adventures of a recovering iowan

smart recycling... (or, how to reduce your carbon footprint if you drink bottled beer)

2010-03-13T20:02:00Z

Yes, those are upside-down beer bottles on the left. OK, before you exclaim in horror, "OMG! This is the tackiest thing I've ever seen!", please hear me out... I'm trying to do a good thing for all of you by making garden terracing and edge fencing out of beer bottles. Yes, I'm introducing a new concept I'm calling "eco-tacky"... it may be tacky, but it's better for the environment overall.

My brother, the environmental scientist and I had a long conversation in Florida about recycling, et. al. Bro is quite well versed in this area and informed me that a vast majority of glass bottles put in recycling bins actually are NOT recycled, but end up in landfills anyway. You see, recycling glass is apparently quite cost prohibitive, as it's much cheaper to just dig up some sand and make new glass. Fortunately the glass is not toxic to the environment, BUT the additional fossil fuels required to haul the heavy glass around adds tremendously to the taxpayer's burden, CO2 emissions, environmental stress and really does nobody any good except the big oil companies.

Wow. I realized that I am single-handedly burdening my fellow citizens & enabling corporate greed by not only my own consumption of bottled beer, but the bottles that accumulate at my parties (some of which are just friends coming over to hang out & drink beer...). All this time I had thought I was being a good green citizen by dutifully loading up my recycling bin and lugging it out to the curb every 2 weeks. Alas, I guess I wasn't. No wonder the recycling guy would often curse as he dumped my oversized bottle load into the truck (especially after a couple/few parties).

So I decided to make "useful" things with my beer bottles. I needed some garden edging anyway, so thought "why not beer bottles?" God knows I have enough materials! So I just started doing it. Granted, it's a work in progress (like most things I do, it seems). The plan is to create terracing on the little hill where Shedra resides (also called "Mount Mojo", as he loves to perch on top of the hill and oversee his little doggie domain... he's so friggin' cute!!) When it's finished, the sides of the bottles will no longer be as visible. For now, however, I'm finding it quite visually entertaining, as I do love many of the label designs.

AND as an added benefit, I'm thinking my beer bottle fences/terraces will help to keep the slugs busy, therefore keeping them away from my plants this year! Since slugs are known to enjoy beer, I'm hoping that the residual beer drippings will lure them to the bottles where I will strategically sprinkle "Slug-be-Gone" (or whatever it's called). Hey, it sounds good in theory!

So yeah - I know it's tacky and I'm ok with that. Now that I'm almost officially old (50 in a few weeks), I feel I have earned the right to celebrate my tackiness in the open, and hope it will be viewed as "eccentric" rather than tacky one day... whatever - it is what it is, and at least it is better for the environment than putting bottles onto a recycling truck.

beer bottle garden edging around my tiny hosta garden

10 days in Florida that turned into 21...

2010-03-05T03:59:00Z

What a trip this has been! I'm sitting here in my friends' home in Ft. Lauderdale, just replaying the last 3 weeks over in my head. I was lucky enough to see all of my Florida family and a lot of old friends. The first week was the first "break" I've taken in quite awhile, as it was Chinese New Year (ie: all the factories & printers I deal with were shut down for that period) and my biggest client was away at a trade show... so I was actually able to breath a bit for a few days. It was wonderful.

I went to Miami Seaquarium for the first time, in the company of 17 little special needs kids that my amazing sister-in-law was wrangling and herding like the true pro she is. Seaquarium was wonderful in a weird, old-Florida way. Fortunately our visit was a few days before the awful incident at Sea World in Orlando, so there was no awkward strangeness or morbid anticipation as we watched Lolita, the local Orca do her flips and tricks and leaps as she frolicked with her trainers. Of course I took my camera, as part of my mission was to document this field trip for Diane and her students... I took 839 photos in the 4 hours we were there. Yeah, I know... but if I do say so, myself, some of them came out quite well and I felt most pleased and lucky for the amazing photo opps.

There were parties and bonfires and clambakes and fresh fish off the boats and lunch on Espanola Way and even a citizenship ceremony... yes, my long time dear friend, English Cathy finally became a citizen last Friday. So we can no longer call her English Cathy, I guess. Today she told me of an incident in a crowded parking lot in which she scolded a woman for stealing her parking space. Yep, I told Cath she is a real American now, by golly! Ha!

After that first lovely week, workie madness took over again and I was basically tethered to my computer for the duration. Fortunately, this being South Florida and all, I was able to take my mini office outside some days and work among the tropical flora and fauna with actual warm sun all around me... ahhhhhh! (note: it was "cold" by SoFla standards most of the time, but there were a few mid-70's days in there... and the mid-60's days felt simply heavenly to me!)

Tomorrow I begin my journey back to my mountain home, where it may be cold and all, but it's home and I love it.

I know I've said it before, but I am very lucky. Lucky to live in such a wonderful place as Asheville, and lucky to be able to visit my Florida peeps periodically... best of both worlds, actually.

Thanks for all the good times, Fla peeps! I'll be back...

Are ya havin' a crappy day? Here's a quick 3-minute fix!

2010-02-12T01:17:00Z

OK, unless you're a Vulcan or Dexter or some other creature with no capacity for emotion or "feelings", I guaran-ass-tee this little 3 minute clip will make you feel better... even if it's just for 3 minutes. But hey - on an otherwise crappy day, a 3-minute crappy-free break is better than nothing, right?

Fred Astaire once called this performance "the greatest dance number ever filmed." As far as I know, it is, ESPECIALLY because it's 100% real! No special effects! No tricks! These guys are abso-frickin-lutely A-M-A-Z-I-N-G!!! They have bionic rubber legs!! I would SO be in the hospital if I tried this - even in younger, fitter days! (and I won't even go into the theorizing one could do about their balls... are they kevlar or nonexistant? Details at 11...)

So sit back, hit Play and take a 3-minute break from the otherwise crappy day you might be having - especially if you live in one of these Arctic-esque places that are continually getting pounded with CRAPPY winter weather!!

(Note: the scattin' guy at the beginning is Cab Calloway, of course. And the video is mislabeled "Stormy Weather"... the number is actually "Jumpin' Jive")

time to flee...

2010-02-05T00:16:00Z

OK, I've had it... I give up... I surrender! I have tried very hard to be the brave little soldier and buck up and hunker down and all that against this unbelievably cruel winter with blizzards & sleet & snow... oh my! But I guess I'm just a wimp after all... I can't take this Iowa-esque climate anymore! I left Iowa for that reason in the first place!!

