Another Schmaltzy Quizlet...

What Type of Parrot Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

To Blow, Or Not to Blow!

Most of us work in an office, with a company, for somebody else, and with co-workers. It is only the valiant few who work from their homes and are blessedly exempt from the trauma of the confines of "The Office".

Working for a close relative in a small family-owned business, the stress of close quarters is amplified. No escape to the "break room", no seclusion in the "copy room", and no fleeing from the dimness that threatens to engulf me. If I were more "zen", I guess I would breathe for a bit, contemplate my navel and feel my frustration drift away into the ether like so much incense smoke. However, I am NOT "zen" and I am most definitely not even "Zen-like" at this particular juncture. In fact, you might say that I am anti-"zen", with a GMAT (MBA entrance exam) looming large tomorrow, Christmas menacing me from close range, Mom's b-day on Sunday, and the usual daily stresses giggling like evil imps under the toadstool.

Sooooooooo, what I do not need or want or even should have to tolerate, are the aimless shufflings and idiotic grins of my all male co-working staff as they revel in the absence of the boss - swilling coffee, cackling wildly at eachother's sexist jokes, absently answering the telephone only to relegate the proceedings to a dusty bin in the back recesses of their teeny, weeny little helpless brains. Meanwhile, I, the faithful servant (not even self-righteous at all), slave away in the warehouse (40 degrees cold) counting, answer inquiries that only a bacterium could not discover for himself, and attempt to maintain a semblance of normalcy until the whistle blows.

Now I have wasted my brief lunch period on you goobs... off again to the dungeon!

The Flash

Brains. Involved in the most mundane of daily routines, and the brain decides to have one of those eye-popping, breath-stopping epiphanies that bring you to your knees and make your heart feel as if it will burst. Life is illuminated by a cosmic light through which you can clearly see that all of the trappings of our material world are merely that - trappings. Preventing us from experiencing and realizing the fundamental precepts of this simple existence.

This morning unconditional love was defined for me and another piece of the puzzle has become complete.

Another Cheezy Profile...

You're the Fashion Plate!
Take What sort of Hipster are you? today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Personality Test Generator.

You know what's "in" and what's "out," and you give those trends the finger! You wear what you want and get damn respect for it. You still own pants you wore in high school. Your hair is five different shades of hip. You make it cool to shop at Goodwill, the Gap, and even Walmart. You hang out in crowded bars and restaurants, but don't care if anyone is even looking at you (though they are). You're swank and friendly and at ease just about anywhere. You're well-liked and talked about. The world wants to be just like you.

Communication vs. "ANAL"-yzation, and Coinkidinks

Just this morning I was discussing the value of open communication in relationships - not just romantic, but familial, friendship and coworker as well. And as "coinkidink" would have it, I checked one of my regular blog reads and today's post examined the "thinking too much" syndrome that some "anal"-yzers encounter when faced with relationships. Then, being the "anal"-yzer that I am, as well as embarking on better communication techniques, I concluded that whether cogitating or relating, "anal"-yzing is just a severe and inhibiting form of communication. In English, what I am trying to convey is that communication at its most honest and straightforward is the comlier cousin of analysis at its most OCD. For many years I wondered why my relationships floundered even though I had a marvelous vocabulary and the intense counseling to back it up. However, I failed to recognize that I was not only analyzing my communication but "anal"-yzing it and ending up communicating very little and expecting perfect results from what I thought were very detailed communiqués.

Realization is the first step, practice is the scary, "go-out-of-your-comfort-zone" skip, and expectation fulfillment is the leap. I'm trying it, and it's working out more grandly than I could ever have imagined.

Updates to follow.

Complaint Department

Sometimes, specifically at this time, life is just too good for me to be posting. My job fits me perfectly, my family keeps encouraging me to gain weight, I have three living grandparents, a fourth date (with the same person) is pending, the Goose is running like a charm,... what do ya say to all that?? At forty, I look like I'm thirty, feel like I'm in highschool and have the wisdom of fifty (give or take). Mostly I write here when I am examining something, whether internal/external, emotional or physical, however there is precious little that bears close scrutiny just now. Perhaps I should be looking over my shoulder for that big glob of pookie hurtling towards my head. Or maybe I should just ride my happy wave and accept that I've rather got it together. Lord knows it will all start unravelling soon, but for the nonce I can't think of a sinlge thing to bitch about other than the fact that I remain the most UN-photogenic person in the galaxy.

Kiss, kiss and toodles

Black Wednesday Theme

Soundgarden - "Fell on Black Days"

#68

Waking from a restful night, you turn to your lover's side of the bed only to find it cool and empty. Looking out the window of the loft, a barn you have converted to a house, you see the sun creeping lazily over the horizon foretelling yet another halcyon spring day. As your body becomes more alert, you feel a compelling desire to find your mate. Pulling on loose pants and wellies, you head out to the animal quarters knowing that you'll find your dearest already hard at work milking, feeding and caretaking her beloved farm friends.

Peeking around the corner of the stall, you see your partner just finishing the milking of her favorite Jersey. She is dressed in her railroad overalls, a small shirt underneath revealing the swell of her perfect immaculate breasts. Her hair still ruffled from sleep and pulled loosely to her neck with a leather tie. You know she will smell of fresh hay, sleep and sunshine, making your desire hasten. She sets her full frothy milk pail to the side all the time muttering to her bovine friend. She strokes her cow lovingly, massaging her forelock and you are already thinking how her strong hands will feel on your manhood.

You step quickly and silently behind her, reaching around and grasping her full heavy breasts, startling her.You keep her locked to you, not letting her turn around as you slide your hand deep into her jeans finding her naked. Instantly she is wet knowing that you will pleasure her in all ways. You push her down into the fragrant hay, clawing her clothing off anxious to put mouth to tangy crevice. She submits and her sighs of delight quicken your staff. Not able to wait you climb her body and plunge deep into her waiting warmth. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.................

Awwwww, so nice...

Hey look, even my horoscope loves me (but like many of my erstwhile suitors, has faulty grammar) -

Getting out of the doldrums is easier than it seems. All you have to do is go and see all your pals and how much they missed -- that will yank you out of a humdrum mood faster than anything else. Everyone is glad to see you with your special spark reignited. Draw some positive energy from all those smiling faces that come into view. Trust that you are beloved. The world shows you its smiling side.

Run Away!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And rejoice upon eating the minstrels...

Black Wednesday approaches quickly and without remorse. Very cleverly I have refused to acknowledge said epic moment in hopes that it will give me a miss and I can just carry on merrily in my self-delusion. Unfortunately, I think it has cunningly ferreted out my plan and is waiting on cat paws to pounce, rip out my eyeballs by the optic nerve, swing them gaily around like a bolero (those clever cow-catching devices that look mysteriously like clackers used by vaqueros in Argentina), and fling them into a pointy object such as a very prickly cactus.

On the lighter side, I was asked this weekend about my happiness at this very moment in time. And, I had to respond that other than my lack of a significant other to torture, I was pretty damn happy and well-adjusted. I've got a couple of jobs that I dig, some pets that are really stupendous, a family that supports me and tells me when I have something in my teeth, some long-term goals, and my hiney gets smaller by the day, perhaps even hour. I have nothing to speak of in the way of wrinkles, flaps or physical overages, unles you count a lovely bosom that still resides north of my navel. I have good friends that think I am a riot and occassionally I have a really super date (this past Saturday ranking right up there with all timers).

Not bad for a woman with little if any maturity, in complete denial about reaching a certain age, and truly a fantastic catch waiting for her knight. MMMmmm, life is good!

You People!!

What I am confused about is where do dairy products and fermented beverages fit into all of this?? I have juice fasted before for rather extensive (or I believe so) time periods, but sucking the prana out of the atmosphere in this day and age could really be deleterious. This bears further research into the extant breatharians. Where do they live? How long can they survive? Do they go invisible when turned sideways? How do they keep from just floating away?

