonished (heh-heh, personal fave), “You know the rules: if you don’t know what it means, you can’t say it.”
“Hemorrhoid,” explained Jason, “ Hemoorrhoid. A painful and inflamed area near the butt-OCKS. And that is what Danny is: a painful area near the butt-OCKS.”
Dontcha jus' love it? I mean, dontcha!?!?!?
1) we couldn’t use it if we didn’t know what it meant. And
2) we couldn’t say it unless it was in the dictionary.
This was my mother’s way of keeping us from cussing – wouldn’t work so much now, ‘cause “those words” are in many dictionaries -But it worked just fine back then.
We couldn’t call each other f*ck*rs, bi$ch@s, as$ho(es, or even ba4t#rds – cause we couldn’t find them in the dictionary. But phenomenal alternatives were found, and creative compounds built: Mucus-hound, Feces-dweller, larvae-lover.
What a wonderful life, eh? (Rhetorical – yes, it WAS a wonderful life…..)
Poor Jason...
Jason is my youngest brother, and as a child he received quite the pickings on by his five older siblings. We would call him names...he wouldn’t know what they meant...he would look them up... – and cry... and then we would heartily laugh.
Jason spent oodles of hours with eyes in the dictionary....
One day, I was sitting outside with my sister JoJo and her boyfriend – the boyfriend we all tolerated, but considered a fecal-dweeling maggot-munching, toad-toting fiend.
“Whatcha doing?” Jason asked.
“Noneofyerbizness, Four-eyes,” Danny sneered.
--see why we didn’t like him? I mean it’s one thing to pick on your OWN sibling…
“Hey,” I retorted, “Don’t call him that—“
“It’s okay,” interjected Jason, “I don’t care what he says. He’s a hemorrhoid!”
“A what!?!?” I choked.
“A hemorrhoid,” Jason calmly repeated.
“Jason,” I admonished (heh-heh, personal fave), “You know the rules: if you don’t know what it means, you can’t say it.”
“Hemorrhoid,” explained Jason, “ Hemoorrhoid. A painful and inflamed area near the butt-OCKS. And that is what Danny is: a painful area near the butt-OCKS.”
Dontcha jus' love it? I mean, dontcha!?!?!?
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Casino Royale
I went to see Lelly’s lover –
Okay, okay, not her “real-life” one….I went to see her “if-he-shows-up-on-the-doorstep-I-get-to-do-him-without-jeopardizing-my-long-term-relationship” lover:
“The name is Bond. James Bond”
Okay – to all the critics and purists
--which, by the way – how can you be a “Bond purist?” I mean, there’s been how many Bonds? Six? Seven? Get over yourselves already.
And Bond – get over here!
::Spoiler alert ahead::
Okay – if you don’t wanna know what happens – leave now.
Did you leave? Did you stay?
Last warning…..
Hmmmm…..Money penny gets some! Yes! Money penny gets some Bond lovin’ in the movie. Fanfrickingtastic, I say. Okay, okay, her name is Vesper Lyn, but when she meets Bond on the train (hey, I warned you) she says, “I’m the Money” to which Bond replies, “Every penny of it.” (FYI -I'm stealing this line. I will say, "I'm the Money" you reply, "Every penny of it." Deal?)
….sorry, went to the store…..
Okay, fast forward over all the boring plot details, lets just leave it at Money penny, aka Vesper Lyn (what a non-Bond-chick name, eh?) rolls on the floor, in the sand,
and on a boat with Bond – and what a Bond he is – all chiseled and nekkid. Oh! And there’s a scene where (::spoiler alert!::) he’s tied nekkid in a chair—
Okay, okay, not her “real-life” one….I went to see her “if-he-shows-up-on-the-doorstep-I-get-to-do-him-without-jeopardizing-my-long-term-relationship” lover:
“The name is Bond. James Bond”
Okay – to all the critics and purists
--which, by the way – how can you be a “Bond purist?” I mean, there’s been how many Bonds? Six? Seven? Get over yourselves already.
And Bond – get over here!
::Spoiler alert ahead::
Okay – if you don’t wanna know what happens – leave now.
