Bet this looks cool:

Venus, Jupiter, Mercury and the Moon conjunct on New Year's eve.

I say "I bet" because...I wouldn't know.

I went outside to look.

Foiled again by that @#$%ing Marine Layer.

It's the same reason that little kids in the Bay Area can't see fireworks on Fourth of July.

And, uh, New Year's Eve.

*sulk*

And there you have it

So. 2008. S'up?

Been a wild one, huh? Ups. Downs. Really downs. Really *really* downs.

I got married. I changed jobs. I had a nice amount of money invested in some high upside stocks.

And then I had $1.75 and a bad mood.

We had a weird, wacky, wild run up to the election and lo and behold we got a new president-elect. Don't make me regret voting for you, sir.

What lies ahead? A roller coaster economy, more businesses failing, maybe some recovery, and those wacky Democrats at the helm.

Put on your seatbelts. Arms inside the car at all times. 2009 promises to be a dark ride.

Cheers to you and yours.

Do Not Do As I Do

Today, in order to take the chill out of my bones on a cold winter evening, I decided to take a hot bath.

So there I was, in my all in all as the tub filled, and I made a critical decision.

I got on the scale.

This, just four days after Christmas.

It's going to take a while to recover from the shock.

Perhaps time to consider resolutions...

Sign of the times

Tonight, The Good Man and I couldn't decide what movie to watch, so we flipped a coin.

TGM's flip went offline, pinged off the cat and rolled across the floor.

The flip went bad since he's accustomed to flipping a quarter for our deadlock decisions. Today all he had in his pocket was a penny.

Just not the same.

Wacked out economy.

Btw, the coin landed on tails, which means we watched The Great Debaters.

Can't. Stop. Laughing.

Image via Las Cruces Sun News.

I got you something!

Oh, I know I didn't have to...I just wanted to.

Because you are something special to me.

Here it is!

Open it! I can't stand the anticipation!

Great! Do you like it? Is it too much?

I got you:

A warm, safe and joyous holiday!

A 2009 filled with both hope and prosperity

Humility, gratitude and appreciation for all you've done for me this year.

And

Love. Lots and lots of love.

Use it well! It's just your size!

Insults that aren't really curse words

I was reading a bit of a gossip rag online this afternoon and stumbled upon an unknown (to me) insulting curse word. It's one of those great borderline usages...not really a dirty word, but close enough to get the idea across.

And if said with vigor, makes all the impact you need.

The word that is now the newest addition to my personal lexicon is nobsack.

Used in context: "... she knows a thing or two about unbearably dirty-looking nobsacks."

I don't know *exactly* what the word means, but I bet I can hazard a pretty darn close guess.

It sounds British. The British really are wonderful for the insulting words that aren't cursing...you know, prat and wanker and bollocks. All good ones to drop in casual conversation.

Nobsack has a new, fresh sound to it. I do get so weary of the time tested "douche bag" which has regained popularity recently. The cooler kids have reduced it to just "douche" and morphed it into an adverb..."Why do you have to be so douchey?"

It's not one I use much, but it works. Insulting without cursing. This is good. At my last job, cursing was like water, flowing its way through every conversation. Heck, our CEO used the term "batsh*t" in reference to our competition. Cursing was expected and I gladly went along for the ride (much to my mother and brother's dismay).

At my new gig, no one curses. It was even addressed as part of my new hire training. So I'm having to break a nearly ten year habit. As such, I'm collecting non-cursing insults. Like dillweed and dillhole. Time tested, mother approved.

I knew someone from Mexico who used the Spanish word for peanut, cacahuate, as a replacement for sh--. It does certainly *sound* bad when said strongly.

Well, I'll keep collecting the "clean" dirty words. This is a tough transition.

And anyone who says differently is a nobsack.

Yeah, that flows pretty good off the tongue.

Things like this shouldn't be allowed to happen

I've been listening to the Holly station on my Sirius radio pretty steady for the past few days.

It plays a nice mix of old standards and contemporary holiday songs. Not all the songs jingle my bells, the Ann Murray and the Manheim Steamroller could get toned down a little, but so far so good.

Until this morning.

