Sanctuary

I'm sure everyone feels that wee bit of glee as they drive home after a long day at work.  I love turning into my alley and seeing at least one little furry face in the bay window watch me as I slow down to park in the drive.  Then as I unlock the backdoor, I can see little furry faces scramble to greet me when I come in.  After the feline welcoming party, I get to kiss and hug my hubby.  Ah!  I am home.
Our home doesn't look like much on the outside.  It has peeling paint from hailstorms, a lawn that hasn't quite bounced back yet, a foundation that is crumbling, and an uneven front walk.  It's modest and humble and simple.  It's our home.
We had big plans when we moved in.  We were going to flip this mother and make it ours.  We set right to work on our front room, but then, the Powers That Be had other plans.  They decided my husband I needed some autoimmune malfeasance to make life more interesting.  Consequently, that room still isn't finished because I don't see the point in finishing the floors until we do all the floors.  The parts of the room that are done, however, are delightful.  The walls are a rich, deep red which is well suited for a bedroom retreat.  The dressers were resurfaced to match.  We found a Tibetan wall hanging regarding love which is over the bed.  On one wall a lovely tapestry of a belly dancer hangs courtesy of my mother-in-law.  I really do love that tapestry and it is just so perfect for our room.  That room is the only room we've actually done work in so far.  I'd like to tackle the back bedroom next, but we'll see.
Our backyard is enormous.  I can't even believe how substantial it is.  I love the generous garden plot.  Thankfully it takes up quite a bit of space so that we don't have to mow the entire square footage of that yard.  My father came over to help me get the mower started once when my husband was traveling for work and he couldn't believe how exhausting that plot is.  Yup...it's big.
I guess the point I am driving at is while our home is humble and modest and definitely not on anyone's Home Tour list, it is ours.  It is comfortable and reassuring and warm.  Love is present.  Laughter is abundant.  Tears are welcome and comforted.  I am incredibly thankful to have a place to call home.  I look forward to that turn into the driveway each night.  As for the renovating and remodeling, we'll get there.  Eventually.  For now, our home is enough just the way it is.

The Vaguest Blog Post Ever

I cannot express the thoughts I am thinking.  The topics on my mind right now cannot be a blog post.  They relate to work.  You see, I had in-service training today and what I learned overwhelmed and confused me.  However, what I do know is that current legislation and judicial findings will not protect anything I put into text; it is far safer to keep my mouth shut--at least publicly.  I cannot sort everything that is in my head after today.  I have one "expert" telling me one thing and another "expert" telling me something else and what in the hell am I supposed to do about it?  Who do I believe?  I know I should stay in the present.  Don't fret about the future.  Then another voice pops up and says, "Walk away, dear.  Walk away before it eats you alive."

I'm going to go read my book now.  Maybe Lucivar, Daemon, and Saetan will find a way to protect the realm and Jaenelle will triumph over Hekatah and Dorothea.  Of course she will; she is Witch, myth made flesh.

Not the Typical Tuesday

Here's the deal:
Today I had little to no time to myself to handle stuff.  It was like a revolving door of people who needed my opinion or support or knowledge and I gotta say it was exhausting.  I had about 15 minutes at lunch to regroup and face the rest of the day.  Woof!

why-girls-are-weird.com

Totally exhausted man.

It's not that I minded, because it was nice to be listened to or consulted like I actually know what I'm doing--which I do, but it has been the case that I frequently echo Cassandra's doom.  To be treated like people actually want to know what I think and they actually want to listen to my rationale or my thoughts is a new sensation.

I digress...for Michael Hutchence.

Anyway, mixed into the consulting and advicer-ing (Hush now.  I have an English degree, so I get to make up stuff like advicer-ing)  there was also a fair amount of bullshit.  You know what makes it better when you feel the bullshit getting your goat?

A good ol' fashioned venting of the bullshit!  That's right, I came home and my husband and I took turns laying out the exasperations, the crapola, and the complete and utter bullshit that just sent us into orbit today.  I love that I can come home and let loose the furies of frustration and then I can listen to his litany of offenses to common sense and we can both feel better afterward.  Some days, it's all we really need.  A damned good vent session without repercussions because we "get" each other.

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Actually we do.  It gets a little spooky sometimes.

This Is the Post I Intended Sunday

Music.  It can take you to the sublime beauty of the seasons through Vivaldi's The Four Seasons.  It can make you weep with the pathos and power of Maria Callas' recording of "La Momma Morta" as seen in the movie Philadelphia.  It can transport you to a beach house cantina lookin' for your last shaker of salt in "Margaritaville."  Sometimes though, you just need something harder.  Something with more of an edge.  Something with a higher capacity to make you drool.  That's when you turn to your standby.  For me, that's Queensryche.