Did you leave? Did you stay?
Last warning…..
Hmmmm…..Money penny gets some! Yes! Money penny gets some Bond lovin’ in the movie. Fanfrickingtastic, I say. Okay, okay, her name is Vesper Lyn, but when she meets Bond on the train (hey, I warned you) she says, “I’m the Money” to which Bond replies, “Every penny of it.” (FYI -I'm stealing this line. I will say, "I'm the Money" you reply, "Every penny of it." Deal?)
….sorry, went to the store…..
Okay, fast forward over all the boring plot details, lets just leave it at Money penny, aka Vesper Lyn (what a non-Bond-chick name, eh?) rolls on the floor, in the sand,
and on a boat with Bond – and what a Bond he is – all chiseled and nekkid. Oh! And there’s a scene where (::spoiler alert!::) he’s tied nekkid in a chair—
God....what a gun.....
….again, I’ve gone to the store…..sigh, Vespers getting the vapors…..
So, see? Perhaps there’s hope, eh? I mean, if the Movie’ Money penny is getting’ some, perhaps the Rogue’ Money penny….
…oh hell, I think I’ll just stay here at the store. Do you need me to pick up anything?
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Blogthings again!
Argh!!!!!!! That silly Lime. She knows how crazy I get with these things.... You Are Fish |
 |
What Kind of Meat Are You?
People are usually a bit scared of me -- but I never thought it was because of my exotic ways. Geez, I didn't know my ways were exotic! Hmmm....gives a whole new meaning to the Rogue BBQ cry of, "Get off the meat!" eh?
| You Are Mud Pie |
 |
What Kind of Pie Are You?
....still waiting for SOMEONE to give into their impulse(s). Hell, I'll supply the pie!
| You Are a Jam Cookie |
 |
What Kind of Cookie Are You?
all this exotic and impulse talk has sent me to the store......back soon!
| You Are a Powdered Devil's Food Donut |
 |
What Donut Are You?
okay,okay -- when I did this the first time, I lied. I said I would only eat one donut, and that I liked KrispyKreme. It told me I was a plain glazed donut.
ME!?!?!? Plain!?!?!? Glazed!?!?!?!? No way! Must be a mistake -- especially after all the exotic and impulse stuff above. So... I told the truth this time....and look: now I'm a hedonist. Look out Sandals! Here I come!!!
| You Are Chinese Food |
 |
What Kind of Food Are You?
...and AGAIN I'm exotic.....yet, ordinary......isn't that an oxymoron? When are the people coming back? Has it been an hour yet?
what a wonderful meal that was. and, of course, after a full meal (and chinese food), one gets dessert. And what better dessert, than a fortune cookie?
| Your Fortune Is |
 |
The Wacky Fortune Cookie Generator
a kiss is like a spider web? Did the fly die? Is that a good thi -- oh......THAT kind of fly.....
-'scuse me. I've gone to the store, again....
Monday, November 27, 2006
Homeward Bound
I'm flying over the midwestern states - chasing a red sunset all the way. I've a northern window seat, and scan the horizon as we careen through the evening sky. That was always my job when we flew. Voldemort flew the plane; I sat in the co-pilot seat, talked on the radio, made sure we were flying at the correct altitude
-- okay, quick lesson here (after all, I am a teacher, and can't help teaching....) Planes fly "VFR" which is "visual" and "IFR" which is instrument (not, "I Follow Roads"). Did you know that there may only be 500 feet between a plane flying VFR and one flying IFR?!?!? IFR planes flying 0-170degree courses fly on the odd thousand, VFR planes fly on the odd thousand plus 500ft. Above 180degree courses fly on the even thousands, VFR (again) +500feet. Holy shit!!!! So if some Yahoo didn't set the altimeter right.....or is lazy on the yoke......
--which brings me back to MY job -- and the most important part (I thought) of my job: scanned the horizon for other planes. "Why did you scan the horizon?" you ask, "Isn't that the job of the God (otherwise known as the Air Traffic Controller)?"
here is my recollection of one of our trips to Sunny Southern California.....
