Cabrina At Large

A man growing old becomes a child again. ~Sophocles

2012-02-01T14:41:00.001-05:00

WOW! I flipped my calendar today and low and behold - February. I turn 45 next week.

Sigh.

I was told when I was a young thing that the older you got, the faster time sped along. Too true. Time is a blur now so I can only imagine what the next 20 years will be.

I caught Oprah's Masterclass with Jane Fonda the other night. (when you get my age you start watching things like Oprah's Masterclass) I found it fascinating. From the camera angles, to the cut-aways, to the casual feel that she was talking to the viewer. I know the older generation despises "Hanoi Jane". I found her charming and amazing during her interview. And it was so interesting to see where she had come from: her mother committing suicide and her distant father who could never really love her after that.

One of the points that stuck with me was her thought that our life is broken into thirds and she was entering into her final third, at 74 years old. I really shortened up our timeline for me. Instead of thinking of 80 individual years, if your lucky, it shrunk it down to just three wedges of time.

While I'll be smack dab in the middle of my second 'wedge' of time, my father had just started his third section when he died suddenly. And his mom, who just passed, had stretched her final third for all it's worth, at 98.

I'm at the age where the drinking age is flashed on cards with the DOB in '91 and it doesn't seem possible. Babies are being born around me by babies themselves. I think where I was in my last 20's and children weren't even a consideration for me.

Full families in their first third.

Time marches on. That's for damn sure. Sometimes it feels like it marched right over me and didn't even notice. So buckle up, put on a helmet and hold on. It only speeds up from here.

"Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work." ~Thomas Edison

2012-01-16T13:19:00.001-05:00

I had to brush out the cobwebs and there was a homeless guy living in the entrence to my blog page.

Ok...it's been a while. A long while. I admit.

Holidays, new car, the passing of my grandmother, another Christmas without my dad, staying home for the holiday for the first time in 15 years and not being re-newed by the radio station after four years....

I've been busy.

My Leaf is a dream come true. Let's start with that. Runs great. Fun to drive. And I just love the look on folks faces when it dawns on them I never have to stop for gas again. Then the double shock that I never have to pay for another oil change or air filter, EVER AGAIN!

It's pretty spectacular, really.

Every time I start it up it's a shock to my system what I've done. Yes, it's on the pricey side, but when you think of the savings, it's really kinda equal. If you want to add the notoriety factor, being the only person in upstate NY to own an EV (electric vehicle), then that's a bonus!

The first question, guaranteed, is, "What if you run out of juice?" To which I have to ask them, "When was the last time you ran out of gas?" I have a charging station on the house now as well, that can 'fill up' the car in about 4 hours to 80% of the battery. (the suggested amount to keep the battery life mean and lean)

It doesn't like the cold tho. This weekend the temps hit 4 degrees and the wall charger wasn't having any of it. Luck for me the trickle charger, that you can plug into any 120v outlet, worked just fine and EVa, as I've named her, didn't miss a beat.

I'm sure as the adventure continues, there will be more about the car. I welcome questions as well. So let me have it. I've been learning as much as I can, since I had to wait since July 2010 to get this durn thing.

A new year and a new chance to kick my blogging back into gear. Until next type....

"Pooh-pooh to the Whos!" ~ The Grinch

2011-12-15T11:37:00.000-05:00

I avoided a LOT of the holiday crush by shopping on line this year. I love that. No...really....I love shopping on line, cuz then it's like xmas when all the packages get delivered to me weeks before xmas. Yes, I know they aren't for me. But I actually like shopping for others, rather than receiving gifts for myself.

No, I'm not going for "most self-less act during the holiday season" award. I just really relish the challenge of buying something for someone that, when the open it, they have a tremendous reaction.

I can't tell you how many times, in my youth, I got stuff that was crap. There...I said it! It took me 40 years, but I've admitted it publicly. And this taught me that you need to make an effort when you buy. The following are examples that, not only scared me for life, but taught me to shop kindly:

There was a macrame belt weaving kit. Really. You can't make this up.

Magic sand that you poured under water and it never got wet. When they tell me I have cancer, years down the road....I'll blame that feckin' magic sand!

The Ant farm. NOTHING good comes from keeping bugs in your home and treating them like pets. Tiny ants came in from outside and actually killed the colony and made the 'farm' their summer residence.

A hamster. Ok....yes...I wanted it. I wanted it bad. And I loved it. But when you buy something that is 'food' for a larger animal, they are not meant to live long and it died a horrible death that was oozy and icky.

So during this holiday season, as you swim the gift buying tide with other Whos, remember to buy from your heart and not with the random coupon you might find. The receiver will appreciate the effort and you will always remember the look on their face that says, "You like me. You get me. You're my favorite."

That's xmas to me.

Age is a very high price to pay for maturity. Tom Stoppard

2011-12-07T15:20:00.001-05:00

I have spent the last 20 min combing the internet for a picture of what I want to blog about today. And I can't find anything even close. I'm going to attribute that to being very un-hip, old and more than anything-white.

I bowl on Tuesday nights on the north side of town. And for the most part I'm spoiled by bowling with women, or with my gays. So when I got asked to bowl on a mixed league (straight: very, very straight), I was shocking to me how shocked I was at the folks that bowled there.

It's like when you hit a Spanish station on the radio, by accident, and you just think, "These aren't 'my people'". and then quickly turn it to some pop top 40.

That's how I feel on Tuesday nights. I can't really relate to any of them.

At a certain hour, it's like a switch if flipped and people pour through the doorway to bowl. The brim on the baseball hats are a lil flatter. The pants hang a lil lower. I'm still amazed how someone can walk the lane approach and hold their pants on AND swing the ball in the other hand.

Look....I don't get it. I don't want to see the color of your underwear. I don't want to see your ass creeping up out or your pants. It makes me a lil nuts. Ok, I said it!

This Tues the most amazing foursome came through the door. If I wasn't in the armpit of NY, I would say it was a rap star. And yes...a REAL hip hop shooting star would have looked just as out of place and.....silly. YES....SILLY! So sue me! This was no hip hop artist, that I could tell. Just teenagers out for a night of bowling.

Since I can't find this get-up on line, I'm going to have to describe it to you: metallic gold and black, over sized and matching from hat, to jacket, to his damn shoes, people! He was a scrawny white boy with this enormous jacket on. It was kinda puffy, but the design was what was amazing. It was like metallic golden swirls and his shoes matched perfectly. He hoisted his pants at one point, so those were, of course, hanging off him non-exsistant ass.

His girl was a foot taller and looked like she had stepped out of a Mattel assembly line. She might have been 18, but her plastic surgery was already aging her. Tweedle Dumb & Tweedle Dumber were the henchmen in tow. They sported white tank tops and hippity hoppity type jackets with flat brimmed baseball caps askew.

It was horrifying and amazing all at the same time. And I wondered....am I that old? Have I reached that age my mother was where nothing I liked was 'cool' anymore? If I was younger and hipper would his outfit be awesome?

No. He looked like an idiot.

While I wore my share of silly things in the 80's, I never looked like my mother dressed me in my father's size of matching tag garanimals.

I think I'm ok with finally hitting the un-cool mark in my life. So I can't watch shows like the Grammy's or the MTV Awards. I still have re-runs of the Brady Bunch. And I do have a certain advantage: a belt.

“Being crazy isn't enough.” ― Dr. Seuss

2011-12-02T10:05:00.001-05:00

You know the drill. It's that time of year and the calendar is filling up scary fast. The end of another year is screaming towards us. I was shocked to flip the calendar, which I was already 3 days behind, and uncover the first of December.

Shocked!

I was told a looooong time ago, probably by a teacher that I thought was old as dirt and now I'm older than she was when she told me, that as you get older the time passes faster.

Holy Oprah pass the bucket cuz this motion sick momma ain't gonna handle the next couple decades well.

With the holidays comes the rush of shopping and wearing out the numbers on your plastic cards. Mine is almost see-thru at this point. Thank you Cyber Monday for on-line shopping deals. At least I got that taken care of, right quick. My office-mate scowled at me when I announced I was done shopping. I triumphant declaration with a fist pump for effect. But when your family is 3,000 miles away, you have to think ahead.

That doesn't slow down time either.

Looking ahead on the calendar is quite dizzying: trips are booked for Feb and April. The high holy month of March is stacked to the rafters already, with my lil Irish Radio show. That's as far as I dare to look into my crystal ball. If I know too much ahead of time I might just become a hermit and find a cave to crawl into.

I need to sit down. But certainly there is no time to do it. Maybe Santa will bring me a 13 month year! But knowing my life, I'll find a way to shove that full of 'to-dos' before you can say "I'm sorry, I'm busy that day."

Calgon take me away!

Artists, no matter how good their intentions, are always slower than they think. ~ Mark Millar

2011-11-03T12:21:00.004-04:00

And slow I was. Mind you we had a few hiccups in the road. A trip to the ER, busy schedules, many things happening in the weeks leading up to the most awesome of holiday ever!

But I got there, finally.

I didn't put everything out, but enough to make a good show.

A new window display, the Witch's Kitchen, made it's debut. My new apothecary jars fit in so very well.

I made a "dug grave" in the front yard, with a lil illusion magic. With night and only the colored flood lights and tiki torches, I had a couple people ask how long it took me to dig the hole in the front yard. Amazing what you can do with a black trash bag and cheap towels dyed the color of dirt. I think the 'spade in the ground" sold it tho. The flashing "Vacancy" is a good gag as well. One of my wife's favorite parts of the graveyard.

The new costume was a hit as well. Lots of shrieks and running children everywhere. I was thinking the zombie pirate theme might be overkill, but it turned out awesome. I even put a horrible eye under the pirate patch. No one wanted to see what was under my patch, but those that did, were grosed out. Perfect!

Now the house is filled with boxes and bags of Halloween collected. The inside is now kind of a holiday graveyard. I took off the 1st to pack up and pick up. Plus I had to hit all the after holiday sales. I hate buying stuff before, hence the post on my fence earlier. Managed to get a few things, I swore I wasn't going to get. But isn't that the way sales go? "Do I need this? No....but I sure do WANT it!"

Half the fun is opening up rubber maid tubs in the attic next year and saying, "Did I buy this?!?!"

Another year done. It's over so fast, for all the build up that happens. As an on-looker said, "Your house is the one they are going to remember and tell their kids about." My response was, "This is the house I remember from MY trick or treating!"

Electric Dreamin'

2011-10-20T11:39:00.001-04:00

I have to take a break from my Halloween fever (I'm so far behind...what does it matter?)

The home inspector came this morning for my Nissan Leaf charging station. Yes....charging station. I'm going NO TAILPIPE people! All in, all electric. I'm so excited I I can't stand myself.

I fretted for days over this inspection. We have a 75 year old house, smack dab in the middle of the snow belt. (we have won the 'golden snowball' trophy for the past decade, I think, here in CNY) There is just no way a cutting edge car could be plopped down right here. Well....it can....and it will!

It's the worst possible time to spend money on a car. I know. We'll have to do a few upgrades to get the house ready for the station. I know. We will only have one car for long trips. I know.

But as I said to my wife this morning, "This is like an aquarian's wet dream!"

• A new car would thrill my jug bearing brother, James Dean (who shares my exact birthday).
• The cutting edge invention would have fellow aquarian Thomas Edison telling Watson to lift the hood to see inside.
• The sense of "freedom" from the pump from aquarian president, Abraham Lincoln
• The feel-good-for-the-environment whimsy from my January Aqua-sister Ellen Degeneres.(and birthday twin of my wife)
• And you can't leave out one of my favorite aquarians, Oprah, "You get a car...you get a car....YOU get a car!"

And while I've secretly been dreading that this purchase might be a divorce between me and my wife, she manage to blog about me this morning: HERE

And since she's the writer in the family...she did a much better job then I ever have on my blog. :)

Viva La Revolución

"Don't just do something, stand there... Uh... no no! Go go! Go get my gloves! I'm late! " ~ White Rabbit, Alice In Wonderland

2011-10-18T16:14:00.000-04:00

I finally got some time to do SOMETHING for my haunt and look what happened. My cemetery gates, the ones I was so excited about from Spirits, suck ASS!

They broke in 4 different places, the stakes on the bottom broke and they flopped over onto the ground as soon as I walked away. What a pile of crap! I knew I should have done my own columns this year. But like many years....I don't have the time to get into my basement laboratory and get things done.

I am making some delightful apothecary jars, with the inspirational help from LoveManor.com and their fantastic labels. But that's about it.

I turned cheap glass jars like this:

Into cool ones that just need a lil aging....

Oh..and I got up Spooky Town. But I couldn't find anything of good enough quality to buy new for it this year. Which also stunk. We did watch NBX this past weekend. I do love a movie that you can watch for Halloween and Christmas! It never gets old, either. It's still one of the best.

Well....there are still 12 days left. I have time to whip things into shape. Pumpkin carving date with my wife on Wednesday. If plunging a knife into the soft gourds adn scooping out their guts to toast and then eat, doesn't get me into the mood.....I'm a lost cause!

"There are three things I have learned never to discuss with people: religion, politics and the Great Pumpkin." Linus

2011-10-07T09:05:00.002-04:00

Everything tastes better in a Jack mug. Don't you think? I use them all year long (yes...I said 'them'....I own a few)

This weekend it Halloween Time at ye ol homestead. Gotta get out the tombstones and start to scare-i-fy the house. I tried pluggin in my lil projector and low and behold...it doesn't work. There go my plans to turn the front sun porch into a movie screen.Great! Why didn't I test it when I bought it. Duh. Guess my make shift 'crank ghost' will fly again this year.

The temps are dipping into the 30's over night here in upstate NY. The trees are starting to get their color on. We are going apple picking this weekend. Maybe a trip to the pumpkin patch as well. They had pumpkin whoopie pies last year....I can not express to you enough how ah-mah-zing they were.My local coffee stop is making pumpkin brittle lattes and they are divine!
I pulled out my rubbermaid tub o Halloween shirts and am proudly sporting my newest Jack Skellington today. (perhaps a viewing of NBX is called for this weekend as well)

I think we should bump off Thanksgiving and make Halloween two months long. There just isn't enough time!

You put up a fence around a grave yard cuz folks are DYING to get in!

2011-10-03T09:19:00.003-04:00

I've been looking to upgrade my lil grave yard fence for a while. And since I'm changing up my costume this year, I wasn't going to make anything for my tiny lil haunt. So when I finally got to Spirit's and saw these fence pieces, I thought I would grab a couple. Now...I'm more of a "day-after-the-holiday" shopper at Spirit's, cuz of their crazy prices. But we only have one location near me this year, and it's across town, and they only had a few of these fence pieces. So I'm not sure they would even have them after the fact.

Yes...I'm justifying it.

So after paying more than I would have liked too, I of course come into work to find a stinking coupon! UGH! Don't it figure.

You know when you buy new curtains for a room and then you start looking around and you notice the carpet doesn't really match and that old chair just looks shabby now and you should probably paint. Well.....this morning I woke up and started thinking, which is always a bad thing. "Maybe I should do some pillars for the new fence."

Yes folks, this is how it starts. Now I need to dash to Home Depot and get some lovely pink insulation, some grey paint, some big foam balls from Michael's for the pillar caps and the next few free nights are now booked. I will be holed up in the basement, my wife left to shake her head when folks ask where I am.

I figure, with the projects I've done so far, I'm pretty good with the faux stone. And pillars are just tall boxes, so it won't take THAT long....right?

SIGH....I never start early enough.

“I will not negotiate with the undead!” ― David Wellington, Monster Island

2011-09-29T15:20:00.001-04:00

I was in Barnes and Noble's the other day and they had a cute lil display of a few Halloween items. What really drew my attention was the pile of Zombie books just in front of the cutesy-poo display.

Zombie Haiku

Lost Zombies

And your essential guide on how to survive a Zombie Apocalypse.

I'm thinking I might need to put a new twist on a old theme: Zombie Pirate!

Something new to scare the kiddes with!.

"Are these the shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of things that May be, only?” ~Scrooge to the "Grim Reaper" (Ghost of Xmas yet to come)

2011-09-20T10:09:00.000-04:00

OK...I know....the clock says 50....but it's only 40. Which scares me enough, cuz I'm so not ready to even start yet. BUT, that picture is the countdown clock that I bought a couple years ago at the after Halloween fire sale at Spirit of Halloween. And it will remind me to take it out of our attic and begin the countdown.

To that, there is no Spirit near me this year. I'm genuinely depressed. There is one across town. So what. I had one just up the way from me the last couple years and spent a LOT of lunch hours there.

Although, with Halloween so commercial now, a lot of props for mass market are getting cheaper looking. It's been almost impossible to find a fun addition to my Spooky Town. Terrible paint jobs and cheesy themes abound. I do have a pretty big spread, so I really don't need anything more. But ya know....it's fun to add.

And if you keep in mind what you might be adding for next year, like I do, you can get great deals after the holiday, if you hurry. Folks clear out Spirits after the holiday. Boy do they! Last year I got a great deal on a projector for a DVD player. I want to put a sheet inside the windows of the sunroom and project old black and white horror movies on it! I think that would be fun as the backdrop to the graveyard on the lawn.

Yes.....I'm that serious about it. Do you all not know me by now?

Everyone hail to the Pumpkin King ~ This Is Halloween

2011-09-14T13:05:00.000-04:00

It's the lil things.

Rounding the corner at the local grocery store and seeing a maze of decorated boxes with Halloween candy in them. Candy corn on the impulse buy area of the checkout line. And that lil hint of fall in the air.

Or something so innocent and simple as my wife texing, "Would you like a re-usable pumpkin bag?"

The answer is always, "Yes!"

"IS IT SO SMALL A THING TO HAVE ENJOYED THE SUN?" ~MATTHEW ARNOLD

2011-09-02T10:41:00.001-04:00

I love the beach. I'm a second generation Cali beach girl. My mom was the original Gidget: sand volleyball, hours in the sun, walking to the beach every day. My favorite moments were sitting at sunset, my toes curled into the cooling sand, breeze off the water, watching the sun slip past the horizon.

Syracuse...is landlocked. Yes, there are lakes, rivers, fake beaches with imported sand on bodies of water. But that's not the ocean. The mighty ocean. The rumble and roar of the surf, pounding the earth. I would roll in the waves until I was body tired, climb to the shore and crash on my towel. When my heart stopped beating so loud that was all I could hear, the voice of the ocean would replace it, through the towel, through the sand, just past the squawking gulls. The rolling thunder of the might ocean

When the opportunity came to stay at Cape Cod, the promise of laying on sand and playing in waves, was like a breath of life! When we got there, it was just like the pictures I had found on line: sea grass and grape stake fences. The sand, a lil coarser. The waves, a lil shallower.

But all in all, a fantastic replacement for my long lost west coast beach. After 8 years of visiting the Atlantic, I've created a new set of moments and memories. We got a puppy 7 years ago and now that beach will never be the same without Roxy running up and down it. Lifeguard towers, as only that Cape can do, now adorn our Christmas tree yearly as an ornament, due to the one right across from the house we rent. I can also say I've experienced 2 hurricanes there. (possibly a 3rd this year?) Never had to worry bout those on the Pacific!

And I can say I got married next to the Atlantic, on that east coast beach in the Cape. Our "first anniversary" this year, after said wedding, will be celebrated right where we stood.

I know the sun isn't good for you, but I just can't resist the warmth and berry brown glow on my skin that comes from it. So we go, as far east as we can, to find the beach once again.

"Shake, shake, shake, Señora, shake it all the time" ~Harry Belafonte

2011-08-24T14:50:00.001-04:00

Yesterday a jolt in the earth in VA found it's way allllll the way up central NY. Pretty impressive! I didn't feel it, I was on my way into work, but everyone in the office experienced it. I sure heard about it when I got in tho. And I had the funniest reaction to it: I got homesick.

Earthquakes are so very California. I have been through a dozen or so, that were worth mentioning. Only one of them was really scary. Most of them were enough to say, "Meh....it will be over in a second."

I suppose one should fear the earth, taking it upon itself, to dance and flow as if suddenly liquid. The pictures on the wall, tuned askew and the various books and nick-naks flung akimbo.

Just another 6am wake up call for this second generation California girl.

I use to hear them, actually. Right before they would hit. A low rumble, the earth clearing it's throat, perhaps? Maybe it was more the vibrations that I could sense. But I could call them.

I remember working at Barnes Wholesale and I was sitting and jawing with a co-worker. There it was, the thundering moan of ancient earth turning under the crust that we call home.

"Earthquake." I said in almost a whisper.
"What?" said my co-worker
"We are about to have a earthquake."
"Shut up. You know if we did right now I would jump up an run my ass right outside screaming. I can't stand.......SWEET JESUS!"

I stayed seated on the small sofa in her office, she dove under her desk. When things stopped rocking, she poked her head out.

"Next time you get that juju thing going....walk away from me and don't say NUTHIN!"

I was in senior English when the class room started rocking. A scream from the class room next door and a thud. The sound of 20 sets of knees hitting the ground, shortly after. My teacher looked at us and we scooted back and forth in our desks. "Should we get under?" I reassured her, "It will end in a second." So we waited. And it did.

There was no way this 5'10" girl was going to squeeze under that tiny desk.

The teacher next door, poor thing, was from the middle of America and it was her first earthquake. She pretty much abandoned her class and dove under her own desk, leaving her students to follow on their own.

I've been in bed for most of them. On the toilet for one, when I was a lil kid. Walking across a college campus for another. The cars, bouncing and moving closer and closer to each other. Their alarms, defining. Their owners left to figure out how to get into the cars with the doors touching. I was in our family cabin in the mountains for another. The wagon wheel lights swinging.

There are two kinds of earthquakes: a roller and a shaker. One you can ride out, like being on a boat. The other will bring things off the wall. In 1994 the biggest in the history of my 44 years hit Northridge, CA. While it started out lightly waking me at 4am with its rolling action, it soon changed it's temperament to a shaker. So much so that I finally felt scared.

"HIT THE DOORS!" I yelled from my room. Instructions for my two sisters, who I could hear awake, next door to my room. They tell you to brace yourself in a load bearing door frame for safety. It was the first time ever that I had felt I needed to do just that. We camped out in our doorways like it was forever. 20 sec, tops. Pictures dropped, books flew, my parents scrambled down from upstairs.

We were fine, the house was fine, but a lot of other people weren't. The 6.2 magnitude quake was the worst on record since San Francisco.

Maybe I don't miss them too much. But they beat a hurricane or tornado, hands down. I mean, at least you know where you stuff is. In the other two you have to go two counties over to get it.

A grandmother pretends she doesn't know who you are on Halloween. ~Erma Bombeck

2011-08-11T09:35:00.000-04:00

How early can I start talking about Halloween?

Well..it's my blog so I can start right now if I want too, so there :P

I'm already stalking my favorite sites that stock up early for the best holiday evah. I have a long history with Halloween. I think it might have been a favorite holiday of my grandmother. She loved to put on a mask to hand out candy. I have a picture of her with plastic, bloodshot eyes and vampire teeth.

