STICKY

PERHAPS WE LEARNED SOMETHING.....
…Perhaps we were only mildly entertained. Regardless, please enjoy these Reviews, Responses, Works of Fiction, and Retellings brought to you by one who hopes to someday join the ranks of those who have written something worth reading.
(Kaylia Metcalfe)


Also, don't forget to visit Kaylia's Official Website where you can get information about Kaylia's upcoming events, and learn more about her free lance writing and other publications.

I am the hold up in the line.

Ok I know this isn't a big deal to a lot of you people out there, but it is a big deal to me.

Places need to provide printed menus for customers who can't read the posted-as-far-up-as-we-can-possibly-put-them menus.

Seriously, I go to a new place, I don't know what they serve but hey, I’m willing to try a new thing and then WHAM, no can do! If I can't read your menu how in blazes can I order from you? I don't have ESP!

How hard is it be to have a printed menu on hand so that when I ask (oh so politely) you can give it to me. This shouldn’t be that difficult.

Quizno's, Togos, you are my favorite places... you make it easy for me to order food and give you my money.

KFC: you are on my list. I know you serve chicken. Can I just ask for chicken? Noooo I must specify what type and what sort of meal I want bla bla bla...

What really bugs me is when I ask for a printed menu (the point being that I will then order food, give you money, and thus continue the grand tradition of Purchasing Good and Services) and I am given this big attitude...

–sigh- “Uh whatever, I'll have to look around and see if we have one..."

Then he/she stands there waiting for me to say "Oh no, my bad... wouldn't want you to have to go LOOK for something... never mind... I was just teasing you"

When I don't say this, he/she shuffles off to find one (usually with a sigh, a hair flip, a roll of the eye) and almost always comes back and says "We don't have that"

Then begins the time waste of me making this person read the entire menu to me. Yes I know it is a time waste… I never order salads but will annoyingly ask questions like; "What comes on that salad? And the other one?" I know the cashier is not thrilled, I know that the people behind me in line are upset…. But I do this to make a point. The point? Make a damn printed menu and have it on hand!

Grr Arg

Time for lunch.

Still Falling Into Fall

This morning the clouds were back… I couldn’t see the hills as I walked to work and there was a definite crispness to the air.

But its not really fall yet.

It is going to be in the 80s (again) today and I still haven’t bothered to close my bedroom window or buy warmer sheets for my bed.

Because its not really fall yet.

There might be football on Sundays and there might be pumpkins in the grocery stores just begging you to take them home and mutilate them.

But, again, its not really fall yet.

I know its not fall yet because…. I don’t want it to be fall yet.

And “My reality IS reality”

Well no, okay, fair enough… I suppose calendar speaking it IS fall already.

And the fact that I am even thinking about Halloween costumes, homecoming games, and the eventual need to buy shoes that aren’t open toed… means it is fall.

But I am still not ready.

I am still clinging to the summer with its promise of long days and time enough to think and plan and dream.

I am still entranced with dark green leaves and getting a mild sun burn on my shoulders while watching The Man cook me meat over an open flame.

I am still spending moments in the morning choosing between long and short skirts, wearing light sweaters, and shaving my legs every other day.

Because I am not ready for fall yet.

And really.. its because fall brings winter.

And this winter brings changes.

And these changes frighten me.

Retract?

Perhaps I wasn't fair to Palin when I called her the empty headed wrong choice for the GOP.

She recently did an interview with CBS and I decided to watch (with an open mind no less) and see what she said. I was in great hopes that she would say SOMETHING.

So, here

Hmmm,

Looking forward to the debate.

Indeed

Faces On A Train

Just yesterday I mentioned the variety of random people I meet on the LR… and today the universe decided to give me an example.

This morning I was sitting at my stop waiting the train and checking my email (because thanks to my ifonay, I can do that) and saw an email alerting me to a new myspace message from Paul*

I don’t know a Paul so I was intrigued.

I clicked over to the myspace app (because thanks to my ifonay I can do that) and as I boarded the train I read his message.

Basically “Hi, My name is Paul. I take the same train as you so I recognized you, I have a green bike.” (There was a bit more, but that about sums it up)

Allow me to interject here that I understand the myspace is a networking device like facebook (although way cooler) and I have actually met several people online in some form or another who turned out to be pretty darn swell. Also let me point out that although the number is VASTLY smaller I have met some swell people on the LR as well.

So of course I look around for Paul.

Lo and behold there is a guy with a green bike. I can’t see him very well… wearing jeans, turned the other way, but there it is… green bike and my new buddy Paul.

So I wait until we are almost aat my stop and then I get up and go over there. (I wait because just in case he is rude or has two heads I want to be able to get off the train quickly… ok wait, lets be honest, if he has two heads I will stalk him and take pictures.)