As I dressed for work, I heard the sounds of a woman caterwauling the John Lennon protest song "Happy Xmas (War Is Over)".

I glanced at my receiver to see just who was perpetuating this abomination, and gasped when I read the readout.

Celine Dion

How could this happen? Where are the controls to manage such things? It is not ok for the soulless and vapid Celine Dion to put her trilling note-running shriek on a song that is both moving and meaningful. And written by a talented artist and not some sham with a daddy-husband's money to make her famous.

I was beside myself, truly.

Look, all you Celines and Josh Grobin's and John Tesh's and Yanni's (and dare I say, Nelson Martinez's) need to just stay back behind the very explicit WonderBread white line in the sand. You just commit your egregious crimes against musical taste and soul and leave the heavy lifting to those who are much more qualified.

Meanwhile, I had to cleanse my aural cavities with some holiday sounds from James Brown followed by John Lee Hooker.

It was the only way to get right after what I experienced.

There oughta be a law for such crimes against humanity.

(Aye God, can this woman not be stopped? Evidently her cover of AC/CD's "You Shook Me All Night Long" was voted worst cover song in a magazine survey.)

Doing the work of a higher power

I need to go now...I am weeping with longing.....

Photo courtesy of the Las Cruces Sun News.

Please have snow, and mistletoe

Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

Ok, so yesterday and today I have been listening to big time holiday music.

This morning as I drove in to work, singing along, I sang about snow while noticing the raging rainstorm pelting my windshield.

You know what...given where and how I was raised, and even where I live now, most of these traditional holiday songs are truly meaningless to me.

Rarely was there snow on the ground at Christmas in Albuquerque. If there was (once, I think) it was melted before the day was out.

No where in the collection of holiday songs is the singer lamenting for Christmas of their youth were it was 65 and sunny.

Or having tamales to eat on Christmas Eve.

Or plucking a piñon tannenbaum out of the pile for 15 bucks a piece at the flea market.

Or filling paper bags with sand.

No, the "east coast bias" that applies to sports seems to infiltrate the holiday as well.

Heck, in my new digs, Christmas is about rain. And crab (tis crab season, yum!).

Where's the song for that?

Doesn't exist!

I *could* feel bad that the east coasters get snow and fabulous Macy's windows filled with displays and thus they get to understand the true meaning of the old standards.

But I don't. I wouldn't trade my own memories for all the Fa La La La La in the world.

What's in a name?

The Good Man, being the very good man that he is, agreed to run my car into the shop today. So as such, he drove me to work this morning.

As we careened down the Bay Area highways, we were cut off by a Mercury Mountaineer.

I said to TGM, "The Mountaineer...that was never really a big hit, was it?"

TGM said, "No, it's essentially a Ford Explorer anyway."

Then I replied, "I always thought Mountaineer was a stupid car name anyway."

Which tipped off a whole conversation about absurd car names...TGM was on a ROLL. I laughed my head off and in the middle of his rant, I said, "I foresee a blog entry."

So here it is. The content below is mostly stolen from the brilliant mind of TGM.

Without further ado, my top five most absurd names of cars you'll see rolling on the roads today:

5. Nissan Armada. "What, is the main feature that it sinks off the coast of England?" said TGM (A comment that had me laughing so hard I got a stitch in my side.)

4. Dodge Durango. What a wimpy SUV name. Have these people ever actually BEEN to Durango. I have. And what is it about the sleepy Colorado town that the car should evoke? Am I supposed to think snow? And mountains? No, I think tourist trap. Look at me in my rolling tourist trap.

3. Chevy Avalanche. "Now that name is appropriate, it is a disaster rolling down a hill." (TGM was on fire this morning.)

2. Toyota Echo. "It's bears a faint resemblance to a car, but isn't actually a car."

1. The winner and still the King: Ford Probe. "I sure as hell don't want something made by Ford up in space," said TGM. To which I replied "or up my butt".

Yes, childish as I am...the Ford Probe makes me think of something more...medical. I don't want to think of uncomfortable medical situations while driving to work every morning.

Or maybe that's just me.

Anyhow...there were plenty more, but I was laughing so hard, I couldn't make notes.

Special thanks to TGM for both his brilliance and for making the ride to work more fun.