On Halloween, we would hit our own neighborhood, but then it was off to my grandparents to really do it up right. Nan would put out apple cider and donuts. A long gone tradition of an older generation. Decorations that collectors hunt for now, adorned her house: The plastic arched cat with the pumpkin on its back that lit up, and probably a fire hazard. Paper pumpkin candy bags, in burnt orange,black, and a dash of bright yellow. It's googly eyes looking scared. Noise makers and rattles with sexy dancing witches on them, striped stockings and wide brimmed hats. Skeletons in the window, when you walked up to her backdoor, their joints sporting shiny brass brads that let them pose in a spooky greeting.

After bleeding the 'hood of all it's candy, we would travel across town to a family friends house, where 'Crazy Aunt Joan' would be in full wicked witch of the west garb. I would have to be ushered around back, too scared to go to the front. One year she let me pop the balloons on her back that made her witchy humps. Finally the spell broken, my fear gone with each pop.

When Nan passed, leaving a gaping hole in my life, my mom asked if there was anything I wanted, I knew exactly what I would like to have. I wanted the big orange serving dish she would put the candy on each year. It rested on the tall entry table, heaped with treats. She would answer the door, grab for the enormous plate and administer goodies to the kiddies.

We would root though our haul in our bags and sort out what we didn't want. A tangle of salt water taffy, DOTS, gum, black licorice, and donate it to the big orange plate. Then off we would go again, to fill our bags.

Halloween is in my DNA. In fact I think it was just last year, in a sad display of Halloween things in a drugstore, there were those same plastic, bloodshot bug eyes. And I smiled and thought of Nan.

The Devil came for me on a motorcycle

2011-07-22T07:49:00.000-04:00

I was driving to work this morning. Earlier on Fridays, which is good for traffic. Very few folks are even going to work, let alone early, like me. My mind on the ice coffee and the breakfast panini I would be stopping off for in just a few minutes. Then I realized I was behind the slowest person alive.

My commute, while not a long one, was frustrating at 15 miles under the posted speed limit. As we plugged along up a hill, I took a glance to see if anyone was behind me, also annoyed.

There, staring back at me in my rear view mirror, was a man on a motorcycle. Gaunt, face half in shade from the morning light lifting over the tree tops. His eyes, piercing, even at the distance he was at behind me.

While he handled the bike smooth and even, he seemed so odd upon the seat. He didn't fit the type that would have that bike. It was unsettling to see his thin, pale frame controlling the iron beast that was the Harley.

77 degrees and it wasn't even 7 am yet.....a chill ran down my spine. "He looks like the Devil on a motorcycle." I said out loud, to no one.

He just continued his icy stare.

As we came around a bend to a stop sign, the light shifted and he appeared to have dark circles under his eyes, his old skin, worn with age, catching the light on the time etched crags.

Then I thought.....what if it was my time? What if the Devil had come for me? Working in tandem with the car in front to slow the traveler, so that Ol' Scratch could pull up along side of me at the next stop.

"Good morning miss," he would say with a Marlboro rasp and the smell, off his understated leather jacket, would be Old Spice with just a hint of sulfur and a touch of clove. "My name is Mr. Azazel, and if you would be so kind to hop on my bike with me....it's time to go."

And I would, cuz who can resist the Devil? And I would wonder, "What did I ever do so wrong? I thought I was a pretty good person." And he would read my thoughts and simply say, "They all think that....even the worst of them."

We came to the intersection that pitchforks into three paths. The slow driver continued right, the 'Devil' went left, and I continued forward. I got to the my lil coffee stop and was a bit hazy from my imagination. Bemused that I could even come up with such silliness.

"It's going to be hot as hell again out there today."

"Yes," I said to the owner, "hot as hell."

But, alas! what poor Woman is ever taught that she should have a higher Design than to get her a Husband? ~ Mary Astell

2011-07-05T10:45:00.000-04:00

June 24th, it happened. After a failed attempt in 2009, 2011 brought marriage equality to NY.

Can you believe?

We had been married in MA in 2010, for fear a new NY governor would undo the bill that stated that: if you are married in a state that has gay marriage, NY will recognize your marriage.

So we played it safe. After waiting and waiting for our home state of NY to do the right thing, we wanted to get in, while the gettin' was good. So off to the Cape we went, to spend our money in another state.

Then it happened. The votes were there, in a state who's population is equal to all the other six states that have same sex marriage, combined! It was HUGE!

And while there were no new laws that would protect us. No new benefits to indulge in. There are over 1,200 laws protecting married couples: 100 are state, the rest are federal. We would have to be happy with the 100 while the federal end is not available to us.

It was, personally, a bitter sweet achievement. To be truthful, I really didn't expect to feel any different.

Then I drove to work that next Monday.

As I rode the streets of my lil town, with all the other cars, it dawned on me, "I'm equal to you. And to you. And yes...to you!" There was a new sense of "safety". That the laws, in this state, to a certain level, made me equal.

What a strange feeling that is, indeed.

How many people can say they feel like they are more 'equal' on a Monday morning?

Cleanliness is next to Godliness

2011-06-20T15:59:00.000-04:00

It's a drive I take everyday. But last week I had one of those moments. You know when you catch some one's eye in passing and it feels like you've had a moment?

I was driving to work and my eyes landed on a lil ol lady, cleaning the windows of the funeral home. Working diligently from the inside of the entry way. She was on her tip toes, reaching with her paper towel, balancing the bottle of windex in her other hand. Trying to grip the bottle and the handle of the door for stability.

She made wide, sweeping motions and it struck me how someone has to keep the fingerprints of the living, off the doors to death.

The minute you settle for less than you deserve, you get even less than you settled for. ~ Maureen Dowd

2011-05-18T09:36:00.000-04:00

Soooooo....say your paying for something aaaaaaand you don't get your moneys worth. You're promised things that don't come through. You're told it's all taken care of and nothing ever changes.

What do you do?

Let's say....you're renting a tennis court so you can play for an hour every week. Other folks use the court. You don't own it...you just rent the space once a week.

And it all starts out just fine.

Then one day when you get there, for your hour, there is another pair on there playing. They want to finish their set. So they eat into your time.

You complain to the manager of the facility. He apologizes and says he will let the boss know and this won't happen again.

OK....so what...who cares.

Then you notice the lines on the court are peeling and flaking up and you can't tell if the ball is in or out.

You complain to the manager of the facility. He apologizes and says he will let the boss know and this won't happen again.

But now you're really starting to wonder if the money that you are paying each week to be there is worth it.

Now you show up and the net is coming loose and fraying, the lines still aren't fixed and the couple before you seem to take more and more of your time.

This time, when you talk to the manager, you play a lil good cop/bad cop and try to drive the point home that you're not happy.

He apologizes and says he will let the boss know and this won't happen again.

When is enough enough and how do you get someone to care? (other than yourself, of course) Every where I look we are being taken advantage of: at the pump, in government, as a woman, in my paycheck, at my radio station.

Where do you go when your complaints fall on deaf ears? Do you go to another tennis facility and hope to get better treatment there? What are the odds they will be better? Especially in a world where customer service is dead and the client is ALWAYS wrong!

Some days...I just don't want to get out of bed in the morning. I have no more energy to fight the good fight. I use to write letters to companies that needed a good talkin' too. Now when I write, they can't be bothered to even send a form letter!

And the pang in my heart tells me that "If you don't complain, who will". All the while my head is screaming, "They just don't fuckin' care about people anymore."

My head is winning.

“Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened.” ~ Dr. Seuss

2011-05-12T08:51:00.000-04:00

When you move in with someone, there is the "mesh". Your stuff and their stuff has to cohabitate.

Understandable.

As time goes on, you BOTH get stuff together. Your taste changes. You evolve and hopefully improve. And then the day comes when that one item, that you have overlooked for years cuz it's just part of the environment, is an eyesore.

My overstuffed, plaid chair had reached that point.

It took up a HUGE space in the office of our house. It was comfy, don't get me wrong. It was one of the new items of furniture I bought when I moved from my folks and went out on my own. It looked fantastic in my cute lil apartment in Culver City, CA. We watched TV together. I ate my breakfast in it, every morning, while watching the Today Show. It's hugeness drew in stacks of party goers, who would cram into it, when I would have the friends over for a BBQ. I took a few naps in that chair as well. It's over-stuffed, wonderfulness, a catcher's mitt of snuggly comfort.

When it traveled the United States and ended up here in NY, it was a main part of our apartment living room. Then we moved to the house. Yes, it still held a spot in the living room. Then we decided our 1930's colonial needed a more sophisticated look. The plaid chair wasn't part of that.

Up to the office it went. And to good use! It was my video game chair. It was the "What chat doin' on the computer?" chair. It was still beloved.

Then.....things started to happen to it. Like a neighborhood that suddenly doesn't seem as nice. Like a bad element that moves in next door and the property value goes down.

The cats took it over!

My, once best friend, was now a cat napping place. Which kept you from just flopping down in it. There was always a cat in it OR enough fur in it to DIY a cat clone.

Then we started hearing it...the late night scratchings. Like the flesh being flogged from the back of a tortured soul. "RIIIIIIIIPPP! TUG TUG RIIIIIIIPPP!"

Morning would find the fabric split and the stuffing popping out like bleeding wounds. The chair injuries would drive me into a rage against the cats. But it never mattered. They didn't care. It would begin again the next night. On occasion...right in front of my very eyes. With a look on the cats face like, "What are you going to do about it?"

They were right...I was helpless to come to the aid of my old friend. Didn't matter what I sprayed on it, or covered in tin foil, or surrounded it with nip infused scratching pads with "as seen on TV" guarantees.

If that wasn't bad enough....the ultimate shame came when the hairballs flew. Nasty lil gifts of brownish hell. The liquid, long soaked into the cushion, leaving the matted stomach substance, high and dry and stuck to the fabric weave. Marks that will never quite come out. Like bruises on the fabric.

Ol' plaid had reached the end. No amount of cleaner, or trying to repair the torn fabric would ever fix it. And in the darkness the cats waited. Waited for me to fix up ol' plaid, so they could, once again, torture it.

So with a heft and a push and a roll down the front yard to the curb, I walked away. Leaving my friend outside, on the sidewalk, leaned up on telephone pole.

17 years together. My longest relationship, to date.

We left for dinner and, upon our return, low and behold, ol' plaid was GONE! A new home? A new family? A new life? Who knows where adventure will take that chair. It was good to know that it would live on, in some form.

Goodbye ol friend. May you find a house, free of cats.

There are only two emotions in a plane: boredom and terror. ~Orson Welles

2011-04-26T10:55:00.001-04:00

I've got a third: anger.

Travel is SOOOOO overrated these days. Maybe it's because I've done so much of it. Mind you, not as much as frequent flayers with millions of miles that they can't even use. But at least twice a year, enough to see the changes in air travel.

I mean, think about this; you carefully pack your bag, only to have some stranger rifle through it. You submit to having your purse overturned and pawed by some surly TSA agent. Don't get me started about body scans! I was accused at one point of the possibility of my tin, punch out ornament, a gift for my mom, could slit some one's throat.

Merry Christmas - kiss my mistletoe, you over paid, under educated, mall cop!

There's another descriptive word for the above: a MUGGING! But not in an airport. Oh no! You pay WAY too much for THIS kid of treatment. On average a ticket out of Syracuse costs me $400. I'm lucky if I can get anything less than that. And that's not a "gas hike" problem. Oh no...it's been that way for years! Now I get to add a $25 charge for my bag. What....$400 wasn't enough for my bag AND my ass? Cuz I know when I use to give you $400 you use to take my bag, feed me some sort of food, mind you it was Barbie sized. But it was actual food. Now they offer a "snack box". I did that once and it won't happen again. My wife and I had to run to our connected flight, not getting a chance to eat. We opted for the $12 Cheese box. That worked out to a $1 per square of cheese and the 6 crackers were free. And no lie....4 grapes. F-O-U-R!

And while the airline version of a "pillow and blanket" were more like a Stayfree pad and a dyer sheet - at least you got them!

They use to have free movies and charge you a couple bucks for the headphones (that you had to leave on the plane, cuz the jack on them never fit in anything else.) Now they give you FREE headphones, that have a normal plug to be used again. Fantastic, right? No, cuz you have to swipe your credit card if you want to actually WATCH a movie that could cost you from $6 - $10. That's not happening

When they said they were doing away with all that...I thought, "Great! I'll be flying for like....$200 now!" mmmmmmmNOPE! I pay for my butt, my bag and a female TSA agent to feel me up cuz my jeans are baggy.

Buying a hooker, for that last part, would actually SAVE me money.

Let's talk about the planes for a minute. Cuz it use to be that you could luck out once and a while and actually get an open seat. Not no more! Over booked by 10....every flight. I transport myself right back to math class when they announce, "The flight is overbooked and we are looking for passengers to go on a later flight." It's like Mr. Hern in algebra asking for someone to do the equation on the board. I slump down in my seat, turn my iPod up and bury my face in the book.

I just gave you $425, was strip searched, and my LL Bean leatherman confiscated and probably re-gifted to that TSA agents father in law, so you could tell me that I don't even get the flight I paid for?

Momma doesn't think so!

That's a LOT of strikes against the airline industry. So you can understand how shocked I was, when my wife and I got on our last flight, recently, and a WHOLE ROW of seats were missing! When I made the reservations, I picked two seats on the left side of the plane. When we got on....there was ONE row on the left side.

A WHOLE ROW WAS GONE! We had to sit across the isle from each other. CUZ A WHOLE ROW WAS GONE! They actually downgraded our plane and didn't bother to tell anyone. Including the 10 or so other passengers that have their tickets out, scratching their heads, cuz their ROW OF SEATS WERE MISSING!!

There are so many things in life now, that we have NO control over and somehow, we always have our wallets out, paying for the stiff beating we are taking. When did things get so out of hand?

The TSA is a farce. Set up to cause fear in travelers. I mean...how many terrorist have they caught? None!

State Governors seem to be able to pass laws without rules.

And we are held captive over gas price speculators that have NOTHING to do with the gas business and everything to do with gouging the American public.

As one of the "little guys" getting squished in this "land of milk and honey" it's frustrating not to have a cord to pull on a run-away train.

Dreams are often most profound when they seem the most crazy. ~Sigmund Freud

2011-04-07T16:11:00.001-04:00

As the date comes closer, my dreams get crazier. The 10th will be the first anniversary of my father's death.

It's an anniversary I hope doesn't stick with me.

I'm still trying to figure out how he is gone. The world didn't stop. It should have. People didn't stop moving around me. They should have, out of respect. The seasons are changing outside my window, right this very minute. Impossible.

How can someone be missing from the earth and the planet doesn't notice? Doesn't the weight shift enough that she seems a bit lopsided in her whirling dance around the sun?

Like when you lose a pound and your pants aren't quite a snug. Or your ring slips off your finger. Or your watch travels around your wrist with no problem at all.

I know when my dad left this earth it changed everything in my life. I could feel his absence every day. Time stopped for me. The silence in my mind filled with questions of "why?".

If I lost a pound, it wouldn't effect the button on my pants, the ring on my finger or the watch on my wrist.

It would be the gaping hole in my heart, that throws off my steps every day. Causes me to stumble with a thought. Makes me grab for a rail that isn't there with a memory. Like an emotional blind man, in a unfamiliar place, screaming for answers.

Even if no one else notices.

In pace requiescat!

2011-03-29T16:25:00.004-04:00

"I forget your arms."

"A huge human foot d'or, in a field azure; the foot crushes a serpent rampant whose fangs are imbedded in the heel."

"And the motto?"

"Nemo me impune lacessit."

"Good!" he said.

~Edgar Allan Poe, "The Cask of Amontillado"

"You don't know hardship!" ~ my mom

2011-03-10T11:46:00.006-05:00

It's funny, when we look back, what was easy and what we perceived to be hard. My mom is sure she grew up in a time that was the worst. She was born during a world war, she had parents that went through the depression. She had the radical 60's and the inner city fighting of the Watts riots.

I certainly wouldn't call it easy. But she is quick to point out our 'soft lives'. How easy we have it and how simple things are. With a touch of a button or poke on Facebook. (I think it's more that we are as far liberal as she is conservative)

But with jobs in the crapper and the housing market, where my folks made their money, on a respirator, there are kids who will graduate this year that have known nothing but war and terrorist threats. More than likely there are no jobs for them when the do emerge.

I watch as the world rises up against dictators and oppression. In the streets, their life in their hands, as their own military counter acts against them.

I watch Wisconsin, Ohio, New Jersey, pour into the streets. Their already delicate jobs, striped of rights and re-named 'budget cuts'.

All the wealth is held in only 2% of our population. Click

If things weren't bad enough, let's toss a lil McCarthy-ism in the mix. Hearing on how all Muslims are terrorists. Really? In a time when we need to fix so much, this is what we are spending our time doing? Click

Through all this, how much are folks actually seeing? Do people know that the Republicans of WI had an illegal meeting to break the unions last night? That folks stormed the capital there - again? Click

Do people know what the Republican budget would actually cut? Click
Or how bout a more clear chart. Click

Do people even know that the Democrats from WI have to give their staffers "power or attorney" so they can get their paychecks? Click Cuz if they show up. the bounty hunters the Gov. hired to catch them, just might! (who's paying for the bounty hunters anyway? Is that out of pocket or do the taxpayers get to pay that too?)

With all of this going on....what is it that people do know?

WINNING!

Arm yourself....or before you know it, there will be two classes: the rich, and whatever that other one is the 98% of us are in.

Randi Rhodes - She's rough...but so very right on everything!

Rachel Maddow - This woman knows her stuff and is one of only a couple folks the let tell the truth.

Ed Schultz - The first one on the scene in WI. Wanna cut the crap, he's the guy that does it.

....jaw dropping speechless....

2011-02-16T12:31:00.007-05:00

"How fitting that Lara Logan was “liberated” by Muslims in Liberation Square while she was gushing over the other part of the “liberation.”

Hope you’re enjoying the revolution, Lara! Alhamdilllullah [praise allah]." ~Debbie Schlussel (Conservative political commentator, radio talk show host, columnist, and attorney)

This after Lara Logan, reporter for CBS, was raped in the 'freedom celebration' in Egypt.

First of all...I was shocked to hear this happened. My first reaction to Ms Logan even being there? "How brave of this female reporter." But to have this horrible, horrible thing happen to here is unimaginable.

Then the sickening realization of this Ms. Schlussel was saying "You deserved it."

The feeling swirled in my abdomen, like the time my sister and I were trapped on a carnival ride. Turning in a circle in a cage that turned on its own axis. Doubling the centrifugal force that brought the vomit up to my throat.

I remember when our high school band went to Mexico to perform in our sister city's Carnival parade. We were gathered up and warned, "No girls go anywhere alone. Blonds especially. Keep them in the middle of the group. You will have a lot of attention on you. Guys...keep close to the girls."

It was my first time, in my very 'strong female' upbringing, I felt vulnerable as a girl. I was raised to hold my own, stand my ground. Any guys that had bothered me, up to this point, with taunts of my weight, or my height. I dealt with them in two ways: I danced around their hurtful words and ultimately shamed them with my verbal/comedic expertise or I knocked the shit out of them with my fists.

Scarlet O'Hara I ain't.

My second realization was a date gone wrong in college. The voice of my mother in my head, "If you could just meet a nice boy....". I tried to block my lust for the girl on the college swim team and went out with a guy in my art class. He seemed like a nice boy, till his mom left us alone in his house.

The 'date' ended with him on the ground, a foot print on the crotch of his jeans and the threat of me putting the end table lamp through his skull, very real.

He never came back to class...I gave up looking for a 'nice boy'.

Fast forward to my pro football days. One of my team mates was a female soldier. She was about to be shipped to Iraq. Things had been going on for a while there. Long tours and bad conditions we were just learning about in the states.

She came to a practice after having gone through an orientation, getting her ready for life in the Middle East. She told us they took all the female soldiers through a separate class, from the men.

What she told us was so shocking, it made my gut turn.

They were basically warned that the AMERICAN troops had been there for a while now. That the female troops were in danger from their own male counter parts. That there was a good possibility they would be sexually assaulted. They wanted to give them the proper way to combat this:

1. Issue a warning that you don't want the sexual advance by stating clearly, "NO!"
2. If they ignore this, inform them you will draw your fire arm if they do not stop their advance.
3. If he continues, draw your fire arm and shoot the male.

So you see Ms. Schlussel, in your glee to prove that Islam and Muslims are animals and don't deserve freedom, you've missed the point.

Rape isn't political.

1/3 of the women in the AMERICAN military are raped. A woman is raped in AMERICA every 2 minutes.

Rape is the worst thing that could happen to a woman. The WORST. It takes your soul, your strength, and your dignity. It steals the peace of your loving relationships and the trust of everyone around you.

Death would be a welcome and easy choice over rape. When would you EVER think dying would be a choice over anything?

Ms. Schlussel, I hope you never have to make that choice. But if you play the odds and think about the percentage of a chance....you might just end up knowing first hand.

And you'll never have to be as brave as Lara, by standing as a woman, in the middle of a revolution, in the middle of Egypt. You can stay right in America, wrapped in the flag and the constitution where every two minutes there is a new victim you can let know she "deserves it".

Movin' on up.....

2011-02-02T09:17:00.003-05:00

I have mentioned before, our lil radio show, the Irish Power Hour. Well...they have asked us, a lil ol one hour, once a week show, to move from the all talk channel to the rock channel, here locally!

I was trying to put this in perspective, as if I was still living in CA.

It would be like having an AM midnight show that got put on, saaaaayyy KROQ fm! Folks in CA will get that analogy, of course. For those of you not in CA...It's HUGE!

With this move, we are hoping to get more advertisers and then be able to pay the bills to be on the radio in the first place.

Yes...we pay to do our lil show. Better to be broke and the master of our own destiny then to be a slave to the man, right? RIGHT?!

cricket cricket cricket.

Ya...I know. This lil venture reminds me a lot of my experiment in owning my women's pro football team. While I earned the right to say, "I played pro football", it set me back a bit of cabbage.

This time we seem to be holding our heads just above the water level, which is more than I ever did with the team. Plus the excitement of seeing web hits and attendance at event grow is at an all time high!

Plus with this venture I don't have to wear a helmet. That's a plus!

Midnight Mauling

2011-01-25T15:08:00.008-05:00

I'm a dog person....let's just put that right out there. But when I moved here, 13 years ago, I moved into a cat house.

Get your mind out of the gutter.

Now, you cat folks will relate when I tell you that the kitteh is high maintenance. YOU are the servant. You have to read minds with the feline species. And the part that really got me was "Don't touch me! Unless I allow you."

I've lived with four cats now, in my 13 years. Each, very different from the other. None overly affectionate. Which stinks in my book. I have the hair on my clothes and the scratch scars to prove that I'm a good kitteh mom.