These and other burning pranic inquiries...

Noxious Nocturnes

Disrruptive, disturbing, fraught with emotional distress. Death, disease, daring-do in competetive martial arts. Last eve found me writhing, wriggling and wishing it would end, but end it did not until the late dawn hours when Clyde's twittering punctured my REM to relieve me of the psychic torture being perpetrated by my subconscious. Stress, drastically lowered blood sugar and anxiety all conspired to make my nighttime hours exceptionally painful. I awoke all fuzzy and then proceeded to slice off the end of my thumb with a lovely French "shiv" while dicing pomegranite for my feathered felons. Shock ensued. I lay on the cool tile of the kitchen hoping to retain my bile, and draw blood back to my light head.

OY! What a morning!

Rah! Rah! Rah!

You liked wearing a costume when you were a kid, and college was pretty fun. Then you went through a young adult phase where you thought it was stupid, and now you think it is fun again.

The Grand Finale...

Bitch at me enough and I will eventually do what you want. SO, here are accumulated pictures from the last couple of weeks. Some of Chino, Happy, Pepper, the visiting Hounds and Dittles' encounter with squirrel poop.

Hail to the Chief!!

As of 12:00p.m. today, we are no longer in the throes of a campaign/election year marked by much finger-pointing, a-hem-ing, accusation and firmly planted party solidarity. In light of that, no matter who your candidate was, did your life change today as a result of the outcome?? The last 6-8 months have been fraught with the concerns of a much divided populace knowing conclusively that their candidate was the best man. I imagine that there have been fisticuffs, brawls, sprawls and hair-pulling over the adequacy/inadequacy of respective nominees. However, in this moment, this final moment when the votes have been tabulated, the runner-up has conceeded, did your world cease to spin? Will it cease in the next 4 years? Will you go out tomorrow and find a red sky, purple water and pigs with wings??

What is REALLY important?

Diametrically Opposed

THE Metroplex. Ringed by a loop that looks oddly like a penis and scrotum turned upside down. And inside of this asphalt lingum two very distinct peoples, Fort Worthians and Dallasites. I am a Worthian and have very definite opinions about Dallasites, not particularly unfavorable, just differences I see or perceive. I feel lost when I go to Dallas. Not literally or culturally, mind you, but aesthetically and socially. Dallas is all buildings crammed one 'gainst t'other, maniacal drivers, expensive cars and Manolo Blahniks. Everything seems to be on display... the more you have, the more you fit in. Fort Worth on the other hand is historic facades, maniacal drivers in Dualleys/Dooleys, expensive horse trailers and Anne Kleins. The more you have, the more you disguise it. Dallas is frenetic. Fort Worth is casual. I imagine that Dallasites have their own opinions of us BoHunks o'er here in the West.

I love that two cities can live mere miles apart and be so distinguished.

Ack! True Disaster

I shall horde them...

USATODAY.com - Mother Nature puts squeeze on tomato production

BOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HAH!! Bet ya thought I was done with all this nonsense... Well, I fooled you. Arisen from an animal induced coma, I have returned to the keyboard to pound out more mercilessly inane chatter about my life, aspirations, birds, dogs, boobs and other miscellany.

The overwhelming obsession is my upcoming Day of Birth celebration. Yep... It's the big one, or the biggest one for me yet. Ummmm, yeah well, tautologically speaking that would have to be true...

Moving on... Normally I am inordinately jazzed, frothy, torqued even about my yearly aging. But in this 40tieth year since my birth I am stricken with feelings of inadequacy, unbelief, and dis-shevlement saturated with more healthy but less pervasive inklings of accomplishment, self-awareness and bliss. It's the age-old complaint when reaching milestones and I have succumbed to mainstream Americana this time. I am no different. I will feel no differently and I will probably celebrate as will millions of other average twits on this really not-so-auspicious day.

On the other hand, I am still an amazing hottie and can attract men half my age for meaningless evening carousing and boasting... And I still fit into my highschool cheerleading outfit. HAH!!!!

Premonitions...

Chatting gaily at our favorite Bar&Grill, the birds whistled and strutted. This place was one of the group's favorites - a large enclosed outside aviary with resident parrots in free flight and pet parrots welcome to visit and play in the spacious quarters. Chino (called "Bryan" in this dream) made occassional visits to my shoulder for reassurance and kisses but spent most of his time intimidating the other Amazons and looking for unattended snack plates. Eventually we left, and for some reason I forgot "Bryan", and didn't realize it until we were almost home. Running crazily back to the Bar&Grill, I was ashamed of my own irresponsibility at leaving "Bryan". The place was closed but I could see the bartender doing his side work and I banged on the door. He let me in, and I cried out for "Bryan" hoping he would immediately come to my side. The bartender kept trying to foist off other birds on me, but all of them had yellow heads and "Bryan" has no yellow at all. Several little handicapped birds perched expectantly on my arms and shoulders but none were "Bryan". I was frantic - calling, begging, pleading for "Bryan" to come to me. More parrots with yellow heads rustled up as I began to lose hope, and then "Bryan" materialized out of the phycus and came sweetly to my shoulder.

MAN...talk about anxiety dream. But even so, listen to what REALLY happened...

I go to work and mid-morning get a ringy-dingy from Betty, the Pet Haven director. "Do you want a couple of Amazons?" she asks.
"Okily Dokily," I respond.
"Well, I've called someone else and you're just my back-up, but I wanted to check."
"Sure, just call if you need help."

About a million calls later and rescuing Betty from her sense of misdirection, I absorb a Double Yellow Head, and a Yellow Naped Amazon into my living room.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm??

Rain Check, Please!

All sweaty and flushed from teaching an invigorating cycle class this morning, I approached the front desk to log my hour and I could see the rain pounding outside. I slopped to my car, even more wet from the deluge and headed back towards home, clouds so thick the sun was giving dawn a miss. Humid, cozy home awaited me blanketed in dusky invitation. The birds were still lightly snoozing and the dogs were still snoodled under the duvet. I wanted to do a little snoodling as well. A Rain-Day... yummy warm breakfast tea thick with cream, flannel comfy pants with little cows and moons, some piñon incense to promote the scent-memory of a Santa Fe fire, my book and my animal companions, a grand recipe for a stormy day.

Alas, plopped in front of my computer, I'm dripping around work and am consoled with the thought of Mom's squiche for dinner.

New Gelatinous Discoveries

MMMmmmmmmm, try the Margarita Jelly-Bellies at Central Market - they've even managed to get the Tequila flavor in there (and they're a purdy color, too).

Wit and Wine

My literary juices flow much more freely and rampantly when I slurp down a couple of glasses of wine. Mostly when I'm sober, there's too much introspection, word cramp, and sentimentality. I like raw prose - strong, unfettered, ribald stuff stumbling crazily from my digits in search of a cozy corner in which to slump.

A little veen-o would be keen-o.

I Yam what I Yam!!!

boffin (BOF-in) noun A scientist, especially one involved in research.[Of unknown origin.]

Today's word in Visual Thesaurus: http://visualthesaurus.com/?w1=boffin

If a pocket protector could be considered an official accessory of a nerd,white lab coat, glasses and clipboard would be the equivalent for a boffin.The term first appeared as a moniker given by members of Britain's RoyalAir Force to scientists doing research on radar. But like most slang, thehow and why of this are unknown.

(I'll work on getting a photo in garb...)

Puffy, snotty, dry and tight... this is my autumn. As we give thanks for the bountiful harvests, I stealthily blow my nose. As we fluff sweaters and shake coats, I place frozen spoons on my swollen eyes. As we gather wood for the coming cool evenings, I hack and gurgle.