Yes, I'm afraid it's time to flee to Florida for a little warm-up session. - like an Iguana crawling toward a hot rock - once the latest spate of Arctic hell abates for a couple of days (which should be next week some time... tho it seems it will snow & sleet & be SO fricking cold forever!).

In a weird way, the upcoming Florida trip will probably save me money. I just got my electric bill for last month... $344 for this little 800 sq. ft. house!!! Holy shit on a frozen shingle!!! (And no, I don't have a room full of electric chairs and industrial grain dryers and Large Hadron Colliders...) The worst bill I've ever had before was the previous month's $235... before that, the worst ever was about $180. Jesus H Christ.

So, yeah - I'm outta here soon. I'm already having visions of beaches and SUN and going barefoot and the occasional need for air conditioning... ahhhhhhhhhh.... I'll be able to feel my toes again!!!

No, I'm certainly not regretting my decision to live in Asheville - not at all. I love this little ville more than any other, but as in most great love affairs, I just need a little space right now... space that doesn't require space heaters... space that is drenched in sun-baked subtropical warmth... aaaahhhhhhhh!

Besides, the Tiki Bar needs some roof repair.

outsourcing... and reverse outsourcing?

2010-01-11T21:55:00Z

Oh, the ONION, you are so clever sometimes!... seriously, tho, I wouldn't be surprised if some people are actually doing this...

On a semi-related note, I recently acquired my first client in Asia (Taiwan, to be exact), which kind of qualifies as reverse-outsourcing, don't you think? Oh, the ironies abound here, believe me. I've been communicating and dealing with Chinese, Taiwanese and Hong Kong factory printers for about 15 years because that's where most all the packaging for most everything you buy is printed now. As the US printing industry started to lose business, the graphic design industry also began to suffer the effects of the modern "ever-lower cost" mentality... in other words, most of us have been forced to lower our rates rather substantially over the last decade, especially small design entities like mine. I have long dubbed this the "Walmart* Effect" or the "Chinafication of America"... in other words, apparently the goal is to get us all working for about the same wages as the millions of grossly underpaid Asian workers.

The other irony here is that my new Asian client is (so far) not the same kind of penny-pincher as most of my American clients. They are actually a pleasure to work with all around... maybe because they know what it's like to be constantly beaten down in price while the expectations of service continually increase to near-ridiculous proportions... yes, strangely, the Asians and I are kindred spirits, I think.

Funny world.

* Just so you know, Walmart is 100% evil... don't even get me started...

more on the New Ice Age... Condition 1 Weather

2010-01-11T21:25:00Z

OK, OK - I know it's not THAT cold here... but this video clip illustrates how cold it has "seemed" to me recently... it's all relative, you know...

This "Condition 1" thing reminds me a lot of Northwest Iowa, tho I will concede that Antarctica is a tad worse...

Welcome to the Ice Age... some survival tips for Arctic living

2010-01-10T17:30:00Z

my back yard after the recent big blizzard...

So, did someone forget to tell us that the New Ice Age has already begun??? That's SO not fair! I was hoping to get some of the warmer effects of global warming first!

Yes, I know - I grew up in Northwest Iowa where EVERY winter was a mini Ice Age... but I left! When I made my first move south in 1983, I vowed to never again live in any area that got colder than 40° as an "average". Before moving to Asheville in 2006, I researched the hell out of the local statistics, especially the weather & average year-round temperatures. That research showed average winter temps in the mid 40°s-ish for only a couple months, which was just barely acceptable after 20 years in sub-tropical South Florida. My first three winters here were true to the stats - even a bit warmer at times. It was looking good & I was acclimating pretty well.

But this recent/current Arctic Blast??!! What the hell??? I realize now that I truly DO hate the cold intensely, and that it wasn't just a long-ago memory that may have become exaggerated over time. No, cold is not good. It makes me sad & sometimes cranky. It also prevents me from doing simple life tasks like showering (my bathroom is in the 40°s & low 50°s these days... no heat in there... WAY too cold for a proper shower!) So I crank up yet another little space heater & do "European spit baths" instead, and quickly. Just removing a layer of clothing is a shock to my system, so I've devised a little routine wherein I put the fresh layers over my little radiator-style heater while removing the other layers... that way I only have to endure a few seconds of frozen hell until the toasty warm layers go on.

Even just taking out the trash or getting the mail (both tasks are less than 30 feet from my front door) requires major bundling before opening the door. These 30 foot trips are enough to make my face hurt. As for fingers & toes... well they're perpetually numb these days anyway.

I haven't worn less than 4 layers of clothing for weeks now (3 sweatshirts & a long underwear shirt plus fleece pants & long johns plus at least 3 pairs of warm socks and slippers.) My old 1925 house is - well, leaky I guess, so the heaters just don't quite cut it when it's this frickin' cold. Luckily my friend, Dillon loaned me a propane heater to supplement, and even tho it looks like a contraption from the movie, "Brazil", it is saving Mojo's & my butts from turning to pure ice right now.

During this recent experience, I have reacquainted with my inner-survivor... not that I'm exactly happy about that, mind you. But I have employed some little Arctic survival methods that (knock on wood) are still keeping Mojo & me on the right side of the frozen dirt... so far. For those of you who also hate the cold and are NOT accustomed to sub-zero temps on a continual basis, AND who live in old houses with sub-par heating and insulation, here are my little tips:

Tip #1: Never venture more than 12" away from your contained-oil space heater. If you can strap yourself to it, even better.

Tip #2: Cook & bake a LOT... then eat it. The oven & stove are wonderful heaters for the kitchen area, at least. And all the extra food you've cooked will plump you up nicely, adding a much-needed layer of personal insulation to help ward off the shivers.

Tip #3: Layer. Layer. Layer... then add another layer of clothing. If you don't appear to be at least 50 lbs. heavier than you really are, you're not layering enough.

Tip #4: Don't leave your house. However, if you absolutely must, then be sure to bundle up in your most aggressive winter gear at least 20 minutes before actually going outside. The extra body heat you accumulate will help get you from the door to the car without crying.

Tip #4A: When forced to leave the house by car, start the car & crank up the heater at least 30 minutes before getting in. If there is ice on the windshield, most of it will melt and slide off by the time you're ready to drive. This is really good, because few things in life suck more than scraping ice off a windshield when you're already half frozen.