Our youngest addition is a 3 year old tiger who we got when she was but a small handful. Doolin was raised by our dog, Roxy. (I slipped the pooch in between cat ownership after I begged and pleaded for a pet that actually showed love for me....with something other than hairballs in my shoes)

"Doolin & Roxy plan their escape."

Doolin, for the most part, acts like a dog, but once and a while, her kitty tendency come forward. She's not much of a snuggler. In fact she cuddles like Peg Bundy always sleeps with Al - at arms length.

So when she crawled on me at 2 am, a few nights ago, waking me from a dead sleep. I didn't want to push her away. I didn't want her to think she shouldn't climb up and nestle on her momma.

Then she started kneading me. But not just the kneading...she sat on my bladder to knead my stomach. Did I mention it was my full bladder? Do I have to mention that no one wants the fat of the stomach moving that much?

It was over before it began. Then she came back at 5 am. And the next night at 3:30 am....and 5 am again. In fact 4 nights in a row she woke me up to be "affectionate" and I didn't want to reject her. I mean, here she was actually sitting on me and being affectionate. Do I want to make her think that's wrong? I don't think so.

I finally broke down and asked Laura, "Do you think it would hurt Doolin's feelings if I kicked her off my bladder? I mean...I'm getting bruised in places from this "love" stuff."

Without skipping a beat, Laura said, "Boot her! She doesn't care. I use to toss Hobbes right off when he would start in. Of course he would pop his claws....and drool...and it think he thought I was more of a girlfriend then a 'mom', if you know what I mean..."

STOP! TMI!

Not all kitteh experience should be shared in full detail.

Last night I was prepared for her. I was going to gently remove her from my tenderized areas and hope she wouldn't take my name out of the "mother of the year" contest.

Alas....No Doolin.

Now I find myself awake, wondering if she's going to hop up. Once again, I'm just a big, pink puppet in the grand scheme of the all mighty kitteh.

"It's been a long, a long time coming but I know, A change gon' come oh yes it will" ~ Sam Cooke

2011-01-13T10:00:00.003-05:00

Did you hear the president speak last night?

I was takin' a-back when folks cheered. More like a pep rally then a memorial.

But then, something hit me. We, the American people, are sick of it. These people died because politicians want to appease lobbyists over their constituents. They want to get re-elected over doing their jobs.

Last night was about remembering what was wonderful about those people, senselessly slain in the streets, and bonding together to say, "We won't stand for it anymore!"

A bulk of our society came together last night. We are over "business as usual." And like those individuals that tackle shooters, hit them with purses or keep them from flying planes into buildings, we won't have our government hijacking our country for their own greed.

If you stop...and listen...through the chatter of the talking heads. You can hear it. It's faint. And we haven't heard it since the 60's.

Change.

We, the people, are ready for it....finally.

"Dreams are answers to questions we haven't yet figured out how to ask." ~X-Files

2011-01-05T09:35:00.004-05:00

I just got back from a week at home with my mom and sisters. I stayed in my folks house. I have to say, I didn't feel the presence of my father once. If you're just tuning in, he passed suddenly last April.

I've said before, I come from folks that are, shall we say, "sensitive" to certain "other-worldly" things. So, while I have been resistant in opening myself up to a visit from my dad, I thought being home for a week would loosen the doors a bit.

Nothing.

I cussed him out a bit when I was trying to help my mom and none of his power tools would start. "Really? You can't help me help her a lil?" was what I said to a passing cloud overhead.

My dreams have been void of him. Other than a reflection or a passing hint that he was present. Last night was much like that, but different.

Dreams are like bowel movements.

Everyone has them. No one wants to hear about yours.

Well...this is my blog...so suck it!

I was in a country 'kitch' kind of restaurant. Perhaps something like the Apple Farm, which is a favorite place to eat for my folks. We ate there, in fact, while I was visiting.

I seemed to be cashing out at a counter near an open door where I saw a number of my high school classmates coming from a house outside. They were lining up and walking past the restaurants open, daisy covered arched doorway. They were their current age, and chatting and walking in a line, as if they were leaving a show at a theater. Some of them saw me and waved and said hello. Others didn't look up.

I noticed, the place they were coming from was a house, with a porch that had a double gate on it that created a holding pen of sorts. In it were two dogs. One was the family dog from my youth, a mixed Vizla breed named Socks, who I loved dearly and considered "my dog". The other was a big headed, smokey grey pitbull looking beast. They just sat and looked my direction, from their holding pen.

"Is that.....Socks? Is that Socks?" I remembered saying, as I walked under the archway and towards the porch. One of my class mates said, "Yep..that's her!" and kept walking. I stood in the middle of a dust covered front yard. The only other thing was a slapped together shack, made of dark, wide, wood planks.

I noticed a door with warm amber light coming from the front door. I could suddenly sense that my dad was living here. Someone else was on the porch and they let the dogs go. The were suddenly untamed and aggressive, the pitbull the most aggressive. Socks became another dog that hung back in the shadows.

My dad stepped out on the porch. Jeans and white tee, his motorcycle boots making a clunking sound on the wood plank porch. He leaned against a post and said, "I'm training them." My dad had more of a "tough love" method of training than most folks would.

"Oh...I think they just need a lil attention!" says I.

"I think they need a good kick in the ass!", my dad said and reached down off the porch to give the pit a good slap on it's hindquarters as it paced back and forth in the dust in front of the porch. The pit tucked and yelped to put distance between my dad and itself.

I disagreed and in an effort to make nice with a dog that was causing my anxiety to rise, I knelt to his level. The pit immediately ran at me, rose up on it's hind legs, dropped his massive front paws on my shoulders and brought his muzzle too quickly to my face.

It was going to tear my face off!

His weight on me was substantial enough that I couldn't move more than an arm to keep his muzzle from contacting with my head.

It's mouth never opened, but his aggressive stance was anything but playful. Was it going to eat me alive? I couldn't tell, but I was starting to sweat with the panic. Feeling his dog breath on my face wasn't helping things.

My dad yelled at the dog and he released me and ran toward the porch. By the time I looked up and towards the porch, my dad had turned for the front door.

"I hate to be an 'I told ya so'....but.....", he said, as he walked back into the shack, leaving me kneeling in the dirt.

I never saw my dad's face.

Happy Holidays...where ever you are.

2010-12-23T15:08:00.003-05:00

"There are some upon this earth of yours," returned the Spirit, "who lay claim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion, pride, ill-will, hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name, who are as strange to us and all out kith and kin, as if they had never lived. Remember that, and charge their doings on themselves, not us." ~A Chirstmas Carol

May the new year bring the love and understanding that mankind needs to repair its long suffering seperation from kindness.

Blog ya in 2011.

Cookie Porn

2010-12-14T11:08:00.005-05:00

Yes...you read that right.

I snatched up a copy of Martha Stewart's Holiday Cookie mag. Now I'm not a 'foodie' by any means, unless you mean EATING food. I love that part of it. The one thing I do love, is baking.

And when the holidays roll around, I dedicate a day to it.

Martha spoke to me, as I waited in line at the Wegman's. I took her home, found a spot on the couch, hugged my xmas mug of mocha and wrapped up the entire magazine with two words: cookie porn.

I will admit, being a graphic artist, it was almost more exciting to see the containers and the way she packaged these gifts of goodness. Brown paper and silver ribbon tubes with small, medallion cookies. Recycled card boxes with ink and stamp names announcing the tasty treasure inside. Wax paper, cut to fold like giant sunflowers, over oddities like "cracked pepper scones".

I needed a candy cigarette after reading it!

While I have my stable of annual cookies that I must bake, for sentimental reasons, if nothing else, I like to add a new one here and there. This mag was going to make it hard to pick just one, so I picked 3.

After completing them, on my ditch day of cookie production, I turned to a three ring binder of sugary love my mom gave my sisters and I a few years back. She index tabbed and clip-arted her way to creating a keepsake I hold near and dear. In its pages are my grandmother's pumpkin pie recipe, my mom's peanut brittle and even one from my mom's childhood that HER grandmother would make: floating island pudding.

As I hunted through to select the old favorites, I came across one that caught my breath and stopped me short.

My dad's Russian Teacakes.

A family favorite. If not for the crumbly, sugary cookie itself, but for the production that my father would put on while making them. Once baked, you have to roll the cookies in powder sugar. Always in a rush, he would "HEE!" and "HOO!" and "HOTSA! the fresh out of the oven dough balls, off the hot cookie sheet and into the bowl of fluffy, powdered sugar. His elbows flying up in an "exit stage left" motion. His fingers, covered in sugar, wiggling to cool off.

It would throw my sisters and I into girlish fits of giggles!

I closed the book, thinking I have enough. I'm going to try and knock out 6 cookies in 8 hours and I still have to go to the grocery store in 2 feet of snow. "Next year." I rationalized, choking down the lump in the throat and leaning my head back, hoping the tears would drain back into the ducts that let them loose, for the millionth time, since last April.

I got the cookies done. They were displayed with pride at our semi-annual Xmas party. But I still felt like I had forgotten something.

A few days later, my phone jumped alive with its chirpy text sound. There on my phone was a picture of a pile of Russian Teacakes!

My baby sister, on top of rising to the occasion of running my parents 'kingdom' in my father's absence, and keeping my mother sane, had found the 'gumption' I was missing to made them.

"I thought I would make them so when mom got back, they would all be done," the type accompanying the picture stated.

"Save some for when I get there!" I responded

Maybe this holiday, so changed forever, might go better with some teacakes and a glass of milk to wash it down.

"Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour."

2010-12-07T12:33:00.003-05:00

The 9th Commandment: thou shalt not lie

Pretty straight forward.

I've blogged before about the 122 abominations in the bible. The one everybody seems to be stuck on is "thou shalt not be gay". They overlook all the others. (women can't wear pants, you can't cut your hair, eat shrimp or crab, blah blah blah)

So I found it very interesting to listen to OutQ news this morning on XM. Don't Ask Don't Tell was, of course, in the news. It seems that a survey of military chaplains shows there will be a mass exodus of the religious if they repeal DADT.

Fascinating.

So you would rather, as holy men and guardians of the 9th commandment, that gay folks in the military LIE?

They should lie about who they are?
They should lie about who they are married too?
They should lie about the family they leave behind during their mission?
They should lie about who they love?

There should be a big lie when they parish in war and their lover can't be at the ceremony or receive the flag that draped over their coffin, when it returns home?

So lying is OK.

It's better.

It's better than that soldier, being stressed that someone is going to find out they are gay, will lose their job. Their families livelihood. It's better that, in the midst of combat, they are thinking about if someone saw the encrypted letter their lover sent them, rather than concentrate on the enemy gunfire overhead. It's better that they have to make up a heterosexual spouse and kids they don't have for a 'cover story', so that no one will rat them out.

You think that's better?

The longer I live, the more I realize religion is the biggest pile of stinking crap! It's thrust upon you as a fear control.

"Don't do that...some one's watching!"

It's good to know that the religious types that are there for comfort and counseling in the armed forces feel the need to put aside their religious duty to judge and discriminate.

If Jesus was a chaplin in the military...you bet your ass he would embrace every soldier equally. If you're going to preach about Jesus...maybe you ought to remind yourself to BE like Jesus.

After all....Jesus himself, had two dads.

“If you touch my junk, I’ll have you arrested.” ~John Tyner

2010-11-30T12:55:00.003-05:00

No one looks forward to traveling for the holidays. I'm in that group. But when you're 3,000 miles from your family, it's what you do.

This year, being the first Xmas since my father passed unexpectedly, I felt it was even more important to try and get home for the holidays. I was very excited that my job was giving us the week off between Xmas and New Year's Eve, as I had not one vacation day left after exhausting them around the funeral.

I wouldn't think twice about the crowds, the traffic, the hustle and bustle of holiday travel.

Been there...done that.

Then they started touching people. But only if you choose to not be radiated with low level xrays, first.

I'm not sure WHERE I gave up my rights to not have my naked body end up on youtube. I'm pretty sure when I buy a ticket to fly, I didn't give up my rights. I don't have to show my naked body when I buy a ticket to a concert. I don't have to have someone, in a room somewhere, inspect my fat rolls when I buy a ticket to a movie.

And if I DON'T want radiation and xray porn...I have to have a pat down, which includes, someone putting their hands in my bra, in my pant waistband, and in my crotch.

I'm pretty sure the last time I saw a pat down like that it was a MSNBC show called "Lock Up". Now I know....THEY don't have any rights.

A USAToday/Gallup Poll conducted in January found that 78% of the American public were in favor of these new measures, expressing a strong sentiment that so-called "invasions of privacy" are a small price to pay for greater security aboard passenger airplanes. 84% of the persons polled felt that the machines would prevent terrorists from entering planes with explosives.

WTF?!?!

How many folks have been stopped at the gate so far? None. So I'm going to assume that our need for more than a metal detector...not really needed.

You know where they get stopped? In the plane. By other passengers who rat them out. Not even the TSA agents that are supposedly hidden on the flights have caught anyone.

Hey...84%! Let me tell you WHY you have these scanners. It's not for your SAFETY. Hoooooo noooooo. Please. Do you think the big ol corporations that slap these things together, never testing the level of radiation they are pumping, care about your safety?!?!

Remember Michael Chertoff? He was Mr. Bush's Homeland Security Czar. As of January, his consulting agency, the Chertoff Group, counted among its clients one of the machines' manufacturers.

"There is no evidence these new body scanners make us more secure. But there is evidence that former Homeland Security Chief Michael Chertoff made money hawking these full body scanners," Rep. Ted Poe (Texas) said from a speech from the House floor.

Anyone heard of the 4th amendment?

The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.

Wake up America! You're letting them take away our rights on the basis of fear from the boogie man!

If I don't see you for the holidays....you can see ALL of me on youtube as "fatladypassengerTSA.wvm"

2010-11-18T11:23:00.003-05:00

I think I've written about the family cabin, my folks mindlessly tossed on the market and sold out from under us kids.

It's an open-wound....still.

And I think I've mentioned that I've had problems dreaming about my dad, since his death. I can admit I'm still not ready to open myself up completely to him 'visiting' me in some dream world. I've 'visited' with other relatives after they have passed, but this...this is still so fresh and raw.

The closest I've come to having him in a dream was seeing him in reflections while everyone else saw him clear as day.

I don't need my dream analysis book to figure that one out.

Last night I dreamt my folks and I were setting fire to our family cabin to get rid of it. My dad telling me where to put wood and paper to spread the fire that would burn the place to the ground.

My waking moment came when I tried to write on an exposed beam, "Poppa, don't be mad." Cuz you see...he built it. My grandfather, so the story goes, "Carried the main beam on his shoulder while Nan read a book on 'how to build a house' to him."

This is the same cabin my folks decided to sell and never bothered to ask us if we were even interested in keeping it in the family.

As I tried to finish my dream note on the pine beam, under the stairs, the ink ran out of the marker before i could finish the message.

I woke to tears and wondering if my parents asked for my grandfather's forgiveness before the heartlessly sold our cabin.

I know they sure didn't ask it from us kids.

"You know, it just occurred to me that we really haven't had a successful test of this equipment." ~Dr Ray Stantz, Ghostbuster

2010-11-15T15:57:00.009-05:00

I've collected a few pieces of ghost detection equipment over the years. The simple fact is...I've never been able to use them. Thankfully...our house is NOT haunted.

Well what better time to use them, than when a friend moved into a former funeral parlor, with the back story of an old woman falling and dying in the snow.

Really....none better!

The weekend before Halloween, a group of friends met for cocktails, cuz what grown adult can get up the courage to stand with digital recorder in hand and ask silly questions into the air without liquid courage? We descended into the basement of the now two apartment flat.

The basement is where they would embalm the bodies. Spooky enough on its own. I had gathered up all my haunting materials into one big tool box: EMF, dowsing rods, digital recorder, flash lights, candles, camera. I mostly packed it for the comedy effect that I actually had a "ghost hunting tool kit", but it came in handy to haul suff around.

Beverages in hand, we attempted to be hunters. Mostly folks jumped out at each other. My friend who lived there decided to put fake limbs and hanging props to be released at the right time.

It was fun, but certainly not serious.

We moved up to the second floor, which was the family residence when it was a funeral parlor. The first floor was the viewing rooms. The couple downstairs, unaware of what the building was, had felt cold blasts of air, as if someone had passed by and one of their dogs would track empty space in the thin air, as if someone was walking to the back of their apartment.

We went back upstairs and four of us sat at the dinning room table As we talked, I felt cold air at my back. I decided to turn on the EMF meter sitting on the middle of the table. There is no reason the needle in this contraption should move, unless there is electro magnetic waves. There weren't any on the table, till we started talking again, and the needle started responding.

The needle would pop up and down with the conversation. We started asking questions and getting some responses. I pulled out my camera and snapped random pix around the room. When I looked at the pictures later...there was actually stuff in the picture! The front of the apartment having the most 'activity'.

Now I'm no expert, but I find it very interesting that there was all these light 'orbs' as we were talking and the EMF meter was very active. There doesn't seem to be a flash in the windows that would cause the orbs. There is no reflective surface that the light is bouncing off of.

It was also interesting that the 'ghost donut', which is zoomed in on above, was actually on the other side of the room in another picture, as if it traveled across the room. It's the same light anomaly, with the bright ring and a hole in the middle.

We decided to take our search upstairs. The EMF meter only went off at the front of the attic. We couldn't get another reading when we took a second sweep of the same area. This means that when we came up into the attic, something was standing in the front and then left. When I looked at the pictures, I had an orb when we first got up there and there were no more orbs in any of the other pictures there.

It was also interesting that the needle went completely flat after the initial spike that actually got the lights and sound to activate.

Probably the creepiest find, after looking at the pictures, was the profile peeking over the door. I've looked and looked at this one and don't see anything on the corner of the door and there is nothing that would cast a shadow at the height.

I'm going to say "not bad" for beginers! I would love to go back and do another sweep. I can see where this can get addicting. Good thing I've already made up my company name and logo. Now show me to your ghosts!

The wheel's spinning, but the hamster's dead

2010-11-09T12:06:00.005-05:00

It's kinda how I feel today. Like a dead hamster, floppin' around in a wheel that just keeps spinning out of control.

My account is overdrawn.
My job doesn't pay enough.
My bills keep stacking up.
My exercise routine is null and void.
My sleep pattern is all screwed up.
My attitude stinks.

"Pity party for one? We'll seat you now, mam."

(ugh...he called me mam)

You know when you get in one of those ruts. Maybe it's the time change. Maybe it's the change of seasons. But it ruined my day when I looked in my new issue of "This Old House" with reader's before and afters...and I just know I'll never afford their 'before' to make an 'after'!

sigh

The week didn't start out right with the bank sending me a notice that I was worse than no money in the bank...there was actually negative money in the bank. I just sighed and thought, "Well if I didn't have it to begin with, I can't magically make it NOW!"

"Oh fiddle-de-deeee....I'll worry 'bout it tomorrow."

I was saying to my co-worker that it doesn't seem fair that you work and work and do a good job,and do extra stuff on top of that to bring good karma,and you still have nothing to show for it.

I have this lil radio show once a week, with a pal, and we are ALWAYS chasing the money. I had to layout a billboard for a local guy who makes hand over fist. Scads of cabbage for his show! He's on once a week, just like us. He has local sponsors, just like us. Of course he's pushing SU sports. And no one knows better than I that sports are where the money is at. Especially in this college town!

I said we should start calling ourselves the "SU Power Hour" instead of Irish Power Hour.

We'd be RICH!
And then sued.
And then right back to square one.

Sigh....have I brought you down with me? That wasn't my intention...but it really is true: misery loves company. So pull up a chair. I'll change the reservation. How many should I expect for our pity party?

And life begins again.

2010-11-03T14:50:00.003-04:00

It's amazing, what takes weeks to set up, gets picked up in an hour.

After a successful night of scaring the peewaddy out of lil chillin', we pulled up stakes and turned off the lights and ended another Halloween.

Home made props and colored lights and fog juice by the gallon packed into the living room. Babba Yaga, my gypsy witch alter ego, exhausted and cold.

We didn't have as many kids this year, but winter came early. There was actually frozen rain coming down when I put Bryant in his ground breaking coffin. I made him two years ago, inspired by my lord and god pumpkinrot.com. He was scotch guarded pretty good, so he didn't care about the frozen pellets bouncing off his paper machie bones and torn panty hose skin. (hence his name...I used Lane BRYANT panty hose)

Four fog machines hissing scented smoke. My friend Scott, who was the gravedigger in the yard, stiffly stomped after kids, grating his steel shovel on the hard concrete.

"I ain't going up there!"

"I don't want to go to that house!"

"Don't you dare get up in here and come after me!"

"Come on honey...she's a good witch!"

"Could you scare my son. He doesn't get scared of anything."

Just a sampling of those that had to earn their candy from the Babby Yaga.

Three college girls came to the door while I was inside. I had left the cold stoop, strobe at my back, to warm up a little when they knocked. Three fuzzy college kittens. Way too old to be begging for candy. Practically freezing their tails off...literally.

"What do you want of the Babba Yaga?"

All three shot straight up! They hadn't noticed I was staring at them through the screen door.

"Oh crap." one of them whispered.

"Well....WHAT DO YOU WANT!?!?"

The front one moved to the back. The middle one croaked, "Candy?" I swung the door open and moved right into their space, cauldron of candy under my arm.

"Candy you say? Well you're a lil too old I say." They giggled.

"WHAT DO YOU SAY?!" I screeched. They all jumped back, clinging to each other.

"Trick or Treat?" the one in the back worked up her bravey to say.

"Trick or treat..." I put some candy into the first bag. "Smell myyyyyyyy.....??"

"Feet?" the second one says in a whisper, not looking into my face.

"Give me something....gooooood...." I offer to the third one.

"Too.....Eat?" the third one said, trailing off so that I could barely hear her finish.

"YES! HAAAAAAAAHHHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!" I scream and fill the night air with my best witch cackle. It bounces off the neighboring house and fills the space between.

The three kitty's run from my stoop, shrieking and clinging to each other.

Just as they hit the sidewalk and slowed down, I heard one say, "I wish we had houses like that in my neighborhood when I was a kid."

Indeed lil pussy cat....indeed.

"Hey mister...er...I mean Miss."

2010-10-28T10:10:00.004-04:00

I think for Halloween I should just go as myself, since I keep getting called a "sir" anyway, it will be my costume.

Walking the dog yesterday after work, I was feeling pretty good about myself. I've lost 13 lbs. I was thinking my stomach is finally shrinking enough that my boobs stick out a bit. I'm feeling my 'girlie-ness' a lil.

I was still in my work clothes and feeling a lil sassy, headed towards the park. When we got there I let Roxy do her neighborhood watch and chase those 'damn squirrels' up the hill.(they are the bane of her existence) I didn't see there was a family at the playground. They had a dog, who was off its lead, as well. The dog saw Roxy running in the woods. The family grabbed at their dog.

"What is that?"

"I don't know."

"Oh...it's another dog running through the woods."