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I had this photo on my dorm room wall in college.

I had occasion to pop in a DVD of theirs this weekend.  Building Empires  came out following the huge commercial success of their Empire  album.

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I got this t-shirt in college as well.  It's still in my camping clothes box.  I love it.

I've been fortunate enough to see the band twice in concert.  Unfortunately it was after Chris DeGarmo made his much lamented departure from the band in 1997.  I did however get to see the band up close and personal:

My close friend who is also a fan suggested I lick his face.  Tempting...

Two years later, close again, but no hair.

Back to Saturday afternoon:

I popped in the DVD and proceeded to clean the house while watching/listening to Building Empires.  I began to reminisce about how in college, my roommate and I were huge fans of the band and we frequently had a Queensryche CD playing in the room.  We even had a photo from a metal magazine of Geoff Tate with little cartoon voice bubbles to indicate what we were up to.  We used lyrics from songs to tell people we were studying with "Educate the masses" for example.  We also had a whiteboard lyrics war with a guy from one of the other dorms.  We called him The Friendly Viking.  I honestly don't recall his real name, but my roommate and I were terribly impressed that he knew so many lyrics!  

We also would occasionally reserve a VCR from the dorm front desk and gather in the common room in the basement with other like-minded fans to rock out for a few hours.  I remember some people who would come in and see us all scream-singing along and ask meekly when we'd be done with the common room TV.  Sometimes they'd sit and watch with us.  More often than not though, they'd move on to try and find another available big screen in one of the other dorms.  Of course, if I was not familiar with Operation Mindcrime and a group of four or five college age women were scream-singing along, I might move on, too.  I loved those days though and the time spent with my friends wailing along with Tate and salivating at the guitar prowess of DeGarmo and the unbelievable driving beats of Rockenfield during Anarchy X or Jackson's bass riff at the start of Jet City Woman and Wilton's five-finger metal punch on his skull and cross-bones guitar.  Queensryche is and will forever be my favorite band.  Here's a sampling of why:

They never aired this one, but they should have.  It's totally better than the one they did play on MTV and VH-1.

One of my favorite aspects of Building Empires  is seeing how the band looked when they started.  This is hysterical:

We must all forgive questionable style choices that were made in the 1980's.

The Sexy Stalking Song a.k.a. "Gonna Get Close to You" was a personal favorite even after watching this:

The red eyes at the end is nice touch, right?

Trying to cram all of Mindcrime on BE would be redundant.  They did a montage for "Eyes of a Stranger" though:

Grrrr.  *drool*

While I could continue and post even more, believe me that plenty more of Queensryche's music beyond Empire is well worth it.  Tribe, American Soldier, and even Take Cover should not be overlooked.  I will leave you though with my favorite song from Empire...and it's not "Silent Lucidity."

Oh Rockenfield!  How I love your drums.

This Was Not the Post I Intended Today

I tried writing a blog earlier today.  Then the computer gremlins deleted it.  Before you lecture me about saving, I did.  Somehow the computer gremlins pulled a select-all-delete maneuver and alas!  All was lost.  So now that I am sufficiently sublime following a blissful Wolf Moon Circle (with a dash of waning), I am going to attempt another posting.
I started today knowing that I had much to do.  I had a menu for the week to write, some Sa to construct, a novel to read, a book club schedule to send out, a rollerskating party with my niece, a ritual to perform, laundry to finish, and a blog to write.  It was going to be a busy day.  It was busy indeed.
I'm sure there are some who would scoff at me referring to my day as busy, but some of those tasks were not simple.  You try bending wire into the shape of a Sa and figure out how to anchor into the clay without bending it out of shape again.  It's not that simple.  It was, however, thankfully much easier than I anticipated.  It was like while it was challenging, it was also exciting to try figure out the best way to bring the concept into being.  It was pretty cool to do over morning coffee.
Then I tried writing a post.  I was almost done, putting on the finishing touches to an adequate post when my Youtube video search somehow cued the Computer Gremlin Rebellion and I was just about to unleash all the expletives I know in interesting new ways when I heard my husband and nephew walk in.  Outburst quelled, but still seething on the inside.
As I watched my nephew play with Link and try to coax Hissy into letting him pet her, I began to let go of the vexation.  Then we had to execute the great Nephew-for-Niece Exchange of 2013 so that my husband and I could take our niece to a rollerskate party at the local rink.  Yeah--AutoImmune Duo went rollerskating...and survived to tell the tale.  My husband promptly took Ibuprofen and jumped in a hot bath with Mg oil and I too took some Ibuprofen (just this once), Formula 303 and did a ritual after we arrived back home.  Despite the fact that we are taking every precaution for the inevitable ache that we know will follow, the skating was a lot of fun.  Teaching our niece to skate was a great time.  This was her first time as it was for all of the kids there.  Coincidentally, she just got an invitation for another skate party, so she'll be ready for it by golly!
I've never tried to teach someone to skate.  It's interesting to try.  I haven't been on skates in ten years at least.  That was an ill-fated attempt at learning rollerblading.  Anyway, my hubby and I took turns guiding her around the rink and finally she was ready for her first solo skate.  I couldn't stop smiling and feeling that little rush of "yeehaw" (back off!  skating made me nostalgic of childhood and we watched Hee-Haw at my house growing up) at watching her get around on her own.  She fell...a lot, but she always got back up and kept going.  She really had a lot of fun and even though I never once heard a song by Journey, I totally did, too.
Now I smell like lavender, my muscles are unknotting, and my husband is almost done with dinner.  What a fantastic Sunday.