Tip 5: Flee as far south as you possibly can... somewhere around the Equator would be good.

Since a trip to Ecuador is not really feasible for me right now, I think it might be time for another little road trip to South Florida... it would just be nice to be able to feel my toes again... AND to have a nice, comfortable shower whenever I want!

the bizarre, yet effective propane heater

Frankencooking

2009-09-30T02:23:00Z

Recently I've been doing some of my rather crazy food experiments that I call "Frankencooking". I don't really know why this happens... maybe just because I have a procrastination problem with my still-insane workload, or maybe because I don't like following recipes to the letter... or maybe just because I'm crazy and enjoy spending way too much time on bizarre concoctions that are sometimes surprisingly fabulous and sometimes ultimately disastrous, but always great "escape" in the process.

Usually Frankencooking starts with one ingredient that happens upon me for one reason or another. The most recent madness was kicked off by a large Pattypan squash that Fliss gave me from her prolific Pattypan crop this year. The same event had also brought another dozen fresh eggs from Kyle & Jen's backyard coop. So I started wondering, "what can I do with this very bland squash and those wonderful eggs... and some of the other random stuff I have in the fridge & pantry?".

Well, all I can tell you is that the adventure began with what seemed like "practical" thinking - using ingredients I like that I already have, and trying to create a somewhat souffle-like creature that would also feature garlic & home-grown banana peppers & shrimp & bits of ham & sour cream & Havarti cheese. Sounded pretty interesting in theory. But then I decided to process up the whole garlic bulb with the banana peppers (which made quite a lot). The original intent was to set aside most of that garlic/pepper blend for other uses. But somewhere between loading the kitchen counter with various ingredients and listening to some get-down Reggae and daydreaming, I forgot that garlic/pepper plan and scooped the entire wad into the already rather strange mush I was creating.

I processed and tweaked and processed some more - totally winging it - no recipes. When I was finished mashing all this stuff together, I added the chopped shrimp & ham pieces, some homemade basil pesto and I'm not really sure what else. I decided to bake these in small-ish baking dishes (a single person thing), assuming that after about 10-15 minutes, I would peek into the oven and find them exuberantly rising and bursting forth like happy souffle-like creatures. But alas... there was no rising or puffing or exuberance of any kind that I could see. So I let them go a bit longer before peeking again. Still no exuberance - no fluffing - just awkward-looking goo in baking dishes that, if they could talk, would ask "why?".

Finally I had to acknowledge that these were not souffle-like at all, but rather hopefully a bread pudding-like texture? After about 40 minutes in the 375° oven, I pulled the little strangelings out and set them on the counter to cool. About 15 minutes later, I decided to have a taste and test the texture. The texture was mush. The taste was certainly flavorful... full of GARLIC!!! Jeez! No vampire could ever survive that - even just my breath could wipe out a whole cave full!

I was somewhat bummed and annoyed at the tremendous waste of time and ingredients that had gone into producing this inedible mush. However, I was still not daunted! I decided that I would throw the cooled mush mass into my groovy little food processor and make a garlic paste of sorts, to be added sparingly to fabulous dishes that require a respectable garlic hit. So I processed again... and it actually worked. I now have a rather amazing batch of a garlic paste that is truly tasty and interesting... complex and robust... garlicey and playful.

Of course I haven't actually tried adding my new mega-garlicey paste to anything yet, but I printed about 10 recipes from the internets tonight that seem to have potential. No, I won't follow any of these recipes exactly because none of them call for "super-garlicey goo-paste made from al the stuff you happened to have in your fridge that night".

So, I'll wing it again. If I'm lucky, I will create a likable food monster that won't wreak havoc on the village.

HUGE snake on my kitchen floor!!!!!!

2009-09-11T01:29:00Z

(the HUGE snake on my kitchen floor... the floor tiles are 16" square... I just measured them)

YES! There was a GIGANTIC snake on my kitchen floor this afternoon!!! OMG times a million!!!

OK, it was probably between 3 & 4 ft. long... but OMG!!! When a 3-4 foot snake is hanging out in your eencie-weencie galley-style kitchen, it's motherf•ckin' HUGE!!! Especially when you're just auto-pilot-cell-orbit-wandering into the kitchen at 3:30 in the afternoon, on a highly important phone call with a client in which we were solving some potentially huge problems with projects and Chinese printers and the latest "super urgent" needs with deadlines that defy physics and/or linear time, et. al... just as we had resolved the issue of the "this too urgent at once" email (verbatim Chinese subject line) regarding Stretch Cord packaging (ie: box vs. hang card), I caught a glimpse of a shadow or something moving below me... I looked down... and there... 12" from my bare feet, lined neatly along the kitchen cabinet base on the floor... was the snake. I shrieked over the phone, which must have sounded pretty bizarre to my client, as I started yelling like a 13 year old, "OH MY GOD!!! THERE'S A SNAKE IN MY KITCHEN!!! AND IT'S RIGHT THERE!!! ON THE FLOOR!!!! BY THE SINK!!!! OH MY GAAAAAAAAADDDDDDDD!!!!!!"

My client just laughed (we've worked together since 1994) and said, "Sounds like you need to go - so do I". (yes, he had been trying to escape my interrogation-style phone call for several minutes - I think he was most relieved that Mr. Snake decided to lounge on my galley floor at that moment...)

So I ended the call and stood there for a second, thinking "ok, what do I do?" Immediately I sprang into crisis management mode and ran for my camera. On the way back to the snake, I realized that I should probably put on some shoes... and get something long to coax the slithery intruder back outside with. So I grabbed my ugly, yet rubber crocs for my bare feet and my 31-year-old stolen fencing sword (compliments of the University of Iowa Phys Ed Dept in 1978)

With the fencing sword in one hand, I proceeded to shoot some... well, rather blurry and not well composed shots of the snake on my kitchen floor, just to document this unprecedented event that got my adrenaline pumping again. After the first shot flashed, Mr. Snake got camera shy ad started heading into my pantry... a perfect hiding place for a snake, as there's tons of "stuff" in there offering multitudes of hideouts. So I instinctively squatted into the classic fencing "alle" position, pointed my plastic-tipped sword at my serpentine trespasser, and began gently pushing him toward the back door. At one point, Mr. Snake decided that he did NOT want to go that way and got all snaky and slithery and weird... so I smacked the tip of the foil onto the tile floor just in front of Snake. Interestingly, he seemed to respect that. He did not want to be whacked like that (tho I wouldn't have whacked him, unless I felt truly threatened with snakebite action). I continued my hard tapping combined with gentle herding nudges on Mr. Snake. Eventually he slithered back under the back door (with a now-realized HUGE gap between door and floor) and onto the back porch.