"Well where did it come from?"

"Must be that guy's, over there."

BOOOWWOOOOOOOOOP! <---- Sound of my 'Diva' deflating.

When I'm in sweats and a hoodie and a ball cap...I really don't expect anything but, "Can I help you sir?" I mean, I'm 5'10", broad shouldered, big grrl material: I got that. It just stings a lil when you're feeling so good about yourself.

I remember when I had shaved off 50 lbs while playing flag football in CA. I was feeling GREAT! Now mind you, I was down to about 230, which is OVERWEIGHT in any one's book, but for me...it was AWESOME! And 50 lbs...that ain't nothing to sneeze at! That's 10 bags of sugar or flour! That's 50 boxes of butter. Come OHN! That's a LOT!

As I was walking with a friend a kid, on a bike, road up behind me and yelled, "Move out of the way, fat ass!"

Ok...he doesn't know how hard I've worked or that I'm practically 'skinny' by my own definition. He just saw a 230 pound woman, from the backside, walking down the street. (And he was redneck trash with an abusive home life and I'm sure the family killed their dog from malnutrition...they lived down the street from my apt)

But that's why THAT insult hurt MORE. I had lost a ton of weight! I had felt really good about myself. Till the very second I let someone take that away from me.

I always love it when a skinny woman thinks she's fat. Really? I'll trade you issues any day of the week. If only that skinny woman thought about what she was saying as a fat woman was standing next to her. "Wow...if SHE is worried about the ounce she gained, she must think I'm a walking house!"

The irony is that when I was bald, twice, from shaving my head for St. Baldricks, I never got called sir once! In fact, no one would look at me...they all thought I had cancer.

So I guess if they choice is folks talking to me, as a man of course, or ignoring me cuz I'm sick...I'll take the 'sir' any day.

2010-10-25T16:14:00.003-04:00

After wrestling with tombstones and wind and rain all weekend, I feel like I'm behind.

Normally the set up for my tiny haunt is a mad dash the day before, usually with a :::cough cough::: sick day involved. So I was trying to be different and put a lil out at a time this year.

I seem to be running in quicksand for all my efforts.

The view out the window right now....sigh....rain.

Perhaps some indoor decor tonight. I really should have started with that and left the outside stuff, again, to the last minute. I don't know what I was thinking.

We were busy this weekend as well, that didn't help matters. But what we had to do was fun. Some friends and I did a lil ghost hunting last Friday night. It was a lot of fun and while nothing major happened, there were some small occurrences that made us raise our eyebrows.

The EMF meter seemed to have a mind of it's own during a question and answer session. The spot where it lit up like xmas was gone the next time we were there. The electric field, mysteriously gone.

I got some orbs on my camera. And a ghost 'donut' that I'm still not sure what that was. I've yet to listen to the digital recordings, but I'm hoping there's some fun still to be had there.

You never know what you're going to get in a former funeral parlor, but it did make for some fun hunting.

The next night we attended a live version of The Rocky Horror Show. I had never been, so it was fun to throw toast and rice and TP at the stage. It wasn't fun getting a pound and a half of rice down my pants, mind you.

So while I didn't get much done for the yard haunt, I did get to do some hauntingly good stuff.

"...Drifting along with the tumbling tombstones."

2010-10-19T09:26:00.005-04:00

I've been trying to put things out a lil at a time this year. Usually the yard haunt is a mad dash to put up the day before. It's not a huge thing, but I'm afraid of someone taking something or messing with stuff.

Plus weather. Being in upstate NY you never know what the weather is going to do this time of year. I've been trying to put out the tombstones in the front since Saturday and the wind keeps howling past the house. I've collected some fun props over the years, and I would be very sad if one found it's way off the lawn and down the street.

I've built some stuff too, that couldn't take a good rain, or snow. That's predicted for the end of the week.

Snow....that's not scary.

My candle project turned out pretty good. Here's the final picture:

And you can see the process here:

http://www.garageofevilnetwork.com/photo/album/show?id=2243951%3AAlbum%3A104451&xg_source=activity

I guess I'm going to have to choose between wind and snow. I'm thinking I would rather lash down the stones in the wind then try to put them up in the cold white stuff.

A stoning I shall go!

Candle, Candle burning bright...

2010-10-15T12:37:00.004-04:00

Here are a couple more shots of my candle prop.

I started to spray paint them white. I might add some accent paint, just to give them some texture. I'm on the hunt for some rough looking rope to tie them in a bunch and keep them steady.

But here is what they will look like with the battery tea lights in them.

I should have the finished product this weekend and I'll happily post it right here so you can check it out.

If the rain lets up, I will start putting my cemetary up this weekend. 15 days to go. I need to get serious about scary the lil kiddies.

So it begins...

2010-10-12T16:26:00.004-04:00

I finally got to gettin' my 'Ween on yesterday.

We went to a friend's camp up in the Adirondacks over the weekend. And it was fresh-Fall, right in your face. The smells, the morning frost, the trees in umber, amber and red. It was fantastic to stand in the middle of a leaf strewn path and inhale the crisp, mossy air.

We came back early on Monday, which I took off, and I managed to find some corn stalks to put up in the front of the house. It still freaks me out a bit that I live 15 min from farms. $2 pumpkins, cornstalks...when were were kids, my folks had to take out a loan to get this stuff in CA.

I tossed some lights on the stalks and placed some pumpkins at their base and moved onto another project: Spooky Town!

The residents are all happy now that the lil haunted village is up and running with a flip of a switch. The fountain in the middle of town mists and Dr. Tingle's flashes with lightning. Sigh...all is well.

What next? Well how bout a project?

I took to cutting up lengths of PVC for my candle project. I saw this on-line and thought, "Easy enough!" and I could use some candles for the window display. I keep wanting to put real ones, but I use a backdrop to cut out the light and I'm scared I'm going to set the place on fire!

The next step was placing foam inserts into each tube, so that the battery tea lights won't fall through. Hot glued those. THEN it was time to play with "Liquid Cotton Candy", or as it said on the can: GreatStuff sealer.

This is just that aerosol can of goo that you spray into cracks and it foams up. This is how I'm making the melting wax on the candles. It really was gooey and odd to work with. Thank Oprah I had gloves on. By the time I was done, all my fingers were stuck together.

But I did my best and I'll have to check out how it dried tonight. This is before the stuff set:

Tonight will be spray painting the candles white. I'm thinking about getting a tan color as well to make some antique shading on them. I will just need a nice piece of old, knotty cord to tie them all up with and it will be done!

Now if I could get really good at cranking these babies out, I could sell them on Etsy.com or something. But I'm not sure how many more times I would want to saw that damn PVC pipe.

I guess I could give up my arm workout routine...hmmmm...something to think about!

More pix tomorrow.

“For the love of God, Montresor!" “Yes,” I said, “for the love of God!”

2010-10-06T10:35:00.010-04:00

It seems like I'm so busy, I don't have time to do what I want. I hate that feeling. Not to mention I tend to say yes to over book my schedule, rather than to let it go and just have some down time.

So whose fault is that?

I need to get Spooky Town out and set it up. Nothing brings me more joy than this dumb lil ceramic dust collector. I love putting the stage together, placing the tiny buildings into the neighborhood and plugging in all the lights and sounds. I play some Midnight Syndicate in the background for inspiration. Then when it's ready, I turn off the CD player, turn down the lights, and flip the switch on Spooky Town.

I love that moment!

My candle project still needs to get rolling. I got the last of the supplies: PVC, GreatStuff, white paint, battery tea lights. Good to go! Now just to start.

The irony is that work is slow. So I sit at my job for 8 hours thinking about all the things I SHOULD be doing with my time.

And...well...I might put some work into keeping busy in my own way. For instance:

My friend Jeana just took in a momma cat, and her kittens, down in GA. She took a fantastic picture of momma Pearl. I thought the only thing that could make it better would be to turn Pearl into a Halloween kitteh. (that's not spelled wrong...http://icanhascheezburger.com)

So I started with the original...

...and put her in a spooky scene only a black cat would truly look comfortable in.

I'm really doing it to hone my skills and keep my edge...right? Riiiiight.

Now, I use Photoshop everyday and I very rarely use it in an 'artistic' capacity. I do what the clients want and there is little to no creativity in that.

While I was surfing my very long list of Halloween bookmarks, I found a free "Zombify Your Face" app on the computer that, not only didn't work, but looked pretty cheesy. And when you're a zombie...cheesy is baaaad.

I grabbed a pic from my Droid with the FX Camera setting...

...I've always considered myself Fall Colors, but I think I look rather nice in a "un-dead color scheme"! Some PS magic with the eyes, a chunk of brain matter snatched and some splatter instead of lipstick...I gotta say, I make a hot mess of a zombie!

A girl has to do what she's gotta do to fill the time till she can get home, throw open the doors to her mad laboratory and get to work on the important stuff.

Ya know?

"He's just resting - waiting for a new life to come." ~Dr. Henry Frankenstein

2010-10-04T10:24:00.003-04:00

I'm a graphic artist. Which means I make 'widgets' for da man 40 hours a week. I never take time to really do any personal art. In fact...I couldn't even tell you what media I would spend my few off hours exploring, at this point.

That's why, when Halloween comes around, I use my powers for evil....er...Halloween decorating!

There are tons of sites for DIY Halloween stuff. I like to pick a project every year and try my hand at making my own. And for the price they charge for stuff at stores, it works out cheaper, keeps me busy and out of trouble. (which makes the local police happy)

This year I will be attempting to create my own stack of pillar candles. As I do it, I'll post some pix. In the meantime, if you want to check some other sites out:

http://www.hauntershangout.com/props/default.asp

http://hauntproject.com/

And a personal favorite:
http://www.garageofevilnetwork.com/profile/CabrinaGilbert

"You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing." Poe~Tell Tale Heart

2010-10-01T08:29:00.004-04:00

Folks think I'm crazy...yes indeed. I love Halloween. I've loved it for a very, very long time. And I never really believed the experience could get any better.

Then I moved to upstate NY.

Now Halloween is a month long extravaganza for me! The changing of the leaves. The crisp chill in the air. Driving out for pumpkins and corn stalks on apple farms with hot cider and apple fritters.

OH...it got better all right!

And while I never had to endure the chill in my finger tips as I lay in wait for unsuspecting children, as they walk up the frosty path to my front door, in California...I live for those moments now!

The rustle of fall leaves as the ghostly winds push them down the driveway. The curling of the fog machine's smoke, spit out at random intervals. The shuffle of kids down the dark street. Their sight impared by masks. Their gait hampered by store bought costumes that never fit quite right. Their shrill shreaks as I emerge from the darkness.

SIGH.....This is Halloween, this is Halloween, red and black and slimy green. In our town of Halloween.

Bless me father....for I'm a greedy bastard.

2010-09-28T15:50:00.004-04:00

Have you heard about this Rev. Long (unfortunate name for what he's accused of)? I was watching it on the news and it was pretty much your standard "big religious guy grooming teenage boys for sexual favors".

I know, sad that is a 'standard' story in this day and age.

Now...nothing makes me madder...we've been over this. I think kiddie diddlers should be shot on sight (as well as turds that hurt animals...but that's another blog).

Then they said in the news report, "...he lured the boys with luxuries like: rides in the Reverend's Royal Royce, trips in his Leer Jet and jewelry..."

TIME OUT!

Now...I know this Long dude is the preacher for one of these mega churches..but I'm pretty sure Jesus cruised around in sandals. Jesus sure didn't fly in a jet. And ya know what...he sure as shit didn't have no jewelry!

You know what the biggest crime is here...that "men of the cloth" abuse their power and preach to folks about how they should be humble. THAT'S the real crime. This jack ass has pix in his bathroom with gold faucets and a bath tub that looks like a swimming pool. I'm sorry...but that's WRONG!

Not the pix...but the fact his bathroom cost more than I'll ever see in my lifetime!

Papa Ratzi ain't no better. The Pope sits on his gold throne, with his fur capes and handmade Italian shoes and tells his penniless priests and nuns to kiss his big-ass gold ring.

All the good the church does is built on the backs of those priests and nuns! Scraping together a few bucks to put on programs for the neighborhood kids and fund local charities. (they got issues too, but it's still a HUGE charitable organization)

And yet, the Pope stands in his lil window in the Vatican and tells his people to cinch their belts and offer it up to God. Then someone carries his silk train of his fancy gowns and takes a nap on is million thread count sheets and dreams of....well lets not go there.

It makes me sick.

All you "holy men" talking about who God would punish and send to hell.....better take stock. You might be surprised that the afterlife for you....is lil "warmer" then you're expecting.

41 days...but who's counting?

2010-09-21T08:28:00.003-04:00

Yes...I have a countdown clock. I got it at the day after Halloween sale at Spirits. That's like Mecca to me. I travel there every year to pay homage to next years yard haunt.

Plus prices are scary good at that point.

I've already upped the ante this year with some demonic whispers and some cemetery tracks. I'm thinking about relocating the walk up to the driveway. The neighbors spotlight on their garage is annoying.

Hmmm....maybe it needs red lights in it. I've been on the ladder a few times at their garage to unscrew the lights. I have no shame.

I found a picture, when I was home in CA recently, of my grandma in vampire teeth and these plastic disks you put in your eyes like a monocle. They made your eyes look bloodshot and bug out. They probably cost .50¢ back then. (probably still do, if they make them) She would answer the door for trick or treaters like that.

This obsession didn't come off the wind, folks!

My grandfather was known for throwing a sheet over his head and standing outside a window till one of finally noticed and ran screaming from the room to find my grandma.

"Tiny...are you scaring these kids again!?"

Crazy aunt Joan (everyone has one...right? someone not related that was just always at every family party...no...just me?) use to do the entire Wicked Witch of the West routine. Green make up and all! I wouldn't even go through the front door as a kid. My folks had to sneak me around the back. She would use balloons for humps on her back. She thought it would calm my fears if I was the one that got to pop them with a pin.

Ya...not so much.

When I was in high school, we made our family home a walk-through, haunted house for 5 years. Gilbert Manor would have a line going down the block. No one could believe we didn't take money for it. (the story of my poor, penniless life)

And while the Hunted Mansion at Disneyland was the bane of my existence as a little kid, it became my lusty wish to live there at some point. I wanted to be the knight that jumped out at visitors for a very brief period.

I would have to say....Halloween has been my longest relationship to date. And because of that, I try to keep Halloween true in my heart every year. (even if that makes me a weirdo.

"This kind of certainty comes but once in a lifetime." ~The Bridges of Madison County

2010-09-13T10:46:00.003-04:00

Finally....I can blog about this: We got married!

That's right, on the beach in MA, exchanged rings and vows, married.

We were kinda keeping it a lil hush hush cuz we figured no one, after us being together 14 years, wouldn't consider it a blip on the radar.

How wrong we were!

We were greeted with gasps of joy, tears of happiness and hugs of cheer. And in this age of social media, the comments went on for days with well wishes from our FB family and friends.

The day you relize your gay, there are a lot of images that dissapear from your brain that are not available to you. The wedding scene is really no longer a thing you can dream about. Oh...sure...you can do a ceremony. You can go thorugh the motions. But you always know that it's not legal. The 1,400 laws that protect your married friends and family are not for you.

While we took the extra step to legally bind ourselves to one another, with lawyer's fees others don't have to pay, we still didn't have the bulk of benefits that others have with just a simple ceremony.

There are only 6 states in the US that allow same sex marriage. We decided, since we were vacationing there anyway, why not get married on the Cape. Why not make it legal and do it up right?

NY recognizes marriages from other states that have same-sex unions. So why not? We've been trying to hold out for NY to do the right thing, but they missed their chance and who knows what will happen with a new Governer?

So on the beach we stood, Justice of the Peace speaking words we wrote, holding hands as the sun set in front of us.

Just me and the wife.

"Drive back baby to me, fast in your car. I'm here waiting, crash into me real hard." ~Gwen Stefani

2010-09-01T11:02:00.003-04:00

So I'm headed to work. I've been taking this route through the Tipp Hill area, cuz it's nicer and less stressful than the Geddes route. But I was thinking, "Schools not in yet and I'm a lil late and I think Geddes is faster..."

I altered my course Monday morning.

As I free wheeled down the hill from my house, my head in a Monday morning fog, I was happy for the "kid free" streets. I had to snap myself back and be more defensive and pay attention.

It was a good thing too....as I came to a green lit intersection in my favor, I caught out of the corner of my eye, a scrap truck.

You've seen these. Beater trucks, really scrap on wheels themselves. Loaded down with metal framing, old bikes, bbqs, wheels and the like. Driven by folks who trash pick and stop in the street to pick up hubcaps and anything metal.

This economy has turned us into trash pickers. Anyway you can make a buck. I get it.

This truck, headed to the intersection I was just moving into, came barreling towards me. Weighted down to the point that the body of the truck almost scraped the ground. My Spidey sense tingling, I realized it wasn't stopping!

I was halfway through the intersection when I realized he wasn't stopping! Not only wasn't he stopping...but he would proceed to make a radical right turn. The scrap on the back of his truck, flying from the bed, clattering and clanging onto the pavement. A metal pipe, sticking out of the truck, draggin in the other lane, and sparking on the pavement, finally detached and rolled under the stopped truck.

I sat there, gripping the wheel. I was almost T-boned by this idiot. And if that didn't happened, I would have had metal scrap slam across the hood of my car!

Thank Oprah I saw him coming and chose to slam on my breaks, with no one behind me!

I cautiously, crept up next to the truck with my car. The driver, like a statue behind the wheel. His co-pilot slowly emerged from the cab.

The right thing to do....pull over, ask if they were ok. Help get the metal out of the street so morning traffic could flow once again. Check the driver across the street and make sure the metal didn't hit their car.

Yes...that would be the right thing to do.

But I'm not known for doing the right thing...oh no...not me.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!? SMOKING YOUR FUCKING BREAKFAST?!?!" My booming voice bounced off the overpass ceiling and echoed on the walls. The guy getting out shrugged like someone hit him.

Steam coming from my ears, I wheeled away to work. Blood boiling!

Welcome Monday...why must you start my week so?

Birthdays, birthdays, oh what fun...

2010-08-16T14:31:00.002-04:00

I know I've said this before, but I really have NO idea how I'm going to react at any given moment, about my dad's death.

His birthday was Aug 8th and I kinda felt like things were under control. Then I was at PPD (puppy play date) and a moment happened. The sky pulled open and rays of morning sunshine dropped down. It was like a painted illustration in a kids bible. That background from every Catholic trading card, with the saint in the foreground.

I thought about my dad. Did he have the kinda pull that he could whip up a sign like that? Is that reserved for folks that have been up there for some time, or just the divine one himself/herself. No matter...my throat did that all too familar thing these days and clamped down. The sting of salt water spilling over my tearducts. There I was in a field with a dozen dogs and all their owners, my emotions going AWOL on me.

My theory was to keep busy on his birthday. I had a long enough 'honey do' list to accomplish that. Next was to work out: great! Suited up and headed to the basement, thumping workout music on my iPod at the ready. After my stretch, I cranked up the tunes and hopped on the treadmill.

10 minutes in, P!nk in my ears, her emotions raw through her music:

Where did you go?
Where did you go?
How did you know to get out of a world gone mad?
Help me let go
Of the chaos around me
The devil that hounds me
I need you to tell me
Child be still

It crippled me! Sobbing, heaving sobs, rattling the ribs in my chest. Burning the tissue in my throat. Feeling the weakness of exerting the energy it takes to uncork that bottle and let the emotions spill out on the ground, like red wine on a white carpet...a shock to my system.

Off went the treadmil, before I fell off it. I took a moment on the weightbench, trying to get myself together long enough to get back to life. No breaks...breaks leave opening to think. Thinking leads to tears.

Keep Moving!

I managed to get through my workout.

On to the next chore. Chain-smoking chores to keep from thinking.

Why does opening up, hurt so much? Aren't you suppose to be rewarded for being open and honest? Yet everytime I throw the iron bars on my heart open, the pain forces it closed again. Like someone entering into the light, after being in the dark. The light is sharp and causes my eyes to ache, so aches my heart.

By the end of the day, I was exhausted. Was I any better off for letting go? I don't know. The saddness doesn't seem any less.

tomato - tomahta

2010-08-10T09:31:00.003-04:00

I got a "patio tomato" at the regional market at the beginning of summer. Within a few weeks we had more tomatoes than we could handle. And to build tomato karma, we have been giving a few away here and there.

Then from the top of the plant came the most perfect tomato EVAH! Perfect shape, color, size. I wanted to give it just one more day on the stem before I sent it to tomato heaven.

I went home for lunch yesterday and we sat out on the patio. I looked at the plant and it took a second to register.

"Did you pick the tomatoes?" I asked LTR.

"No.....were any ready?" She looked at the plant.

"Yes...there was a perfect tomato on top and then a bunch that were just turning..."

SOME ONE HAD STOLEN MY PERFECT TOMATO!!!

Laura got up and walked a few steps when she spied on the grass a half eaten green tomato. Something had been busy making short work of all the red ones. Obviously the green ones weren't quiet as good.

I'm sure my tomato plant is now some sort of nature's buffet for wayward critters. The rest of the tomatoes don't have a chance!

That perfect tomato was now in some racoon's belly. I hope it makes him sick.

I know...I know....

2010-08-06T07:19:00.003-04:00

I'm obsessed already.

YANKEE HALLOWEEN

POTTERY BARN SPOOKY STUFF

THE DISNEYLAND OF HALLOWEEN

MY ANNUAL BIBLE

WHO I WANNA BE WHEN I GROW UP

Is it too early?

2010-07-28T10:27:00.005-04:00

I mean...July isn't even out the door and I walked into the Dollar Store yesterday and there was a whole end-cap of skulls and skeletons!

Now if that was xmas crap...I would be FURIOUS! Every year when xmas goes up and I'm still in flip flops I think, "How could they, for the love of baby Jesus, son of Oprah! Oh ya, I could pitch a downright fit about xmas stuff being up a day before Thanksgiving. I'll fight anyone that thinks the holiday season for xmas should start with the first day of school.

But the Halloween stuff, even the low grade Dollar Store crappy stuff, caused me to come up short, make my hands into a pyramid in front of my mouth and wiggle my fingers in hungry joy!

It's coming :)

To be honest, I've been on all sorts of Halloween sites for MONTHS now! One home haunter actually buries the clothes for his props in the summer so that they will be properly zombie-fied by Halloween.

Yes...these are the folks I idolize.

I signed up for the GarageOfEvil.com where 'weenies post their props with pride and pomp.

I have a list of things I want to make this year (flickering pillar candles, chicken wire dummies, a witch for the graveyard with a boiling cauldron, and some sort of projection show on the front windows from the inside of the house).

I'm already BEHIND and I haven't started yet!

Soon our basement will once again become the evil lab where I create Halloween goodies for my home haunt. And there might be some that pitch a fit that it's starting too soon.

To them I say: Boooooooo!