GOD (ATC#1): ......TwoZuluDelta, this ATC#1. You have traffic at 25,000, 3 miles out.
APj: "Thank you ATC#1. I'll keep my eyes open." Geez, Mike! 25,000 ft!?!? That yahoo thinks I can see 15,000 feet above me!?!? Ha! Like I'm really worried about--HOLY SHIT!
Mike: What?
APj: "ATC#1, Negative on 25,000ft 3mile out traffic. But I've got traffic on my 3 o'clock at 15,000ft, less than 1 mile out.
ATC#1: I don't have that bird.
APj: Mike?!? WTF!?!?!? What does he mean he doesn't have that bird?!? I can see the pil--
Mike: Calm down, Jayne. He just means that plane is under someone elses watch. Remember: I told you that all the Traffic Control Centers intersect--
APj: Yeah, yeah. Fine. Hey! Watch your altitude! Aren't you supposed to be on the +500 ft thingy?
Mike: You radio. Me Fly Plane.
Apj: You crash, Me jump from Plane!
ATC#1: TwoZuluDelta, I'm passing you off to Riverside, God#2.
God#2/ATC#2: TwoZuluDelta, I have you. Please be advised you have traffic at 32,000ft, 15 miles out.
APj: "Thank you God#2." Geez, Mike! What is it with this "traffic at zillions of feet" crap?
Mike: Yeah, I know. But they have to tell us when anyone is in our airspace. That's their--
APj: Shit!
Mike: What?!?
APj: "God#2. Negative on 32,000ft, 15miles out. But I've got a plane at my 9 o'clock, at approx 13,000ft and less than 1 mile.
God#2: Hmmm.....I don't see him on my scope.
Mike: Jayne!?!? What are you doing!?!?!? Why do you have your hand on the door?
APj: Mike, I hope to God you don't hit any turbulence. 'cause I feel the slightest jolt, and I'm jumping!
He smiled, and told me I was being silly. He thought I was being melodramatic. Over-reacting. Yup.....right up until this final exchange as we were on our final approach into John Wayne/Orange County Airport.
God#4: TwoZuluDelta, what's your maximum cruise speed?
APj: 150 MPH
God#4: TwoZuluDelta.....ahhh......what kind of plane are you?
APj: Cessna 182.
God#4: TwoZuluDelta....ahhhhhh.....maintain maximum speed. You've got a 727 right behind you on final.
APj: What?!?!?
So there we were, in our tiny little Cessna 182......screaming over the fence on our final approach......not allowed to slow down until we were halfway down the runway.........bigass bird on our tail.........
so now you know why APj is looking out the window when she flies.....
-- okay, quick lesson here (after all, I am a teacher, and can't help teaching....) Planes fly "VFR" which is "visual" and "IFR" which is instrument (not, "I Follow Roads"). Did you know that there may only be 500 feet between a plane flying VFR and one flying IFR?!?!? IFR planes flying 0-170degree courses fly on the odd thousand, VFR planes fly on the odd thousand plus 500ft. Above 180degree courses fly on the even thousands, VFR (again) +500feet. Holy shit!!!! So if some Yahoo didn't set the altimeter right.....or is lazy on the yoke......
--which brings me back to MY job -- and the most important part (I thought) of my job: scanned the horizon for other planes. "Why did you scan the horizon?" you ask, "Isn't that the job of the God (otherwise known as the Air Traffic Controller)?"
here is my recollection of one of our trips to Sunny Southern California.....
GOD (ATC#1): ......TwoZuluDelta, this ATC#1. You have traffic at 25,000, 3 miles out.
APj: "Thank you ATC#1. I'll keep my eyes open." Geez, Mike! 25,000 ft!?!? That yahoo thinks I can see 15,000 feet above me!?!? Ha! Like I'm really worried about--HOLY SHIT!
Mike: What?
APj: "ATC#1, Negative on 25,000ft 3mile out traffic. But I've got traffic on my 3 o'clock at 15,000ft, less than 1 mile out.
ATC#1: I don't have that bird.