Anyway, I get over to him, phone in hand and smile and say

“Pau?”

And a very confused NotPaul blinks up at me,

“Umm no.”

I gesture at the bike; “Green bike.’

He glances at it, “Well yeah, but still… no.’

Odd, very odd.

“Okay” I shrug and go sit down.

On closer inspection this NotPaul is maaaaaaaaybe 23 at the most. He also looks a bit freaked out by the random (older) woman who just accosted him.

I click over to Paul’s myspace profile: 37 years old.

Ahhh, wrong green bike.

I shoot off a quick response to Paul (because thanks to my ifonay I can do that) indicating that I just became one of “those” people on the train.

Perhaps the Real Paul will make some sort of contact tomorrow.

Stay Tuned!



*Not his real name

Something to think about.....

As many of you know, I take the train to work.

In fact, I take the Light Rail everywhere… grocery store, mall, coffee shop, pharmacy, downtown excitement… even Santa Cruz. Public Transportation is my mode of transportation.

For the most part, this is fine. Granted there are days (many in January) that I yearn for the comfort of a warm dry car…. And there are times when the length of time that it takes me to get from point A to point B is annoying…. But for the most part I am quite happy with the system here in San Jose.

In fact even the –ahem- variety of the folks one meets while riding the rails is, for the most part, more entertaining and good-story fodder than scary or overly unpleasant. (Although there are a few of those stories… but since my mother and my grandmother might read this I will save them each a bit of heart worry and move on….)

In picking a place to randomly go on vacation and maybe even randomly move to (because, why not?) the state of the public transportation is a major concern.

Enter Portland.

This city was supposedly built around the PT system… and besides being one of the greenest cities in the US it is supposed to one of the most “non driver” friendly as well.

Well, cool!

They have the MAX Light Rail, cable cars, busses that run frequently, and even a “free one” where the PT system is free in downtown. Awesome.

They also have people on bikes.

I mean.. a lot of people riding bikes.




Yes, I am single minded and really thought “non driver” equaled “walker/rider of busses” not “deranged bikers who weave in and out of pedestrian traffic with a speed and daredevil attitude that will put gray hairs on a slightly oblivious CA tourist” (me)

Don’t get me wrong, I think the idea of people riding bikes as primary transport is a pretty nifty idea. I think the idea of bike pulled rickshaw like carriage (pedi-cabs) is also pretty cool.

But wowzers these people take their biking to a whole new level.




If I ended up living in Portland … would I become a biking fiend? Doubtful.

See, your lovely Kay here is well known for being highly uncoordinated. I take being decidedly Ungraceful to a whole new level.

A very special level.

Which is why… while passing a sign like the one above I found it highly entertaining when the Man and I had what amounts to the following conversation:

The Man: Lots of bikes in Portland
Me: Yeah, I know. Crazy right?
The Man: Mmmhmm.
(a beat)
The Man: You know, you’ve said you know how to ride a bike…
Me: Well yeah, but staying on target and not randomly visiting the side of the road (face first) gives me a bit of trouble.
(a beat… I can almost hear the wheels in his head turning)
The Man: What if I steered?
Me: Huh? How would that work?
The Man: We could get a tandem bike.

Its amazing I didn’t die from laughter.

Me: Hmmm, interesting thought

And it is… because even though I am Queen Supreme of Falling Off things, Tripping On things, and Overall Landing On My Ass next to/beside/underneath things…. There is a teeny tiny part of me that wants to try it.

Plus, I can always blame him if we crash right?

I'm Back!

I am back from my 4 day vacation in Portland OR.

May I just say, Portland is a great city… and the whole concept of picking a city I have never been to for the purpose of a vacation… is brilliant.

My blog might be a bit Portland/Vacation centered for a bit… but afterall it is MY blog (as I had to point out to someone recently) so there.

Anyway, for now let me assure you I am home, safe, and back full throttle into the stress of daily life.

Label Me This, Label Me That

(Showing you... Me)

Last week I was interviewed by Dr. Jesse Daniels (PhD) for a research project she is doing on feminist bloggers. I had taken a short survey a while ago and had somehow piqued her interest.

(You can read more about her and her research here.)

I hadn’t felt any misgivings about the role of “feminist blogger” until the interview was scheduled. Then… I started to wonder.

Am I blogger? Well, I blog. Sometimes I feel like I blog too much, sometimes not enough. But I do in fact blog. I read other people’s blogs. I comment on them, they comment on mine (or send me emails) and even though I am a bit of a “noob” in the blog world, yes, I do blog. I am a blogger.

Am I a Feminist?