Once out of the house, Snake made a bee-line for the area between my big cooler and the wall. By this point, Mojo caught on that there was something interesting happening so immediately volunteered to help. Yeah, no. I put Mini-Mo in the house (much to his chagrin) and proceeded with my photo documentation and fencing foil nudging to see that Mr. Snake found his way back into the wilds of West Asheville, but not before a couple more pics.

Funny, I was just recently thinking, "things have been kind of boring lately... no good adrenaline rushes...".

"Careful what you think."

my strange little insane world of graphic design

2009-09-10T00:59:00Z

Yep, I'm back in to "the mode" full bore... the comparatively insane world of graphic design has once again ingested me. I am even dreaming about design projects - troubleshooting website issues... solving design problems... none of these dreams involving sex or intrigue or playful mischief, et. al... I miss my old dreams. I'm also becoming increasingly boring to my friends, sometimes blathering on about the ridiculous deadlines or the Chinese printers or the various design project challenges... only to eventually notice that the poor things are looking at me rather quizzically, wondering what the hell I'm on about.

And no, I'm not complaining... not exactly. I'm thrilled to have all this work and feeling very very lucky, considering the still-scary state of the economy, etc.

I guess one of my complaints of late has been that I've "lost my muse" - I just haven't been feeling too creative. OK, some of this could be attributed to the fact that I've been designing (or rather "executing") some pretty boring crap, like instructions for a doorway pullup bar, a workout poster for a yoga ball, silhouetting photos of boat shoes and air beds and various other products that fall under my special category of "SSTNON" (Stupid Shit That No One Needs).

One of my other complaints lately has been that ALL my projects (save one) have been EXTREME HOT RUSHES... meaning "I need this last week!!!" The funny kicker is that these people all want the Mona Lisa in 5 minutes for $1.98. Yeah... whatever (says the design whore as she gulps on her last drop of dignity... ha!)

But tonight - on this auspicious day of 09/09/09 - I had a minor creative flash again. Don't get excited - it wasn't that great, but it made me happy with a design for a change.

The task was this: Do a "really quick" (meaning I guess I should just press a special button on my keyboard...) design for packaging for seriously cheap Chinese outdoor game items, like batminton sets and paddle ball sets and the like. My client called at 7:45 pm from his hotel "on the road" - he needs this for a meeting with a buyer in the morning, of course. Yeah... whatever.

So I did a quickie down & dirty design & mocked up the package photos... they were ok for the product & market (just barely), but I felt empty after firing off the emails with these proofs attached. I stepped out on to my little back porch oasis - had a smoke - cracked a Shock Top and started my process of daydreaming about the packages I had just designed... then it hit me. Earlier I had found a really cool vintage photo of 2 very serious looking turn-of-the-century (20th) men holding rackets and looking - well, very serious. I loved the irony of this - the product line is called "Pure Play" and the logo and type I've spec'd for this packaging are all very kid-like and totally not serious.

So check out the new packaging that actually made me smile below:

Now - here's the funny kicker with this project. I'll lay big odds that the client goes with the previous "ho hum" design (see below). My client is relatively cool and has fairly good taste in some areas, but he is totally cowed by the buyers, as are all manufacturers who want to actually sell their products. So I understand that part.

What I don't understand is the buyers sometimes. The reality for items such as the "Boom Boom Paddle Set" and the "Bashminton Set" are that the consumers making the buying decisions in stores for these things are NOT 3 year olds. Trust me - I had one (yes, 20 years ago...) and I know that the ONLY time a little kid drives a buying decision is when Barney or Elmo or whatever kiddie "flavor of the month" character is on the package... OR if the product has been so heavily pimped on TV that the package is instantly recognizable to the little consumer-tots.

No - these buying decisions are made by adults - pure and simple. They buy this crap because it's seriously cheap and looks like it could be "fun" for the kids - even if it's only for the few minutes it lasts before breaking. So my thinking is this - appeal to the ADULTS here, while keeping the theme "fun". My other thought is that this is totally the kind of item that an adult might buy as a gag gift for another adult - this is where the packaging is a serious help. I, myself am a long time sucker for that kind of thing - cool or at least interesting packaging on a dreadfully cheap and stupid product. I'm in!

OK - maybe my packaging suckerdom is because I'm a designer of the evil packaging... stuff that chokes our landfills, fells our trees, depletes our environment of good things, bla bla bla. Hey, somebody's got to do it. (and yes - I do have some limits: I won't design anything for any "violent" or otherwise hurtful industries and I won't knowingly put statements on a piece that are false, et. al.) I do also always try to encourage clients to print on recycled materials and use eco-friendly inks. Yeah, I try. Sometimes it works, so I guess that's sort of good.

So - yeah, I'll be curious to get the feedback on these designs. Again, I would almost bet the farm (if I had one) that they'll go with "boring" instead of "quirky", based on my 20+ years' experience with such things. Whatever. At least I'll get paid either way. (what a whore!)

"boring" design below... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

time vampires

2009-09-04T02:42:00Z

I'm just checking in for a second to let y'all know (my giant pool of fans - ha!) that I haven't died or gone completely off the deep end... yet.

Yes, dear friends, it seems I'm on another Go-Go-90's style workathon of late... mostly. The big differences of the modern-day workathon vs. 90's workathon are A: I'm getting more than 3-4 hrs. of sleep per night, and B: I'm making about 1/5 the money I made for the same work in the Go-Go-90's. Hmmmm... what's wrong with this picture?

I could blather on at length about all my recent brilliant observations re: "time". I love the term, "time vampire", as it just fits my world and my perception of the seemingly worsening depletion of "time"... sucked away like red blood in the night. Oh, time... my evil nemesis... my old foe that has returned to do battle with me once again.