Summer time...and the livin' ain't so easy..it's busy. Very busy.

2010-07-22T11:40:00.002-04:00

The one thing 'bout folks in upstate NY...they know how to make the most of their summer time!

There is not one weekend wasted here. Festivals, show, fairs, concerts, camping, hiking, the list goes on and on. Oh and there is that lawn thing. We don't have one of those for about 7 months and you need to keep up on it in the short amount of time it's there.

It's always amazing to me that, when the snow creeps away, there is living grass under there. It might be a lil brown and laid flat from the weight of winter, but it's still there baybee! A few rainstorms and a lil sun and all of a sudden it's a weekly chore to keep it at bay.

What makes these folks make the most of the very short 10 weeks of summer they are allotted? The dread that all that snow, like the dreaded Terminator, will be baaak. (said like Ahnuld) So before we are butt high in angel shit, we bake under the sun, withstand the skeeters, and add to the humidity with our sweat.

These are the days you look back on, when there is snow still on the ground in April, and think, "Remember when we complained it was soooooo hot last July?"

Heat = Hair

2010-07-08T10:20:00.000-04:00

We are having a heatwave here in the North East. It's not pretty.

I've lived here 12 years now, and I do love 'hot'. It's the humidity that kicks my ass. It's like walking through soup! You get out of the shower, get dressed and you're drenched in moisture the second you walk out the door.

The car temp hit 98 yesterday. They have this thing called the "heat index" which mixes the effect of the humidity in with the temp. That's at 112 today, just in case you weren't hot enough.

Sticky girly bits aside...the worst part about heat? Men! Usually ugly, fat, bushy backed, old farts that decide it's ok to strip when it's hot. I can't tell you how many times I almost barfed just trying to get home yesterday.

One guy had a gunt on him that hung down past his belt-line by a good foot. He stood, watering his lawn, and burning my eyes.

Another fine specimen walked down the street with his shirt as a turban and his hair entrenched breasts swaying, as he lumbered down the street.

I'm sorry...but if you're going to insist that women cover up their chest, men should also have the same regulation for indecent exposure. 80% of the guys I saw, had bigger boobs than I do.

Then you have the guys, usually a lil younger, that insist on pulling just the front of their shirt up, so that their fat belly sticks out. I'm not sure if this is some ingrained mating tactic from caveman days, or their cooling panel is JUST in their belly. Either way....it's not working. Cover it or get a six pack. And I don't mean the one you drink. It's obvious you've had your share of the beer kind.

Let's talk hair for a minute. (and JUST a minute, cuz really...I will toss my breakfast onto my keyboard)

My sisters and I used the "puff factor" method of hair for men. A mess of hair just at the v-neck under shirt was a 1 or 2. Sticking out the sleeves or getting their gold necklace tangled in it, 4. If the shirt could actually stand up on the matt of curly mess that was beneath, then it was puff factor 10 and you should avert your eyes.

My sister Marlo and I were in the car one day, when I noticed ahead of us in a VW, was the only man who broke the scale with a 12. His tank top couldn't contain the hair that covered his body like a shitious halo of dark evil. The sun, setting in front of us, illuminated the height so that we could see where his skin stopped and the hair continued. It was a good inch and a half above his body. (oh crap...here comes my yogurt and granola!!)

I understand you guys are hot. I understand that, for every gross guy out there, I could find a woman wearing a tube top and hot pants that has no business doing so, but comeOHN! The worst part is you all think you look like Tom Cruise's sexy, younger brother without your shirt on.

YOU DON'T!!! Cover up or at least wear a bikini top. You're scaring the kids.

Hey batta, batta, batta...SWING!

2010-07-01T11:24:00.004-04:00

We have a cute lil park at the end of our block. Just as we were moving into the neighborhood, they put in a little league field at the end. The park was more than big enough for the field, a snack bar, a tennis court, a basket ball court and a playground. But then the traffic problems started.

Then they decided they needed to move the playground closer to the field so that parents could keep an eye on their darling lil tykes that weren't in the game. So with that, there was a large grass space left at the far end from the field.

Neighbors got signatures for a dog park there, as many folks have dogs that walk in the park. But we came up against a brick wall and rumblings began that the LL wanted to put ANOTHER field in the green space.

Hackles people...my hackles went up.

It's been a couple years now, and it seems the LL has finally got what they needed to push this forward. A grant for $30,000 is helpful as well. What city is going to turn that down?

"Why didn't we think of getting a grant for the dog park?" my neighbor groused.

"Because the LL is a well oiled war machine that has for decades taken over park space like a militia on it's way to Tara, burning neighbors moods as they went." I grumbled back.

We went to the community meeting (re: dog and pony show) last night. They had hot dogs and hamburgers for us to enjoy. I chose not to share in the 'bribe'. Each member of the LL came over, somber and looking like a puppy that was just spanked for pooping on grandma's Oriental rug.

"Are you here for the meeting? I'm so glad you came. We just want to give everyone a chance to voice their opinion and we, the LL, want to work with the community to blah blah blah.....".

A lil bit of throw up in my mouth. They knew what they were up against. No one wants this park...they know it. You can read it on their guilty lil pusses. Lil did I know it was really deeper than that.

As the meeting proceeded, the president of the LL was a man with a 'tude a mile long. He was there with a chip on his shoulder and a disgusted look on his face. He tried to make it sound like we were a bunch of kid haters, which is the furthest from the truth.

I love them.....I just can't finish a whole one by myself. badumpah...thank you I'll be here all week!

But seriously folks....I went cuz I just think we are a kid-centric society. If you're a breeder, you get the benes. I'm childless (at least...that I know of :::wink wink:::) and I should have space in the park as much as anyone else. I pay the taxes for the city park, and I pay school taxes and I don't have kids! I like that green space for letting my pooch run around. I like that green space for laying in the grass. I like that green space for being...well....GREEN, damn it!

With an additional playing field there will be double the traffic. Double the parked cars lining the street. Double the children darting between cars.

The LL folks got frothier and more worked up the more folks brought up reasons NOT to have the field. One LL guy had this "What the fuck is wrong with you people?" attitude that really didn't help either when he pipped up.

I spoke my two cents and then it dawned on me: this is a done deal! They weren't acting all coy cuz they were trying to win votes, Oh no! This was in the pot and cooking and they thought it was a slam dunk! They thought we would show up, lift them over our heads and cheer them for saving our park from ruin with their t-ball field!

This turned out to be....a VERY differnt meeting, indeed!

"I just want you to go home and think....are your reasons for not wanting this field as selfless as mine?" said the president of the LL. "I'm just trying to make a place for kids to play...what are YOUR reasons for NOT wanting it?"

Ummmm...Ya JACKHOLE! I don't want to you dig up the park, increase the traffic and noise pollution with screaming kids. Let me just put it to you this way...I won't be having a picnic on your pitching mound. It's kind of in the way of MY park.

One lump, or two?

2010-06-24T10:25:00.003-04:00

I finally had a dream about my dad the other night. I've been waiting. But it seems, after thinking about the dream, he's not quite in focus yet.

The only way I could see him in the dream is by refection: in a pane of glass, in a mirror, through a digital camera. When I would look with my eyes, he would be gone, but still present.

I could hear him. He was whistling and talking to my sister's bird, a cockateil. My mom was there too. She knew dad was there and was surprised I couldn't see him. She has a few stories of the TV being on when she walked into the bedroom and his leather chair making noise, as if someone got up recently from it.

It was frustrating, to say the least.

I remember when my grandmother passed. She invited me to tea in a dream and I made the climb up through many doors and ladders to a quite lil attic. There she was, sitting at a quaint lil table with her tea cups, steaming hot.

"There you are...I've been waiting for you to visit!", she grinned with her crooked smile. I sat across from her and in the dream we chatted and chatted. I can't remember what we said, or if any of the words were real. But then it was time for me to 'return' and I woke with the most peaceful and warm feeling.

Strange for me, as almost every morning I thrash awake with frustration creasing my brow and anxiety pulsating my heart to a fevered beat.

Dream interpreters will tell you that going through multiple doors and upwards is a way of traveling to a plane where you can converse with folks on the 'other side'.

That seems to be true for me.

There were no doors in my dad's dream. No ladders or upward motion. Maybe it was just a nod that he's around and will get to me in good time. I mean....it really is true for him that every day is a Saturday. So he's in no rush.

"Tears on my pillow, pain in my heart, over you..."

2010-06-09T08:23:00.007-04:00

I cried myself to sleep the other night.

I haven't done that since right after the wake and I was still in Cali. And it was the same reason: the vision of my dad, in the hospital bed. It coated my eyelids like a horrifying whitewash. I laid there feeling the tears spill down my cheeks, unable to strip the vision from my eyes.

It's bad enough, that I see him swollen, his arms covered with blood rashes. He was so swollen he looked more like the Michelin Man, than my dad. His eyelids forced closed by the weight of the fluid in those thin flaps of skin. The line around his thick, sausage fingers where his wedding band was. My mom got it off just in time, she said. From the size of his fingers...I think it might have busted the band in two if she hadn't taken it off in time.

Bruises criss-crossed his face, giving his stretched features a blue tint. He lay there, the machine forcing his chest up and down with jarring mechanical movements, like a bad Halloween prop that will shudder slightly before dropping into position.

Four IV towers held 30 some odd bags of chemicals and fluids: all going in, nothing coming out.

The constant electrical audio simulations of beeps and boops and pings. Blood pressure, oxygen, heart rate, respirator speed, all chiming just over the sound of air pumping into his chest. The regular rhythm of "electric life" split by an alarm on one box or another. Out of fluid, levels too low, time to change a bag.

I sat up and held my eyes open wide, my own chest heaving with the sharp intake of air. I flipped my wet pillow over and tried to close my eyes again. Trying to change the channel in my mind to something that would let me get the sleep I so desperately need.

Its been over two months since he's been gone. That's nine Sunday phone calls he wasn't on when I called my mom. Of course I've been calling my mom more frequently these days, and when she isn't there, my dad's voice answers the phone. I pause to collect myself before I leave my message, clearing the lump in my throat.

I'm going to go back to Cali in August. It will be the second time I'm in 'their' house. I keep saying "...my mom and dad....er...my mom." Adjustments, small changes here and there to adapt to this new life. A life that has been completely changed forever.

I seeeeeeee uuuuuuuu....

2010-05-28T09:12:00.003-04:00

So we were sitting on our patio, on a bright lunch hour, when I noticed something up at the top of the hill. I've talked about our backyard before, the tree filled hillside that offers different levels of our summer sanctuary.

The neighbors house in the back is five levels up from our back yard. We can just see the top of the house over the edge of the dirt and trees. With the trees in bloom you can't even see the neighbors that line the street behind us. It's actually quite nice to have a privacy screen provided by mother nature herself.

I was facing said hillside when just to the left of one of the top-most trees, a shadow of movement caught my eye. I tried to, on the sly, watch the treeline, while still talking to LTR. Sure enough, someone was squatting behind a tree, knees bent, head in the 'Y' of the tree.

Smooth as I am, I stopped mid sentence and said to Laura, "I think there is someone watching us from the top of the hill." Laura being even smoother, turned around immediately and looked up the hill.

The knee that I had seen, pulled in behind the tree and the round head dropped out of the split of the tree and ducked down.

Through the course of our conversation the head would pop up and watch us. There are very few times when I feel "frail" as a woman. At 5"10' and an ex-professional football player, you tend to feel...well...safe. There aren't a lot of folks that I feel threatened by or intimidated around.

A creepy shadow watching a house with two women who live there.....I was feeling a lil uneasy.

LTR texted me the next afternoon to let me know that it seemed there were now two figures up at the top of the hill.

Great!

She didn't want to sit out there if they were going to stare at her the whole time. I said, "You sit on the patio and face the hill!" No one was going to make me itchy in my own space!

Sure enough, after a lil while, they figures left.

My question is this: if they are kids, why the HELL aren't they in school? Why are there always kids out of school? I wasn't allowed to even THINK about leaving campus! And I lived, no lie, half a block from school!

I know...I know...I'm starting to sound like an old fart, "You pesky kids get off my lawn!"

In the mean time, I'm going to ask my co-worker if he's still has those paint ball guns of his. I'm thinking bright pink splatter might mark my territory a bit for the shadow figures to get the hint.

Wy? Cuz.

2010-05-21T10:05:00.004-04:00

We went and saw Wynonna Judd right before we left for a family reunion, of sorts, in Vegas. I have followed Wy since she was singin' with momma. And I became a rabid fan when she went solo. I have all her 'albums' (cuz I'm old) and love them all. Even the Jesus-y ones.

I'm embarrassed to admit that, when she asked who hadn't seen her live, I was one of the hands raised. I don't know why I hadn't. I just figured a big ol' lezzy in the middle of ten gallon hats and platter sized belt buckles might make me itchy that there was a lynchin' bout to happen. But after seeing the amount of 'family' in the audience, I shouldn't have worried.

My secret lust is Wy is one of us. I mean, come on....the guys she picks? Her horrible luck in love? The motorcycles? The rockin' guitar licks? Her affinity to Elvis? Her one attempt to get on an Olivia Cruise to perform? (thanks Christian, conservative fan base for screwing THAT up!)

I gotta say, if you were to line up the columns for probabilities, she would race to the top.

As soon as she stepped on the stage...her presence, her beauty, her wink and crooked grin....sigh....I was in LOVE!!! I mean I love her....I've always loved her. But holy crap! Her swagger and strut on stage and that voice? My heart melted into my panties!

I was deep in a lustful state of lustiness when she dusted off one of her top tens: She is His Only Need.

There I was, at a table, in a showroom in an Indian casino, at a table with six strangers, bawling my eyes out. I can't tell you how many times I've heard that song. It's from her first album, so it's played a lot over the years. And while it would often cause a lump in my throat, this time...this time it was the life of my dad put to music.

There was nowhere in the song to pull out. Every turn of phrase pulled at my heart. Every image her throaty growl produced, took me to a picture in my family album. So I let the tears flow. I let the sadness wrap around me. I did the one thing everyone hates: cried my eyes blind in public.

I never know where my dad will pop up these days. I will say it's always unexpected and there are just never enough kleenex around.

What's in a name?

2010-05-12T11:09:00.005-04:00

Death.

You know it's coming. We are all gonna die. Like flowers wilt. Like balloons deflate. Like a clock stops ticking. Everything has its cycle.

When it comes, everyone deals in a different way. I really, REALLY wanted to get shit faced and numb out. But I couldn't. I just couldn't bring myself to making the moment go away through liquid drowning. I had to be aware to tend to the faces that looked with pity upon me.

There are those who deal with life through a haze of alcohol...

A slurred voice called out to me across the patio table, "Cabreena...I wanna know shumthin...Now....I know that...um...you know....he wash....um.....well....hesh Allison's biological dad. But being he wash your shtep fath...hic...father.....do you shthink the losh...excuse me...the L-O-S-S is the sssssame?"

I've never wanted to reach out and strangle someone, till their wine soaked eyeballs popped out of there head, so badly.

"Yes."

My response split the silence that followed the intake of air around the large table we were sitting at. Everyone, aghast at the question posed to me. I stood up from my chair and walked from the patio to the house. Calming the rage inside.

Grumpy Old Men and Weepy Young Women

2010-05-06T14:15:00.009-04:00

I was feeling a lil lost today, so I asked my girl if she would meet me for lunch. I thought a lil time out of the office, where not much is going on, would clear my brain and blow the memory playback out like dusty cobwebs when a door is opened.

We were sitting in a bright, sunny table near the window. I looked up to notice a gentleman well into his 80's. He shuffled alone into the dining room and sat at a table where I could see him just over LTR's shoulder.

A panini and a bowl of soup, the tray in his hands, shook a lil as it lowered to the table. He plopped into his seat and removed his baseball cap, the name "Lucy" embroidered into the front. He placed it on the table across from him, the name facing him.

Now, I'm a creative type with an imagination that takes me all over the place. One of my favorite games to play, with my pal Mae, was to make up stories of folks in cars next to us or walking by. When I saw him, I got this image in my head that his late wife was Lucy and the hat at the place across from him was a place marker that she was there at lunch.

After filling my head with that... my own sandwich had a hard time making its way around the lump in my throat.

The table next to us was filled with college girls, full of life and wide eyes of what the world looks like to them. The old man, his eyes clouded with age and knowing all to well what the world holds, scanned the room them started in on his meal.

I couldn't help looking over, like a TV in a sports bar, my eyes continued to look at his hunched figure; a slurp of soup, a nibble of panini. I fought the urge to ask him if we could join him.

"He's probably the biggest grump ever." I thought to myself. "He'd probably tell us to buzz off and stop pestering him."

Then I started thinking....my dad will never get to that age. But my mom, god willing, will have a long life. How many tables-for-one are in her future? My mom LOVES to go out to eat. Will she stop doing that, when it's just her?

Can you sit across from an empty chair and feel like you can face another day? No conversation over the meal, no one to offer a bite to taste and trade, or no one arguing who will pick-up the check.

It was everything I could do to keep myself from turning in my seat or staring out the window, so I didn't have to look at him. The raw emotions and helpless feelings rising to the top. I couldn't help him and I couldn't save my dad and I'm 3000 miles away from comforting my mother.

By the time he was done with his meal, he had kicked back in his seat, taken out a cell phone and some paper work and was conducting business of some sort. He sucked his teeth in satisfaction, as he talked to someone on the phone. His laid back air seemed more normal of a business man and less a helpless old man.

I relaxed in my seat a bit. The girls, giggled and picked up their things to go. The old guy gave them a quick look. His "maleness" still alive at his age.

As we left, I didn't even look back at him. Satisfied that he was fine and it was just my overactive imagination. Maybe the hat said "Lucky" and his only chance to get away from his harpy wife was to go grab lunch once and awhile by himself.

Who knows. There isn't much in my daily life that doesn't set me off on a path of emotions. I guess it's just something I need to get use too. Like my mom and a table for one.

Like sands through the hour glass.....

2010-04-30T07:53:00.004-04:00

After you lose your dad, the strangest things will set you off.

I went to my girlfriend's first volleyball game of the season. It's at a local bar that has two sand v-ball courts. The wind was icy cold and I wasn't envying them at all for having to play in the wet, chilly sand. I was sure there would be blue toes before the first match was through.

There was a table near their court that the sun was shining on. I decided that might be my only hope for warmth. I parked it on the attached, metal seat and dug the soles of my sneakers into the sand. The familiar give, even as fine and wet as it was, sent me hurtling into a maelstrom of sadness.

I was 3000 miles from the beach I use to go to growing up. In times of stress or contemplation I would walk out and plop down into the cool, coarse sand of the west coast. The sun, extinguishing in the Pacific. The sky painted with brush strokes of oranges and pinks.

The beach was my 'happy place'. It's where I would go to work my shit out. I got a LOT of shit right now. And being in that v-ball court, so far from home, only exacerbated my woes into a giant hill of shit. I held back the welling tears that threatened to spill over. I could always blame it on the wind, kicking sand up.

You would think that there is nothing worse than suddenly losing your dad. But you know what's worse....walking away from your hurting family to get on a plane. Knowing that you're not going to be able to make a drive to see them next weekend.

Oh no......if I want to get to my family, it's a 7 hour plane ride and at least $400 every time I have the urge to visit. And don't forget I'm completely ham stringed by vacation days. There are only so many. I can't just take off "unpaid". I have to have time allotted.

Did I mention I was an artist with an out of work writer for a girlfriend?

Ya...Rockefeller we ain't.

For as long as I can remember, I wake up every morning, a sheen of sweat on my back, fighting through a dream of frustration and anger. Now I'm living the frustration of being held back from those that need me, from those I want to be with right now.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

2010-04-26T15:49:00.001-04:00

I'm hoping that's true with my faithful blog readers.

And I'm hoping that's true of my father. I had to rush to his side April 10th before he slipped away from us.

While I'm not quite ready to put it into words, I just wanted to let you all know...I'm here. With a bandage on my heart and a headfull of questions.

But I'm here.

And when I'm ready to put the words into cyberspace....I know you will be here, to read them.

All things must come to an end.

2010-04-07T14:54:00.007-04:00

When we got our puppy, Roxy, I would take her to the end of our block to a small park. In that park was a fenced little league field that was perfect for a new puppy to run.

Roxy LOVES to run! You know canine happiness when you see her lower her head and kick her feet in a blur across a field of green. Her tongue hanging from the side of her mouth, brilliant pink against her black and tan coat. A look in her eye that is sheer joy, tapping into something primal.

As we played a trio of folks found us and started to come early on the weekends to socialize our pooches and give them an hour of exercise. Cooper's mom, Seamus' dad and Spike's mom. (cuz you don't know people's names until MUCH later)

That was six years ago. In those six years we held PPD (puppy play date) in a few locations. It was like a puppy rave; messages going out where to meet from one weekend to the next. Wherever we went, we were diligent about cleaning up and minding our dogs.

The newest installment of PPD is close to 20 dogs, sometimes. The people that come there are more interested in the coffee they sip and the neighborhood gossip that flows. Dogs escape out and wander to the trash across the road, take dumps that go unnoticed and therefore un-scooped, or attack other peoples dogs.

And while all of those problems make me bristle with anger...it's the last one that has sent me packing from the 'pack' I originated.

Roxy was attacked twice by a husky while it's owner just stood there, with the other 'old coots', hands in pockets, jawing about this and that, letting everyone else mind their dogs.

I don't know if I ever used this blog to tell the story of the Good Dog Park where Roxy, as a small puppy, was attacked by two pit bulls and a greatdane. I had to reach in and pull her out of the pile, punching pit bulls in the head to get to her. When she emerged, and I started yelling at the owners of the other dogs, another woman noticed my hand, red with blood. My instant panic was that Roxy, with her black coat, had been injured, and I couldn't see it. I ran her, shaking and practically wrapped around my neck in shock, to the car and carefully checked her out....she was fine. It seemed it was me bleeding! My finger had been ripped open while trying to get to her.

We never went back again.

I'm not saying Roxy is an angel.....she lets the other dogs know she's there for an hour of fetch. It's her ball and her terms and if you know what's good for you - keep a wide berth. So when the new husky came up, she let him know this was her gig and she was top bitch. Instead of scurrying away, like most, the husky came back. This time the two clashed. I yelled at her to stop, she paused, the husky came at her again.

There were two things wrong with this: #1 the owner of the husky never once bothered to come over and pull his dog off. #2 the owner of the husky insists on keeping a 40 foot lead on the dog, which was wrapping around Roxy's neck as they went Cujo on each other.

If the husky didn't bite her, he might just break her neck with the lead.'

I let it go and almost forgot about it, till the husky came back after a short absence of a few weeks. As soon as the husky got wind of Roxy....it was on again. Again I got Roxy to pause and start to walk away and the husky, once again, came at her.

I went to grab the husky, boiling anger taking over. Others standing around started yelling for the dogs to stop. The owner, still standing in his lil clique, oblivious. The lead wrapped around my feet and around Roxy, tangling as the dogs wrestled. I used my 'demon' voice, a loud, guttural blast, that got the owners attention.