Much more complicated question.

But the answer is yes. I know the word frightens some people, alienates others, and sets the teeth on edge of many of my female relatives. I know there is a concept of what a feminist is, what she or he does… I know that many times that social understanding is overly simplistic or downright wrong.

I know it is a charged label.

The thing is, I don’t use too many labels for myself. I shy away from a religious label, an ethnic label, a sexual orientation label. Heck, I am even registered as a “non-partisan” There are only a few labels that I wear with pride.

Feminist is one of them.

What do I mean when I say I am a feminist? It is two parts.

Part One: I believe that there is a disparity between the genders in our world. There is inequality and it is rampant. I believe that this is not only unfair; this is wrong.

Part two: I am working to change that.

I know many people will ascribe to the first part… after all it seems relatively obvious. Some would say it is so obvious that it doesn’t bear repeating. I disagree which is what leads us into the second part. I think we should repeat it, we should shout it from the rooftops, we should work to change it. And in my own small way, I am trying to do just that.

Put it together I am a feminist who blogs… not always about feminist issues, not always about issues at all.. in fact one could argue that this blog is more shameless self promotion and writing practice than anything else… an argument I would be the first to make and loudest to champion.

I remember the first time I was called a feminist. The term was used as an insult because I had chosen to have a one night stand. To be fair, I was called a slut first and when I argued that I wasn’t exactly promiscuous but rather was simply unapologetic for going after and getting what I wanted sexually… then I was called a Feminist.

This was the one of the first times the dreaded and rumored “double standard” had actually reared its ugly head in my world.

I was appalled that I was being held to a different standard than the guys that I knew and instead of being cowed by being compared to a bunch of “angry men hating liberals” I decided to embrace the idea of feminism and hopefully make a positive impact on my world.

I “became“ a feminist.

But I am so much more.

Who am I?

I am Kay.

I volunteer at the Billy DeFrank Center,
I am a card carrying member of NOW,
I support our troops, I oppose the war,
I will vote for Obama,
I am Pro-Choice,
I have been a victim, I survived
I donate blood whenever I’m not anemic,
I donate to libraries, AIDS research, and women’s shelters,
I have body issues,
I am afraid of the dark.
I am unashamed of my past sexual experiences
I have made mistakes, I have learned
I am a writer.
I sing on the train, in the shower, and whenever I feel like it... mostly off key.
I have three nervous habits that I keep trying to quit
I am allergic to chocolate
I play my music too loud
I try to be a good friend
I believe in second chances
I live in the moment
I am not shy about my affections

Most of all:
I try to be a good example for my little sisters.





Manic Monday

Last week I participated in the blog world of creativity and fun. I read other people’s blogs, other people read mine. I posted photos, wrote random little anecdotes, and generally had the following results:

Rise in Fun Drop in Productivity.

As some of you know, I am currently looking for a new job because mine is slated to end in 46 days. Not that I’m counting.

As some of you know I am trying to figure out what I am going to do career-wise, future-wise, etc-wise when my lease is up in January. (There is something simmering on the stove involving Sacramento and serious amounts of debt, we shall see how it pans out.)

As some of you know, I am trying to actually get published… and that means actually finishing up my short story collection.

As much fun as being “in blog” was last week, I need to concentrate my efforts on these things.

So… I will be around, reading blogs, writing the occasional “catch up on the awesome life of Kay” entries and such… but if my blogging seems a bit more sporadic in the coming months, that is why.

Oh, and Tha Man and I are going to Portland for a four day exciting adventure including Pirates, Books, Walking, and Seeing The Sights. So I am trying to get ready for that as well.

Never a dull moment.

Showing my... Relaxing Place

I am typing this on my laptop while sitting on my bed with the ipod set to “bluegrass” music and turned up moderately loud in order to drown out the 10 year old who is trying to drive me (and all the neighborhood pets) nuts by playing the same 6 notes over and over again on the recorder.

Seriously…

One, Two-Three, Four, Fiiiiiiive, Six!
One, Two-Three, Four, Fiiiiiiive, Six!
(pause)
One, Two-Three, Four, Fiiiiiiive, Six!

And on and on….

Really though, I shouldn’t complain. Before this kid there was the ever present Crying Child who would spend the evenings into the middle of the night weeping and crying and occasionally letting forth a blood curdling yowl just to spice things up.

The recorder is an improvement, but not by much.

Anyway, I am sitting on my bed typing because that is what one gets to do after the purchase of a snazzy laptop. I love this thing… even though it is cursed with the Evil That Is Vista and even if the touchpad isn’t nearly as sensitive as I would like… it is still a mighty fine tool and a pretty fun toy.