I could name a million things that qualify as "time vampires" - blogging being one of them in my case. As I've dissected this issue in my totally overworked head during my periodic back porch breaks, I've come to a recent flash of brilliance on this... time, itself, is a vampire... so therefore a self-feeding/self-sustaining vampire. I believe that time sucks itself away, becoming ever-hungrier for more... therefore, each day seems to shrink by an hour or two... days morph into weeks, which morph into months, which morph into years... then all of the sudden, you wake up and it's 5 years later and you go, "what day is it? And... what year is it?" "This is not my beautiful house!"

I know this all sounds a bit - well, goofy and/or disjointed and/or rambling... because it is. But I know you all know what I'm talking about - at least to some degree - and assuming you're not in the 5th grade waiting for the friggin' clock to hit recess time...

My parents have told me that time goes way faster as you age. OK, I'm not by any definition "young" anymore, but I don't think I'm really "old" yet, either. So if time is doing this vampirical flash dance on me now, does that mean when I'm in my 60's or 70's... or later, that each day will be like a few minutes long? I'm kind of thinking so at this point.

Whoever invented the concept of linear time should have been reprimanded. Possibly even flogged in the public square (and I'm typically a non-violent person). It's just an outdated dumb idea that limits the hours in a day. Geez!

The Traveling Poo visits the Botanical Gardens

2009-08-08T17:12:00Z

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Poo continues, and as suspected, Sister Helen did, indeed get some good mileage from the little brown drifter. She began her journey by strategically placing the fake feces on her husband, Zen's piano keyboard. Yes, of course hilarity ensued when Zen discovered the little brown dummy-dung on his ivories. Following is Sister Helen's own account of another of her adventures with Ms. Poo:

I took it to the Botanical Gardens when I volunteered today. Zen's good buddy is the garden manager and is a total "anti dogs in the gardens nazi". He posted and made by hand several signs saying "no dogs". So when I got there, I enlisted the help of the office lady and we put it on the bench. She said to him, "Jay, you won't believe it, look on the bench out front." I was watching from a distance, but saw his extreme body language of disgust..then he got closer and said, "hey this isn't shit, it's some sort of brownie". We cracked up and he was a great sport, posed with it in his hand...like the "Look what I almost stepped in.." deal.

left: that pesky repro-poo on a bench at the Botanical Gardens; right: Jay proudly displays the captured counterfeit crap

Below are Sister Helen's pics of Ms. Poo in some artsy still life setups.

left: cookbook & cheese slicer & pretend poo; right: plasticine poo on the rocks at the Botanical Gardens

Stay tuned for more adventures with the traveling poo.

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Poo

2009-08-05T02:21:00Z

Sister Poo-Head - official mascot of the Sisterhood of the Traveling Poo

Yes, I said poo... as in poop. You're going, "what?"

Let's face it - while we all know poo is just the result of a natural bodily function, bla bla bla, the word, itself still makes us giggle like fourth graders, and we often grimace or shriek and recoil in disgust at the sight of it - especially poo that is "out of place".

So Sunday morning I was out in my little veggie garden, plucking some green beans from my amazingly productive few magic bean stalks. After loading a pocketful of my little harvest, I noticed something "out of place" on my gate post. It was a neat little pile of poo, about the size Mojo tends to produce. Did I shriek or go "eeewwwww!" or freak out in any way? No, I giggled.

You see, the previous Friday night, my friend Jenn was passing out little mini-flyers for her friend who was having a yard sale of cheap tchochkies, including "fake poop". Of course I found this delightfully intriguing, and exclaimed, "Fake poop? Hell yeah! I need some of that!"

Well, the ever-attentive Jenn didn't let my enthusiasm for the pretend poo go unnoticed. She purchased said bogus poo at her friend's sale Saturday morning, knowing full well that I would probably not get up early enough to get there before the poo was all gone.

So now I have the most disgustingly real looking clay fake poo, which has already produced hours of hilarity through it's practical jokeiness via its perceived disgustingness. The funniest part is watching how long it takes others to notice the little load of counterfeit caca, even when placed in plain view on the top of the picnic table at which they're sitting. Ha!

Now about the traveling thing - my friend, Helen stopped by today and actually noticed the stunt-poo fairly quickly, as it was sitting on a tropical print paper plate on my little back patio table-ette. She exhibited the proper poop-out-of-context aversion with her rather alarmed expression, then asked "What is that?!" I casually replied, "Oh, Mojo loves to sit on that table and I guess he left me a little present", at which point I reached down and picked up the faux-poo and waved it in the air. More hilarity ensued, of course. (Incidentally, Mojo would never do such a thing. He is the world's most perfect little doggy who even remembers to put the toilet seat down when he's finished.)

Yeah, these are the good times - made even better by plasticine poo. Who knew?

Of course, Helen was equally enamored by the little brown treasure and asked if she could borrow it to pranksterize her darling husband, Zen. Zen, of course, will also want to borrow said treasure to "entertain" his workmates. Helen, by the way, is the ultimate merry prankster, so of course it makes sense that the first handoff of the traveling poo should be to her.

Now the sisterhood thing - no, this does not mean the imitation poo must be passed along to a female. As I already mentioned, Zen will undoubtedly carry the dummy-dung for a period, so that dispels that myth right there. In fact, sometimes I call Zen "Sista-man" and he actually responds (after laughing his butt off).

So, yes - the sham-poo began its journey with Sister Jenn, then traveled around my back yard with Sister Me, and now travels with Sister Helen... then on to Sister-man Zen... then on to another... then another. Hopefully in the end, this will be one of the most well-traveled fake poos ever. I would encourage all my "Sisters in pseudo poo" to take photos and document the more creative "out of context" locations of our little repli-poo. Stay tuned...

Below are a few of my own pics of the phony poo in various settings... yeah, 4th grade mentality, to be sure.

(left: impostor poo appears on my garden gate; right: beer vase & ersatz poo on my picnic table)

(left: Chaz BBQ's chicken with imitation poo in foreground; right: succulents & plastic action hero fleeing from synthetic poo)

strange day, indeed: a "what the hell?!!" moment

2009-08-04T02:45:00Z

my fun/funny cousin

This past weekend was - well, fun, busy and interesting, to say the least. Felicity had one of her fabo dinner parties in honor of Jenn's birthday on Friday. Then Saturday, my fun and funny cousin, Laura showed up, which of course called for at least some celebration, so she and Chaz and Jenn & Kyle and I grilled stuff and laughed and consumed malt beverages and enjoyed a roaring fire (ha!) in my seldom-used fire pit. Yes, good times.