He came running, arm flailing. He scolded the husky like a new age mom, telling a kid he would be on the naughty mat till he could figure out what he did wrong. I picked up Roxy's ball and started to walk to the gate.

"No.....no....I'll go." said the husky's dad.

"Eeeeeeyaaaaa.....I'll go." I said. "I have an appointment with a client this morning anyway."

And that was it. A six year tradition, gone in the snap of a jaw and the sear of rope burn from the lead.

ink you stink

2010-03-31T10:35:00.002-04:00

When I shaved my head the first time, for kids cancer, I thought I would celebrate by getting a tattoo of a shamrock of the Celtic knot kind. Alas...I dragged my feet and never went to get it.

Then my pal Jenna brought up that she wanted a tatt, turning 50, it would be her permanent milestone. Excitedly I said I would like to honor my own promise and get one after this St. Baldrick's, "Why don't you wait till you shave your head with me, then we will both go and get a tattoo!"

Marvelous plan.

I had found a different shamrock, a lil less detailed and a lil more tribal and I loved it. So did Jenna. So did LTR. Three leaves - three pals - marking a moment in our lives.

It all worked out quite nice. It was a bit more painful than the last. But the last was 13 years ago and it's the "kind of pain you forget", and I have to agree. But 15-20 minutes later, I was a marked woman with a $32,000 tattoo (if you total both times I shaved my head) at my collar line.

"Put A&D ointment on it 5-6 times a day. Take off the gauze and let it breath. Keep it out of the hot shower stream.......blah blah blah.

The 3 inked women stopped at the local Rite-Aide on the way home to get ointment. We found the generic brand of what we thought was the right stuff. We sat around the dinner table, drinking wine and sharing pain levels, as all of us had a different location marked that day.

Next day, at work, armed with my ointment, I started smearing. Then the itching began. Then the rash developed. Then my lymph node popped out of my neck like a T-day turkey timer! That doesn't happen very often, but when it does...there is infection in my body. It didn't take a medical degree to figure out where it entered my body.

A couple nights later, I stood talking to a friend in the mall, my collar rubbing on my weepy tatt, the itching searing down my back. I felt like a crazed junkie, bugs crawling down my shirt, twitching and adjusting my collar, seeking relief.

The next morning the redness around the tattoo spread out to a bumpy, burning halo of unhappy skin!

"Dry it out with alcohol." my tattooist suggested.

"Looks like shingles." my chiropractor mused.

"Have you had chicken pox?" a co-worker volunteered.

"Oh dude! That's not cool." a close friend helpfully suggested.

Cortisone, Benedryl, alcohol swabs and gauze the size of beach towels...I type to you, shifting and squirming in my chair, begging for relief.

"Don't swear, don't drink, don't lie and never get a tattoo."......Mom is always right.

Oops, I did it again.

2010-03-24T08:59:00.002-04:00

Two years ago I shaved my head for kids cancer. I was the only woman on a male team. It was very moving to sheer my locks of vanity in-front of a packed house.

This time 10 women banded together to all shave for the same event. Plus we made our goal of $20,000 in the last few minutes before we took the stage.

It was incredible. It's one of those moments that you put a pin into and always comeback to it. Not like some memories that have that shity post-it-note glue on them, that dries, and the note falls behind the desk. Those memories are sleeping with the dust bunnies.

It's the kind of memory that stirs your emotions and warms your heart. It keeps the recall embers burning so that it's always fresh when you want to revisit.

The crowd seemed to love the idea of an all female team. When we stood outside to take picture, folks honked and waved as we assembled on a street corner outside the pub.

As I travel around town, I'm greeted with, "I know where you were this weekend." Folks 'in the know' are more then ready to point out my lack of hair.

It's cold without hair! But it's too much a badge of courage to cover with a cap.

Someone said only 50 women out of 400+ participants shaved. We were 10 of them. I feel pretty durn good about that. I'm pretty durn proud of those 10 women as well.

I think this is the last shave for me. I mean, how do you one-up an all girl shave team. And as they say in Gypsy, "Ya gotta have a gimmick." Now maybe it's time to warm my heart with giving, instead of trying to keep my head warm after shaving.

Jouney to the center of the backyard

2010-03-16T15:23:00.002-04:00

I've had a number of dogs in my day. Roxy is the first one I've had on the East Coast. There's something we have here, that I didn't have on the Left Coast - winter. With winter comes snow. Snow covers a lot of things. One of the main things is poop.

Yes...I said it...poop. Lots and lots of it. If your squeamish, you might want to stop here. I'm going to talk a LOT about it. Hell...I'm going to even sing about it.

While it's covered in pretty white stuff, it is easy to forget that down below, is a layer so unholy, that it would give you nightmares.

The first winter we had Roxy, and mind you she was yet a pup, it was shocking. Even more shocked was LTR who had a life time of litter pans and never had to deal with puppy poops. I was of the mind to celebrate and say, "Cool! I don't have to pick anything up all winter!"

It was anything BUT cool when winter went away.

I handed LTR a plastic grocery bag, tiptoed out into the ungodly mess and started to poop-scoop. LTR hung with me for maybe the first, full bag. When the second bag started to fill up I noticed a strange green hue creeping up around her cheeks. As I heaped a hearty scoop into the bag, she turned tail and was nothing more than a cartoon puff of smoke with bobby pins spinning in the air.

And I was alone.....in a wasteland of waste.

Over the years I learned from that experience. For starters, don't count on LTR to help with the winter clean up. More importantly; work in layers.

As the snow starts to melt and the levels start to shrink, you see on the horizon, lil zombie turds rising from the snow. Get out there and SCOOP! Scoop like your life depended on it.

You don't want to wait till the snow is gone and the Baby Ruth's have thawed. It's not going to help you in the picking up process. Turds on ice is the only way to scoop.

After you get used to this horrific part of spring, I find myself trying to look at the positive, such as: this year I found, in a perfectly flattened dropping, a preserved squirrel's paw print. I wondered if the squirrel, after stepping in it, looked at his paw and said in a Alvin the Chipmunk voice, "Ah shit!"

There was evidence of the Xmas M&M fiasco, where we dropped them and Roxy sucked them up faster than we could get our hands on them. What laid before me was filled with red and green polka dots.

I also like to hum while scooping, it seems to distract from the horrors I see before me. Often times changing the lyrics to fit the occasion. Of course show tunes are my favorite.

South Pacific

I'm gonna wash that poop right out of my shoe

Or throw it right away

Or some Guys and Dolls

Scooping turds it is so laaaaame

Nothing is so absurd

That stupid dog she is to blaaaame

For this scooping is such a pain

Or my favorite...Oklahoma

I'm just a turd that can't stay low

I always rise to the top

I should stay just un-der the snow

But as it melts I go 'pop'!

Sigh...when faced with a messy job, I try to make the best of it, what can I say?

Oh the nerve!

2010-03-11T12:21:00.002-05:00

I've been bad about keeping up regular appointments with my chiropractor. What does that mean? Well, when she moves stuff after they have been in the wrong position for so long, they end up moving back, and not in a good way.

This time around, they moved so that it must have pinched a nerve in my back. I've never had a pinched nerve. (and mind you I'm self diagnosing till I get to my appointment in 20 min)

Lets see if I can do it justice: It feels like there is a carving knife jammed just to the left of my tailbone. And some invisible Gnome is pounding it in with a mallet.

Otherwise, it's fine.

But knowing that the knife could plunge into me at any moment, makes me move like a 90 year old woman. Washing my hands this morning was like Tai Chi: I moved slowly, tilting to the left, dipping one hand into the stream, then following with the right, rotating the left up and out. It was quite beautiful, except for the excruciating pain.

I'm ok sitting, till I have to get up.

I can actually lift my legs up and stand on one at a time, but I can't lean left or right when they are both on the ground.

I can sit on the couch and lean all the way forward, but once I start to lean back, tears well up in my eyes.

There might be issues with me marching in the local St. Paddy's parade this weekend.

YA THINK???

I've found that, as you get older, more things happen to you that keep you from doing things you use to do. You don't want to admit it, but ya just don't get around like ya use too.

I guess things could be worse, the knife could be in my back...that's a whole nother problem, indeed.

Due Process? I say shoot 'um!

2010-03-03T14:19:00.005-05:00

So this scumbag, sex offender in San Diego snatched a beautiful, vibrant girl in a park, and now she's gone. Only god knows where she is, or what she's gone through. Or if she is alive.

And it seems this piece of shit has been linked to a previous case as well.

When are we going to stop letting these worthless, meat bags out of jail? If you are a sex offender, you are in jail for life. I don't care what level you are. If you are a proven sex offender, rot...rot down to your bones in a dank cell where rats won't even gnaw on your filthy soul.

Why can't these people control themselves? It's a mental disorder that can't be cured.

I'll tell ya what...nothing makes me want to don a mask and become a vigilante more than sex offenders. I'll pass out some justice. Just give me a lead pipe and a locked room. I'll show them a 'whacking off' they won't walk away from.

God forbid if anyone ever tried to do anything to me....it would be the last thing they remembered.

These people make me sick....sick! Stay at home and look at your freaky porn and stay away from people. You have NO right to touch another human. What am I saying.....You don't have a right to breath on this earth!

My hope is, when they get this guy, guilty and locked up, he never gets out. And some guy named Bubba learns him what it's like to be held down and given a size 7 poop-shoot. I hope he spends every day in jail screaming for his life. I hope he ends up in the medical bay every week, sewing him up, so someone else can split him in half again.

But ya know what....he'll be out on a technicality. Or cuz his parents have money. Or cuz the judge is having on off day. Or that whole good behavior thing. Cuz even mentally damaged folks can behave themselves from time to time.

And he will find himself another house, next to a park, where he can sit on his front porch and pick out his next victim. Like a fresh pile of farm grown tomatoes.....so ripe for the picking.

I pray it's not from your garden.

Hangin' with the dudes

2010-02-23T11:01:00.003-05:00

Being a Lezbaneze tribal chief, there is a certain level of acceptance into the boys club that I'm allowed.

Like if a hot girl is walking down the street in front of the office, they might call me in to approve the selection.

If a certain actress is delicious in a new movie, where she is scantily clad, I'm often panting in agreement with the boys around the water cooler.

But my favorite time...lunch. No salad here!

I just mowed through a basket of wings with not one insecure feeling in my femininity. Sucked on my fingers, double dipped in my blue cheese, quadruple used my napkin till the paper pulled off on my fingers in sticky, orange clumps.

Then I ordered more blue cheese....and napkins.

All the while talk of baseball picks, old girlfriends and co-worker gossip, swirled around the table. I didn't even have to participate! I just kept sucking on my Thai BBQ wings. No one expected me to be 'on'. I didn't have to entertain.

And there were breaks in the conversations that weren't awkward silence. Just the dudes...chillin'.

Schweet!

We all paid separate, to wrestling for who's gonna pay for who. Then we skated out of the place, our foursome of full bellies, burping our approval of the fine meal, on the way to the car.

My over all feeling....boys are gross. Right up to the point that I wanna be just as gross. Then they are just fine.

The Dome. And I ain't talkn' SU.

2010-02-16T10:25:00.005-05:00

I'm doing it again, shaving my melon for kids cancer on March 21st.

It's been two years since the team I was with raised $12,000 for St. Baldrick's. I've set my sights higher this year: $20,000. But I think we have the group to do it.

10 women make up the Bald Banshees. It's the first all woman shave team for this event. I made the organizer promise that we had a lock on that title before I would commit.

"David, have you ever had an all girl shave team?"

"Well....let's see," he says with his Irish accent. "There were some teachers one year...."

"But was that team all girls?"

"No.....but there was a team of sheriffs another year...."

"All girls?"

"Nah....I don't think so."

"David....I'm not doing this unless I can be your official first all female team"

"Are you saying you want to be the first all girl team or you're not doing it?"

"Yes."

"YOU are my first, official, all girl shave team." as a smile spreads over his face.

When I did this the first time, I never expected the reaction I got from other women who didn't do it. It was amazing to see the level of vanity still attached to hair.

In the old days it was all a woman had. A symbol of wealth, stature. To hear women say to me, "I could never do what you just did!" as I stood before them, unable to take my hand off my stubbly head, thinking, "But it was so easy to do for such a good cause!"

I'm not saying I wasn't nervous. I'm not saying I wasn't well on my way to being drunk by the time they clipped my shoulder length locks. I will tell you that nothing sobers you up more than when you can feel a cold breeze on the back of your head that you've never felt before.

Then it gets to be a lil like a pregnant woman...everyone thinks they can just start rubbin' your head. I do enjoy that, so I'm not so much against it, but I'm sure most folks have felt a man's shaved head. I'm guessing it's not much different, but they would pet my bunny soft fuzz like it was odd. I guess on a woman it is.

My arms were actually sore for a couple days, cuz I kept reaching up and rubbing my own head! And thinking back, it didn't take long at all for it to grow back. I think every woman should shave her head at least once. It can be a life altering moment to be under the razor, a la G.I. Jane.

If we can get to $20,000...it will be a life altering moment for some kid with cancer too.

PLEASE DONATE

http://www.stbaldricks.org/participants/cabrina

2010-02-11T14:07:00.003-05:00

I haven't blogged and a while and now there are too many items I would like to talk about and not enough time to do it in.

But I shall try.

I'm loving my Droid, even more, if you can believe.

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I triple love Rosie Radio and my XM radio isn't broken anymore. I found out they freeze. Now I don't leave it in the car, unless I'm recording the show from 10-noon. Then I bring it into the office and warm it up and listen to Ro. Radio so suits her. She's free to talk and give her opinion for 30 min blocks of time or more if she wants. It's all yellow!

____________________

Can you even stand people that, after they get their money for the ATM, decide they are going to do their filing and re-organizing their purse or wallet and not move forward? I mean can you drive forward and THEN do all that? ComeOHN!

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The 'girls' in the office just got taken to lunch by the men folk, as a thank you for our hard work. We went to a lil place called Sparky Town, which is divine! The ladies loved it and the dudes bitched about the vegan choices and lack of red meat and mashed taters. Annoying! It's not about you right now.

____________________

We have an IPH night at a pub tonight. Have a talked about the radio show? My co-worker and friend started an Irish hour on local radio. I, of course, gave my graphic genius to make the logo and PR/marketing materials to his effort.

Since I was a kid, I've thought about being a DJ. I did a lil music DJing in Cali for a ladies bar and some special events. But I always thought about being an actual radio DJ. So for a lack of payment, I decided I wanted some airtime and lo and behold, our chemistry took off and now it's a two person show growing by leaps and bounds.

We've been trying to do an event once a month so tonight we are going to play Celtic Rock, give away crap and concert tickets and drink and meet our adoring fans. (or a few of our friends that are going to show up). http://www.irishpowerhour.com/

__________________________

I had my birthday this week. Another year older and wiser, as I tell my sisters who are younger. (the wiser part takes the edge off the older part) My gal and I, since our birthdays are so close, decided we would finally get a flat screen and that would be IT for gifts. It was so very odd to not have her open anything on her birthday. Even tho birthdays are only once a year, you get use to giving and opening on your special day.

__________________________

Homesick....I don't get that often, but lately I am. I miss my family and sister nights and dinner at 5pm with everyone around the table. sigh....

__________________________

My money motivation video really works! Affirmations. It can be a coupon or a free lunch, but it works. And if nothing else it makes me realize the small things in life that makes me more thankful for the little things.

__________________________

Whew! Sooo much more room in my brain now that I've dumped here. Now I can stuff it full of more things to blog about for next time.

"...but....how do I answer the phone?"

2010-02-03T08:41:00.003-05:00

That was the question I asked the sales guy at Verizon. And in that moment I felt as old as dirt.

I've been in need of a new phone for some time now. After switching back and forth to family plans and back to single plans, I've had my phone long enough that the buttons don't work quite right anymore. The battery only lasts a day when it use to go a few at a time. Not to mention I'm a tech whore who loves a new toy that lights up and makes noise.

Little known fact with cell phone companies: It seems that every time you change your plan around, you screw yourself out of paying them for a new phone. I don't get that part of the cell phone biz. I mean, what's it to them if I want to buy a new phone? You'd think they would like people coming in and plunking down hard earned cabbage for the newest, gleaming, hunk of over prices plastic and Japanese micro chips (are they still micro chips, or have they evolved too?)

I finally got to a halfway point where I got a whopping $30 off. HOLD ME BACK!! Since I wanted a Motorola Droid, that's like throwing a penny through the hole in a tire swing and hoping it will plug it up!

My biggest problem was that you have to buy a data package. There are all these extra lil bits and bytes that they nickle and dime you for. One mystery is a 'kb of data'. I asked my sales guy WTF that was:

"Um....well....it's hard to measure."

Really??? Cuz you seem to measure it just fine on my bill. $2-$5 extra if I happen to hit that one button and get myself a lil kb on the side.

So it boiled down to two phones: one I would have to pay $10 extra anyway and the Droid was just $4 more from that. I mean...what's $4 right? (yes I know it's technically $14, but let's not think of that right now) If I had taken the time to multiply that over a year and added all the taxes and everything else they are going to hit me with...I would have walked out the door and used my old one till it fell apart. But instead.....

"WRAP IT UP!"

It is a cool phone....I gotta say! It's a GPS, it's email, it's facebook on command, it's MP3 that can now be your ringtone (miracle of miracles). No...it's not cool....it freakin' rocks my world!

So I'll deal with the bill when it comes. For now I'm in techie heaven and loving every unlimited kb of it!

Angel Shit...aka 'Snow'

2010-01-26T08:28:00.003-05:00

I JUST made it into work.

Lucky me.

All the other co-workers that can come and go when they want (re: Sales People) are at home right now. We had a snow fall after everything had melted off. Which means there is a lot of water, then it freezes. They couldn't get in. School busses off the road, emergency vehicles...a mess.

Everyone sing with me...."Slip slidin' away......"

I would rather have a ton of snow, then this lil covering of snow. Plus I didn't hear any plows this morning with their metal eating salt, dumping on the ground. That's always a bad sign. That means they got surprised.

Well...when weather man is only 9% right, how could you NOT get surprised?

After 12 years of living here, it still freaks me out to feel the car's anti-lock breaks grinding away and my car still headed right for the four way stop intersection. No control...that's a bad, bad feeling.

BEST Buy.....I think not.

2010-01-20T09:52:00.003-05:00

The ol bait and switch. It's illegal, but that doesn't keep folks from doing it.

We are in the market for a flat screen tv. Do we need it? No. Do we want it? Yes. Can we afford it? Heck no...but that doesn't mean we don't want it any less.

We've tried to look through the Best Buy circulars and pick out something from there before. It's the biggest ad in there. It's their spotlight item. It has financing and free delivery and all the bells and whistles to go with it. And guess what....

THEY DON'T HAVE ANY OF THEM!

Not one. In fact, the tv we wanted, was -20 in the computer. -20?? Really??

You're telling me that not only was ALL the stock in ALL the stores sold out, but you offered 20 rain checks to folks, after you told me you don't give rain checks? For a 'green' tv that cost $999 when you have regular ol tvs for MUCH less hanging on the wall? You're telling me that you have soooo many people coming in today to buy a eco-friendly tv for a grand that you over sold them.

BULLSHIT!!!

I handed the lil man back his folder and said "Thanks." before he could launch into, "But we have a very nice TV over here for $1,500 that would work for you." OR "I have a tv over here that is half that price, but doesn't come with speakers or jacks for speakers."

I'm so sick of people thinking I, the consumer, is stupid. I'll be writing a lil letter to BS Buy today and telling them that this is not the first time that I've gone into their store and had this kind of treatment.

Will it fall on deaf ears? Yes. Will I get any satisfaction out of it? Probably not. But you know what, someone has to make a stink. And I'm tired of it being the folks that get the results!

"They've sent us a message... that they can take whatever they want. Well we will send them a message. That this... this is our land!" ~Jake Sully

2010-01-13T12:35:00.004-05:00

We saw Avatar, in 3D, last week. Breathtaking!

We've come a looooong way from sitting with one lens red and the other blue, squinting at the House of Wax, my first 3D movie.

It's not about arrows flying at you or bodies falling on you anymore. It's about 'depth'. You really felt like you could reach into the screen.

And while I heard so-so reviews and some negative press on the movie, I thought is was great! Yes the storyline was a lil predictable, but really, did you think you were going to Gone With The Wind? I never for a second thought I was seeing an Oscar contender. (which, by the way, I usually think suck anyway)

Then I started thinking....I'm sure the over all message for military domination in a negative light, probably got the Conservative owned news outlets a lil itchy. I can totally see my folks HATING this movie for the message. (tighty, whitie, righties that they are)

Then I tripped over a discussion board for folks sooooo depressed that they will never live or achieve Pandora, the alien landscape in the movie, that they were seeking help and suicidal.

WHAT THE EVER LOVIN' FUCK IS THAT ABOUT!??!?

Seriously??? I mean...the 3D was really fanfuckintastic, but to be suicidal cuz you fell head first into a fantasy and you can't pull yourself out?? Really?!?!

You're missing the point here folks. And this is why we can't get anything done around here. We ARE in Pandora. We have to work to get it tho. And instead of hopping yourself up on goofballs cuz you can't play blue alien patty fingers with the trees, get up and DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!!

Electric cars. Wind power. Green roofs. Water barrels. Recycle, reuse, restore! It's there...we have to work to get it. If you spent your money on the environment and making positive changes, instead of Zoloft....think of what we could do!

Nothing bugs me more than people that just lay down and give up. Or people that won't help themselves. Now I know there are those that, due to sickness or genetics or whatever, can't help it. But come on!

Things won't change unless we change them. You want Pandora? Create it!

I dare you!

Insurance Bill Freak Out!

2010-01-07T08:49:00.005-05:00

I've gotten to that age where I'm becoming dry, from the inside out. And the hair that once grew on my legs, is now coming out my chin.

I LOVE being a girl!!!

To that, there are certain 'tests' we get to take at the doctors that are necessary, but unpleasant. I've been taking such tests. And to cover them, I have my new insurance from my company that kicked in July 2009.

All the bills have come back UNPAID! Reason? Pre-existing condition.

Really?? What condition is that? BEING A FUCKING WOMAN?!?!?

{{{OK...breathe....dial it back. Remember the resolution dealing with your Hulk like tendencies.}}}}

Nothing jams my muffin more than insurance issues right now. Cuz you know it's a scam and one misstep will get you tossed!

After re-submitting bills two or three times with information they didn't seem to have, I got a call from my eye doctor yesterday. They are NOT treating me for a pre-existing condition, I'll thank you very much. "Your insurance keeps denying payment due to a pre-existing conditions. We are billing you again, but you might want to call someone, this should be covered."

And before you say, "Well...idiot...why didn't you do that in the first place??", just you wait!