The last of the blooming foliages are now desperately flinging their seed to the four winds in hopes of impregnating the soil with their spring spawn. Dampness creeps covertly into carpets and closets. This is the beginning of fall and as the seasons follow their cycles so do my allergies. Nevertheless, this is one of my favorite times of year, especially when we revert to "real time" (sans daylight savings). There will be cozy evenings by the fire, yummy dreams 'neath the duvet, and overcast weekends for reading and napping. Football will occupy Sundays and Hockey will begin feverishly. There will be soups and stews, shepherd's pie, squash casseroles and plenty of toasty muffins.

My immune system be damned!

OOOOOOoooooooooo, SCARY!!

Birdy Boyz warn me, warn me, warn me of the dangers of non-clipped parrot feathers. We sit and talk briefly of it last night as Chino rambled on my shoulder.

After taking delicious fertilized, yummy yard-chicken eggs to Mumsie this dawn, I rattled off to my nearest park to romp dogs and commune parrot with Zephyrus. I, in my sleepy clothes and sans footwear, laying sleepily in the humid grass. Dogs smelling, sniffing, frolicking with glee. Chino sees Hawk. Hawk cries and Chino (of the "thought-to-be-clipped" wings) heads soaringly off into the foresty banks of the Trinity trickle with me trippingly, hyperventilatingly, akimbo-edly skipping after. Bushwacking at semi-dawn in jammies and naked feet, I thrash the underbrush and crash after my darling pstittacine. Perching pluckily on a low branch, he hoots and trills letting me know that this is great fun and I should try. As I approach, he flips off to another branch, feathers flashing as he dashes farther into the growth. Stumbling after, heart caroming around in my chest, burrs clinging desperately to flannel pants, I thrust my commandeered stick up to my fluffy child and he chooses to sidle down the branch to my waiting naked limb, immediately clutching shoulder and tucking head coyly under my chin.

I swear to Gawd!!!!!!!!!!!11

EEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!

WooHoo! New background. Boring to you guys in the know, but a super-accomplishment for me. Now, for the experts... I want to blur the edges of the background-to-body images so that they don't look like boxes but a smooth transition... anyone, anyone,... Bueller? Additionally, does anyone know how to do the following:

1. I want bubbles to follow the cursor.
2. I want my links to rotate randomly so that there are always 5 links visible but each time you refresh the page they rotate/change, so that I can have lots of links in the template, but not this ginormous list on my page.

Franks a Snot and Spank You Very Much for any and all contributions to my HTML education.

I'm Sorry, What Did You Say??

"Girl with a Pearl Earring" is a delightful gem. Last evening, I sat unblinking (no amount of teeth scraping on fork, gaseous emissions, or Kerry proselytizing could have swerved me) for two hours, and wished it had been longer, losing myself in a 17th century Dutch world. What is it about these period films that engrosses me so - sparse dialogue, consuming adoration, ripe and restrained tension, vast unspoken communiques. Acted impeccably (although, regrettably, not featuring Anthony Hopkins), and cinematically seductive, I was rapt.

A "must see" for those who feel they were born in the wrong era.

Bloggy Madness

I wonder what the Shelley poem would sound like if Cartman read it?? Sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet!

Pain/Pleasure Principle

Cleaning out my old "love e-mails" folder, I came across the third stanza of this poem that I sent to a passion past. I was struck by two things:

1. How miserably wrong I was about that love...
2. How poignant still this poem is and I will use it again - perhaps more wisely and with better results.


Percy Bysshe Shelley. 1792–1822

The Indian Serenade

I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feetHath led me -- who knows how? --
To thy chamber window, Sweet!

The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream --
The champak odors fail
Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
The nightingale's complaint,
It dies upon her heart;
As I must on thine,
Oh, beloved as thou art!

O lift me from the grass!
I die! I faint! I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast;--
Oh! press it to thine own again,
Where it will break at last.

First Amendment

"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievance."

Amazing that this had to be drafted. That we, as a people supposedly "united", couldn't grasp the fundamental aspects of freedom of religion, speech, press and assembly. I mean, wasn't it this exact concept we were pursuing when we boarded a rat infested schooner to sail an angry ocean in search of a homeland that provided us vast opportunities to grow as a population and as individuals?? What went wrong?

My answer would be that the same thing went wrong in newfound America as it does virtually everywhere a people decide to roost, subsist and propogate themselves. Overcome with abundance and prosperity, our humility falls away and morphs into the self-important concerns of a species that considers itself the epitome, the penultimate evolutionary achievement. Forgetting we are only a miniscule blip on the radar of the universe and that our tiny little existence is merely a galactic experiment, we founder in our own arrogance and acidity.

A grim picture, no? And all of this in reaction to dusty thoughts at bedtime of censorship of my own blog. Regardless of how personal this journal is, I have chosen to make it a public venue and in that choice I acknowledge my responsibility not only to myself but to my fellow man to pick and choose which thoughts, opinions and observations I put down. Only in my most private of thoughts, writings, and conversations can I dissect the deepest issues and concerns of my life.

In essence, to respect my fellows' rights via auto-censorship - To love, to honor in deference to the well-being of others.

Damn! I wanna say what I wanna say!

Cheezy, but Fairly Accurate

Scorpio - Your Love Profile Your positive traits: You're red hot passion makes anyone you date feel extremely wanted Loyalty, to the point of doing anything to protect your lover You are mysterious and charismatic - and you easily draw people in Your negative traits: You tend to be paranoid and think that the worst is going on with your lover You turn cold and mean at the first sign of conflict in relationship You sometimes become obsessed with dates - so much so that you develop jealousy early on Your ideal partner: Someone who will take the time to win you over. Not an easy task! Is able to keep up with your carnal appetite... lots of stamina needed. Reassures you of their love and loyalty on a daily basis. Your dating style: Intense. You prefer to stay in with take out and conversation - so that no one else is distracting you and your date. Your seduction style: Hot. New partners have trouble believing that your libido is for real. You have incredible sexual intuition - you always know what your lover craves A bit bossy. You know what you want, and you certainly aren't afraid to ask for it. Tips for the future: Don't be so secretive with your love - they want you the way you are Let go of your jealousy. Your partner has chosen *you* Spend more time alone, doing things you love. It will help you be less obsessive. Best place to meet someone online: eHarmony - your best bet at screening out untrustworthy people Best color to attract mate: Dark red Best day for a date: Tuesday Get your free love profile at Blogthings.

The Answer IS...

Personally, I think I'm guided by the whole animal world, or maybe they just all sponge off me, but if one were to stand out, this would be a good one.


The Mustang
Th spirit of the Mustang, the everlasting symbol of
love and of generousity protects you from being
used by others who would take advantage of you.
You are the kind of person willing to lend your
strengths to those who are true to you so that
they may better themselves and get back on
their own feet. Your quote: "He who learns
but does not think, is lost! He who thinks but
does not learn is in great danger"


What is your Inner Spirit Totem Animal?
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Midnight Mahem

Transported to Germany, a lovely glade complete with pond/lake, and an unaware suitor waiting in a tree-top dwelling. All for only two hundred dollars and 50mg of generic Benadryl.

This is where my subconcious wanderings led me last night. The dream escalated into a full blown episode that ended happily... sort-of. As I reflect on it, I am now conciously aware that it was a reflection of my man-life dilemmas. Turbulent, extreme and semi-rewarding.

More exploration is needed.

Par for the Course

Long periods of desolation punctuated by brief bountiful moments. This is the typical cycle of my "man-life". Recently, I have found myself in the eye of a man hurricane being whirled and twirled this way and that, and all the circling suitors have some obstacle to be overcome. And I'm not talking about everyday obstacles, e.g. weird toes, bad breath or sloppy clothing habits. No, No... each and every candidate is attached, committed, bound-up (among other things); yet still reaching out to me.