Then Sunday rolled around... well, Sunday was an odd day. That afternoon I was in the living room chatting with Laura, who was busy on her laptop and perched comfortably just under Mojo on the sofa. I was kind of mindlessly moving some things around on my TV stand, and while moving some DVDs away from in front of the DVR/satellite receiver I gently bumped one of the little buttons on front... then it happened. A little male voice said "Hello? Hello". I looked around to see if maybe Chaz was outside the door or something, but no Chaz... still puzzled, I said "Hello?", to which the little voice replied, "Hello" from inside my satellite receiver! I looked at Laura and we were both dumfounded. "What the hell??!!! There's a tiny little man in my satellite receiver!", I exclaimed to my equally stunned cousin. I leaned down close to the receiver and said "I think I accidentally hit a button - sorry." Then nothing. The "hello's" stopped.

OK, you might be thinking that this is easily explainable... that either the sound was actually coming from elsewhere, or there's simply a direct connection to some "help center" type thing at Dish network through your satellite receiver, allowing you to just sit there and talk into your box and have a conversation with someone in a Dish office somewhere - probably India or a prison in Idaho or whatever... or that we were "celebrating" again and imagined all this, but NO. We were both stone cold sober. And as far as I know, there is NO such function in my DVR/satellite receiver! And furthermore, I don't even have mine hooked up to a phone line since I dumped my land line almost 2 years ago... AND this happened when the TV and the audio receiver were both turned off... so what the hell??!!! I've combed through the DVR/receiver manuals, both physical and online and can't find anything about a two-way speaker or any such thing that would allow you to hear a little voice coming from that box... I don't know. It's a mystery wrapped in an enigma, surrounded by a giant question mark.

I almost called Dish to ask them if this is possible - ie: a little voice coming from my DVR/receiver... but then I considered the possibility that they would think I was, well, "off my nut" or something and send the men in white coats over to escort me to a "quieter place". So I didn't call...

If any of you can give me a good explanation, I'm all ears and baited breath. I guess it would be nice to know that I haven't finally just gone completely batshit insane.

my mysterious talking box...

Butter controversy at the Iowa State Fair

2009-08-03T15:56:00Z

During my recent visit to Iowa, my mom showed me an article in the Des Moines Register with the headline "Butter King of Pop will join cow at State Fair". Of course Iowans in the know realized right away that they were talking about the famous butter sculpture of a cow that delights fair goers from its refrigerated glass case every year in Des Moines. And since this article came out just after Michael Jackson's death, it was readily understood that there would also be a buttery Michael Jackson this year.

Oh, and of course, the pun machine began whirring madly... or perhaps churning. To quote that original article, "The man in the mirror, er, cooler and the cow, this year a Jersey, will be on display Aug. 13-23 in the usual prominent spot in the Agriculture Building."

The article goes on to say, "Despite Jackson's overwhelming success and popularity, Chappel realizes that a sculpture of him could become controversial."

Well, that proved to be quite an understatement, as the next article regarding Butter Michael appeared, stating "The Michael Jackson dairy debate continues. Iowans displayed a mix of outrage and enthusiasm after the Iowa State Fair announced a plan for a Michael Jackson butter sculpture at the 2009 Iowa State Fair. So the fair announced last week that it will let the public vote on whether the deceased star will be part of its 2009 butter sculptures, alongside the famed butter cow."

So it was put to a vote. Butter Michael lost big. The Register's Op Ed piece on this was headlined "Fair voters tell Butter Michael to 'Beat It' ". (insert groan here... but wait - there's more...).

"The bad butter puns and metaphors were popping up like quack grass. One of my colleagues suggested I begin today's column with "Start spreading the news."

Stop groaning. That's nothing. From Fox News: "Michael Jackson may be memorialized in wax at Madame Tussauds, but it's not yet clarified whether he'll get butter treatment at the Iowa State Fair."

And: "The debate over how to honor the late King of Pop is churning for Iowa fairgoers who will vote on whether to include Jackson's image as part of the fair's 2009 display of celebrated butter sculptures."

OK, shoot me now. I know I, am guilty of pesky punster behavior on occasion, but even I had to stand in awe of such pun-ishment... (ha! couldn't help myself!)

So, no Butter Michael this year in Iowa. As the Op Ed writer (Marc Hansen) summarized, "So it went. Now that travesty has been averted, we can all get a good night's sleep."

Back in Everly, Home of the Cattlefeeders (and Cattlefeederettes)

2009-07-19T20:42:00Z

Yeah, I know... I know... I haven't blogged in ages. Sorry. I've taken a bit of a hiatus from my "net life", as regular life has been just too all-consuming recently, and I've just not felt inspired to write blogs or post photos or anything "extracurricular" involving the internet. Seems that by the end of the work day, the last thing I've wanted to do was spend MORE time on my computer and/or the interwebs. So, yes, if there is a category this year for "lamest blogger ever" at the big Blogaversapaloozathon, I should be a shoe-in. Vote for me!

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I began this blog post last Sunday, July 19 while I was still in my home town... I am back in Asheville now and FINALLY have made some time to return to the blogosphere...

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July 19:

Today is one of the first days in months that I don't feel pulled or pushed by the demands of clients or life, and I'm sitting here on the front porch of my parents' house in Everly, Iowa, wading through the 3 million photos I've taken since my arrival on Wednesday and reflecting on the incredibly fun and action-packed weekend that is now winding to a close. Main Street is suddenly eerily quiet, and most remnants of the big 125th anniversary celebration are gone... as if nothing had even happened. My mind's eye, however, still sees the comparative throngs of people - most with familiar names and/or faces - moving up and down Main Street, excitedly talking and gesturing and participating and enjoying the unusual moments of dipping back into the past for a couple of days.

The Everly event was big doins to be sure! Major kudos go to those who organized and participated to make this a very well-crafted event that proved very enjoyable and satisfying to everyone I talked to. I'm guessing there must have been over 1000 people in this little berg of about 600, mostly alumni and their families. I saw SO many people this weekend that I haven't seen since high school (ie: over 30 years ago), and spent most of the time trying to figure out who people were... faces looked vaguely familiar, but names just weren't leaping readily into my head. Yeah, I'm getting old. Fortunately I heard the same observation from several other people, so didn't feel so uniquely lame.