Meet Virginia

Today I received word that my great aunt Virginia died.  She lived in Louisville, Kentucky.  I remember the first time I met her--at least that I recall meeting her.  She had come for a visit and stayed at the O'Hare Motor Inn.  To residents of my home town, they know this place.  It is famous for two things:

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Mermaids in the pool

and

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Piano Pat in the tiki lounge.

Now as a youngster, I was oblivious to the tiki lounge, but I swam in that pool.  I was fascinated by the window that let me see into another realm that I would not visit for many moons.  

Why my great aunt made reservations there I will never know.  My sister and I though had great fun. I recall early the next morning getting up and going shopping with Virginia.  Even at the tender age of whatever-the-hell-age-I-was I knew that 6am was an incredibly ridiculous time to go shopping downtown, yet we did.  We went window shopping.  Thankfully at this time the Adam & Eve store was not there.  I can't imagine what that would've done to Virginia's sensibilities.  

I recall being fascinated by her Kleenex pouch.  Before we commenced window shopping, she took this slim, plastic envelope and placed Kleenex and money inside.  Then put it in her cleavage!  What?!?  I recall being very confused yet intrigued by this.  

We went to Glacier Park as well and she was not terribly taken with Going to the Sun Highway--fear of heights.  We went over it though and she enjoyed seeing the beauty of Glacier.  We played a lot of cards to pass the time that visit.

While I was at college, Virginia wrote to me.  I'd receive these lovely postcards or delicate stationary postmarked Louisville and I loved them.  I never knew why she wrote to me or if she wrote to other cousins--distant or close.  I did, however, make a point to reply.  We exchanged Christmas cards for a long time as well.  This holiday, I didn't do the card thing.  Just didn't get my act together for it, but I wondered about Virginia and how she was getting on.  

So farewell, Virginia.  I hope your passing was peaceful and beautiful, just like you.

Happy Pants

I screwed up.

It's not like end of the world or someone's life is in jeopardy kind of screw up, but it does impact the people with whom I work.  These people work hard.  They do a thankless job.  They're stressed enough and they surely don't need my screw up to add to their woes.  Alas!  I screwed up.  I am trying to make it right and I spent a lot of time muttering to myself last night, "I forgive myself.  I forgive myself.  I forgive myself."
In my defense, I was acting in the best knowledge I was given at the time.  Had I not been ignorant of some developments, I would not have made the same choice.  *I forgive myself*

I also had a horrendous day with some young men who were rude, disobedient and unruly.  I spent a lot of time last night mulling over how to handle the situation today.  Again, I forgive myself for how I handled it yesterday.*I forgive myself*  We all have those moments sometimes where no matter what you try to do, it's just not right.  It simply won't make it better.  She goin' down and Jose` no swim!  I spent so much time that I should have been sleeping coming up with a plan of how to address this situation and make it better for everybody.  *I forgive myself* that I didn't sleep.

So what do you do in those moments after sleep's blissful albeit tardy arrival gives way to the obnoxious and sudden alarm clock that rips you out of sleep's tender yet short-lived embrace?

You don your happy pants and suck it up.

Today I busted out my best ever hippie-dippy happy pants.  I bought them in Missoula, Montana.  Anyone who has been in Missoula, Montana is already formulating a picture of these pants with nothing more than the knowledge that they came from Missoula, Montana.  It's like some bad B horror movie title about hippie zombies that smell of decaying patchouli.

Anyway, the happy pants in question are green overalls with 6" cuffs at the pant leg that are about four different patterns of fabrics that my grandmother would have used to make my patchwork quilt.  The same mismatched patterned fabric adorns the pockets and the big chest pocket on the front.  These pants make it utterly impossible to take yourself too seriously.  I love them.  I also received a compliment before 8am on them.  Later, a co-worker said I looked like St. Patrick's Day.  My happy pants are just that rad thank you.  While some people use the phrase "happy pants" figuratively, I have taken it to a literal level.