Oh Really???????????????

Stating the obvious. Not to mention the high alcohol consumption, deafening roar of humanity, and stress on the ol' eyeballs searching for tadpoles.

Pick your poison!

Co-Ow-Boy-Oyz

I went to the Cowboys ga-ame... lalalalala... And they wo-on... lalalalala... They juked the Bro-owns... lalalala... There was a fake punt, There was a flea-flicker, There was some awesome playing... lalalalalalalalalalalalala

Dallas Rules!

Obscure Thrumming

Weird. Unique. Firecracker. Pistol. "Undomesticated". Intimidating. A few of the descriptors that I have acclimatized to over the years.

Never Normal. Obviously Odd. Quaintly Quirky. These are my modes.

The product of two immensely gifted parents occupying the most distal ends of the spectrum, I am a lethal (whether to myself or others remains undetermined) genetic spawn. Creatively retentive and analytically artistic, I have bucked the system, taken the jibes and funny-walked to the precussionists in my head.

"Why?" you ask, do I announce the obvious. Amazingly enough, I forget that not everyone is like me. Not everyone wants to stand out, to be noticed, to be the locus... and I ask, "Why?" Vanilla/Chocolate is the answer. (I like neither.) Last eve found me bitten in the proverbial buttocks by my natural bent for the bizarre and different. I was hurt. I was angry. I shot the messenger...and then I apologized for the shooting.

I only desire to be "normal", "average" in those frustrating moments when statistical outlying seems to be a handicap. And then I come to my senses, know that my idiosyncracies are what make me alluring, exotic and fetching. I like those words and I like being those words... wouldn't you??

Turn-Ons #1:

Speech Impediments
Nice Feet
Compatible Pheremones
Pets (Duh!)
Naked in the Sun

My Gawd!...

Would you just look at me go... I have images in the sidebar; images in my posts; buttons, links and galleries; I'm carelessly stealing bandwidth (I think); and who knows what will happen next. I may even get new background, font and gizmos.

Better bookmark this blog!

I Snorted....

heeheeheeheeheeheeheeheehee... (breath) heeheeheeheeheeheeheeeeeeee... (oo, cramp) heeheeheeheehee... (silent) heehee (snort)

"Yes, YEs, YES!!!!!!!!!!!"

I'm going to the Cowboys' game on Sunday... lalalalalalalalala... I love the Cowboys... lalalalalalala... I'm gonna marry them... lalalalalalalala... And you can't have me... lalalalalalalalala... I'm gonna love them all, I'm gonna love them all, I'm gonna LOVE ALL OF MY COWBOYS!!!!!!!!!!

YeeHaw!!!

Just WORK, Dammit!

Thanks to javablack for additional guidance on the image thing. I will whirl it when reaching the abode this eve.

Yesterday...WHOA! what a day. Taught my first regular 24Cycle class at the Irving 24Hour Fitness...yep... at the delightful hour of 6 AM! So that means I had to lever my ass out of my watery nest at 5AM, pry my eyeballs open and put on a happy face for 9 bright and bushy club members. Then off to the shop for some heavy lifting, cleaning, rearranging and a little more heavy lifting. Leave the shop, straight to the Bedford Sport to teach a 6PM 24Cycle class to 15 hungry, stressed-out, professionals who are looking to me for a nasty work-out.

I got about 15 minutes into that evening workout and I didn't think I would make it. I was bushed. Man I had to fight for that one. But made it to the end, slogged home, thrust some BARS down the ol' gullet, tickled the birds and dogs, fell asleep during halftime of the Panthers/GreenBay game...despite John Madden's commentary.

Yeesh!

#52

If You're my Parents or Not Over 18... Don't Read This!!...
I'm NOT Kidding!!!!!

Wild disco music pumping in another room. You are thinking, "Jeezy Chreezy, I hate these functions. Hobnobbing with a bunch of gits and not a female prospect in sight. Getting glad-eyed by large hirsute gay men.This blows - I'm outta here." And as you turn in your party napkin and head for the door, you spy an old friend trapped in the corner by an older man who is trying to impart his wisdom on her thigh. You laugh inwardly because you know she is too nice to turn the suitor away and yet she has that wild trapped rabbit look going on that you have seen so many times before.

You head over to the duo hoping to rescue your friend and catch up on the news, as well as relieve her from the sure delights of denturely debauchery. You saunter up and recognition washes over her face, her septugenarian is dismayed and you cleverly, wittily extract her from her discourse by announcing to the gentleman that you have a date with this "dirty little whore" and you plan to get every minute's worth. Our drooling woo-er flees the scene and the two of you dissolve into giggles.

"Well, My Darling," she purrs. "Where have you been and what have you been doing with yourself?"

You start forming a reply and she cuts in, "No, don't answer that last bit...I think I know," she affirms with a wink.

"God, she hasn't changed one whit. In fact, I think she has become more, more of everything. Is there a ring? Do I see someone floating around to whom she might be tethered," you think. You decide that she can be yours for the evening if only you are clever enough. Your friendship/premature relationship was never bad, was never ended...just faded away like so many do. After a while you regretted that...losing that friend. And, now, here she is.

You both creep off to find a quiet place to re-connect. How long has it been?? Too long. The heat is rising off of her and there is something rising in you as well. Nope, nothing has changed. You flirt and banter, picking up where you left off as if you had just met for tea yesterday. She is looking edible in black - small flippy skirt accentuating her firm round buttocks with just a hint of cheek peeking out, scoop neck clingy top giving away the globes of her magnificent breasts. And, that brain...still in tip-top shape. Suddenly you have the overwhleming urge to ravish her..., now! As you think these indecent thoughts, you can see that she is headed right down the path with you. She smolders, her heat turns up a notch and the legs splay just a tad.

"Another drink?" you inquire.

"Sure, I'm still drinking that old fuzzy water."

And you head to the bar, hand protectively on the small of her back, eyes challenging any male you come across. "This choice little morsel is mine!" you radiate. After retrieving the beverages you manuever her down a short hall citing the need for relief. She willingly trips along before you. As you reach the small powder room you start to enter and then grab her by the wrist pulling her in with you. Quickly shutting the door and twisting the lock, you trap her. You grab her silken long hair, pressing your lips firmly to hers, tongues frantically struggling , hands roving mindlessly trying to take it all in again. Both breathless, you fumble at zippers and buttons, hooks and stays. As soon as you can get your trousers to your knees, she drops to hers, taking all of you in her wet, warm mouth. She suckles you like someone starving, her hand massaging your shaft while her expert tongue moves dartingly. She cups and massages your bag, knowing just how to bring you to the edge and then back off.

You are just as hungry for her pussy. You remember that tight, delicious cave that never failed to satisfy. Reluctantly and before you release you pull out of her mouth, turning her to the lavatory, lifting and perching her there on the edge. Your fingers go to her tiny secret places and re-acquaint themselves with her smoothness, perfection. She chirps in delight and you feel sure that her pleasure can be only moments away. You plunge into her heedlessly, holding her head back by her hair and exposing her creamy neck. You are both frantic now, grappling and sucking, teething and struggling. It's too overwhelming and you both come...motionless. Letting the ecstasy pour over you.

Directly you say, "Nice to see you again....."

Festing the Grape

Yesterday found me celebrating life, friends and the grape at the annual GrapeFest in Grapevine, Texas. A coincidental morning communique from my lovely friend Duff and we were off to grape it. The fair has grown over the years and now is a lovely affair that will soon rival Fort Worth's Main Street Festival. We made new friends, met old friends and revelled in a beautiful Texas afternoon capped off with the musical stylings of Mingo Fishtrap (see link to left), a thoroughly entertaining band that never fails to deliver.

Still Trying to Learn...