So I call. Sue, a very friendly BC/BS phone worker, smile in her voice, informed me that my company, MY COMPANY, puts a hold on all new members to the insurance plan and they don't pay a dime, till you PROVE YOU'RE NOT SICK.

WTF?

You didn't see that one coming, did ya? Neither did I!

Ya, so it seems that until you give them this form that claims you don't have a pre-existing condition, then they won't "open" up your insurance. I've been without payments for 6 months!

"But there is a short cut, you could just let me know if haven't been to the doctor 90 days from your sign up date.", Sue's tone was now getting a lil snarky. Like she was going to trap me in something.

"Let's see," sound of searching the calendar, "Have you been to the doctor for anything more than a cold between April 1 to July 1 2009?" I could hear the "Hmmmmm???" implied.

I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW MY INSURANCE WAS BEING HELD BY THE EVIL WIZARD TILL I FOUND THE MAGIC ELF WHO COULD UNLOCK A SECRET DOCUMENT TO FREE THE MONEY FAIRIES TO PAY MY BILLS!!

And Suuuuuuuuueeeeee.....Snarky Suuuuuueeeee wants me to remember if I had been to the doctor LAST YEAR?!?!?!

{{{Breathe.....dude....you're losing it.....it's only January 7th. Don't blow the resolutions so soon!}}}

I said I couldn't remember if I had. Thinking this might be a trick. If I lied, they could cancel my plan for falsifying insurance documents. It could happen! I've seen Sicko.

"Ok...you're going to need to get me the HEPA Certificate from your prior insure."

"It was BC/BS."

"There are MANY offices for BC/BS. We don't necessarily keep each others records."

"But I have that document to HQ when I signed up for your insurance."

"Well then....HQ probably has it. I don't."

"But how did I get the insurance approved if you didn't get that?"

"Ms. Gilbert....if you could fax that form to me, we can go from there."

Thankfully, I filed that cute lil note from my previous insurer, and faxed it to snarky Sue. Now, that 's just a hand written letter that says, "Hey, she was totally insured by us for years!" My guess is I'll get a lil ol jingle from Ms. Snarky and she will say, "Well you need THIS official document before we can process any of these claims."

'Insurance' is actually Latin for: I'm not paying a god damn dime, if I can get away with it.

Well....I'm not paying a god damn bill till I get socialized medicine! Then I could get treated this crappy, just not have to pay for it!

I'm not dead.....yet. Just busy.

2010-01-03T10:13:00.003-05:00

It's been a loooong holiday season ya'll.

I managed to survive a trip to Cali with holiday travel, barely. I managed to get through a visit with my folks without political upheaval, almost. I got back to winter and was relieved, sort of.

No more Xmas travel for us. I put my size 12 stompers down. It's the most expensive and probably the worst time to travel. Why do we do it then? I told my family that we would rather put in a couple long weekend trips that weren't during holidays, then try to swim up stream through the crush.

They weren't happy, but they get it.

What we would really like to do, and haven't been able to do for 12 years, is wake up at home on Xmas morning. I think we will try to make that happen for 2010. Put that at the top of the bucket list!

Now come the bills' YIKES! Another facet of traveling at Xmas is that after you spend all the dough to travel and buy gifts, you basically spend MORE money to "vacation" during the holidays.

For instance; we went to Disneyland. I love me some Disneyland! $74 per ticket, folks. OUCH! Then you get in the park and you have to eat...a LOT. Then there are the trinkets you want to bring home.

I don't even want to know how much I spent there. Thank Oprah I don't balance my checkbook. Ignorance is bliss.

Now we wait...for the bills. Ho Ho Ho Humbug!

Oh....and that dude decided to light us undies on fire right before we were flying home! Great timing right? I had to buy nice underwear before we flew, just in case I had a strip search on the way home.

Holidays are a wonderful time to spend with family, unless you're 3000 miles away. Maybe folks want to come to NY for 2010, I'm gonna say this year's Xmas theme is "Home sweet home".

If diamonds are a girl's best friend...where does that leave my dog?

2009-12-16T09:53:00.003-05:00

I was struck by the amount of commercials this holiday season for diamonds: rings, pendants, loose, set in your press on nails, up in your grill, you name it!

It seems in an economy like ours, diamonds shouldn't really be all that high on the list. They cost A LOT!! And while some folks see them as an investment, the poor shlub that's giving them to the woman in their life, ain't gonna see a 'return' when she walks out the door with his investment, the kids and half his crap.

But more than the number of these commercials, it's been the message. We've been told that "A Diamond is Forever", I mean...that's commitment! Did you know that Americans were really the only ones that needed a diamond engagement ring? In the 60's diamond sellers started targeting Europe and Japan with the frenzy that women in America ask for their "best friend" for any occasion these days.

That's right, the diamond is no longer just for bent knee. Nooooo. Now women, probably a lil older, still waiting for Mr. Right while climbing the corporate ladder, can buy their own "right hand ring". Ya...it's soooo important to have a diamond that you can literally propose to your SELF!

So there on the TV, commercial after commercial, is pretty much the message: Who cares about the guy...how big was the diamond?

Ahhhhh....the sanctity of marriage! Viva Las Vegas, baybee!

I'm seeing why they don't want gays to get married. The diamond industry would take a serious hit. I'm pretty sure the lesbians would be the most likely to tie the knot. Lesbians can't afford diamonds, ya'll! Now gay men....double 'male' income, no babies? They would be draped in diamonds!

Not so much the lady friends.

I'm thinking a bent nail, from the Home Depot isle they met in. Or maybe the baby spoon their Asian daughter used, wrapped around the ring finger. And of course rainbow jewelry....Lezzies looooooove the rainbows! The colors of gay pride, forever melted into silver. Nothing says tacky like decorating jewelry in rainbow colors.

Then there is the tattoo ring. The name of your lover, carefully scripted, around your ring finger, to last forever. Only women would be THAT crazy!

Maybe the diamond people were on to something there. Maybe they just meant tattoos.

When technology goes, not with a bang but a whimper.

2009-12-14T10:17:00.005-05:00

UGH! My XM radio just fried! I haven't been out to check it again, but I think it's toast.

I got the SkyFi3 so I could record Rosie O's show and then bring it from my car to my desk and listen there. It records, which it awesome and the reason I went looking for this model. One of the downfalls to satellite radio is you can't get it inside, unless you have a window somewhere you can put the antenna in. (which they would be glad to sell you for an additional charge)

Now maybe it's my fault for finding a "reconditioned" one for $20 instead of the $160 they were selling for normally. You have to try and get a deal with satellite radio. I mean these XM radios are like an al la carte sushi menu. You want a cable to hook it up? It's gonna cost ya. You want an antenna headphone to listen away from your car? It's gonna cost ya. You want the cradle so you can listen to it in the car? Yep...it's going to cost ya.

So with the help of ebay and google...I got about a $300 package for about $60

Then this morning....all my corner cutting karma came back to kick me in the slats.

Don't get me wrong..I love the XM! Radio stations in Syracuse SUCK EGGS!! When you come from Los Angeles where there is pretty much a station for every digit on the dial, you expect at least a bountiful choice for your listening pleasure.

Here there seems to be repeat station every quarter way down the dial. They are broadcasting at four different frequencies, broadcasting the same crap on all four of them. One local station starts Xmas music the day after Halloween! WTF?!?!

But let's get back to the issue at hand...or at ear, as the case maybe. Now, to record Rosie on my radio, I need to leave the XM radio plugged in. As I was getting out of the car, I accidentaly unplugged it then plugged it back into the lighter socket. When I did, all the lights went out and I couldn't get the thing to come back to life!

I took it out of its cradle and tried to manually turn it on. Nothing. Dead, dead, deadsky.

That really jams my muffins! I mean, come-OHN! I've had this thing for three months and it's going to shit the bed NOW? And the worst part is Santa doesn't even know I need one! I didn't get a chance to put it on my list, for the love of Oprah!

No...NO....even worse...I had to pay $15 to get my account changed to the SkyFi3 from the dinky lil receiver I started with. So if Santa DID bring me a new one, I'd have to pay ANOTHER $15 anyway!

OMG! Even worse than that.....I'm missing ROSIE right now! AAAAGH!

This is such a MONDAY! I'm going to go weep softly into my palms now. Happy F'n Holidays.

"I'm so old they've cancelled my blood type." ~Bob Hope

2009-12-10T11:16:00.005-05:00

I'm there....I've gotten THAT old.

I need a magnifying mirror.

We were at the mother-in-laws for T-day and, in an effort to make myself look presentable, I decided to rid myself of my mono brow. Ok...it wasn't really a mono brow. But if I left alone, it would certainly meet in the middle at some point. If only to match the Stalin sized mustache that would crop up on my lip if that wasn't weed whacked off my face with regular facescaping.

Did I mention I am part Italian?

Since her mirror has terrible lighting, I spotted a small hand mirror in a decorative basket. I use one at home so I can get closer to the light. So this was perfect! I leaned up against the window, with the bright morning light streaming in, lifted the mirror to my face and instantly recoiled in horror!

There was a large plantation of tobacco leaves growing on my forehead!!!

When I finally caught my breath, from the scare, I realized that mumsie had a magnifying mirror. When I held it a safe distance, I found that I could see everything I had missed for months! And with the realization that the end of my eyebrows could be braided, I realized that I needed magnification.

It's like admitting that the aging process is really happening. Like when your prescription in your glasses changes, or your knees creak when you get out of bed. When you see children and someone tells you they are actually college students.

Did I mention how many wrinkles that bitch of a mirror shows as well?

So it seems that the older I get, the more I need items that will, ultimately, point out how old you've gotten.

I can't wait to get a cane...I'm going to smash the shit out of that mirror!

"We now know a thousand ways not to build a light bulb” ~ Edison

2009-12-09T14:38:00.003-05:00

There's one thing that is a constant complaint when the holidays loom: Xmas lights. They tangle they, knot up, but seriously....can't we make a strand that lasts longer than one holiday?

We hang four lit garlands and one lit wreath on the outside of the house, each year. It's a chore just to drag them all down from the summer chalet, the attic. Then untangle the garlands themselves, as there is really no good way to "wind them up" and put them away.

Then we do the "baby Jesus please let them work" prayer....and plug them in.

GODDAMNMUTHERFUCKINSONOFABITCH!!!

Sure enough, there it is! The dark end of the garland. Dead to the world. A second strand flickers with life for a second, then blinks out completely. We wiggle and poke at the strand thinking some how we can find the magic spot to create life again.....mmmmmmnope.

It was especially annoying with the side window garlands this year. Only because there are two of them. And the lights we put on them last year were actually two tone. With one of them out, both had to be replaced.

The long process of unwinding the burnt out string from the prickly, plastic pine commenced. The cat thinking it's all a game for her to get wound up in. Artificial pine needles coating the floor.

Then we have to intertwine the new lights onto the garland. "This wouldn't take us half as long if things would just WORK!", LTR wisely pronounces.

Last year I actually just put the garlands up and didn't test them. Guess who had to shimmy her big ol' bottom right back up the ladder and take down the half burned out garland from the front of the house?

And what is the lil clear 'light first aid' package that hangs off every string? Fuses? REALLY? The string cost me 99¢ at an after Xmas sale. Do you think I'm really going to take the time to try and see if the fuse is blown? Where the hell is the fuse anyway? You have to slide open the plug and slip out the old fuse. Now I'm guessing you should be able to see if it's actually blown, you know, like 'burnt' looking. Unless there is a microscope in the lil bag as well....I'm not going to be able to figure that one out.

And thanks for adding the extra bulbs, but you can't tell what freakin' bulb went out in the first place! If you think I'm going to unplug and plug in hundreds of lights to try and solve this one, fugedaboudit!

Did I mention 100 lights cost me less than a buck?

Don't get me wrong...I love lights: Xmas, novelty, tiki, lava, spinning cop lights, laser light shows. I'm kind of a light whore. But I need more out of my light relationship than a one time deal. I need to know that, if we don't see each other for a while, I can still count on them. That they won't give up the first chance they get. I need a light that has a lil staying power. I want my lights to be strong and yet gentle enough that they don't blow out when they are on.

I think I know what I've been doing wrong all these years....I should be getting my lights from a personal ad in the classifieds!

Going to the chapel and I STILL can't get married!

2009-12-07T15:06:00.005-05:00

Nothing was more heartbreaking then the Albany Senate voting down gay marriage.

Sigh

It's amazing how elected officials, who "vote their conscience" have forgotten that that's not what they got elected to do for the people of NY. Here's a reminder: You're suppose to protect our rights!

What do you fear, people!?! If my partner of 13 years and I get hitched....what does it harm? Are you afraid we really will stay together 'till death do us part' and shame all you het politicians that can't keep a marriage going for more than a few years? That if we stay faithful and monogamous to each other, you will be embarrassed that you cheat on your wives on a regular basis?

Are you worried we are "NORMAL"! That if you make "gay" legal....there's no excuse why YOU'RE in the closet!!

Whatever their reasons, they let down a large number of their voters, and the families that wanted to go to weddings of their children, siblings and friends. They let an opportunity to help our limping economy in NY, by having all those weddings. They continue to make some people "special" with one set of rights, while another set have to continue to pay more to exist on a daily basis.

Gay is OK folks! It happens in nature all the time.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_animals_displaying_homosexual_behavior

Where homosexuality got a bad wrap and had to go underground...I'm not sure. Isn't it just another facet of Human Sexuality? Bisexuals get better respect than 'Mos. I mean isn't the bi-curious girl in every porn movie ever made? All men want two women at some point. And for you bible freaks, didn't Jesus have his apostles leave their wives, to put on dresses and sandals and hang out together all the time? Ruth left her home, pregnant, to live with Naomi. And they raised the child as their own. Totally unheard of in those times.

I mean, if two male buffalo hook up and decide to live together, do we really lose sleep over that?

Male seahorses actually have the babies. Hmmmm....human men have nipples.....why isn't everyone worried we might just switch things over and have the dudes carry the babies. I mean, aren't the chances of that about as great as hets getting that 51% divorce rate under control?

If I was a bad person, I could see where you get that 'abnormal' thing from. But Laura and are about the most normal folks you're going to run across. As my sister said, we have the strongest relationship she knows of, including all her straight friends!

Tell ya what...I won't get married in your church, but I would like to get married. I just need the same 1,400 rights you have. I'm not asking for MORE rights...just the same. And really, if you want to talk about it, I would love to calmly discuss it. I'm really easy to get along with. Seriously...ask anyone that knows me. I'm downright...well...NORMAL!

Over the river, through the woods, and frisked by the TSA

2009-12-01T11:29:00.004-05:00

It's that time of year again! Tis the season to spend wads of cash on airline tickets and get boned.

The airline industry is the worst! You spend $400 for something, you expect it to be exactly what you signed up for. Not with the airlines.

By the time I'm ready to fly home to Cali for the Xmas holiday, my flight will be changed, layovers will be lengthened and luggage will be lost. It happens every time. A couple days before I'm suppose to take off, the emails start filling my box:

"There has been a change in your flight itinerary."

Really? Cuz I paid you ass-munches $400 for that specific itinerary!

Let's put it this way....say you buy a box of cereal at the market. You roll it up to the register, you mentally kick yourself for forgetting your environment friendly bag, and you pay. Now maybe you paid a lil more for this box of fiber that promises youth and proper bowel movements, but what's wrong with paying a lil extra.

The next morning you wake up to someone knocking on the door. It's the cashier from the market. "I'm sorry...I have to take your cereal back...you can't eat that till tomorrow." How many of us would gladly hand the cereal back and say, "Oh...no problem. I was going to have eggs this morning anyway. I'll see you tomorrow to pick it up again."

F-NO you wouldn't. It would be more like, "WTF??? I bought that goddamn cereal and I'll eat it when I want it. And if you even THINK about stepping into this house, I will shoot you."

Cuz you love your crunch berries, damn it!

But when the airlines drop a lil letter bomb in your email, we sigh, bend over, and take it right up the pooper!

Why is it not illegal? It sure feels like it. You can't bait and switch at stores anymore. They found that to be illegal. And you would think with such a high priced ticket item, it would seem even more important not to screw folks over.

Maybe it's the fear that if you make a stink, you might not ever get on the plane. You don't dare take that option where they offer you free tickets to wait for the next flight. You could wait till New Year's Eve!

Nope...it doesn't pay to be the squeaking wheel on the landing equipment. Maybe Santa can bring me a private jet and shove it in my stocking. Cuz I'm about ready to shove something up the airlines chimney.

My idea of Hell is to be young again. ~Marge Piercy

2009-11-23T14:49:00.004-05:00

I made the mistake of watching the American Music Awards. Maybe it was the sound guy, who should have been fired, if in fact he was responsible for the sound on the show. Maybe it was the cable feed or our non-flat screen TV. Maybe it was just that I'm just too old to watch these shows anymore.

I've become my mother: "Turn down that noise!"

The show seemed to be divided in half: people I had NO idea who they were or folks I knew and I was sorry to see where they were in their career. Which only made me feel older.

Janet, while kicking ass and working like a dog on that stage! But she lipsync'd her way through a medley of her hits. It hurts me to see her fall prey to the "fake mic" movement.

Lady GaGa - FA-Reak of nature! I have no idea if she sings well, cuz I was too busy wondering if her costume was put together the same why I built my corpse for Halloween this year.

We fast forwarded through the one that caused us to say, "Who the HELL is that??" So I don't even know if they sang well. I'm old and grumpy. I can't waste time trying to wait to find out.

And since the entertainers I like sounded like ass....why bother with the ones I didn't know.

Whitney....oh dear, dear Whitney. I haven't liked you since "Be My Baby Tonight". You kooky, cracked out, has been. She was trying. She at least was really singing. The problem seemed to be that the band was playing one thing and she was singing another. I could be wrong, but there wasn't much proof otherwise.

J-Lo's routine was tight and fun, but she was fake mic'n it TOO! (and she stepped on a sweaty guy and slipped...but that big ol backside of hers acted like a bumper and popped her right back up on her feet!)

I was waiting for Adam....the Lambert! The showman with the wink and the nod. They were teasing it his routine going into the breaks: edgy, radical, racy.

Looking past the terrible sound, which haunted every singer that night, his was a walk through a sex den, made up of his band and dancers, on stage!

I'm no prude. Believe me!

But really....it was too much! Simulated blow jobs, tongue probing make out sessions, crotch grabbing, and what he wasn't grabbing there was a face going into it. And then the last note...you don't have to end every song on a tongue-draggin'-on-the-floor note that goes on well after the music stops. It makes it awkward for us watching. We start asking, "Doesn't he hear the music is over? He's just wailing with his tongue hanging out in the air like that."

I was uncomfortable.

In the shot of the audience, they were all on their feet. But it seemed more like they all were trying to leave to beat the LA traffic and someone locked the doors, rather than a possible standing ovation in the making.

I hate to admit I'm too old. I hated when my mom didn't get The Go-Go's. Couldn't she see the genius behind them? They could kick Peter, Paul and Mary's butt any day of the week. As times change, now I have a feeling that the Three 6 Mafia could gun down The Go-Go's and use their skulls for smoking crack.

The evolution of music isn't pretty. And getting old ain't no fun. I'll stick to my greatest hits albums.

Yes...I said 'ALBUMS'!!

time, time, time....See what's become of me...

2009-11-20T08:46:00.003-05:00

Could you have even guess...when I wrote my last blog on the 17th, I would STILL be waiting for my car?

I SURE AS HELL COULDN'T!

This is the thing, I took my car in cuz there was a metal 'clunk' and they said they couldn't FIND a metal 'clunk'. So they let me drive a broken car for 4 days till the sway bar snapped (whatever that is) took out my CV boot (which I'm sure is important, whatever that is). It sounded like I was dragging 20 pounds of scrap metal behind my right tire.

While it wasn't a waste of my $240 for my rotors and oil change, they never got what really was broken till it was so damaged, it is still in the shop! (of course if my folks had let me take auto shop back in high school in the 80's, I could be doing this myself.)

"We have to order the parts."

I guess that's what happens when Saturn is set adrift in the bailout wake left by its parent company, GM. You know the guys...they took a private plane to DC to ask for money to help them out. Congress asked them, "Well, what's you plan?" They all shrugged and congress said, "Next time you come...have a plan."

So they decided to "carpool" this next time, since it kinda made headlines about the whole pesky private plane thing. Ya...they carpooled in an ESCALADE! One of the biggest, gas guzzling, eco-hating cars on the road.

And when they got to DC, congress said, "Do you have a plan?" And they said "Um..we just thought you'd give us money. We got rid of the planes!"

So they got sent home AGAIN, to do their homework.

Therefore, it shouldn't surprise me that Saturn has no parts stocked at their facility anymore. And I shouldn't be surprised that, after over-nighting two parts, only one came in. And when the second one came in the next day, it was the right model number on the box, but the wrong part inside the box.

But that doesn't take the sting away from the usual pleasant man I usually deal with, turning on me like a cornered rat.

"So that means you have to have my car for ANOTHER day?", I said.

"Yes"

"Well I think for every day you have to keep it I get $100 knocked off." I giggled to lighten the mood.

"Um...NO!"

"NO?? NO? Mike...THAT'S not very good customer service!" my giggle turned to a nervous chuckle.

"Go complain to GM. They can't ship the right box."

"Um...heh....OooooooKaaaaayyyy then. Thanks??"

CLICK

I'm so glad that I'm going to be handing them close to $1000 for my repairs in a time span of two weeks. I guess with service like that, at those prices, you don't need bail out money. You clients will take care of it for you.

So fly your planes GM! Drive your Escalades! Bend your loyal customers over and tell them to cough!

Where is that number for the local Toyota dealer? 51 mpg in a Prius sounds REALLY good right now.

"Come ON! How much is it going to be??"

2009-11-17T11:42:00.003-05:00

It's the eternal struggle: No money....that's when the bills come. A broken appliance. The roof caving in. Water pipe breaking in the backyard. Car problems. The last item is my current problem.

My sister, the high priestess of lovable kooks, often times tells me that what you say out loud has power. If you say "I'm terrible at remembering names.", you will be. She's always telling me to take it back, or pushing the invisible "eject button" on her forehead to get 'evil' thoughts out.

Putting it all together, I figured out, you actually 'will' the trouble upon yourself.

At the first sound of an echo in my bank account, I start to worry about what could go wrong. Just last week I managed to keep $21 in my account for five days, so I wouldn't bounce anything. Everyday looking on the computer, praying that I could make it work till payday. Feeling the eternal pain of needing money, but not having anywhere to get it.

At the time I had some car problems, that I was also putting off, till I got paid. Then I pulled out of the driveway and BAM! Something came loose in a violent manor. I knew I couldn't put it off. And sure enough, the thoughts came tumbling from my furrowed brow, "Here we go...this is going to set me back so that I can't get out."

I CURSED MYSELF! If only I had pushed my eject button in time!

Sure enough, the cost was too much for me to handle, so I opted to fix one thing and not another. The dealership didn't see the severity of what was to come. Then four days later I was limping along the road with metal on metal crying so loud from my right wheel, pedestrians looked at me.