But it isn’t my lap top I want to wax poetic about today… its my bed itself.



I love my bed. I mean, really truly, love love LOVE.

Part of why I like my bed is the whole atmosphere that surrounds it…. Epitomized by the painting that hangs above it…. A relatively new addition. I bought it on impulse and am so very glad that I did. I mean… art… pretty… and flowers? What’s not to like?

The bed itself is a vast improvement over the metal cot that preceded it…. Although, to be fair the cot was a step up from sleeping on the floor which I did for a while as well. (Sometimes striking off on your own leads to back trouble.) But those days are behind me now because as of this past spring I saved up and bought myself this wonderful queen sized symbol that I am actually getting this “grown up” thing down. Sort of.

I love my bed.. I love laying on it with my laptop, laying on it to watch movies, laying on it to, well, you know. Sleep. Yes, sleep. I am a big fan of sleep.

So that is where I am and where I plan on staying for at least a few more hours.




Not too sure if I am going to do Friday’s Show Me… this might be my last entry. Just wanted to say a big THANKYOU to the “blogosphere’ that welcomed lil’ ol’ me into the mix…. And a big THANK YOU to Robert for the idea. I had a lot of fun this week!


(post inspired by the Show Me Photo Project over at Thoughts From A Fathe)

Showing my... View

On the (increasingly rare) occasion that I work at my desk…. (usually when I am editing an actual story, paying bills, or pretending to work on my novel) I am blessed with the following view by turning slightly to the right.



Why do I like this view? Because it sums up most of the important aspects of my life.

Want a closer look?


Here we have both the first piece of “art” that I ever bought and a photo of my adorable niece. The statue has moved with me half a dozen times over the years and has survived getting broken in almost all of those moves. I super glue it back together, remind myself that true art is unbreakable, and vow to use more bubble wrap next time. My niece.. well she’s a cutie and also the first in the next generation of Metcalfe’s. The photo you can’t see very well is actually of me age 5 with my parents. Oh, and my college graduation tassle.




Here we have the ‘works in progress” shelf. Ideas, ideas, ideas… and even some sort-of-almost-done ideas as well. Basically, this is the shelf that I am avoiding when I write in my blog instead of, well, actually working. I have a bit of a love hate relationship with this shelf. Moving on.




Ahhh another vase… Have I told you how much I love getting fowers? This one is purple, catches more of the afternoon light and oh yes looks marvelous by white Christmas lights. I love the lights… they set the right mood (when it is desirable to do so) but also give me a faint sense of peace and harmony in my room year round.





Jewelry boxes (or rather boxes where I keep my jewelry. Ironic I know… I have a fair bit of jewelry and some very nice pieces yet I only wear the one necklace. So it goes. Also my Goddess figurine…. A gift from a different life but there is still sentimental attachment and well heck, she makes a good silhouette.



Last but not least…. Candles because one can never have too many and the now almost dead flowers from The Man. Yes the Man has a name, in fact I am pretty sure I have outed him on this blog already, but in true Blog-Fashion I too can name my family and friends with Blog-Friendly Nicknames.



Plus there are a whole slew of “The Man” jokes that I would love to start using.

Actually, The Man is quite nice…. Deluded a bit about my ability to get into grad school perhaps, but nice. See the flowers? Hooray for flowers!

So there you have it… a view of Art, Family, Writing, Passion, Pride, Lights, Pretty Things, Sentimental Things, Candles, and Wonderful Reminders of Wonderful People.

Also known as: Happiness


(post inspired by the Show Me Photo Project over at Thoughts From A Fathe)

Nod and Smile and Avoid the Press

Not to leap on an already full wagon... but someone please tell me how one could watch the Palin Parade of Provincial Politics and not cringe.

I want to see her inability to talk to the press, answer questions or deviate from her (already overplayed) convention speech notes as a personal thing. As a Sarah Palin thing. NOT as a woman thing... not as a.. she is just here for show, to look pretty, to distract us, to make it up to the Hillary supporters, because of her gender....

But I have to wonder... there are some very outspoken dynamic Republican women.

Could it be that McCain picked Palin because she would be easy to control?

Can that be read as anything but patriarchy... of conservative male dominance rearing its ugly head?

God, I hope so.

I won't be voting for McCain... and honestly it wouldn't have mattered who his running mate had turned out to be. But I still wonder.

I would still like to think that she was picked because they honestly thought she would do well at the job, that she would be likable and powerful and able to hold the office.

But its getting harder and harder to think that.


Read for yourself

Showing… Sentimental Object!