I think my images are not displaying because I don't have the right "hosting" situation. Hell...I don't know. If anyone can guide through this image morass I would be most obliged and will attempt to post a link to the Samaritan.

Post Script: raspberry sundae sent valuable info allowing me to figure out how to get my images on my blog, however I don't think they are loading right so you may have to right click on the image and choose "show picture." Nevertheless, thanks for getting me started, ras, and I have added your link

Bizarre and Bewitching

I just love "Sponge Bob Square Pants." I leave it on for the birds...maybe they will learn the song.

Truly Thankful

Right...everyone is going to post about 9-11, and I'm not about to be left out. However, I will be brief.

I woke this morning - Chino greeted me with happy trills and even Sterling bweeped a bit. Yippee and Dittles waggled and wigged as I set about preparing repast for all, and I glimpsed the Remembrance program at Ground Zero.

I stopped and gave thanks that I live in a country where my Grandparents can get primo healthcare, where my parents can travel with minimal fear of death, and where I can choose to worship, live and play exactly as I choose. I am glad I am whole and so is my family.

Life is exceptional!

Beware What You Wish...

Well, the Djinn gave me what I wished for, but it seems he is still inhabited by Robin Williams...

Man Gets 6 Months for Swinging Alligator
Fri Sep 10, 7:14 AM ET

DAYTONA BEACH, Fla. - A man who swung an alligator at his girlfriend during an argument was sentenced to six months in jail.

David Havenner, 41, of Port Orange, pleaded no contest to misdemeanor charges of battery and possession of an alligator, said Linda Pruitt, spokeswoman for the State Attorney's Office. He changed his earlier plea of not guilty, she said Wednesday.

He was sentenced to six month in jail with 48 days credit for time served during the Sept. 1 hearing, according to court records.

Sheriff's officials said Havenner was keeping the 3-foot gator in his bathtub and swung it at his girlfriend, Nancy Monico, 39, during an argument on July 16.

Monico told investigators that Havenner beat her with his fists, then grabbed the gator and swung it at her as she tried to escape. The gator struck Monico at least once, after which time Havenner threw empty beer bottles at her and then kicked her out of their mobile home, she told investigators.

Havenner told investigators that Monico bit his hand because she was upset that they had run out of alcohol.

The alligator was later released into the St. Johns River, wildlife commission officials said.

At least no one important (namely agillator) was hurt or maimed...

I Like to Hear Your Thoughts

Recently I was described as "undomesticated."

Please comment! Refer to picture gallery if needed.

Enough Already!

Election years wear me out. Politicians sinking lower and lower in their campaign tactics; bloggers blogging endlessly about who they hate and why; name-calling, mud-slinging, ranting, fanatical soap-boxing; and to what end??? Do folks really think their votes make a difference?? REALLY??

OK, for those of you still laboring under the grand delusion that we live in a "democracy," let me take this one moment to voice my "political" view. (And if you think about it, you just might agree.) This is very abbreviated so try to work with me here.

Clear your mind... open your eyes... just take it all in without extreme prejudice... this won't hurt a bit...

Let's start with the most powerful man in the country... George Dub? - I mean he IS the President and Chief Executive. Do we not look to him in times of crisis for national guidance and assurance? P-Shaw!! The most powerful man in the country is... Alan Greenspan! Maybe even the world. Now that is established, (and I can talk about why he is the most powerful but that is a completely different subject) let's move on to the democratic farce.

We can use simple logic:

Alan Greenspan is omnipotent
Omnipotence is defined by wealth
Wealth equates to money
Money is power
Power is the ability to control
Control resides in the Chief Executive Office.
Chief Executive Office is inhabited by the President.

Extrapolating from the afore, we can infer that the most important occupation of the wealthy is the preservation of money, i.e. power, and the way to do this is to determine the occupancy, i.e. puppetry, of the Chief Executive Office. AND, what that adds up to is an Oligarchy, not a democracy.

Additionally, if you still think there are two reigning political parties in this country, once again, Confused! The Republican and Democratic factions are merely lip-service to an incredibly antiquated Constitution, and crutches for a nation that needs to identify with a "cause" - an excuse to shout and argue about meaningless policies and stances that will never become part of our governmental foundation, much less affect our daily lives. We have one party and that is the Roosevelt/Vanderbilt/Carnegie/Kennedy party that wrangles around and searches for the most compliant candidates and then shuffles them into a figurehead position where their every action can be controlled, manipulated, and dictated by the needs and desires of the wealthy/powerful who only respond to the dictates of the world economy, not world politics.

Money makes the world go 'round, and makes your vote worthless. Sorry, it's my opinion and I'm sticking to it. I will be glad to debate more in-depth in person and at length over a frothy wheat beer. Otherwise, I confine my views to this post, and I move on to much more immediate frivolity.

Monkey-Knuckle

...no time... can't write... new job... family business... blogged down... must carry on...

Chico and the (Wo)-Man

I gotta new drug last night. Chico came home from the frenzied estate of the Birdy Boyz and is now residing in J's old abode (tears) and has availed himself of the stick to which J was so completely averse. This morning's repast included orange slice, alfalfa sprout, grapes, chinese mini corn, spinach, and raisins (now that I think of it, I should have taken a picture...Damn!). Wish I didn't have to leave him all alone on his first day, but it will give him a chance to acclimate. Nick-at-Nite was the overwhelming viewing choice. Sterling was quite interested and tried to engage Chico in some melodious banter, but Chico was playing hard-to-talk.

This is SO cool...I can't wait to get home tonight and play with my new toy...

I think I love you...lalalalalalalala

OK, this is probably one of the weirdest things that has ever happened to me (and I have been involved in some weird sh*t, let me tell you!)...

We all know that Labor Day weekend was my labor of love for the Birdy Boyz and their animal clan. It was awesome being alone and unsupervised with so many outstanding specimens of the birdy world...Macaws that can severe fingers, Amazons that make delicious rain forest noises, Cockatoos that coo lovingly saying "I love you" in dulcet tones, chickens that make eggs that I "eat them up , Yum!" All-in-All, a super weekend of consorting with wild animals gone somewhat domestic.

HOWEVER... here's the weird part. I'll set the stage...

Last day. Mid-Morning. Gentle light streams through west window. Birds readying for nap; rustling, twittering, scuffing around. Oz, large Beretta-type cockatoo known to bite.

"Good Morning, Oz!" I sing.
He ducks his head invitingly.
"Oh, Oz, you've broken your bowl mount again...Crikey!" I fetch new mount.
"Alrighty, gonna put this on and don't you break it again or I'll pank you...naughty Oz."
Oz eyes me jauntily as he climbs through the door and on top of cage.
I finish securing mount and prepare to replace Oz in cage.
Oz lifts foot and stretches it towards me, again ducking head and looking innocent.
I oblige Oz with arm.
Oz slowly begins to rock on wrist, lifts foot out to other hand/wrist. Grabs both hands, switches to other wrist. Rocks more.
"So you want to play the game??" I grab a foot in each hand and do the wiggly thing. Oz nips.
"OK, so no game. What do you want?"
Oz is getting agitated, not in a bitey way. He leans towards me as if wanting to cuddle (this is normal behavior for Cockatoos, they become VERY bonded to one person and are exceptionally affectionate).
I hold Oz close to my chest as he continues to arrange his feet on my hands. He now begins to fluff his feathers, get warm and wiggly.
I'm focused on his head as I don't want another "birdy kiss" that ends with my lip the size of the Hindenburg. And,...
now I notice Oz is really excited by my hands - gripping tightly and working his tail feathers about.
"Holy Crap, I'm getting raped by this bird."
And just as I think that, a lovely little deposit on my hand and Oz is strangely calm.

OK...that's weird!