If you drive any of the above automobiles, I'm sure it's a *fine* car...just has a dorkish name! :)

*Poing*Plonk*Sprang*Plink*

Oh yes, 'tis that time of year again.

When holiday cards fill my mailbox at home.

And most of those shiny envelopes contain family cards where my fabulous friends enclose a photo card...a photo of their children and occasionally the children and the pet.

As I open all of these cards and see the children of my dear friends and how they've grown over another year, the gray hairs begin popping out all over.

Yesterday I opened a card from a really great friend from college. She is about ninety pounds soaking wet, full of energy, and full of fight.

Back in school, I had a devastating breakup with a boyfriend just before starting graduate school. I considered giving up, I was lost and just couldn't care anymore...but she refused to let some guy screw up my whole life and career. She grabbed my hand and pulled me through.

She made me go to class. She made me study. She partnered with me on presentations and her charm, poise and fire were like a salve to a wounded soul. I owe her and the other two in our gang of four because without them, I'd never have completed my MBA. Truly.

Later, when she had an even more horrific breakup, and was on the verge, I turned around and took her hand and helped pulled her through, too.

This girl was a crazy person, and that's what I loved most about her. One time in a near empty bar on a Wednesday night (pitchers of beer were buy one get one for goodness sakes!) she demonstrated, on the dance floor of the club, the appropriate form for sliding into second base. She rubbed a layer of skin off her legs, but damnit, we all learned something that night!

There was also the occasion where we had to pull her out of a fight with a group of drunk guys who wanted to use the pool table that she was unwilling to give up. Who cares if she was drunk and only chasing balls around the felt, hardly sinking a one. The girl was there first! Principles, people!

Anyhow, that amazing fighter of a crazy lady sent me her card this year. And her beautifully tiny blond porcelain doll of a daughter is now...uh...thirteen.

*ploing*sproing*bawannggggg*

I almost passed out. Really, I got woozy and had to sit.

How can it be that the distance between today and those college years that are so crisp and clear like they were yesterday are a whole human teenager away? (plus a few years, actually)

How can that be?

No really! How *can that be*???

Baby, it's cold outside

Winter has hit the Bay Area.

How do I know this for sure?

The dark skies?

The near constant drenching rain?

The hailstorm we had yesterday?

No.

By this conversation.

Casual question: "Where is the cat?"

Reply: "On the heater vent."

The roots of my raising run deep...

Ok, well, maybe a taste of the holiday spirit came and got me this weekend.

The tree went up.

And the kitchen got cookin'.

It ain't Christmas without a batch of biscochitos. (Recipe here from the PNM cookbook.) It's a family tradition.

Here are the little beauties, just before going in the oven....deelish already:

And then, fully cooked, fulfilling their destiny. So lightly baked, so flaky, so anise-y. Oh yeah. New Mexico comes to visit.

Many of these bad boys will be going with me to work. These Californians need a taste of where I come from!

Time Marches On

I noted with some sadness today the passing of Bettie Page. She was 85 and passed after suffering a heart attack.

I've always been rather fascinated by her, first, of course, for her vibrant beauty and unabashed nature. But there is something else there for me...this might sound horribly vain, but I loved that, like me, she was a brunette.

I grew up in New Mexico where almost all the girls are brunette, and a blond girl was always the "ooh and aaahs" of the school ground. The boys didn't care about another brunette girl. We were a dime a dozen. But a blond, aaaaooooohhhhga!

So I've always loved seeing a hot brunette make it work. After the Marilyn Monroe and Jayne Mansfield media barrage, I *loved* seeing Bettie's dark locks...and that she took her overt sensuality to new levels. She made people uncomfortable.

And she was just...stunning.

Like the many girls who burst on the scene the way she did, she had a troubled life both before and after her explosive fame. But I don't want to remember her for the hard times, the mental frailty, the reclusiveness and regret.

I want to remember her as a plain, open, fun kinda gal.

From today's SFGate article: "...she told Playboy in 1998: 'I never thought it was shameful. I felt normal. It's just that it was much better than pounding a typewriter eight hours a day, which gets monotonous.'"

Right!

