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!