Labor Day Weekend

Comfy pants, re-runs, and sloppy habits are usually the hallmarks of a long holiday weekend. A chance to stalk your backyard in PJ's, wait to comb your hair until you have to go to the store for another bag of chips, and of course the obligatory afternoon nap. Not for me... not this time.

I volunteered my efforts to the large animal clan of the "Birdy Boyz" and have spent 4-6 hours a day loving rescued dogs grown fat on regular meals; feeding a flock of fowl, exotic and domestic, that greet me as I come through the door and grow sad when I lock up for the night; and wandering the scruffy gardens of a home dedicated to nurturing the less fortunate in the animal kingdom. I wouldn't trade this experience for anything, and I more sure with every visit that organizing a foundation to support the rescue and rehabilitation of abused and neglected birds is just the thing.

Holy Antarctica!

Found this while browsing "The Neurotic Fishbowl" and just had to try it out...

Let's Get Retarded

"Come On... Dig Deep...Challenge Yourself..." These are the encouragements I gave to my cycle class last night while in my mind I thought, "What are you kidding? This program is hellacious! I'm torturing these poor people!" And yet, I got "thank you"'s, and "great ride"'s as the cyclers noodled out of the gym. However, the one enjoyable aspect of that muderous hour was the music, if I do say so myself:

1. Black Water
2. Fell on Black Days
3. Let's Get Retarded
4. Lady Marmalade (Extended Remix)
5. She Bang (William Hung Version)
6. She Bang (Ricky Martin)
7. Shook Me All Night Long
8. Corazon Espinado
9. Black Betty
10. Word Up
11. Tipsy
12. Senorita
13. Vibrate

Grueling, yet audio-satisfactory... My hamstrings hurt...YEOUCH!

Psittacine Ecstacy

In the wake of the condolences following J's death, the torturous tapes in my head about said demise, and continued existence without the little pecker, I am now presented with new joy.

A few blogs ago I talked about bliss, and I discovered my bliss this year when I contracted to hand-raise several hundred cockatiels, conures, greencheeks and small parrots. Within the first few feeds I had an indescribable feeling that I soon realized was passion/bliss in its purest form. When Crazy Bird Lady went tits up and I lost my contract, I was truly bereft and knew that I had to find a way to incorporate birds, particularly parrots, into my life. A new friend who is a parrot rescuer of the most dedicated sort has entrusted me with his collection of Macaws (Remember the Lip!), Amazons, Cockatoos, Conures and various other feathered companions. Over the last month, in preparation for his Labor Day vacation, I have been feeding the birds with Jeff's tender guidance and instruction. I have come to be close to a few of the flighty fellows and have come to be the dastardly enemy of one in particular (Remember the Lip!). However, in the course of my nightly feeds, I have become particularly attached to one little Amazonian fellow named Chico.

Chico is an unhappy, single male Mealy Amazon parrot who Jeff warned me of. Oddly enough, Chico and I have become friends. He allows me to scratch his neck and cheeks, cooing and raising his wings in delight. He never lunges at me and bows his head submissively when I approach the cage. I have enjoyed developing a relationship with the fellow who is such a "killer." Last night while feeding, Jeff and I worked harmoniously in the aviary...dumping seeds, filling water, reassuring Macaws, and calmly going about our business. I spent extra time with Chico and we scratched, cawed and strengthened our bond. As I was rubbing Chico's cheek, I glanced over at Jeff to find him staring wide-eyed at our tete-a-tete.

Well, you know what happens next. Upon leaving, Jeff walked me out to the car and after some small talk told me that he had wanted to wait until after the trip, but he and Tommy had deciced that Chico should come live with me. (imagine me standing in the dusk, no words coming out but the lips are moving)

Chico will never be a replacement for J, but he is certainly welcome into my home and life. And, with Sterling, Chico and other parrots needing rescue, perhaps the non-profit that I have been longing to start can begin to take shape.

Addendum non Sequitor: I have little Geckos in my garage.

Copulatory Cuisine

Regardless of whether the aphrodisiacal effects are scientifically based or not, it all works when you are with that special someone (even if it is only yourself, hehe)...

The Passion that Binds

On Finding Your Bliss:

I wrote this one lovely afternoon while sitting in the sun on the porch of the Dubliner Pub. Sipping a Hefeweizen and being in the moment brought these thoughts to mind and pen.

My Uncle Christopher calls it your bliss, and has encouraged me at every turn to search for it. Perhaps it is something tied to your destiny. Perhaps it is only a reflection of some seemingly unattainable desire.

How does one find one's passion/bliss? Some might say that through the serene process of zen, one can attain passion, or maybe one just fumbles about until the passion presents itself. Sometimes we don't recognize our passion until it beats us about the head and shoulders with a large prickly stick. I imagine that it happens in a myriad of ways, each singular for each individual seeking.

What I know is that the passion is not all pleasure. Frustration, knowledge, suffering, joy, submission and dominance - a plethora of weltering emotions and proficiencies/inefficiencies are all part and parcel of the passion and its demands and rewards.

The passion screams, weeps, laughs unbridled. It embraces, it thrusts away, elusive yet tangible and ephemeral as faeries, lover, friend, concupiscent enemy. The conquering delight, mischevious uncertainty, blatant failure, devious gift and amorphous anxiety.

"Raw" Deal

Yea!!! Keep it coming! Go Anopsic! I love nuts! (Ooops! That didn't sound so good...)

I testify to the advantages of eating raw, or nearly so. Although, I still believe that animal protein is an important part of our prehistoric ancestry and that we should consume flesh. However, Anopsic eating coupled with "grazing" (i.e. raw consumption) is definitely many steps in the right direction. In addition reduced caloric, and I mean severely reduced, intake ices our dietary cake. When following a strong dietary regimen, one will find that less exercise is required. For those averse to running, aerobics or exercise in general, switching to a diet bereft of processed, refined foods will reduce the total weekly hours of physical activity from 5-6 hours to 2-3 hours. CAVEAT: If you adopt the diet and then stay with the 5-6 hours of working out, the bod, skin, hair and mental state can change in the blink of an eye and maintenance is a breeze. (You can even have "fast food" or haute cuisine on occasion and not risk inflating the waistline or saddlebags).
Of course, some fat deposits are hereditary and those will shrink but only to a certain extent. At that point, learn to meditate and love yourself.

Lesson over...recess!

In Memoriam...

Indigo Requiem

Unto my wilding heart
Healthy, young, unsure
You came.

Taxing skill and delicacy
Pleading, probing, strong
You grew.

Within my distraught life
Bounding, brave, independent
You lived.

Taken from my hearth
Capricious, incomplete, unfettered
You left.

I hate to say it,...BUT

According to this report, the government has finally made a decisive and positive step towards reconfiguring the "Food Pyramid" and for the folks who are blind followers this may be the first step on the road to decreased obesity and healthier lifestyles in the US. How many times have you been in public and been absolutely awestruck by the magnitude of an ass, belly or bosom?? For me, it doesn't happen rarely enough. Coming from generations of weight-challenged and obese relatives, I have been hyper-conscious of my health, weight and fitness. At times I have been obsessive, and at others adopted a manner of blissful unawareness; and I must say that my body has suffered in each instance.

I note in this article that not only are refined grains relegated to the "Don't Eat" list, but that the words "moderation" and "balance" are emphasized. YEA!!! HOORAH!! Nobody wants to go on the bean diet just to lose that extra 100#'s of gut...regardless of the fact that is asking just too much of the average American. So here's the governemental endorsement to kick just one measley item off your daily intake...white bread (Boo, thumbs down to refined grains!). You'd be amazed what cutting out bread does to your waistline, butt, and multiple chin.