So here's to the hippie-dippy happy pants!  Long may they reign and thanks for getting me through this Wednesday.

*I forgive myself*

Bringin' "Huzzah!" Back

Lately I've noticed something: my friends are starting to use "Huzzah" in every day conversation.  I don't know if this is due to a cartoon a few weeks back that used the interjection. I posted about how it's not being used to its potential as an interjection.  I don't know if the two incidents are connected.  I don't know if it's evidence of the collective consciousness bringing us together for the sake of the interjection.  I don't know if we all are just a bunch of nerds who like archaic interjections.  One thing I do know, I'M LOVING IT!

kcrenfest.com

I tried to get information about this cool pic, but the "click here for info" only revealed the exact opposite of information.

Did you know that the origins of huzzah are unknown unless you spell it differently?  I confirmed it in three different sources.  Incidentally, you will get each of those sources if you click on the three green words.  Each word gives you a different source.  I know: nerd.

wordpress.com

They even use it in the future!

One detail they do know is that huzzah is an interjection and it is archaic for the clearly more modern "hurrah!"  That's in those sources btw.  

riverhillstraveler.com

"Huzzah! Valley Resort."  Punctuation is important.

Nothing really sells an archaic interjection like a t-shirt:

zazzle.com

Unless...

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the t-shirt also has a moustache.

Try it out, gentle reader.  Take this interjection for a test drive.  See how it feels to be so excited about something that it is appropriate to deem it huzzah-worthy.  Then just toss your arms out and give a hearty,

deanguitars.com

Really?  That's your "Huzzah!" face?  Awkward...

Dance Like No One Is Watching

In a few hours I get to do one of my most favorite things ever: belly dance.
I started belly dance about five years ago as part of my master's degree.  Weird right?  Well it was a self-assignment field project that turned out to be so much fun I stayed with it.  Now I can dance with a sword balanced on my head, with fans, with a silk veil, with silk veil fans, Isis wings, or my favorite, zills.  Tonight we get zills(finger cymbals)and my new pair are making their debut.  I'm rather stoked.
When I started, the prospect of dancing in public scared the snot out of me.  I had no intention of ever being one of the Dimitri's dancers.  Dimitri's is the Greek restaurant where we dance.  The owners, Jim and Jodi, are fantastic.  They give us Greek coffee beforehand and they welcome us into their family to the point of asking us to dance at a family wedding.  It's a great relationship; one that I value highly and I hope never to disappoint them.
Anyway, even though I am a performer at heart, dancing in public in the revealing and ever so sparkly outfits terrified me.  Not only did the idea of my bare belly and bust being on display make me incredibly self-conscious, but I never intended for my master's project to turn into a part of my life that I would be devastated to give up.  Belly dance was my way to get back into the arts and it was supposed to get me comfortable in my body again.  Mission accomplished.  What I didn't expect was everything else that it brought.
It's brought me some friendships that I probably never would have built otherwise.  I am awfully introverted and a bit of a homebody, so making new friends is rather challenging.  Now I have this circle of female friends who make me so very happy.  I love watching them develop their skills.  Seeing them each perform is never dull.  Each time we perform they get more and more comfortable and skillful and their beauty inspires me.  They're also just nice people!  It's refreshing to be in an arts group that isn't more interested in one-upping each other or outdoing or being mean to one another.  We are supportive and encouraging and we even travel together in the Shimmy Wagon (a minivan).  We like one another.  It's awesome.
Belly dance has also brought out my confidence.  After the whole autoimmune disorders that plague both my husband and me were diagnosed, I withdrew into myself even further.  Then some groups I was a part of turned ugly and backbiting ran rampant.  It was a very unpleasant time.  I felt depressed, anxious, and trapped in my achy and unattractive body.  Then, I started dancing with this small group of women once a week in the basement of the YWCA.  As I learned drop hips, snake arms, and shimmies, I began to see myself in a way that I never had before:  I was beautiful.
Now I can't imagine my life without dance.  I love the costumes, the people, the moves and I even love my body.  It does some pretty damned amazing things that I never thought possible.
Yalla habibi!

Um yeah, so Thursday was not so good

Do you have those days at work where no matter how hard you try, the work comes home with you?  It sticks to your skin no matter how you scrub.  It weedles into your brain until you can't think about anything else.  The weird work drama simply overwhelms your honest to goodness effort to let it all melt away as you drive home.
Today was that day.
Then I saw something unexpected.  Something that hinted at beauty and sweetness and the upcoming return of more sunlight during our days.
My husband bought me flowers for no other reason than he's awesome and he loves me.  I can go read now and let the rest, well...rest.