I know the "behind the scenes" wasn't always pretty, and the uptight folks hounded her. But to me she is truly an icon. And supportive evidence that brunettes can be just as va-va-voom as our fair-haired counterparts!

I'm posting a fairly well known photo, fully clothed, but brimming with HOOOOOT.

Go easy, now, Bettie. Have fun shaking your money-maker on the other side!

Ah yes, these...these are my people

This screenshot from the SFGate.

So instead of actually *cleaning* off the road sign such that drivers in the twisty-turny mountain pass might be better prepared during quite inclement weather...instead, these folks write their name in the snow.

Nice.

Haaawhoof!

That approximates the exact sound I made at about 10:55 this morning.

I had a "meet and greet" with the boss of my boss, a high ranking and incredibly powerful woman.

I mean, she's brilliant. Has a degree in chemistry and another in finance. Worked for an oil company in Houston for many years and then made her way west. The continuing upward steps in her career are admirable.

Her background is deep, diverse and amazing.

Let's just say this: She is a force to be reckoned with.

And as a new employee in her organization, I got the chance to have an hour of her time so she could get to know me and so I could get to know her too.

I was told by my mentor that I should, "come with an agenda, don't leave open air". Her time if valuable, to be sure. And so I did. I came to the table with a print out of questions I jotted down and I noticed she took note that I had.

I asked her about her background, her management philosophy and what I can do to be effective here at the company. And she answered very candidly.

I even asked her what is her nitpick so that I can manage to that. She told me two.

That's some managerial self-awareness!

So it was an intense hour, but good, meaningful and filled with useful information.

When it was over, I came out of her office pitted out (meaning, I needed a Right Guard moment, raise your hands if you're Sure, etc).

So, for me, the life moments that cause me to get pitted out all get measured on the scale of completing the orals for my Master's degree.

Wearing a suit, in front of my professor committee, at the marker board, explaining economic theory. Yeah, despite two coats of D.O., I was WAY pitted out that day. That was the worst.

So if we call "Master's Orals" a 10, today's moisture was about a three. So low, but still...

I musta been more nervous that I even thought going in.

When all was done, I came out of the boss lady's office, went up two floors to my office, ripped off my cardigan, and uttered a long drawn out "haaawhoof!"

You know the sound. The one you make when you've finished your laborious taxes. The one you make when your shaky team is up by one with three seconds on the clock in a playoff game and they manage to win.

The one you make when you want very much to make a good impression on someone who could literally make or break you and your career.

Haaaaawhoooooof!

Go Speed Racer!

Whoo! Had quite the day at "work". I put the air quotes around it, because even though I got up at the usual time and drove in to work, I didn't do any *actual* work today.

It was the occasion of my group's annual holiday offsite event. This is only my fourth week of employment.

We went to a new and very well managed Go Kart Racing facility. They are set up for corporate "team building" events. I dunno if talking smack and bumping your coworker 'round the curves is building a team, but it was a heck of a lot of fun.

We were broken up into two teams and each team got two goes at the race course. First was "warm up" laps, to learn the course. Then it got serious. I placed in the middle of the pack for times in the warm up laps.

Then we did a "qualifying round," and from the results would be positioned for the final round.

So, while we waited for the qualifying round, oh did the smack talk begin. The "you're going down!" comments started flying. And not from me. No, they came AT me. And I smiled. And I put on my pink helmet.

And I kicked everyone's ass.

That's right, I won the qualifying round, got the pole position, and never looked back.

Many of my new coworkers were like "wow, you were really...aggressive...out there." Umm hmm...they wouldn't have said that to a male driver. I'm just sayin'.

I was proud because another of my coworkers, one who took the MOST grief (they told her she drove like she was taking her kids to school. That ain't right) came in second right behind me.

Girl Power!

After the racing then we played pool, ate and talked about the team and how we'll approach next year.

So far, I'm really digging this job. Some of the best folks I've ever worked with. I just hope I can step up soon and be a fully functioning member of the group. They've been nothing but great to me.

Next up: the entire corporation has a holiday event Saturday. The Good Man gets to go too. It's gonna be BIG fun!

Oh Geez

The Feline has been named "Pet of the Month" by our vet.

Oh the fame. The demands. The rider clause to be added on to her appearance contract.