APj: Mike?!? WTF!?!?!? What does he mean he doesn't have that bird?!? I can see the pil--
Mike: Calm down, Jayne. He just means that plane is under someone elses watch. Remember: I told you that all the Traffic Control Centers intersect--
APj: Yeah, yeah. Fine. Hey! Watch your altitude! Aren't you supposed to be on the +500 ft thingy?
Mike: You radio. Me Fly Plane.
Apj: You crash, Me jump from Plane!
ATC#1: TwoZuluDelta, I'm passing you off to Riverside, God#2.
God#2/ATC#2: TwoZuluDelta, I have you. Please be advised you have traffic at 32,000ft, 15 miles out.
APj: "Thank you God#2." Geez, Mike! What is it with this "traffic at zillions of feet" crap?
Mike: Yeah, I know. But they have to tell us when anyone is in our airspace. That's their--
APj: Shit!
Mike: What?!?
APj: "God#2. Negative on 32,000ft, 15miles out. But I've got a plane at my 9 o'clock, at approx 13,000ft and less than 1 mile.
God#2: Hmmm.....I don't see him on my scope.
Mike: Jayne!?!? What are you doing!?!?!? Why do you have your hand on the door?
APj: Mike, I hope to God you don't hit any turbulence. 'cause I feel the slightest jolt, and I'm jumping!
He smiled, and told me I was being silly. He thought I was being melodramatic. Over-reacting. Yup.....right up until this final exchange as we were on our final approach into John Wayne/Orange County Airport.
God#4: TwoZuluDelta, what's your maximum cruise speed?
APj: 150 MPH
God#4: TwoZuluDelta.....ahhh......what kind of plane are you?
APj: Cessna 182.
God#4: TwoZuluDelta....ahhhhhh.....maintain maximum speed. You've got a 727 right behind you on final.
APj: What?!?!?
So there we were, in our tiny little Cessna 182......screaming over the fence on our final approach......not allowed to slow down until we were halfway down the runway.........bigass bird on our tail.........
so now you know why APj is looking out the window when she flies.....
Thursday, November 23, 2006
I AM THANKFUL FOR....
I'm in Nebraska, visiting my folks for the holidays. My Dad is not doing well -- but is doing better than many expected. It is hard to see him struggle for each breath -- but he still makes me smile. My Mom gets frustrated, but still loves him.
And I am cold!!!! It is 40 degrees outside -- and I am sitting down at the schoolyard stealing their internet signal.
There is so much that is wrong in the world, in my country, in my neighborhood, in my family, and in my home. But there is so much we all have to be thankful for. A good time to pause and give thanks to
...my parents. For showing me grace in the face of adversity.
...my daughter, Erynn. For showing me that even though I mess somethings up, she isn't one of them.
...my students. For showing me daily that what I do has impact and effect on them.
....my Rogue friends. kien, Marcel, SSM, Mustang, Kowboi. You pick me up when I'm feeling down.
...my Roguish chica's. Cindy, Nic, Rachel, Katie, Kamotion. Ladies....you rock. Must have an outing when I return.
...my blog buddies. Kamotion (who actually fits in the two catagories above), Kfarmer, Lime, and SGL. thanks for all the great and encouraging responses.
It is frickin' cold and my fingers are freezing. Gonna go back to Mom's and eat. I'll be back in CA by Saturday.
Love ya'll lots...
APj
And I am cold!!!! It is 40 degrees outside -- and I am sitting down at the schoolyard stealing their internet signal.
There is so much that is wrong in the world, in my country, in my neighborhood, in my family, and in my home. But there is so much we all have to be thankful for. A good time to pause and give thanks to
...my parents. For showing me grace in the face of adversity.
...my daughter, Erynn. For showing me that even though I mess somethings up, she isn't one of them.
...my students. For showing me daily that what I do has impact and effect on them.
....my Rogue friends. kien, Marcel, SSM, Mustang, Kowboi. You pick me up when I'm feeling down.
...my Roguish chica's. Cindy, Nic, Rachel, Katie, Kamotion. Ladies....you rock. Must have an outing when I return.
...my blog buddies. Kamotion (who actually fits in the two catagories above), Kfarmer, Lime, and SGL. thanks for all the great and encouraging responses.