Indulge My Geek for a Moment

True Confessions Time:
I've been looking forward to tonight.
It's Wednesday.
I've been getting daily pics and reminders in my news feed.
Tonight, Supernatural resumes.
That's ok--go ahead and laugh.  Mock.  Chastise and rebuff.  I care not.  In two and a half hours I get to forget my worries, cares and woes and immerse myself in this:

 

Credit: Liane Hentscher/The CW -- © 2013 The CW Network. All Rights Reserved ©2013 THE CW NETWORK, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

And this:

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I think he looks better the scruffier he gets.  Angel chic.

I'd like to know what's up with this guy:

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After all, no one is ever really dead on this show.

My husband is laughing at me as I work on this blog.

If I'm really lucky, I might get this:

justjared.com

Go ahead and "grrr."  It's ok.  I won't judge.

Oh, and I want to know more about this chick:

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They have kickass music:

Whoever put this together nailed #1!  The introduction of Death is one of my favorite scenes.

They do have a hot car:

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Never really understood the whole "muscle car" thing, but this Impala is awesome.

All in all folks, I am a geek.  I love geeky shows that have no real basis in the world as we know it. I find story lines that delve into the mythologies and struggles of good vs. evil entertaining and I am totally jones-in' for some Winchester.

1 hour and 45 minutes remaining.

Scarf Week

You know how Discovery runs Shark Week every summer?  Well I declared this week Scarf Week for me.  Scarves are far more fashionable and winter friendly than wrapping a tiger shark around your neck.

(http://whatafy.com/the-tiger-shark-the-danger-of-the-seas.html)

Love the stripes, but can we do something about the teeth?  They don't go with anything.

Anyway, yesterday I wore a black long sleeve comfy t-shirt (my all-time favorite shirt btw) with khakis and my moose print scarf.  Today, black cords and a black shirt with a lovely red/orange embroidered scarf.  Tomorrow shall be something in blue I think.

Why scarves?  Here's a tidbit:  In my master's degree classes I heard that wearing a scarf will do more to keep you warm than a sweater, hat or coat.  I have since concluded from my fierce and scientific study of this factoid that indeed, a scarf is terribly effective at keeping you warm.  Unfortunately, where I work this is not good.  My space is on the third floor of an old building whose heating and ventilation system has not been updated in the decades since it was built.  Consequently, it is sweltering even when it is only 30 degrees or less outside.

Furthermore, check out this graphic from a Google search on images for scarf:

scarves.net

So many ways to entertain yourself with one scarf!  You could wear the same scarf but tie it differently every day!  Versatility is the name of the game.

Another reason for scarves?  Because I can.  I have a variety of scarves with which to entertain myself.  Some are old fashioned, some are new, some are printed, some are solid.  I have a bunch!  I don't know if anyone else will notice this Scarf Week unless they read my blog, but it's amusing to me.  You see--self-amusement is important.  If it isn't entertaining, we tend to avoid it.  Little self assignments like Scarf Week liven up the usual drudgery and put a delightful spin on the week.  Do you have a scarf?  You should wear it tomorrow.  May it bring a smile to your face when you think about Scarf Week.