"One (1) big clear glass bowl of kibble. All the irregular shapes ones picked out. One (1) bottle Evian. Room temperature."

She'll go from merely a pain in the patooty to insufferable.

Diva Feline.

I'll do a tell all with the tabloids about her addiction to batting at the venetian blinds and that time I found her in a "compromising position" in the laundry basket.

I'll have to teach her how to get out of a limo correctly, tail down, so we don't have a little "Britney incident" on our hands.

Upshot is maybe all the media pressure will encourage her to drop those extra lingering four pounds she fights.

Do I need to find a celebrity trainer to take her on?

Ugh.

Hope we get a reality show out of this.

The Spirit of Christmas I Don't Wanna

That's me. See me rattle my chains.

I am such the scrooge this year, I just don't have "that special spirit" inside of me.

I *want* to have the spirit. I just don’t. Not a bit.

You ever notice that? Some years, the whole joy of the season takes hold and it becomes a good idea to festoon every surface available with blinky lights and tinsel, guzzle eggnog and play Burl Ives on your CD player.

And some years, it's like pain to even unfold the fake tree and plug it into the wall.

That's me the year, the second one.

Not even rousing Xmas carols in the lobby of my building at work can draw me out of the holiday doldrums.

You know it's bad when I mentioned to The Good Man about Biscochitos and how maybe I should again this year. But that I just *can't* get up the energy to make 'em (despite looking forward to nipping a sip of the brandy the recipe requires).

You *know* if I can't get it together to make cookies, then SOMETHING must be wrong with me!

I did have an hour or so of the holiday "thang" over the weekend when TGM and I went to Toys R Us to fulfill the wishes of the kids on The Family Giving Tree tags I pulled this year.

As TGM and I discussed the relative merits of one Lego Bionicle set over another, I can say that, yes, I was feelin' it.

But then trying to get our purchases to the car and get out of the ding dang parking lot...it evaporated again.

Oh well, I can't change the inevitable. The Hellidays will be here soon, whether I'm ready for them or not.

*sigh*

Strange days indeed

So. I made a stop this morning to get petrol for my hoopty so I could make it to work.

I've gotten to the point where I don't even look at the price anymore. Because it gives me a pain. I just pull up, put the nozzle in the tank, swipe my card and fill 'er up.

So I was idly hanging about, checking email while the tank filled when I noticed.

One dollar and ninety nine cents!?!?!??!

I need a neck brace for all the whiplash! It was, what, two, three months ago that I had to take out a loan promising my life and any future offspring to the Gods of Petrol just to get enough gas in the tank to get to work?

And now, it's at a rate lower than I think I've ever seen it since I moved here eleven years ago.

Wow.

So then. As I drove in to work, I started to ponder.

All those freight carriers. They were adding a "fuel surcharge" to my orders to get them to me.

Have they lowered or eliminated those?

The airlines were bumping up rates for high fuel charges. Am I seeing a fare reduction?

And plastic materials. Their price was up because of the rising costs of petroleum. Have they lowered their prices?

Ha! Doubtful.

And then I was ticked off.

Not a good way to start my Friday.

One of my very sweet employees, noting my rough mood, offered me a slice of coffee cake. Which I accepted.

These economic times are weird.

And I know I can expect that fuel won't stay at this gloriously low rate for long.

Strap in people. Bumpy road ahead.

Damnit Bill!

You've just been named to Obama's cabinet. Tuck in your extra chin, man!

You are representing me and my people!

Now go make us proud!

Image via ABQjournal.

I'm doin' it.

As mentioned yesterday, I'm participating in Blog Comment Day 2008.

The rules are to comment on five blogs, two have to be blogs you've not commented on before.

So since I'm running around the 'net putting in blog comments, in some cases, I'm using pseudonyms. I know, that may be cheating as it isn't driving traffic to my site, but since I don't know these folks....yanno....

Here's my list of where I've been this morning:

1) I started by going to the Wordpress front page because they always list what's hot on their service.

My eyes went right to a post on Apple 2.0 - Fortune on CNNMoney.com.

The topic of the post was, "Does Steve Jobs Lisp?"