It is frickin' cold and my fingers are freezing. Gonna go back to Mom's and eat. I'll be back in CA by Saturday.
Love ya'll lots...
APj
Friday, November 10, 2006
You are The Empress
Beauty, happiness, pleasure, success, luxury, dissipation.
The Empress is associated with Venus, the feminine planet, so it represents,
beauty, charm, pleasure, luxury, and delight. You may be good at home
decorating, art or anything to do with making things beautiful.
Ahhh....so THIS is why I love to putz about the house - painting, flooring, electrifying, yarding, weeding and planting. Because I must make it beautiful....of course, the process is not beautiful at all: piles and stacks abound...
The Empress is a creator, be it creation of life, of romance, of art or business. While the Magician is the primal spark, the idea made real, and the High Priestess is the one who gives the idea a form, the Empress is the womb where it gestates and grows till it is ready to be born.
So -- this is saying that I'm a womb!?!?!? So THAT'S why I can't lose weight....
This is why her symbol is Venus, goddess of beautiful things as well as love. Even so, the Empress is more Demeter, goddess of abundance, then sensual Venus. She is the giver of Earthly gifts, yet at the same time, she can, in anger withhold, as Demeter did when her daughter, Persephone, was kidnapped. In fury and grief, she kept the Earth barren till her child was returned to her.
True, true, true...whatever you do....don't piss me off...and yes -- when angered I react by withholding and striking out.
What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!
Your Birthdate: November 5 |
 You have many talents, and you are great at sharing those talents with others. Many people have wrongly interpreted that as being nosey. Most people would be jealous of your clever intellect, but you're just too likeable to elicit jealousy. Uh-huh. And if they still act all jealous and stuff....I just dump the bodies where they'll never be found..... Progressive and original, you're usually thinking up cutting edge ideas. Don't forget the witty reparte. Quick witted and fast thinking, you have difficulty finding new challenges. in other words: I have A.D.D.
(doncha just hear Ren and Stimpy: "I will take over the world today! Muh-hahhahhah.") Hel-LO!?!?!? I can't help it! It's the A.D.D.
what a sucky color. I mean, what's so powerful about Tangerine? Unless you throw it. Or shoot it out of a potato gun. Hmmm......
Do you mean Ace Freeley? The guitar player from Kiss? I like guitar players....maybe not with so much makeup.....or better shoes than me....hey - did you see that Payless Shoes was having a --err, sorry....A.D.D...... May?!?!? Power!?!?!? Okay - I'm going with rulesschmules here. My power month is MARCH.....cause that's when the Rogue is!!! |
What Does Your Birth Date Mean?
November 5th
Births
1960 - Tilda Swinton, English actress
Hmmm..... I'm the same age as the White Witch. Do I look older or younger? Careful! Think before you answer.....
Ah wood jus luv ta stahnd on thoz steaps an cawl: "Rhett! Rhett!"
Events
1998 - Lewinsky scandal: As part of the impeachment inquiry, House Judiciary Committee chairman Henry Hyde sends a list of 81 questions to US President Bill Clinton.
1998 - Lewinsky scandal: As part of the impeachment inquiry, House Judiciary Committee chairman Henry Hyde sends a list of 81 questions to US President Bill Clinton.
Great. AGAIN....somebodyotherthanme gettin' some action on MY birthday...
1605 - Gunpowder Plot: A plot led by Robert Catesby to blow up the English Houses of Parliament is thwarted when Sir Thomas Knyvet, a justice of the peace, finds Guy Fawkes in a cellar below the Parliament building.
1605 - Gunpowder Plot: A plot led by Robert Catesby to blow up the English Houses of Parliament is thwarted when Sir Thomas Knyvet, a justice of the peace, finds Guy Fawkes in a cellar below the Parliament building.
Remember, remember the fifth of November,
Gunpowder Treason and Plot,
I see no reason why gunpowder treason
should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes,'twas his intent
to blow up the King and the Parliament.
Three score barrels of powder below,
Poor old England to overthrow:
By God's providence he was catch'd
With a dark lantern and burning match.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, make the bells ring.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!