Yes, it was an event to remember... parades, contests, Bossy Bingo* (where you bet on which numbered square the cow will poop on), street dances, beer garden, beer, more beer, and LOTS of laughing and reminiscing about some of the stupider things we did as youngsters. To sum it up, it was a mega-hoot!
* Note: this year the cow refused to poop, so they had to draw a number out of a hat. Bad cow!

My parents' house is smack dab at the end of Main Street, so their yard was full Saturday morning during the big parade. My mom's Class of 1940 were perched on the front porch under a banner that read "EHS Class of 1940", and several of my extended family, as well as various friends and neighbors sat on blankets and folding chairs to watch the 200 or so parade "floats" crawl by. There were a lot of tractors in this parade, and there were also lots of Shriners... "enthusiastic" older men careening around on little go carts and ATV's like teenagers, wearing the classic Shriner Fez's and having way too much fun. It was absolutely delightful. Several of the older high school classes had "floats", as did probably every business in the immediate area. There was an All-School Reunion, as well as several individual class reunions, kiddie amusements, tractor pulls, chain saw demos, etc. so it was a two-day blast from the past in every way, shape and form - like traveling back to a much simpler time surrounded by familiar people and events, smells, sensations and emotions. There's a rather poignant article in the Spencer Daily Reporter about this that struck some familiar chords, especially the following excerpt:
"But, as I watched children roam in packs, as children do, through the streets of Everly this past weekend, and parents gather to greet old friends, I felt that time had stood still.

The scene may have changed, but the feeling was the same.

The world moves pretty fast. It can be a scary place. So, it's nice to have a touchstone, something to reassure you that, at the core, people are good."

Yeah, what she said.

My family also had a little reunion Saturday afternoon at Barb's, the long-standing restaurant/bar/gas station just north of town that we all frequented during our years of living here. (Incidentally, Barb, the originator, was a man... he got the nickname because his father was a barber... go figure.) It was wonderful as always to see my cool cousins and aunts and uncles! More reminiscing ensued, of course, as our family was always very close and spent many an "event" together back in the day.

A couple months ago, I got a wild hair and decided to create a website commemorating the six decades of Everly Cattlefeeders/Cattlefeederettes sports teams, as well as designing a t-shirt and a pin-button to commemorate same. It was a real trip to walk around Main Street during the festivities Friday and Saturday and see my shirts and buttons all around. People loved them (or so they said) and it felt good, quite frankly. You see, the Cattlefeeder mascot is no more, since Everly's school consolidated with Clay Central, a neighboring school in 1990. Though many of us were embarrassed back in the day by our goofy mascot name, we now view its uniqueness with a sense of nostalgic pride. After all, how many people can say they were a Cattlefeeder... or Cattlefeederette? Not many.

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Continued - July 25 in Asheville

Yeah, I'm still processing last weekend... it's hard to put the feelings into words without sounding totally corny, so suffice it to say it was a nostalgic blast of rather monumental proportion. I'm so glad I went, and so glad to know that my little home town is still there, and that there are still plenty of people who remember what it was like to grow up there in the days of no internet or cell phones and of Cattlefeederettes and of Tractor Pulls and of Lutheran Church Ladies' Pie Stands - again, something that not too many people can claim.

No, you can't go home again, but it's nice to know you can visit once in awhile and get that old familiar taste.

the war on slugs... my new secret weapon

2009-05-06T22:53:00Z

Meet Shedra... my latest weapon in my war on slugs that have been feasting on my newly-planted plants. Yes, this has been yet another exercise in OCD behavior... first I got the wild hair to "pretty up" my back yard, so zoomed off to Loews and bought a carload of - well, plants, as well as dirt and poop-in-a-bag and mulch, etc. Yes, I'm just renting the house, but barring any unforeseen disasters, I will probably be living here for a good while.... so why not make my surroundings more enjoyable to look at, right?

But then, near-disaster struck... after only a couple days, I noticed that all my hostas and several other planties were sporting big holes in their leaves... AAARGH! After all that trouble of digging and conditioning and planting, something was out to destroy my little backyard garden. Yes, the evil slug. So I tried putting beer out to lure the little slimy lushes and drown them in their own drunkenness...

it worked to some degree, as there were several drunk & dead slugs in the pans the next morning, but still more holes. Then my friend and gardener extraordinaire, Jenn, suggested "Slug Magic" pellets. I dashed out to Israel's to procure some of this magic stuff and promptly sprinkled the innocuous-looking little white pellets all around my besieged flora. Of course, it takes 2-3 days to really kill the little buggers, so I went into impatient mental overdrive... and thus, the concept of Shedra was born. Actually, I had been thinking of painting that ugly old shed anyway (see "before" pic below), but until now had no idea what I wanted to paint.

Back to Shedra... I figure she'll act as a "Scare Slug", right? If you were a slug, wouldn't you turn and slink the other way if you saw this most imposing creature that looks ready to gobble you up with a vengeance? I would. But then again, I'm not a slug (well,most days, anyway - ha!)

the shed before Shedrafication...

Fillies Redux - the reunion tour

2009-04-20T17:36:00Z

the "Fillies" and an old boyfriend - Houston, 1983

Bless me, blogosphere, for I have sinned... it has been more than 2 weeks since I last posted. I know, I'm probably going to Blogger Hell... or at least "Blogatory". Oh, well. I've been busy. Really. Really busy.

A couple weeks ago, Mini-Mo and I piled in the Civic and made yet another road trip to South Florida. The week started off with a rather "big" meeting with a client there. Once that was finished, the rest of the week was a party-thon of sorts - fitting, I guess, as it was the reunion of the "Fillies". Let me 'splain...

My sister-in-law, Diane and I shared a townhouse (nicknamed "The Filly Palace") in Houston in 1983 with our friend, Nan, who since moved to Seattle several years ago. We were all young, single twenty-somethings from Iowa doing the "Urban Cowboy" thing and soaking in the "big city" life (yes, we went kicker dancing on occasion AND rode the bull at Gillie's...). It was really a fun time - probably too much fun by most standards, but hey - we were young. Our resilient young bodies seemed to know no limits when it came to partying. We could stay out most of the night, drink the boys under the table, eat jalapeños and still show up at our jobs the next morning relatively unscathed. Oh, youth... wide-eyed, energetic, elastic, foolish youth... I do miss it sometimes.