(and also part of me)

This necklace is special. It was given to me by my mentor, my guru, my leader, my teacher, my dear and beloved friend. The occasion was that I was graduating from college. I had followed my bliss and gotten my degree in the hot field of English: Emphasis on Creative Writing and Postmodern Deconstructionist Theory. Marketable? Well, no. Fun to say at parties? Kind of. Providing me with the lifelong ability to reel that off and sound (sort of) impressive? Totally.

The little stone is Amethyst… which is said to increase whatever it is next to. This is why even though it is the clasp and some people keep encouraging me to ‘fix” the necklace, I let it stay right there next to the big stone.

The main stone is a Moonstone which is said to stand for “Potential’ and “Protection” depending on how it is used. Her words to me were that I should strive to always protect my potential…. She believed that I had oodles of it and had faith that no matter what direction life took me, as long as I was listening to my heart and following a dream, I would be okay.

I don’t take it off. It stays on during sex, showers, swimming, sleeping…. Eventually people ask me about it and I tell them; this was a gift from a wise woman. I wear it with pride.

(post inspired by the Show Me Photo Project over at Thoughts From A Fathe)

Falling into Fall

Its getting to be fall. I know officially we have almost two weeks left… but the its darker in the mornings, the clouds and fog take longer to burn away…. And this morning while walking to work a leaf fell on my head, fluttered to my shoulder and then dive bombed the pavement.

So of course I picked it up and put it in my purse where it crumbled a bit, broke in half, and lost a bit of its luster.

I stuck it in my hair anyway once I got to work. Because, nothing says “I refuse to be a nameless cog in the corporate machine” like dead leaves on top of your head.



Yes, fall is almost here… and while I don’t follow football…. And am not enrolled in school…. And haven’t celebrated the equinox in an embarrassingly long time…. And I live in the Bay Area of California so really the “weather change” is awfully mild compared to say, Missouri or Florida or even Sacramento….I still get a bit excited about the season change…

Change from sunglasses to scarves
Change from skirts and sandals to pants and boots
Change from salad to soup
Change from regular to flannel sheets
Change from green to red, orange, yellow, brown leaves
Change from barbeques to potlucks

And then there is the anticipation of Halloween…
The “Birthday Season” that for me starts in September and goes nonstop until January…
The dusting off of cookie sheets and loaf pans….


I don’t think I am quite ready for fall… but I will be soon!

Ruby Tuesday aka Pretty Red Vase

For my first Ruby Tuesday, I picked this vase.




Yes, the picture looks like a cartoon… that’s because I secretly live in an animated world. Really.

Actually, this vase was part of floral bouquet I got for my birthday last year (delivered to work no less, adding to the sheer awesomeness). I verrrrry carefully put it on that window ledge high above my stairs. I thought it would be a pretty place… and it is. I see it every time I go up or down the stairs. BUT it is on a pretty high window ledge and I am not sure if I could get it down by myself.

Thankfully I am seeing a rather tall man…. Who would probably get it down for me should I ask.

Must remember to ask.




Ruby Tuesday brought to you by
Work of the Poet.

Showing.... My Door!

(I am just awesome with the witty titles aren’t I?)



Our door is green and generic. It likes to slam shut and threaten to break our keys. There is a knocker that as of yet no one has actually used and a gap where the weather stripping has ceased to be. For the first few nights we lived here, we were serenaded by screaming banshee style winds. They fixed it but there is still a bit of a gap.



I rarely hear it when people knock on the door which is inconvenient since I am usually upstairs in my room and most of our visitors are mine. “KAY!!!!! DOOR!!!!” Jessica yells up the stairs and I come running.



The best part about our door is the three locks… regular, deadbolt, and sliding bolt. This adds a bit of warm fuzzy safe feelings to my overall “lock up” at night routine. Although one morning the sliding bolt decided to test my “get to work on time” resolve by refusing to unslide.



I pulled on it, nothing. I tried again… nothing. I put down my purse, grabed the thing with both hands and pulled… nothing.



My morning routine is very strict. It takes me 7 minutes to get ready…. 10 if I change my mind about what I am wearing. It takes me 12 minutes to walk to the light rail station. I arrive at the station exactly two minutes before the train pulls in. Any random delay in the process can make me miss my train resulting in a frantic phone call to work explaining why I will be 15 minutes late. I really didn’t want to have to tell my boss that I had somehow managed to lock myself IN my apartment.



I tried again, no luck.




Trying not to panic, I contemplated waking Jessica up. But, I love my roommate and want her to keep loving me so I decided to try reverse psychology on the damn thing first. I pushed it all the way back into locking and then sloooooowly pulled it back… and thank the scientific method, it opened!



I managed to trot on down to the LR station in time to breathlessly catch my train in the nick of time.



But I am always a bit wary of the door now… I have seen that it has the potential for mischievous behavior, and I am on guard.