Now the cost is estimated at triple the amount of the original fix!

OY!

My new mantra will be: Money is free flowing and headed towards me. Large, bags, of cold, hard cash.

I won't be hitting eject on that one.

The Pant Parade

2009-11-13T07:43:00.007-05:00

I'm a big grrl. I've always been a big grrl. And when I say "big", I mean...I'm 5'11" and have shoulders like the football lineman, that I was. Plus I have some pounds on me. Therapy couldn't cure a childhood of "But you have such a pretty face.", from my grandmother. Or "I worry about your health.", from my mother.

I've been pretty good about getting up at 5ish am and working-out, at least four times a week. I've built up to an hour work-out, from just 20 minutes, when I started this at the end of September.

While the scale hasn't shown it, things have been fitting different. I've been feeling a lil better about myself. Kind friends have told me, "Well, you ARE building muscle. So you shouldn't even look at the scale."

Scale or no...the true test is the "Pant Parade".

In my closet are two shelves worth of pants that I either enjoyed at one point OR never had the chance to enjoy. (cuz they just didn't fit) Since my 'ol reliable' jeans were not to be found (which, by the way, are now fitting very loose about the waist) I grabbed the flashlight and headed for the shelves of doom!

One after another.....disappointment after disappointment. This pair will come all the way up, but they won't button. This pair stops just below my bootilicious back forty. This pair come up, and buttons, but due to the back forty, are about 2 inches too short. This pair is the biggest, loosest, pair of jeans, but the waist is for a supper model.

Are they drunk when they cut these jeans???

This pair has peg leg cuffs....how long have I had these? They don't button either. This pair pulls up, buttons, but for some reason they put a size small zipper in them. I'm sure of it. This pair fits, snuggly, but I forgot I bought them with these ginormas flaired pant legs. (a trick they use for fattys: if your ankles are that big your waist will look MUCH smaller)

At the end of the parade, I'm knee deep in denim and still standing there, in my Wonder Woman underoos, with nothing to wear.

But ya know.....that one pair...last time I did this, wouldn't come up past my thighs, and now it does! And that other pair I couldn't button last time, now they do! (Even tho they don't zip. But that's a manufactures defect.)

Things don't change over night....right? You know, I'm actually looking forward to the next pant parade. Strike up the band and move off the treadmill...momma still has some marching to do!

AAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!!!!!

2009-11-11T09:06:00.003-05:00

"sweetie, if your going to be two-faced, at least make one of them pretty"

2009-11-10T14:35:00.001-05:00

Drama! It's everywhere. I can't seem to get out of it. Now I love to watch drama unfold just as much as anyone. Maybe if you put yourself out there to be a spectator, you get some on ya. But JEH-ZUZ! I was knee deep and wading through a stream of it all weekend long.

My weekend kicked off when one of my co-workers decided to start yelling at us cuz we were leaving early. We have this wicked cool rule that, if we make our budget, we get out a lil early on Fridays. It's one of those things that is just an extra lil tid-bit that makes working here better! Especially when you're an office drone and there are NO benefits, other than keeping your job.

So Mr. 2-Big-4-My-Britches sales guy doesn't like this rule. He's made it very clear. He wants someone to be in the office from 8-5 every day to greet anyone that might come through the door (which there aren't any) or answer the one or two calls on a Friday (which they can forward to their cell phones).

His last steady job was working for his dad in retail, so I'm guessing he thinks he still needs to be greeting John Q. Public during store hours. Well not in this day and age sweetie! It's all portable, digital and mobil! Live and die by that crackberry, baybee.

So as he stood there, using his outside voice INSIDE the office, telling me how I should be there in the office while he, as a sales guy, spends most his time, out of the office, with the freedom to do as much personal stuff as he wants.

That clanking you hear in the background is the shackle on my ankle that is tethered to the desk. I don't get to move freely about the cabin.

The other point I tried to break through his Wisconsin fan, cheese wheel sized head of stubbornness, was that while he could work as many hours as he wanted, and get paid for the fruits of that labor, I get paid FORTY hours a week. No more. I could work 80 hours, but they are only going to pay me 40.

So those couple hours that we might earn, to get out of here early, are like gold bars, gleaming at the end of the work week tunnel. And Mr. I-sleep-on-a-mattress-stuffed-with-Franklins is yelling at me that I shouldn't get that reward.

HEY ASSHOLE......BITE ME!

And just try....TRY to get the 150% I give, every day, out of me now. You're the happy owner of 100% at 40 hours a week. And if you think you can do it all...be my guest. If you can't, put it in my in box. I'll get around to it, sometime this week.

“I don't even know him...I'm harvesting all these fantasies about some man I've never even met...who lives in Seattle.” ~Sleepless in Seattle

2009-11-05T14:59:00.003-05:00

Fantasy

We got in a very interesting discussion at lunch. Most likely it could have gotten us all fired if the wrong person had come through the door.

Sex was definitely involved....or at least the illusion of sex.

My co-worker can't cheat on his wife in his fantasies. I was aghast! He would have to do this whole back story about how they broke up and he was driven to the arms of some starlet.

No...really!

Maybe it's cuz I'm a creative person. Imagination is my 8-5 job, with graphic design. And lord knows my other activities, being involved in groups that need to raise money, or marketing my women's pro football team, or even the lil one hour radio show, all require some form or imagination at some point.

I have NO problem thinking up a fantasy! A lil music from the iPod helps sometimes, but I can be knee deep in something torrid with Angelina or Lucy Lawless in the middle of the day at my desk, staring out the window.

Funny enough...Not one ounce of guilt that I'm cheating on my girlfriend!

My office pal's issues tumbled through my brain well after we left our brain trust and went back to our respective offices. I came up with, "the stripper theory".

Men go to strip clubs and they honestly believe that every girl, shakin' her money maker, actually wants them. That they have a chance with the strippers. It's something about the male wiring that makes them think that everyone wants them. (don't tell them that those girls could care less and really just want to get it over with so they can make their next house payment)

A seriously married guy, like my co-worker, would feel guilty cuz there is something in his DNA that he thinks his fantasy girl would really WANT him!

Myself, being a insecure female, like most women, knows that not only would I never land a young Suzanne Pleshette, from "The Birds" days, but she would NEVER be interested in someone like ME.

So imagine away, I say!

A non stop parade of brunette beauties lined up at my door, taking numbers like at a deli counter. Me, in a Hugh Hefner robe and a fist full of vitamins.

Cuz in my head, they all desire me!

They fight over me, in fact!

"Don't fight ladies! There's enough of me for everyone. Or better yet....why don't we all just come in for a drink...mmmmm??"

Thank goodness for my wonderful imagination and low self esteem. It gives me something to do around 3pm in my work day when I can't concentrate on work.

I gotta go....P!nk is on my iPod and she and I have some unfinished business to "discuss".

Rosie Colored Glasses

2009-11-03T16:07:00.003-05:00

When I found out Rosie was going to have her own XM radio show, I put into motion the effort to get a receiver that I could actually record her show on. Lo and behold, I found a Skyfi3 on e-bay for $19.99. It was refurbished, but I took the chance, seeing as they are somewhere around $200.

I got my radio in awesome condition and then realized I needed the cradle for it. Mine in the car wouldn't fit and the new one had fancy buttons and such.

Back to e-bay!

I actually found a single cradle auction for $5.99! Plus you got the wall adaptor. Such a deal! I downloaded the instructions from online, as the refurbished receiver didn't come with anything other than JUST the receiver.

I found I needed a memory card to keep the recorded shows on.

Back to e-bay!

I found an auction for a 2 gig card...$8. When I got it, I kept getting an error message when I tried it out in the computer. After telling the seller, he sent me 2 more cards. Some mistake in the shipping request sent out more than normal, but not a problem, "enjoy". So I get 3 mem cards for the low, low price of eight smackers!

A co-worker who has Sirius informed me that his boombox he bought for his unit to play at home, worked great at work. Our building was "conducive" to getting the satellite waves. (I now pictured NASA peeping into the girls bathroom for some reason) He also said that for portable receivers like mine, there was headsets with antennas built right in!

You got it......eeeeeeeee-baaaaaaay!

Got myself a pair of headsets AND an arm band carrying case for $12. Seriously!

I ended up getting like a $300 package for under $50!! I totally ROCK and I'm totally ready for Ro!

I know...you're waiting for the other shoe to drop. This is where you want me to say that I couldn't get a signal or things didn't work. Oh but it does. Like buttah! I've been happily listening to my Rosie Radio at my desk, after I record it in my car. (one thing didn't quite work smooth...the antenna works everywhere in the building BUT at my freaking desk)

She's awesome! Free-wheeling through topics and sounding very comfortable on the air waves. I've been following her blog for sometime and trying to keep up to date. I've been a fan for a loooong time.

It's not often a woman of a certain body type gets face time on TV. When I saw Ro on VH1 I fell in love! There 'I' was; big, funny, loud mouthed girl staring back at me. I still have the collage I made of different pix of her. It hung in my apartment after I moved out from home, a shrine of sorts, that big grrls can make good.

Tucked behind that picture, still, is an email.

Way back in the day, when AOL was something you used for chat rooms and to cuss at, due to crashing all the time, I had heard Ro was a fan. She too would lurk around cyberspace way before it was the thing to do. So in my profile, my hobbies were listed thusly: Music, Movies, Art and searching for Rosie.

Profiles were a big deal back then. You could search profiles for key words, looking for folks with similar tastes. I'm guessing that's what happened when I got an email, late one night, from a yabadabad0: "Why?"

I answered back smartly..."why not?"

"No....why are you looking for Rosie?"

"Cuz she is awesome. Cuz she is funny. Cuz folks say I'm a lot like......her......"

GULP! I had also read that Ro liked to use zeros in her screen names. And while the screen name seemed like gibberish when I first saw it, it was finally dawning on me.

She had just done the Flintstones movie. HOLY CRAP!

"You would freak if you knew who I was right now." came the next email.

"Oh....I think I got it figured out."

"The things you said.....I can't tell you how happy that made me. Big smiles over here"

I mentioned something about everyone wanted me to do stand up. She mentioned that it's in your blood or don't bother. She also told me to stay in school. I had to break the news to her that I was well above school age.

And she was gone.

I went to a lecture, recently, where the speaker said to pick 5 famous people and get in contact with them. Create a goal list. Achieve that contact.

Well since that "contact" on AOL when it was but email in diapers, I've been on Ro's blog, a picture of me holding a "bring the troops home sign" in her PEACE shirt. She answered my blog request to stop by Rain Lounge the next time she's in town performing at the Turning Stone Casino.....maybe....with her new call in show, that contact is closer than I think.

Fear is nature's warning signal to get busy.

2009-11-02T12:14:00.005-05:00

After a couple months of putting together blinking headstones and creepy cadavers, it was going to be all for nothing, as the rain came down and the wind continued to blow wet leaves down the block.

We scampered upstairs to put on our make-up and get into costume, so that we could at least be ready to great the drippy, rain soaked, trick or treaters.

As we emerged from the bathroom, with our faces ghastly green, we couldn't believe it! We could see sunlight!

We rushed to the living room, that looked like a Halloween triage unit, and started running things out to the front lawn.

Fog machines, boom boxes, corpse, coffin, misters, strobe lights...check check check!

Being on a Saturday, the lil ones came early. Including some of our littlest fans; our fauxphews. An astronaut and a mailman, as cute as can be.

"Can we come in and see spookytown?"

"Of course!" I said in my British, crone voice.

I ushered them in, with two more neighborhood kids walking up the path. They looked nervous that they would be brought into the house next.

"Oh no.....you stay out here. We have enough children for dinner tonight!"

That whites-of-the-eyes stare is priceless!

Grandpa, stuffed and chillin by the front door, kept me company as I sat on the stoop. Gourd shaker, perfect for casting voodoo spells, hidden by my side. The strobe light at my back, the kids didn't know if I was alive or not. Till I shook my Wiccan rattle and screeched, "Why do you bother the Babba Yaga? What do you want from me?"

Most froze dead in their tracks, many turned on their heel and fled, candy less.

"If you do not come to the Babba Yaga......Babba Yaga will come to YOU!"

I would rise up off the stoop, crouching, then slowly, as I advanced, I would be on my toes, close to 6 feet tall! With my gypsy skirt, it probably looked like I was levitating by the time I got to the kids.

One group of kids hit a car at the end of the drive, diving in, screaming, "DRIVE...JUST GO!!!" I made the door handle before they pulled off, pressing my face into the rolled up window. "The Babba Yaga curses you till your dying day!!!"

Ah the warm feeling in my chest, knowing when they put their heads on their pillow that night, the scene would play over and over on their eyelids.

Our neighbors, not only enjoyed the panic that ran from our house, but started "feeding" us children, "Make sure you see the witch back there....she has great candy!"

The witching hour ended. We hauled our wears back indoors. The living room, once again, looking like the backstage lot of a horror film movie. Lights out, window shut, door locked. We were alone with left over candy, left by kids to scared to reach for it. A reward for a job well done.

Another year of creating sentences like, "He came further up the driveway this year than last....there's always next year."

Yes....yes there is.

Illusion is needed to disguise the emptiness within.

2009-10-29T11:00:00.004-04:00

I have been dressing up for Halloween for yeeeeaaars! Even now, a good dressing up is a great way to let your alter egos out. (hence my stint as a drag king for a while)

As a youth the local parks and recs would put on a very lovely Halloween festival. While it was a kick to go and see the festivities, it was my competitive self that longed for the main event!

The Costume Contest

We would take a gander at the booths with tests of skills like fishing for a ghoul goodies bag, tossing the skull bean bags through a monsters mouth, and prizes of plastic spiders and wax vampire teeth. All the while, trying to size up the competition that could be in our age group.

This is where we three sisters, with a creative mom, would excel!

Like the year we were the scarecrow family; mother, father and kid 'crows. I was, of course, the dad. My mother painted these burlap type sacks she made with cute lil scarecrow faces. Stitched on to the top of each went straw hair, braided at the sides for the kid 'crow. On top of my head, a cowboy hat that was my dad's. It had seen better days; sweat ringed on the brow, holes in the straw brim, and a shiteous, '70 styled, woven headband holding it together.

We took first place, of course.

Side Note: I was actually offered an entire bowl of mini candy bars in exchange for the hat at one house during our trick or treating. One look back at my dad lead me to believe that he wasn't open to negotiations. It's the deal that "could have been" that still hunts me to this day.

Then there was the Halloween Coloring Book year. My sister and I were a coloring book and crayon. Of course...big girl was the book. It was an enormous box, covered in contact paper and decorated with images of Halloween. My face peeked out of a hole in the front, my arms out the sides...unable to span the distance to scratch my nose.

My sister, rolled up in poster board, wore a purple dunce cap to resemble a sharpened crayon tip. Not only did she have a hard time walking, but she tripped at the top of a hill and rolled to the bottom, and couldn't get up. There she was, arms and feet flailing, unable to bend in the middle to get herself up. Her bag of candy, littered the front yard.

I peed my coloring book pages laughing so hard.

Side Note: At one house I couldn't fit down their walkway, so my sister took my candy bag and said it was for her sister. The home owner, of course, doubted her. Till they looked down the path and saw a huge green coloring book in the yard. This feeling still haunts me.

We enlisted our friend next door to round out the Marx Brothers one year. Since I already sport Groucho eyebrows, I had a lock on that character. To make my costume authentic, my dad handed me a cigar he had bought, still wrapped in it's protective cellophane.

"Do NOT take the cellophane off!", was his stern warning. Partly guilty he was handing me a real cigar, I'm sure.

We took first that year as well.

Side Note: By the time we were half way done, trick or treating I had chewed through the cellophane and was turning green. It was the first and only time I didn't eat candy on the route...cuz I thought I was going to hurl.

Fruit of the Loom got us first place again, two bunches of grapes and that sassy apple. My mother, who really should have worked in Hollywood, came up with the idea to paper mache balloons, spray painted green and purple and attached to black garbage bags. By the end of the night, I had left purple grapes all over the neighborhood.

Every year we racked up yet another win for the Gilbert Girls. With every win came a picture in the town paper. It was like we were Halloween Rock Stars! Other kids could try, but we crushed them under our boots year after year.

No store bought goods here! No sir. Take your boxed Scooby Doo and go home. Don't even try with that Strawberry Shortcake you got at Sears. Why don't you armatures come back when you can take a bedspread and make a senorita costume one year, then a pirate costume the next.

Halloween ain't for kids....it's for masters of illusion!

I'll bet living in a nudist colony takes all the fun out of Halloween.

2009-10-26T10:41:00.002-04:00

We took this past weekend, without a activity choked schedule, to clean and put up some house decor de gore. I tried to convince Laura that dust and cobwebs added to the feel, but she insisted that they go. Sigh...it's hard being a misunderstood, visionary genius.

Up went the display for the side window. Monster head in a crystal ball, old books, purple skull goblet, crystal skull with changing LED lights.

Up went the various candle holders, stocked with fresh tea lights.

Away went my tombstones outside with a windstorm outside. (I manage to get them back and stake them into the ground again)

I cut the word "Vacancy" out of my homemade tombstone this weekend. It will have flashing red lights inside when it's all said and done.

Did you know there is such a thing as a Styrofoam cutter? It's awesome!

It's really like an electric ice pick, a thin wire sticking out of a handle with an on/off switch. The wire heats up and cuts through the Styrofoam like buttah! I can't tell you how long it took me to cut my letters out of my cemetery sign 2 years ago, OY!

Tonight I want to get the Vacancy Stone painted and the lights popped through the backer "slab". All the hard part will pretty much be done. Just some f/x painting after that.

Saturday will be the official set up day. I'll put most the yard stuff out. You never know what might happen at night, with random goblins walking up and down the street BEFORE Halloween. I don't want Lenny, my corpse, to 'walk away' before he gets to scare the kids.

I have a good idea about my costume. I've had to put away my goth vamp (like my profile pix) since the death of my white contacts. Those added sooo much to that look. I loved when the kids would come up and say trick or treat, they never looked at me. Then I would say, "Smell my feeeeeeet....???" in a deep, scary voice...trying to make them look up and finish the phrase.

Then their lil faces would turn upward, "Give...me...something...um....good to eeeeeeeeeeek!" then they would see the eyes!

It was awesome!

We'll see how the new "Look" goes this year.

Scoot. More. More More. GOOD!

2009-10-22T11:14:00.003-04:00

I have, for the last couple days, been under the weather. I should just leave it at that, but anyone that knows me, knows I find that line of civility and take a pogo stick size jump up and over it to make everyone around me uncomfortable.

It's just the way I am.

After working in the yard I manage to get a killer allergy attack. (that's my story and I'm stickin' to it!) Then I got hit with the worst case of girly bits complications known to mankind...er...womankind.

I'm at that age, you see, where the word whispered around you is "pre-menopausal". Oh...you think you're already squeamish bracing for the details in my blog? Thank the man-in-the-sky you're not going through it.

Cycles being what they are, they should come around like clock work. But when they don't, it throws your life into a mess of doctor appointments and tests and probes and "pee in this" and "scoot just a liiiiiittle further".

The fun started this time around when I had to meet my new doctor, just as I was about to mount the stirrup table. Nice "how do you do" if'n I ever saw one. That awkward moment was punctuated by her nurse stumbling through the door, spinning in the middle of the room with one foot in the trash can and ending up spread eagle on the far wall. Speculum in hand.

My mortification continued, as I laid with nothing more than a Chernobyl sized Kleenex as a poor excuse for coverage, as they had me sit up cuz the light didn't work. Seems the genius that is the nurse forgot to plug it in. Then back down again, scooting.

Then when it came to the procedure, the doctor couldn't complete it.

AWESOME! Just FUCKIN' awesome!

"I'm soooo sorry. I can get you scheduled with a doctor in the practice that does this sort of thing all day long. She could do this blindfolded."

"Soooooo...that's it?"

"Yes. And of course, no charge for today."

"I don't even get dinner?"

Long stare......"Um....ha...yes...I mean...NO...I...uh....I really appreciate you keeping your sense of humor through this."

Lady....when you're a woman with a tissue skirt, on your back, with your heels up to god, and two people are lookin at your neither regions like a Bear's game on a 13 inch black and white.....all you got is your humor.

Can't WAIT to do this all over again for the next stranger.

Sing with me...."I loooooove....being a girl!"

A couple projects...

2009-10-19T12:16:00.008-04:00

I've been trying my hand at a few lil projects this year for my yard haunt. I had created a ghost for last year, but she needed a lil LED help this year. So she went from this:

To this...after searching e-bay for "LED ghost eyes". (you really CAN find anything on e-bay!)

Can't wait to float her over the graveyard! Which I got the basics set up this weekend as well. I still have to add the new stone I got from Target that has a hole for the fog machine to blow smoke through a demon face etched in the stone. And I want to create a blinking "vancancy" stone to add as well.

The gates to my graveyard:

And the hardest thing...my corpse! Inspired by pumpkinrot and instructed by spookyblue, I'm finding my graphic art background challenged by the 3D medium!

This crusty creep will be peering though my ground-breaking coffin that I made 3 years ago. I've had his arm, clipped to a stake, inside the coffin reaching out for 2 years. It was time the arm had a body to cling too! I just need to age it and seal it and he'll be good to goul!

"And when they pulled the body from the wreakage...it looked like THIS!"

2009-10-19T11:02:00.008-04:00

I've been collecting lil bits and pieces of Spooky Town for a few years now. I got the bulk of the pieces before they got kinda cheesy. They don't seem as well made anymore. I'm very selective about what I add to my lil spooky cityscape, one small item at a time, and only if something strikes me.

The center of town is a skull fountain with a mister in it. Lights and fog and water, oh my! It's the show piece of the creepy village, perched on top of a chest of drawers in the dinning room. Every year I set it up, fill up the water and pray, that when I flip the switch, it works for one more year. And lo...it does!

The other large piece is Dr. Tingles Lab. It has its own lil soundtrack that plays, haunted music with accents of flashing lighting strikes and claps of thunder. Once I power it all on and turn up the sound on Dr. Tingles, I like to just sit and enjoy. It's not an easy task to set up the 30 or so pieces and all their wires and plugs and adaptors. So sitting back, in the darkened room, to take it all is, is my moment of accomplishment.

As I was soaking in the scary....I voice blasted out of Dr. Tingles that made me come out of my chair to recover my heart which had jumped out of my chest!

"Breaker breaker rollin' up on in har wit da big trees, yazir. Got me the big ol payload of big ol trees. Come back."

WTF?!?!

It seems the frequency that Dr. Tingles operates on....also picks up truckers. Yes...truckers. Loud ass, mouthy, painfully NOT Halloweeny MF'r truckers!!

It was like a bully walked up to my haunted sandcastle and kicked down its turrets and peed in the moat. Now I would have to enjoy Spooky Town with a lil less spooky OR a lot more Smokey and the Bandit.

Sigh....we can't have nice things.