Sweet Release

I took yesterday off.  Totally off.  No demands, no interference, just OFF!  My own little siesta into me time.  I started a new book and gave into the notion that hand sewing is nothing more than a test of my creative expletive usage.
Today though is a new day.  A new work week even.  Today I am struck by what makes me happy.
Letting go is sometimes what makes me happy.  Releasing whatever is plaguing you or interfering with your ability to go about life as you want to makes a difference.  Part of yesterday's ponderings involved me letting go of something.  It's the last little tether that I know will cause some stirrings somewhere, but here it just brought me calm.
You see, for years my aunt has sent me this little booklet of daily Catholic devotions.  She asked a few years ago if she should still send them to me since I am not attending church.  At the time, God and I were still on speaking terms and the booklets were a way to maintain that link.  However now I read those daily devotions and I feel mostly ambivalence.  I refer to them as "testing my tolerance."  That's not animosity you detect mind you, it's just me realizing that indeed, these meditations are just that--tests of tolerance.  They fulfill no other function in my life.  I read them and some of them irritate me.  Like the one for January 9th talks about the passage from the Bible in Mark 6:50: Take courage, it is I, do not be afraid.  This article talks about a woman who had overwhelming anxiety and the only way through it was "to turn her fears over to God."  Ok--so I am glad that worked for her.  If she was able to live a life as something other than a shut-in because she gave her fears over to something like God, good for her.  Personally, I call bullshit.  I don't feel like her at all and therefore I just got a little annoyed at trying to connect to this passage.  I looked at it as trading one delusion for another.  Her life--whatevs.  Not mine and not for me.  So be it.  Everyone has their therapeutic method.
Some of these little articles though talk about topics that I can relate to.  On January 2 the snippet deals with singing.  Now I love to sing.  It's why I adored church at all.  I loved singing hymns like "Be Not Afraid" or even better--Christmas hymns like "O Come, O Come Emanuel."  LOVE them.  I even joined the Liturgical Choir in college because I could sing!  Now this day's passage states that " beautiful music is itself a prayer" and that when you combine music with praise to God then you get this vision into "the new Earth to come."  Now I truly believe in the power of music and as I've said, music was my favorite part of mass, but I don't feel obligated to "sing praise to the Lord" to get my fix of spirituality or musicality.  I think I can scream along with Queensryche or close my eyes and daydream with the Drum Brothers' CD's.  It doesn't matter to me either way.  What does matter to me is everything else that goes along with the author's assumption with this piece.  He states, "Only singing praise seems adequate" to sum up our relationship to God.  Even the word music means characterized by being of or with the muse.  Muse of course being Greek goddesses of literature, science and arts.  However, I take exception with having to sing praise to God.  I get what the guy is driving at and I get what it feels like to sing at church, but nope.  I can sing along or drum along with other bits of music without subscribing to God.  I admit: I like to listen to music to meditate.  It's usually music that is instrumental or in a language I don't know, but it's more about finding that inner calm than praying to the Great Almighty.  There was a time when this article would have really resonated with me.  Now I can relate, but it's not me or my path.
So I let it go.  I sent word to my aunt to stop sending them.  I suggested that she spend the dollar or two in other ways.  Perhaps drop it in a cup for a panhandler or stuff it in the collection box at a museum.  That to me will give a far greater return on her investment.

Post Cards from Gandolf

Sometimes a little act brings about the most satisfaction.  Today I opted to send out a series of postcards.  Some were thank you's; some were just for the heck of it.

I sent out one to our nephew who lives in Indiana.  He sent me yellow Play-Doh for Christmas.  Is that not the cutest thing ever?  I actually played with it today and that is what got me thinking about post-cards.  I have a small stack of them.  I love to pick up random postcards at odd shops and then send them to unsuspecting people.  I sent this one to our nephew:

What was so funny that all three zebras were getting such a good laugh?  Share the joke zebras, sheesh!

I also find some truly pretty artsy yet odd ones to send around.  

Poor little froggy.  More disturbing though is the egg in front of each goose.  Maybe they are platypus eggs.  Nope--still creepy.

Some are inappropriate, which fills me with mischievous glee when I decide who shall receive this in the mail:

And you thought your "O" face was bad.

I do think that sending actual mail is still important.  It's unexpected anymore.  However to receive a handwritten message from someone, even if it has two lions who are definitely not sleeping tonight, brings a smile to my face.  The fact that someone took the time to write even the briefest of message--which postcards are--shows that the person was thoughtful and kind and perhaps a wee bit wicked.  

People Who Know How to Play

This post is again short because of headache.  Stoopid winter weather system makin' my noggin all restless and angsty!  Gah!
Anyway, as I was trying to distill today's happiness down into something blog-worthy, I came across this:

You know you just want stare at Morgan Freeman and listen to him read anything...even the Sunday coupon circular.

I stumbled upon Ze Frank while watching the TED talks Smart Laughs cycle.  

He's really kinda cute isn't he?  Just wanna spend an afternoon with him and giggle the whole time.

He inspires me to have fun and take life a little less seriously.  Then he invites people to collaborate on projects like this: http://www.zefrank.com/frailty/

His True Facts series really is entertaining though.

I do want to try some of his assignments like Body Karaoke or the Young Me, Now Me photos.  This guy knows how to connect people through humor, through the net, and through creativity.  I absolutely love how he encourages and give license to people to play.  I find it inspiring.Happy Friday!

Dumbasses, snake stowaways and chickens

Do you ever scroll through your news and realize that, "Holy crap!  There's some crazy in this world!"  I know I do.  Today was no exception.  A news anchor apparently accused schools of preaching the socialist agenda by teaching the distributive property of algebra.

When a simple face palm is not enough, go for the through and through face palm to ensure maximum effect.

Then, I saw this headline:

"Actual motherf*cking snake spotted on actual motherf*cking plane."

Ah!  The balance is restored.  Who doesn't love a little inappropriate language and allusion to a terrible movie starring Samuel L. Jackson?

This story made me even happier.  "Arrested Development" will release a new season to Netflix in May as a way to hopefully kick off their movie.  If you've never watched, you need to.  It's absolutely hysterical and no one in that family has ever seen a chicken.  You'll get the joke if you watch it.