The post was made in response to an episode of the Simpsons where there was a Steve Mobs character, a send up of the real Steve Jobs, who, in the episode, spoke with a pronounced lisp.

Well, having had some "in the same room" time with the guy, I can confirm that yes, he does lisp, slightly. My issue with the Simpsons version of SJ was that they had him in khaki pants. He doesn't wear those. He wears jeans. Usually with holes in them.

Anyhow, I put in a comment but comments are moderated on that site, so mine may or may not show up. We'll see. A pseudonym was used for this comment.



2) Next stop, also culled from the Wordpress front page was 1000 Awesome Things and a post entitled "#883 Ugly actors"

It was hard to resist a title like that. I looked at their list, and I observed that, Paris Hilton notwithstanding, there are some damn fine, albeit, visually challenging, actors on that list.

The bad news is...my browser seized up on my first attempt to comment...so I made the newbie error of double posting.

Ah well. Redfaced, I'll move quickly from that blog...



3) Ok, I'm in the swing now. On the hunt for a next stop, I scanned the comment list on the original Blog Comment Day 2008 post. I figured these are good people, in on the game, so I'll hit them up.

The one that caught my eye was called Cuppajavawithfriends.com which I found to be an inviting name.

First post on the blog was "100 Things - Some of which I have done".

The blogger has done a LOT of the items in the list. I'm impressed. Going to have to look closer at the list to see how I've done in my years.

This seemed like a good blog with good people, so I went ahead and put my blog link in my comment. Have a made a new blogging friend?



4) Ok, so commenting and blogging about it at the same time is taking a lot of time! Work is starting to interfere! My email keeps chiming and people are stopping by my office. This is where, in the marathon, I start thinking about stopping...resting...having a nice glass of water and calling it quits.

But I cannot. I made a promise. To myself. To the blogosphere.

I carry on. Battered, but spirit intact.

I've now commented on THREE blogs that I've never hit before. I consider taking the easy road home and hitting up friends to complete the journey. Even though that's allowed under the rules, I'm going to take the road less traveled and find two more blogs that are new to me.

Back to the list of folks participating in the Blog Comment Day and I found a great, exuberant response from Lanie Petersen. I like her style. So I visited her page.

And while there found a link to another of her blogs, Lainie Sips, where the blogger reviews teas.

Well. Now, I'm a huge fan of tea, so I HAD to pop over.

I commented on her post Trader Joe’s Pomegranate White Tea (review). As I struggle with my blood pressure, I have to watch caffeine and I find that white tea can zing me up. So I posted a question.

And I also bookmarked a new page that I'll find my way back to.

Nicely done, Lainie!



5) Ok, we're close to the end. The last mile. Rounding third headed for home. And a bunch of other euphemisms I can't think of right now.

I need to find one last blog and I need to make it good. It's been an epic journey thus far.

I go back to the place where this very blog is hosted, Blogspot, and look at their "Blogs of Note". I ping a couple, but they are not my style. A knitting site, a gorgeous food site, and an artist's site, but none so far really stick with me. And as they are "blogs of note" they have a LOT of commenters.

I'm looking for someone like me, who would love an extra comment or two here and there.

Nothing is really popping. So I go to Google to do a blog search and put in "New Mexico" in the search box. I found a lot of "the ones you know already" but undeterred, I drilled down on the list.

A post titled "Good eats New Mexico" of course caught my eye. But I read it and disagreed with the whole list. You KNOW how I am about my food, especially New Mexico food, so no, this is not the place for my dramatic finish.

I'm starting to worry. Will I pull this one off? Will I get so close I can *see* the finish line, but not get across it? Am I that person?

Wait, what's this?

A blog post about moving to New Mexico. It is a Malaysian woman and her husband raising their five children in the US, homeschooling them, and it looks like her family will soon be moving to New Mexico.

It's a blog for her friends and family mostly, to talk about homeschooling and about life, so I don't want to be a pest. I don't want to alarm her. I just want to let her know that it's ok.

Out of respect, I'll not link to her blog. But in my comment, I let her know that while New Mexico may seem odd or strange, that it really is a lovely place to live. I wish her only the best that New Mexico has to offer.