Hip hip hoorah!
Gunpowder Treason and Plot,
I see no reason why gunpowder treason
should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes,'twas his intent
to blow up the King and the Parliament.
Three score barrels of powder below,
Poor old England to overthrow:
By God's providence he was catch'd
With a dark lantern and burning match.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, make the bells ring.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!
Hip hip hoorah!
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Happy Halloween
Errr…..sorry it’s been so long. I kinda got dragged/drugged?
--No, definitely not drugged….I would have remembered that--
--into a grove.
Hobb’s Grove, to be exact. My good friend Lore owns and operates what I think is the scariest Halloween haunt this side of Transylvania.
My daughter, Erynn, worked there one year and lost her voice. Next day her teacher asked her why she was so hoarse. Erynn’s reply? “I lost my voice screaming and chasing people with a knife through the kitchen….” Yes….I did receive a phone call…..
--But back to Lore – she called halfway through her “run” with a plea for help. She needed me to come handle the money. Hmm…..a chance to be Scrooge McDuck and count loads of money? Sure! But it meant I was teaching during the day, and counting $$ til passed midnight. Bone tired. Ha-ha….I said bone…..
And then other night was Halloween. Can I just say, I love Halloween? I do! I love decorating, although time got away from me this season (see excuse #1 above). I used to take all the neighbor kids trick-or-treating on a flatbed trailer (out here in the country, the houses are fa-a-a-r-r-r apart). I love dressing up. The other night, I was Dorothy. As in “Wizard of Oz” Dorothy….but, well….it was kinda Hoochie Dorothy…or maybe Oz Afterhours…….
I remember one costume from college – I went as WonderWoman. Costume came from
Fredricks of Hollywood. So, yes, I guess it would have been HoochieWonderWoman (hmmmm…seeing a personal pattern I wasn’t aware of….). Great costume! Tiny bikini bottom and halter top (and I was forty pounds lighter), five-inch platforms, red stripes in hair. Uh-huh – DEFINITELY HoochieWonderfulWoman. Feeling all superheroine and all strutting around…..took off platforms…….and proceeded to step on the handle of a pair of scissors (with left foot) and imbed the blade of said scissors into my right foot. Severing an artery.Did you know artery blood will shoot up over two feet? Yup. It can. Yup. It did.
Tied towels around gusher (formerly known as Jayne’s foot) and headed to the hospital. Upon reaching the Emergency Room I realized that HoochieWonderWoman was probably going to be mistaken for HookerWenchWoman, and insisted that my friends go and procure an acceptable gown for me. Doctors, Mom and friends all had a fantastic laugh at my expense. If I’d have had that Truth Lasso I would have hung them all…
I was on crutches for 6 weeks because of the artery damage. I grew so tired of the following exchange -
Stranger: Sorry you’re on crutches. Skiing accident?
Me: No. I stepped on a pair of scissors—
Stranger: Scissors!?!?! How did you do that?
Me: Well, I took off my Wonderwoman shoes—
Stranger: WonderWoman? Ya’ wanna rope me with your lasso of truth?
Me: Why, so you really have to tell me how much of an ass you are?
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
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Thursday, October 05, 2006
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
First stage kiss......
A teacher/friend of mine is currently double understudy(ing) a local musical--which got a small group of us waxing nostalgic about our different "firsts" onstage. (Dirty rogues, offstage firsts are for a different post)
My first stage kiss was my sophmore year in high school. Somehow, I beat out all the senior theatre girls for the lead in "An Inspector Calls." I was so excited! My first real play -- and I got the lead! And the male lead was kinda cute -- Paul Somethingorother. Cute, and a bit strange -- but hey! aren't all theatre folk kinda strange and roguish?
I read through the script and discover -- egads! I've got to kiss this guy.
::and Jimi echoes, " 'Scuse me, while I kiss the sky!" ::
guitar whines :: dar-dar-dar dar-dar-dar... ::
deep breath....count to ten. Okay. Please remember, my only real kiss to date had been with that guitar-playing rogue who had dubbed me "Little Fox." Certainly that was not the kiss expected!?!?!? I called a friend who had done some theatre in the past:
Me: Kenny! I got the lead!