Then this popped up: TED playlists the road to peace.  I read an article recently criticizing TED talks as being too fad-tastic and not enough substance.  I however find them fascinating.  I don't know too many people who would watch a TED talk and go--I can do that and achieve fame and fortune in no time.  That's what the article hinted at.  Personally, I think learning as much as I can from TED is good.  I think being informed is good.  I am glad that they have tackled peace as a topic.  I think I know what my viewing holds in the near future, but until then I leave you with this:

I love to laugh *ha ha ha

I positively love to laugh.
I love laughing so hard my sides hurt.
I love laughing so hard that my husband mocks me relentlessly so that I keep laughing even more.
I love laughing so hard that tears come to my eyes and my breath catches in my lungs.

Oddly though, I'm laughing at work lately.  Odd--I know; I said that already.  Pay attention.  Sheesh.  I've spent so much time deliberating and debating and--is there a d word that means beating myself up over the changes that I have absolutely no control over?  HA!  A quick search online for a synonym to "castigate" yielded the word drub!  Huzzah!

Anyhoo--I've noticed an interesting trend lately.  Laughter.  It's so good to hear people with whom I work closely laughing again.  That's not to say that there isn't still some nasty and stressful crapola goin' on, but we're laughing a lot lately.  We get in these meetings and we tease each other.  We rib one another.  We joke and we laugh.  The levity is refreshing.  It's unexpected.  It makes the day and the meetings and the drudgery bearable.  Don't think so?  Check out this clip.  My husband will notice distinct similarities with the earbud fellow I am sure.

Short and to the Point

I'm going to keep this short because I have a headache.
Despite the throbbing at the back of my head that's been building all day, I still have to share some happy.

Last year, I took the year off of saying "Happy Birthday" on people's Facebook walls.  You see, I don't like the traditional "Happy Birthday."  I go out of my way to make the greeting memorable.  After an entire year of writing witty and unique messages to everyone of my friends who allow their birthdays to pop up and remind people of their birthday (and that I happened to catch on the newsfeed), I needed a break.
Consequently, I took the year off.
It was hard.  Even close friends didn't get a greeting.  It was torture sometimes not to make a quick comment about it.
This is a new year.
I'm back in action.  I've already hit a couple of innocent bystanders with these:

Prodigious salutations on a most excellent achievement in annual accrual of time on earth.

BTW, exultant recognition of your genesis.

Blissful salutations on your birthaversary.

This is what I do.
It makes me smile.
Hope it makes them smile, too.

Ode to the Octopus

I believe the octopus is amazing.  Don't think so?  Watch this guy's presentation and then tell me octopuses aren't the rockin'-est creature in the sea.

They use tools--even tools that we've thrown away become useful to an octopus.

No litter?  No matter.

They are masters of disguise.

They aren't all fun and games either.  They can be deadly.

They don't even need the ocean to live.

Watch out though.  They can be little thieves, too.

No wonder Ringo Starr wrote a song about them. (covered by Muppets)

You see, the octopus have so much about them that makes them intriguing in this world.  They have three hearts.  They have three versions of their name to satisfy plural form noun: octopuses, octopi, and octopodes.  They are the most intelligent invertebrate on the planet.  They have arms--not tentacles.  For such an intelligent beast, they have a short life span; usually they only live 2 years in the wild according to National Geographic.  I find them fascinating and inspiring and playful.
I'll leave you with this octopus giving birth to a rubber ducky.

Read little bookworm. Read it. Read it!

I've spent the last four and a half hours reading a new book.
I love Sunday afternoons without demand that allow time for personal endeavors like devouring a new book.  I positively squealed when my husband told me that a new novel by one of our favorite authors was released.  You see, I had ordered books 2 and 3 of this Anne Bishop's series:

Amazon swears I only ordered 3.  Consequently, when 3 arrived last week I was excited.  Until I opened the package and found only book 3.  I had no book to read and time to read a book!  How aggravating is that?
Then today my hopes soared at the news of new Terry Goodkind.  Then, I was dismayed when I could not locate Terry Goodkind's latest novel on the website for Hasting's (we have a gift card with some money still.)  Then I couldn't find it at Amazon either.  I could get it for a Kindle, but not a hardback.  Finally I went to Barnes and Noble looking for a Nook book and there is was in all its glory:

Turns out he released it himself as an ebook.  Hence the no hardback.  Read the manifesto at the start.  It explains everything. I am only 400 pages in, which is just about the 1/3 of the way mark on this tale, but I am loving it!