(post inspired by the Show Me Photo Project over at Thoughts From A Fathe)

Showing... My Kitchen

When new people come over to the apartment I tend to give tours. I was told once that this is a very “white middle class” thing to do and while I have no idea if that was true or not, I can’t seem to not want to give tours.

Here is our living room, here is the patio, here is the dinning room, don’t get too close to the book case, it leans. Here is Jessica’s kitchen….

Because while the living room, the dinning room, the patio are all shared spaces and we each have our bathroom and bedroom, the kitchen is pretty much her domain.

See, Jessica cooks. (She also cleans, has a wicked sense of humor, finds me and my many quirks “endearing” even after 9 months, and is downright adorable. Any wonder that I love this gal?)

Anyway, she cooks. I mean really cooks… with like multiple ingredients, chopping, different pans.... real cooking.

I tend to heat via microwave or just skip it altogether and eat wheat thins straight out of the box. Sometimes I add peanut butter.

So, since she cooks, most of the food is her’s, and she actually likes it in there… the kitchen is hers.

She wouldn’t pose for a picture in the kitchen…. So I got sneaky.



And just to prove that I can follow instructions a little bit…. Here is an actual picture of some of the most important things in our kitchen.



Both of us are rather short…. I am just a tad taller thus my step stool is just a tad shorter.
You can mock… but being able to reach the shelves is rather a must.



(post inspired by the Show Me Photo Project over at Thoughts From A Fathe)

Showing..... My Mailbox!


Its not just mine… I share it with my roommate.

It is a random little silver box that looks just like everyone else’s little silver box… but its magical.

From my mailbox I get movies, bills, the occasional letter, junk, coupons… and every so often a spider.

Gross, sure… but sticking your hand in and seeing what it comes out with is always an adventure.



(post inspired by the Show Me Photo Project over at Thoughts From A Fathe)

Pretty Darn Nifty

I don’t know about you, but the fact that Google just turned 10 years old makes me feel old.


It also makes me realize just how different my life is with the internet as an essential/wonderful part of my concept of “normal.”

The thing is… the ‘net just keeps getting cooler.

There is learning! (The Dead Sea Scrolls are available online!)


There is Shopping!


There is entertainment!


There is Snark!

(Actually, there is a LOT of Snark!)

There are blogs.. and one of the best blogs is this one.



And now there is a way to get a glimpse of history.

This has got to be one of the coolest things on the ‘net right now.

Being able to read old newspapers online… I mean… wow!

Could it be that I might be able to find the woman who inspired my name after all these many years?

Stay tuned…….

Flash!

There are some people in this world who have the uncanny ability to always look polished, put together, etc. (Leah, Jackie....) and despite hanging around with them, I will never have thief poise. Nope, I am destined to be the girl with lint on my jacket, printer ink on my sweater, or a random drop of chai coffee on my pants.

Sometimes though, my superior non-poise shines through in a totally awesome way... The type of thing that when recounted to Jessica earns me the sad head shake and "This stuff could only happen to you"

So in a fun trip down memory lane... Lets all remember the day (not that long ago...) when there was the old lady who I nearly killed by the power of my panties.

The other night I rushed home to shower and change in order to rush right back out for dinner. It was a warm day and even after my shower I was feeling a bit of the stress that makes for body heat so I opted for a wrap skirt and tank top. Now, allow me to point out that I am no stranger to the wrap skirt. I have several and wear them on a semi regular basis. I have even managed the wrap skirt skill of going from short version to long and vice versa while walking... A skill similar to the ability of changing tops on a bus or putting on or taking off layers with only one hand while talking on the phone and walking through traffic. Yes, sometimes my supreme ability to multitask is awe inspiring.

Anyway, I decided to wear the skirt short for the walk back to the LR and the trip to the mall where we were meeting. I figured I would transform it onto the long version once I got there.

The best laid plans....

I got to the train in time to wait for the next one and spent a few moments sunning myself in the eternal yet misguided attempt to actually tan my legs. The train arrived, I boarded, happy in the fact that I was likely to arrive early!

When we pulled into the Great Mall station, I stood up and did the patented 'from long to short' tug on my skirt. Except that either I pulled on the wrong bit of fabric or I had tied it incorrectly at home, because what happened is I almost lost the whole thing and in the process totally flashed a little old lady

Total flash.

She had been minding her own business (it was just the two of us in that section of the car) eating carrot sticks from a baggie and had only glanced at me as I had stood up and made the unfortunate adjustment. Now, she was staring... And laughing.

Who could blame her?

I hastily retied my skirt and was just about to get off the train when I realized she wasn't laughing anymore... She was coughing... And turning red... And waving her arms around.