Don't get me wrong...butter tortillas rock my world, a smoked turkey sandwich on sourdough is heavenly, and I do love my vices (glug,glug, puff,puff) - just not EVERY day, EVERY meal. When did eating become the center of our universe?? We structure everything around consuming: "Hey, let's do lunch!" "Why don't we discuss it over dinner?" "What did YOU have for breakfast?"...and so on. It's apparent that we as a culture have adopted eating as our backdrop for everything from casual socializing to executive decisions. When was the last time you heard someone suggest, "Hey, let's meet at the gym and discuss it there." "Take a walk with me, I'd like to know more about you." or "Let's take a 10 minute calisthenics break."

I've been an unconventional eater and exerciser for some time now and as such am used to the queer looks and snide queries, but I feel good. Walking outside the lines can be lonely and uncomfortable, but you do it long enough and people start to look and point. Then suddenly they want to know what's going on over there. And, hopefully, you can drag a few over and they can discover for themselves. After all, isn't it about self discovery and feeling good?!

Trivial Pursuit

I pride myself on knowing useless bits of drivel, trivia and biological detail; however, when this simple question was asked in my office today, I drew a blank. So, in honor of senseless knowledge cravers everywhere I bring you...

Do cashews have shells?

The Blue Jay

Emily Dickinson

No brigadier throughout the year
So civic as the jay.
A neighbor and a warrior too,
With shrill felicity

Pursuing winds that censure us
A February day,
The brother of the universe
Was never blown away.

The snow and he are intimate;
I've often seen them play
When heaven looked upon us all
With such severity,

I felt apology were due
To an insulted sky,
Whose pompous frown was nutriment
To their temerity.

The pillow of this daring head
Is pungent evergreens;
His larder -- terse and militant --
Unknown, refreshing things;

His character a tonic,
His future a dispute;
Unfair an immortality
That leaves this neighbor out.

Welcome to Fantasy Island......In Hell!!

Scenario...

Woman is freakishly afraid of scorpions because she thinks they can leap like fleas, tails extended stinger end first to poke out unsuspecting eyes. Many have assured her that scorpions CANNOT, in no uncertain terms, leap ginormous distances. Still and yet, she is wary, brandishing a hammer or large mallet during her nightime excursions. She meets friend (supposed "friend") who jokingly brings up possibility of scorpions farting. Now she has method by which scorpions can attack her maliciously while flying through air via methane propulsion.

THANKS!

Talkin' 'bout my g-g-g-generation...

I am SO diggin' this new radio station in DFW...100.3 Jack FM. Dating myself by admitting so, but not able to contain my delight at finding some tunes that rarely repeat, make me jive, and let me sing super loud while driving. It's the Tom Cruise "Freefalling" episode in real life. Additionally, I thank this format for reminding me of songs, left way in the background of my highschool mind, which I can now add to my roster of fun cycle music. What a reward to see a room full of cyclers gulping for breath and hoping this tyrrany will stop and then hearing the first few bars of "Black Betty" and ramping it up again because there is something tangible and inherently solid in this epoch of music.

Yea!...I love being my age!

Killing Me Softly

Grandma is in the hospital...for the third time in 8 months with the same complaint. She and Grand-daddy raised me from a little sprout to a fourth grader with grand intentions and big dreams.

My Grandma has always been heavy. I've seen pictures of her before the birth of my mother and aunt in which she is a tall, rather Amazonic and attractive woman. However, when I came to know her, she was, as most Grandma's are (except for the little wispy ones) a cushy, cozy, plumpy woman who could make everything all good even when Grand-daddy was threatening me with the flyswatter. "Claude, you are not going to hurt this child!!" as I cowered behind her massive buttocks. I never taunted Grand-daddy from there as I knew he would eventually find me outside of Grandma's protective sphere and give me a sound "whippin'" with the swatter...fly guts and all.

Need less to say, I love...love dearly, my Grandparents, but they are very different people in many respects, a few quite integral, from the person I grew up to be. We differ in our faith, as well as our perceptions of the world and how it functions. These can be chalked up to generational differences. The most important rift is that concerning health, fitness and nutrition.

Can't remember if I have discussed this here, but a brief synopsis would be that I adhere (as best I can) to a tradition of fitness and nutrition that I feel will increase my productive years, help maintain mental stability, clean my colon of debris, and generally make me a more pleasant person to be around. I strive to stay away from manufactured chemicals that are being passed off as health remedies, in particular antibiotics. I won't force my lifestyle on you, but I will expound at length at the slightest provocation.

In light of this, my mother and I have been working on my Grandparents for several years to convince them that these dietary changes will not only help them lose weight (sorely needed. Grandma's hips span a yard), but will act to reverse the symptoms of mature onset diabetes (which they both have), can only be helpful in reversing Grand-daddy's heart disease (for which he has had two multiple bypass surgeries and countless arteriograms), and could certainly aid in Grandma's staggering diverticular erosions for which she is now in her third visit to grand old Mother Frances.

All of that withstanding, the continued hospitals visits, hemorhages, calls in the night, and unexpected visits to East Texas are beginning to take their toll. All of this preventable if she would exercise (just get out of the Barcalounger), and quit eating white bread. However, she, phobically afraid of doctors, surgery and all things medical, repeatedly tortures herself with ambulance rides, countless needle sticks and threats of colonectomies if she doesn't get her act together. We, her family, agonize over these incidents wishing we knew that magic combination of words to tell her so that she would stop slowly killing herself.

I want to be as loving and supportive as I possibly can, yet I am resigned to being ignored and feeling helpless in the wake of her obstinacy. I love her so immensely and I loathe her for her willful negligence.

Maybe the husbands, wives, children, and grandchildren of heavy chronic smokers feel this way.

The "J" Report, Episode 7...Mortal Sins

J stays! After calling on several zoos, rehab facilities and education programs, apparently a domesticated Blue Jay in pristine condition is just not wanted or needed. Feh!!!! So, I got out the scissors, clipped his primaries, cleaned the guano and ordered him a roomy cage. He'll live out his little birdy life in the lap of avian luxury attended by his winsome mistress and stuffing in as much BBQ as he can tolerate.**

Even after the clippage, J has proved to be an Olympic leaper and flutterer. He still manages to ascend to the highest shelf of the etigére, tip the Huichol ceremonial hat off its coconut head, cleverly deposit foodstuffs in the corners, bury tomatoes and corn in the ficus pot (should be a lovely garden there come next spring), and fling potting soil to the four corners of the living room and beyond. You just gotta love a bird weighing in at a mere couple hundred grams that can create such torments in his territory.

Of late, he has been begging Sterling for food. To which Sterling replies with a dignified huff and fluff. He has been marauding Sterling's cage. He has knocked two pictures off the wall and has destroyed a whole pod of garlic, distributing the papery thin casing to each and every wet spot he comes across, thus effectively super-gluing the wisps to counters, faucets and sinks. He discovered on Sunday that **ears are exceptional BBQ/food storage units**. And, that eyes are quite sparkly and whimsically peckable.

He dive bombs the shower spray and delights to sit on my eye-liner pencil as I apply my face. Soon he will poop on my sonic toothbrush, raid my underwear drawer and be caught lounging on the bed, toddy in hand, smoking jacket sashed, ordering birdy porn.

That's my J. Donations accepted via PayPal: ipoinc2003

Adventures in photojournalism

Do red wine and cameras go together??

This one, too...

I did the Spirit Guide too. The bird is definitely apropos, however when I received Reiki training in Mexico and my spirit was opened allowing my personal spirit guide to appear to me, it was a dog. Specifically, my black labrador, India, who at the time was not dead, but definitely in decline. Discuss amongst yourselves.

P.S. You know this is just for fun, right??


Hummingbird Spirit Calls To You!
Hummingbird
represents optimism and sweetness.
Being able to roll with the punches is an attribute
of Hummingbird.

Hummingbirds's Wisdom Includes:


Ability to heal by using light as a laser from
mouth


Endurance over long journeys


Ability to fly into small places to heal


Joy


Happiness


Love


Messenger, stopper of time.