Anticipating the release of a new book by a favorite author can be extremely taxing for bookworms like myself.  I only recently started reading George R.R.Martin, so I didn't have to languish terribly long waiting for A Dance with Dragons, but those few months were killer!  My other favorite author, Anne Rice, used to routinely release a new novel in October of the year.  I trained myself to check the book release lists at the bookstores.  It got worse when I worked at Hasting's and could check the lists well in advance of the actual release date.  The sensation when a much anticipated release of a phenomenal author finally breaks through to the stores always produces a mighty

Finally, my bookworm can rest and enjoy the tale of the first Mother Confessor.  *sigh  I must get back to reading.  I left at a really good part.

In-House Matinee

Today I did something great.

OK.  I did a lot of “great” things like finding a way to get all of the ornaments off the tree and back into the same number of storage bins, a couple loads of laundry, some dishes, brushing Poofus without losing some flesh…see?  A lot of great things.  The greatest though?  Taking 90 minutes of the day to sit on the sofa and watch Princess Bride from start to finish.  No reason why other than the impulse hit and I kept snickering at all the great quotations that PB fans all say back and forth to one another like:

            “Have fun stormin’ the castle!”

“There’s a shortage of perfect breasts in the world.  It’d be a shame to damage yours.”

“Inconceivable!”

“As you wish.”

I could go on.

            “Anybody want a peanut?”

Sorry. 

Anyway, this film is a classic!  It gave Robin Wright her start before that soap opera “Santa Barbara” and before Sean Penn.

It brought Columbo out for a new generation to take note.

It shows Fred Savage in his pinchable-cheek youth.

It gave us memes to cover our social network walls.

 I have picture of my husband in this costume from a wedding he officiated for a lovely young couple.

It gave us the all time greatest sword fight scene.

I saw an interview about this sequence.  They practiced during breaks and finally showed Rob Reiner the 3 minutes they came up with.  He said, "That's it?" They beat the longest ever filmed sword fight as a result, but as you see here, the final cut was only...3 minutes!

 It gave us romance, revenge, monsters, and miracles. 

It gives us a smile every time we watch it.  Therefore, I simply said to my husband that I wanted to watch it. 

And we did.

And we laughed.  We said lines along with it. We sang “Storybook Love” along karaoke style at the end. 

 Thank you Mark Knopfler.  Who knew that voice matched this image?  Great name Willy DeVille.  

Sometimes a little time out for a classic movie that you adore just completes an afternoon.  It certainly kept my spirits high on this gorgeous, sunny, January Saturday.  I've watched this movie countless times, and I will watch it many more.  I smile every time.

TGIFB

Thank the gods it's Friday beer!
That's right.  Today's post is about that first hoppy slurp of a delicious beer that heralds in the weekend.  Today's beer is Jubeale: a festive winter ale.  How lovely is that?

My brother in law also makes his own beer.  I am positively giddy that he will offer up some of his tasty stash tonight.  It wasn't quite ready for New Year's, but he thought perhaps it'd be good to go this weekend.  Here's crossing fingers and toes.
In college, we were poor as so many students are.  We also spent a lot of free money on alcohol.  Also a common trait of college students who just recently turned 21 are prone to do.  In college, we bought beer by the suitcase.  Keystone became our favorite because it was so stinkin' cheap.  Tasted..well...like bitter water honestly.  We could afford it though, so it became a staple for weekends.

Thankfully, I stopped drinking that *ahem brew because a doctor told me I was probably allergic to it. NOOOOOOOOO!

I of course then joined the Big Sky Hash House Harriers and quickly returned to imbibing beer of a much higher quality.

Please note that my tongue is firmly planted in my cheek.  Miller Lite is a step up from Keystone...if you trip and fall back down again.

If you don't know what the Hash House Harriers are, Google it people.  Think--drinking club with a running problem.  Essentially it was a lot like a fraternity of people who enjoyed beer, running (I walked because nothing is worse than running when it comes to exercise), and violating just about every politically correct behavior known in society.  We drank a lot of beer.  We sang a lot of inappropriate and mostly sexual in connotation songs.  We ate a lot of pizza and BBQ and burgers.  We had a lot of fun.  Great people, great times.  Alas!  Many of them moved on as those of the military must from time to time.  However, I still adore each and every member of that club.  I simply cannot enjoy a beer without smiling about those times.  So many wonderful people and so much beer!

Anyway, I will leave you with our blessing prayer:

Our lager,
Which art in barrels,
Hallowed be thy drink.
Thy will be drunk, (I will be drunk),
At home as it is in the tavern.
Give us this day our foamy head, 
(BSHHH, you know what to do here.)
And forgive us our spillages,
As we forgive those who spill against 
us.
And lead us not to incarceration,
But deliver us from hangovers.
For thine is the beer, the bitter, and 
the lager.



Barmen