Kenny: Cool
Me: I gotta kiss some guy on the stage
Kenny: Cool
Me: I don't know how to do a stage kiss
Kenny: Not cool. Need help?
Me: Yeah. Can you come over and help me?
Kenny: Cool.
okay, yeah-yeah-- THAT one I KNEW was hitting on me -- I wasn't quite so naive then.
So Kenny came over and we -- ahem -- rehearsed. alot. It took a number of tries, but he said I finally had it right. So off I went to school -- for the real rehearsal.
I'm doing my scene -- hitting my marks and lines, and just basically being fanfrickingtastic (I was much more confident then too) and "THE KISS" is coming up:
Paul has just proposed and offered me a gigantic ring. Mummy and Daddy are beaming proudly. Tears come to my eyes as I wrap my arms around Paul and move in for 'THE KISS"
--and am engulfed in the putrid smell of sauerkraut.
"Omigawd!" I frantically thought to myself, "Did I fart? Did he fart? Where is that smell com--"
"Darling," Paul says,
--and it is immediately clear that no one farted. Something or possibly someone has died in Paul's mouth.
"Sweetheart," I respond, pulling away and to the left. Reeling, I somehow find the courage and fortitude to finish the scene.
"Okay!" enthuses the director, "That was pretty good -- especially for the first run-through of that scene. Paul, you need to pull Jayne in close....blah-blah-blah, yada-yada.....
--oh and Jayne? You were a bit quick on the kiss. Try holding for 15 seconds."
I did the play. It was amazing. I was more than terrific. I held that fricking kiss with the Manwhoswalloweddeadshit for 15 seconds.
My first stage kiss was my sophmore year in high school. Somehow, I beat out all the senior theatre girls for the lead in "An Inspector Calls." I was so excited! My first real play -- and I got the lead! And the male lead was kinda cute -- Paul Somethingorother. Cute, and a bit strange -- but hey! aren't all theatre folk kinda strange and roguish?
I read through the script and discover -- egads! I've got to kiss this guy.
::and Jimi echoes, " 'Scuse me, while I kiss the sky!" ::
guitar whines :: dar-dar-dar dar-dar-dar... ::
deep breath....count to ten. Okay. Please remember, my only real kiss to date had been with that guitar-playing rogue who had dubbed me "Little Fox." Certainly that was not the kiss expected!?!?!? I called a friend who had done some theatre in the past:
Me: Kenny! I got the lead!
Kenny: Cool
Me: I gotta kiss some guy on the stage
Kenny: Cool
Me: I don't know how to do a stage kiss
Kenny: Not cool. Need help?
Me: Yeah. Can you come over and help me?
Kenny: Cool.
okay, yeah-yeah-- THAT one I KNEW was hitting on me -- I wasn't quite so naive then.
So Kenny came over and we -- ahem -- rehearsed. alot. It took a number of tries, but he said I finally had it right. So off I went to school -- for the real rehearsal.
I'm doing my scene -- hitting my marks and lines, and just basically being fanfrickingtastic (I was much more confident then too) and "THE KISS" is coming up:
Paul has just proposed and offered me a gigantic ring. Mummy and Daddy are beaming proudly. Tears come to my eyes as I wrap my arms around Paul and move in for 'THE KISS"
--and am engulfed in the putrid smell of sauerkraut.
"Omigawd!" I frantically thought to myself, "Did I fart? Did he fart? Where is that smell com--"
"Darling," Paul says,
--and it is immediately clear that no one farted. Something or possibly someone has died in Paul's mouth.
"Sweetheart," I respond, pulling away and to the left. Reeling, I somehow find the courage and fortitude to finish the scene.
"Okay!" enthuses the director, "That was pretty good -- especially for the first run-through of that scene. Paul, you need to pull Jayne in close....blah-blah-blah, yada-yada.....
--oh and Jayne? You were a bit quick on the kiss. Try holding for 15 seconds."
I did the play. It was amazing. I was more than terrific. I held that fricking kiss with the Manwhoswalloweddeadshit for 15 seconds.
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