So, shortly after I arrived in FL, Nan flew in on a red-eye (so appropriate in this case - ha!) Nan is now married with three kids, as is Diane with two kids. Of course, my kid is grown up (?) now and both husbands have long since been eliminated (no - not murdered, just divorced), so I'm the only one who's relatively unattached to immediate family responsibilities. Regardless, that week was Spring Break for Diane and just plain vacation for Nan. Since I had finished my business duties, I made it just plain vacation for me, too. While Diane still had a household to maintain despite the break, Nan and I seized the opportunity to be complete derelicts. OK, not complete - it could have been way worse. But we did some beach days where the beers emerged at high noon and didn't go away till the wee hours. Compared to our "normal" lives, that's fairly derelict and therefore SO delicious. Yes, it was the Fillies Redux to some degree - the party just seemed to continue, tho still much tamer than those earlier days, when people who were 50 or thereabouts were considered "really old". By the last day, we were all showing signs of wear... but along came Cousin Sharona, who in her unique way breathed new life into the party. Sharona is over 50, but she shamed us all that night and was the last one standing, albeit a bit of a wobbly stand.

Yes, good times. By the end of the vacation, Nan and I were both looking a bit ragged, and both mumbled of the need to return home to recover from all the fun. Diane was right in there with us during "prime time" party hours, but since she is obviously much more able to exercise good judgement and self control than some of us, she emerged from the week with way fewer battle scars.

So even if we are a bit less resilient now and - well, just older, we still found the Filly spirit and drank it in with gusto for a few days. It was a rare treat, indeed, and I look forward to the next reunion (tho I really need at least a year to recover from this one, I think... yep, old.)

A good wife always knows her place?

2009-04-02T17:56:00Z

I've never been a hard-core feminist, but propaganda from recent history like the following piece make my laugh my ass off... just before my head explodes. Have a look at the following actual article from the May 1955 edition of Housekeeping Monthly (apparently a British publication). All I can say is... wow. Damn good thing I wasn't a wife at that time in history. I now truly understand how "mother's little helpers" became so popular in that era... and wonder why there wasn't more domestic violence against men. Talk about promoting a Stepford Wives society! You know this had to have been written by a man. Read on! (I've inserted some of my own comments in italicized parentheses)

The good wife's guide

Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready, on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and the prospect of a good meal (especially his favourite dish) is part of the warm welcome needed. (ok, maybe if I feel like it & have time...)
Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people.
Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. (LOL!!! Should I be a diesel dyke or a lipstick lesbian?) His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it. (duty? yeah, right...)
Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives. (like a good domestic servant...)
Gather up schoolbooks, toys, paper, etc. and then run a dustcloth over the tables.
Over the cooler months of the year you should prepare and light a fire for him to unwind by. (or to cremate him in...) Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift, too. After all, catering for his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction. (oh, ok - gosh, that sounds dandy)
Prepare the children. Take a few minutes to wash the children's hands and faces (if they are small), comb their hair and, if necessary, change their clothes. They are little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part. Minimise all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet. (how? by drugging the little treasures or inserting a ball gag in their little mouths?)
Be happy to see him. (yes, I'll just push that "instant happy" button - who cares if I'm not really happy...)
Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him. (oh, gag me...)
Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first - remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours. (AAAAAGGGHHHH! My head is exploding!!!)
Make the evening his. Never complain if he comes home late or goes out to dinner, or other places of entertainment without you. (yeah, be glad he's out boffing the local sluts at the titty bar) Instead, try to understand his world of strain and pressure and his very real need to be at home and relax. (oh, poor baby...)
Your goal: Try to make sure your home is a place of peace, order and tranquility where your husband can renew himself in body and spirit. (ommmmmmmm......)
Don't greet him with complaints and problems. (what if I have some?)
Don't complain if he's late home for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through that day. (oh, really? I'm thinking that his staying out all night is grounds for murder or at least a good bludgeoning)
Make him comfortable. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or have him lie down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him. (laced with arsenic for an extra "kick")
Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice. (yes, I wouldn't want Mr. Precious to be uncomfortable...)
Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him. (What??!! No right, my ass!!)
A good wife always knows her place. (yeah - far far away from any asshole that would actually believe this shit!)

my midlife crisis - version 2.0

2009-03-10T22:20:00Z

OK, so midlife crisis #1 was the whole "moving to Australia to be with a man I barely knew" thing... thankfully, I got that one out of my system without losing life or limb or home or career, tho. So, since I'm still in the prime of "midlife", I figured I have time for another little dose of "middle-age crazy" before I'm too old to qualify.

Midlife Crisis Version 2.0 is almost as dangerous as Version 1.0, but at least it should be way more fun... yes, I am getting a motorcycle! The cool thing is that it's a one-owner 5-year old Suzuki Savage 650 - perfectly sized for me, and I know the owner well - my brother. The even cooler thing is that my bro just gave me the bike. What a cool guy!! How lucky am I??! Sheesh!

Then, another cool thing happened yesterday - I happened across a bike-hauling guy on the internet who happened to be in South Florida and was heading up this way... woo hoo! So we negotiated a mutually happy deal and my new Savage is on it's way here as I write this. It will be here either tomorrow night or Thursday morning, according to Ernest, the bike-haulin' guy.... I'm like a kid waiting for Christmas and it's taking forever!

Wow - this motorcycle thing was an interesting twist in an already interesting past week. A couple months ago, I had started thinking about getting a bike sometime this summer, so the seed was already planted in my little brain garden. Then a week ago, I discovered quite by accident that my former boyfriend, James had died, which of course led me to toddle down memory lane. Several of those memories included our previous biker days, which James had ushered in for me, as he was an avid motorcyclist. At that time, I had a Honda Shadow 700 that James had given me, which was a similar style to my new bike but much larger in size. (see photo below) So, while in Key Biscayne with my bro and his family last week, I mentioned that I was thinking about getting a motorcycle, bla bla... and that's when my bro offered me his. The rest is history. Amazingly cool how things work out sometimes.

It seems extra-fitting somehow - me getting a bike at this time, that is - as my mental revisiting of all things James last week had reminded me of just how much I used to love biking. It also reminded me that life is short - sometimes really short.

So, I'm back in the saddle again and ready to revisit my biker bi-atch life! Vrooom Vrooom!! Tomorrow I must going shopping for biatchin' boots and chaps and assorted bad-ass biker accoutrements.

Li'l TD with my old Honda Shadow

James with his Honda CBR 1100 in 1996