What a Surprise...

I don't know if this really fits...maybe my exterior persona, but not exactly the interior unless I am just fooling myself and not ready to accept my invicibility...


You are Long-wang!

Mythological Background: Yes, the dragon represents
everything you think of when you think of a
dragon - fearsome and invincible. Also, it is
greatly respected just because of that fact.
The dragon has a very protective aspect to it.
Even Jupiter reminds you of intense smashing
power. The dragon is almost always surrounded
by rain-bearing clouds and fog; and the
appearance of its constellation always signals
rainfall and lightning. It's also a symbol of
authority worn by the nobility and the imperial
class. Japanese Name: Seiryuu.


Which Chinese Mythological Being Are You?
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Damp Thoughts

Drizzle patters, slaps and plops outside. Grey clouds ooze dusky light into my bedroom where I am entombed in my aquatic bower. Birds are quietly murmuring to the rain. All is heavy, pregnant with humidity and the fecundity that precipitation imports. My book beckons and the tea kettle hoots. Somehow I am sanguine on this freakish August day. Life is swelling, burgeoning in my small world and there is promise of lives yet to come. Blissfully light, I move through this weighty day.

Virtual Tadpoling...

Hmmm...I wonder if you can order these online???

Of Late...

Sometimes it is important to step back and be selfish. Yep, take just one moment for me. And I'm talking about an impulsive, frivolous moment...not an, "Aw, just hit the snooze button one more time" moment. For me it is usually an impulse buy at Central Market in the floral department. A week ago, as I was shopping on a Tuesday night and not wanting to, I came to the check-out and noticed that bunches of beautiful roses were on sale. Not just the icky roses that were full-on and oocky colors. But, good roses...buds, vibrant and unusual colors. The attendant told me they were promoting roses the month of August and they would be on sale every Tuesday.

What a gimmick! I'm hooked.

Pass the Child, please...

The death of an icon. I am speechles. Sabayon will never be the same. Bechamelle will be forgotten. In honor of Ms. Child, I will slather my vegetables, meat and minerals in rich, raw cream butter.

I salute (sauté) her...

Sterling's Story

Abused, neglected and disabled, Sterling cowered despondently in the darkest corner. Shunned by his mates and deemed unfit to breed, Sterling was at the end of his rope. Luckily, a North Texas agency became interested in Sterling's story, but it would have to be someone very dedicated to relieve this poor fellow of his anxieties.

The rest is his-story...

Weekend Update

Ever been kissed by a large, friendly Blue & Gold Macaw? Well, let me tell you, it is not an experience you will soon forget.

Here's how the story goes:

Remember that on Saturday I was approached by my birdy friends to rescue a lovely blue Indian ringneck in Lubbock. The bird was not accompanied by any accessories, so I asked Jeff, a fellow bird lover and rescuer, if he had a cage I could borrow. And, of course, he did. I slip over to the units' house for some grub and movie while waiting for the call to come get the cage.

Oh, this is where it gets good...

Get the call from Jeff just as Mom is telling Joey exactly how to insert the DVD, if ya know what I mean. I pop over to Jeff's and arrive to find Jeff and Tommy getting ready to feed and having a relaxing conversation outside. Tommy is sporting BeBe, a large Blue & Gold Macaw on his shoulder. BeBe is a beautiful and friendly large bird and I am just brimming with excitement to hold her. Tommy assures me no prob and she swiftly climbs to my arm. I am admiring her beautiful head, amazingly strong feet and sweet demeanor. In fact, I am caught off guard as she strains and leans in for a big birdy smooch.

OK, now it gets REALLY good!

I am no stranger to parrot spit and am delighted that she is taking to me so quickly. So I, too, lean in for a big, wet, sloppy one and everything is just ducky. UNTIL, she decides that my bottom lip needs a little "plumping." She swiftly grabs said labia twixt pointy upper and flat, sharp lower beaks, gives a good hard pinch and then shrugs off with a sly look. I am stunned and think this is not too bad for my first macaw bite (these birds pack a whopping 900 PSI in those beaks - enough to sever a finger like butter). Tommy asks if she has bitten and I reply it was just a love bite. He gently admonishes her while I stand there beginning to feel the pain. I want to be "cool" so I ignore the bite and continue nattering on with Tommy. As I blather away I notice a curious look on Tommy's face and he suddenly asks if I would like a paper-towel. Meanwhile, I have the sensation that my lip is approaching Angelina Jolie size. Jeff brings me something to dab with and I realize that as I was blithering on, blood was crazily creeping down my chin. PRETTY!

Oh, the humiliation!

With swift goodbyes and apologies all around, I head home leaving my pride somewhere in the gutter. Arriving home, I am pleased to see that the movie is playing and the room is dark. I slip into my seat and watch the quite lovely British film, "Calendar Girls." Movie finishes, lights go up and to my chagrin ol' Mom has already figured out the state of my lower lip. Joey is delighted to see a hugely swollen lip sporting two neat little pinch marks.

Ok, now I want to crawl away.

We all laugh about it. I go home ecstatic about my first parrot on the morrow and I photograph the evidence.

The "J" Report, Episode 1/2 Dozen

I went on and on about J's big decision and as destiny would have it, I will have to make this decision for him. Here's the deal...

Once you domesticate a wild animal, it is very difficult to release them back into their natural habitat and have confidence that they will survive for any length of time. Strict evolutionists would say that I commited my biggest crime by taking J in at all. Nature, left to it's own devices would have either saved J of her own accord, or he would have lain on the ground and starved to death, thus following the sometimes seemingly random harsh dictums of evolutionary selection. In effect, I snubbed my nose at Mother Nature and took on the role myself. And, according to chaos theory I may have stared something that will be felt as a monsoon in Asia.

Either way, now I have this beautiful bird and friend who cannot return to his natural habitat. Let back into nature he would surely not be afraid of people who want to harm, animals ready to pounce, and unkind meteoroligical events. After much cogitation and discussion with those who have been through this heart-breaking yet rewarding process, I feel I have two options - J can go to the zoo where he will have a semblance of nature or he can remain a pet.

You vote...

Feather Brain

I'm getting a new bird tomorrow (sing, sing...lalalalalala). My new friend Jeff called me this morning and pleasantly asked me, "Do you want a bird?" I was stunned, shocked...mouth-gaping, breath-stopping, butt-clenching shock. "Whoa," I thought, "what kind of bird? Am I ready for this? Holy, great Googlymoogly!" So, my mouth says yes before my brain clicks on and now I am off tomorrow to Lubbock to collect one lonely and abused blue ringneck parrot missing a couple of toes and a good loving mom (pictorial documentation on return). I am so thrilled, excited, ecstatic I can hardly wait to get there and collect my prize.

Here's how this happens...

Mom receives Orange Wing Amazon in transaction with client.
I start talking to Mom again after 4 year estrangement.
I learn to LOVE Ecco, the parrot.
Struggling to find my bliss and make money doing so, I create India Pet Organics.
Mom hooks me up with local bird lady.

In a fit of insanity, I accept the responsibility of hand-feeding, -raising and socializing hundreds of conures, cockatiels and parrots.

I find my bliss.
Bird Lady becomes Crazy Bird Lady and goes tits up.
I go bonkers.
Mom goes to the mat for me and tells Crazy Bird Lady to "Shove your birds up your ass, you Bitch!"
I hang on to my bliss for the sake of my sanity.
Mom encourages.
I join Dallas and Fort Worth bird societies.
I meet Jeff, my new birdy friend.
I meet Jeff's extended and extensive family of loved ones - parrots, dogs, cats, chickens, and a big hairy thing called Tommy! (heehee, Jeffrey)
I rescue first parrot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The door just opened and I am by the gods stepping through it. No one can stop me now!