Like I said, we had been alone on the train and even though the Great Mall stop is usually one of the busiest... today there was no one getting on or getting off.

Of course I got back on the train, letting the doors whoosh shut and thumped her on the back, offered her water, and did my best to keep her alive. After all, she had seem my black lace panties... a feat denied many an aspiring date, something usually reserved for more intimate occasions and a certain amount of foreplay... both things lacking on the train on this warm afternoon. Never the less, we had bonded and I did my best to keep her from passing on.

We managed to expel the dangerous bit of carrot and despite the language barrier I am pretty sure she thanked me... either that or she begged me not to touch her lest my slutty ways be passed on.

Not sure why she was so upset, now she has a story to tell her friends.

Regardless, I got off at the next stop, managed to catch a train going the other direction, and still managed to not be horribly late.

I sauntered up to the table and greeted Jayson who told me I looked nice and would never have known about my adventure.... except that I told him.

And now I have told all of you.

There are some people in this world who have the uncanny ability to
be always polished, put together, etc.



Some of us just fake it.

Thank goodness for Yahoo





Oh my god… EVEN Paris?????

I’m sorry… what the heck?

When did Paris Hilton become the paradigm of tech savvy?

Sheesh.

A Conventional Lie

Yes, by now you have about Mrs. Palin. You have read about her family, you have seen the hilarious photos Here and Here.

And in some cases you have even gotten a bit of her politics…

Ahh the game of politics… where lies can be spewed and later fact checked….

A few great examples from the Republican Convention:*

MCCAIN: "She's been governor of our largest state, in charge of 20 percent of America's energy supply ... She's responsible for 20 percent of the nation's energy supply. I'm entertained by the comparison and I hope we can keep making that comparison that running a political campaign is somehow comparable to being the executive of the largest state in America," he said in an interview with ABC News' Charles Gibson.

THE FACTS: McCain's phrasing exaggerates both claims. Palin is governor of a state that ranks second nationally in crude oil production, but she's no more "responsible" for that resource than President Bush was when he was governor of Texas, another oil-producing state. In fact, her primary power is the ability to tax oil, which she did in concert with the Alaska Legislature. And where Alaska is the largest state in America, McCain could as easily have called it the 47th largest state — by population.

Kay: There is a crude joke to be made here about men’s excessive need to exaggerate size and power. Thankfully I am way too classy to make it.



MCCAIN: "She's the commander of the Alaska National Guard. ... She has been in charge, and she has had national security as one of her primary responsibilities," he said on ABC.

THE FACTS: While governors are in charge of their state guard units, that authority ends whenever those units are called to actual military service. When guard units are deployed to Iraq or Afghanistan, for example, they assume those duties under "federal status," which means they report to the Defense Department, not their governors. Alaska's national guard units have a total of about 4,200 personnel, among the smallest of state guard organizations.

Kay: Its actually kind of sad that they had to try to make this random little factoid into something impressive. By the way y’all… I am Commander of the Files and in charge of File Cabinets A, B, and D… I make bossing these files around one of my primary responsibilities.



FORMER ARKANSAS GOV. MIKE HUCKABEE: Palin "got more votes running for mayor of Wasilla, Alaska than Joe Biden got running for president of the United States."

THE FACTS: A whopper. Palin got 616 votes in the 1996 mayor's election, and got 909 in her 1999 re-election race, for a total of 1,525. Biden dropped out of the race after the Iowa caucuses, but he still got 76,165 votes in 23 states and the District of Columbia where he was on the ballot during the 2008 presidential primaries.

Kay: ooo out and out LIE. Not a shock really but still… did Mike think no one would bother to look it up? (Could it be someone is still bitter about not winning his own nomination?)



FORMER MASSACHUSETTS GOV. MITT ROMNEY: "We need change, all right — change from a liberal Washington to a conservative Washington! We have a prescription for every American who wants change in Washington — throw out the big-government liberals, and elect John McCain and Sarah Palin."

THE FACTS: A Back-to-the-Future moment. George W. Bush, a conservative Republican, has been president for nearly eight years. And until last year, Republicans controlled Congress. Only since January 2007 have Democrats have been in charge of the House and Senate.

Kay: A “liberal” Washington? Is he on crack? Or maybe he was referring to Washington state…



All in all, yes politians lie… they all lie… and one could probably have found examples of lies from the Democratic Convention as well (in fact, I am sure people have) This doesn’t surprise me… or sadly even outrage me anymore.

Its what they chose to lie about that makes me pause a moment.



*“THE FACTS” courtesy of JIM KUHNHENN, Associated Press Writer
** Article

Lunch; Time for Words

I finished reading Therapy by David Lodge and have to continue to gush about him. Still one of my favorite authors out there.

The problem is, I finished the book on my way to work… meaning I don’t have anything to read over lunch when I simply must flee the manacles of my spreadsheet life and seek the haven of the lawn.

Sitting out here on the lawn sans book is ok… I guess… I could be using my iphone to surf the web, I could lie back half assedly counting sheep in a happy almost sleepy doze.

But I want to be reading… I want to fall headfirst into another universe and be swallowed whole. Not having a book is annoying! I even looked over in the “Recycle Books” table in the cafĂ© to see what there was . I have never had much luck there before… the table simply groans with cheap romance novels and “modern cult classics” like Jurassic Park (gag). Today was no exception.

It’s a happy 80 degrees out here. There is even a nice bit of wind. Never mind the book… I can be an optimist, find the joy in my liquid lunch of strawberry milkshake and my notebook and maybe try writing something… maybe I can create the fantasy world…. There’s a thought… In my imaginary world there are no such things as calories or food allergies. Excellent! What else should my world have? Maybe a 4 day work week or a required paid holiday every quarter … or a Karma godfairy type who will grant wishes to the overworked auditor… I think I would like to turn CLIENT XYZ into a toad stool and then feed him to CLIENT ABC….

Oh look, lunch time is over.


(Wordzzle words brought to you by Raven.)

Hidden Talents

When I was twelve, my mother gave up trying to make me graceful.

There had been years of ballet, jazz, ballroom, tap,…. There had been countless hours of tumbling, gymnastics, and “movement” classes…. But it was after I had (accidentally!) elbowed another little girl hard enough to send her to the hospital and the teacher into near hysterics during an ill fated “DANCE!” workshop “tailor made for the uncoordinated”… that my mother threw up her hands and surrendered herself to having a klutzy daughter.

But I still needed a skill. Everyone in the family had some sort of special skill. With a determined air my mother sat me down and together we looked over the list of possibilities.

Dance then was out.

I already tried and failed at music; both learning to play the piano and having the discipline for a trained voice had eluded me years before and my mother had been forced to accept that I would never be the classically trained opera singer of her fantasies. I too was disappointed in my inability to carry a tune having wanted desperately to be able to charm birds and squirrels into doing my bidding (stealing from the neighbors).

Organized sports were not an option (again with the lack of coordination but also due to limited vision and honestly a sever apathy on my part to be part of any sort of team. Even at a young age I had a distinct hatred for uniforms).

I had been rejected from the Brownies for asking too many inappropriate questions and refusing to walk in a straight line. I also had pretended to be a secret spy from another troop sent to find out all their secrets; a game I had found insanely fun but the other girls had found weird and for some reason invasive.

And so lacking any other ideas, my mother enrolled me in art class.

Like all our new ventures, I was excited at first and then bitterly disappointed. The other kids were like me, toothy grinned and ready to find our inner hidden talent. On the first day of class I was mesmerized by the potter’s wheel. I had visions of myself creating the biggest most beautiful vase ever! It would be green… and gold… and would have images of dancing fairies on it! Instead it turned into a shuddering mess, the handle almost broke my hand and there was enough clay in my hair and ears to keep my mother busy most of the night.

The next day they moved me to sketching but that didn’t really work out all that well either. Bored with the lack of color and frustrated at not being able to see as well as the other kids, I spent most of my time listing possible names of the imaginary friend I was planning on creating after lunch.

Frustrated, the teacher moved me into painting. I found the oil paints intimidating but and was awestruck by the way they looked on the canvases. Stating off with water colors was fun but all my paintings seemed to look remarkably similar… large floating blobs of color.

Impressionist art? My mother asked the teacher. But was told politely no… her daughter lacked an artist’s skill. Dejected, we went home.

My mother sat in her rocking chair with my baby sister on her lap, swollen ankles on the footstool and regarded me closely. There must be something that her daughter ould do besides get into trouble and drive her nuts. Her mind continued to whirl… Photography? No, too many possibilities for embarrassment and broken equipment. Drama? No, life was dramatic enough. Wood working? Gardening? Space Camp? …. Then suddenly she had an idea.

“Kiddo?”

I was laying on the floor listing possible scenarios of how to get my imaginary friend to turn into a leprechaun because an imaginary leprechaun friend seemed much more interesting than just another little girl or boy. I had decided to write it like a story book. I looked up at her, expectant.

“Kiddo, what do you like to do?”

I shrugged and went back to my paper. “Once upon a time," it read, “there was a little girl who wanted more than anything to be a fairy….”


The above is a writing exercise from Raven. To read more about Raven and her Wordzzle Challenge, visit her site.


Thanks for reading