I now find myself worrying about this woman. How she'll fare in the move. How New Mexico will seem to her. It seems intrusive to bookmark her blog and peek in, but I find I must.

I want to check her progress. Hear her thoughts. I love New Mexico so much, I sometimes wish I could have that fresh perspective on going there. I love when friends visit (as one recently did) and share with me their first impressions.



And so, with this last thoughtful and meaningful experience, I have found conclusion to Blog Comment Day 2008.

I thought it would be really easy, but proved to be a bit tougher than I thought. I have visited five new-to-me blogs and left my thoughts behind. I've made some new destinations to visit and found I’m not as web savvy as I'd like to think (still can't believe I double posted, *sigh*).

In all, a meaningful experience. Thanks to John Smulo for the idea!

Is that a threat, Mr. Henderson?

quote:

General Motors Corp. said Tuesday it needs $12 billion in government loans to keep operating, telling Congress in a bluntly worded report that its collapse could have "severe, long-term consequences to the U.S. economy."

"There isn't a Plan B," said Chief Operating Officer Fritz Henderson.

-----------------------

Sounds like a ransom note to me.

And who is going to pay for this rippin' $12 billion with a capital B? Oh yes, me and you, the taxpayers.

Remember us? The same folks that got robbed by Mr. Jones and the gang of banks? Yeah.

Pony up American minion, it's all on you now. Food? Feh, you don't need that. Americans are all too fat anyway.

See, I'm an MBA graduate, fifteen year business woman. I've seen a lot of companies do a lot of dumb things. But I have never seen the sheer audacity of these automakers.

You made crappy product that people don't buy. You made long term contracts with unions thus incurring costs that you couldn't support with sales of your crappy product.

That there's what they call supply and demand, tater. Even a hick from New Mexico State's business program can figure that one out.

I'm curious if GM will get what they ask for. And the other of the "big three" as well. Ugly days, indeed.

Source

Bloggers helping bloggers

Such a simple idea, but such a good thing.

December 3 (that's tomorrow, people) is Blog Comment Day, 2008.

"Though there may be 100 reasons why people blog, I've yet to meet a blogger who doesn't appreciate comments." So says John Smulo about the idea.

The very easy rules:

On December 3, 2008 you will leave one comment on at least 5 different blogs.

Out of the 5 blogs you comment on, at least 2 of them will be blogs you haven't commented on previously.

And there you have it. As a former musician friend of mine used to say, "Applause is a musician's meal." For a blogger, comments are your applause.

Not a huge time commit, but a good thing all around.

Who's in? Go to John's page and leave a comment to sign up!

Thanks to Jamie Dedes for emailing me the link!

Ruh Rho. Enchildas in the White House!

Oh Fair New Mexico, for better or worse, you are stepping up your game.

First we had our friend Bill run for the Office of President, and it looks like Bill is soon to be appointed to Secretary of Commerce.

And today I'm reading in Michael Coleman's blog in the ABQJournal that Louis Caldera, former President of UNM, has been appointed Director of the White House Military Office.

Well ok! Biscochitos for everyone!

Mother Teresa of the Flu Virus

As one of the many hats I wear in my new gig, I manage a help desk. Ok, I don't manage it, I have an incredibly good young manager who manages that team. She's new at the role, but thoughtful and smart.

Today is starting out tough for her because we're getting a series of folks calling in sick. This also includes my own manager, the Director of us all. *coff, coff, sniffle, sniffle*

Not good.

So I was chatting with my help desk manager today about our situation and how we get through it. While talking, she pulled a box out from under her desk and handed me the following things:

She is now going desk to desk, ministering to the sick and wounded, laying on hands and providing the same kit to each of our call agents.

See, it's our fiscal year end, and we really need these folks on the phones, doing their jobs.

And with an arsenal of flu fighting products, there shall be no excuses!

I think this new, young manager is one smart cookie. I better keep an eye on her, I think she'll be running circles around me in no time.

How lucky I am to have good folks on my team!

Rumor has it

So. Word on the street is that today is December.

But I'm not buyin' it.

Because I'm fairly certain I did NOT authorize 2008 to dissipate so quickly.

Nope. No way. No how. I don't care that people are Christmas shopping. I don't care that decorations are cropping up. Nope.

Nuh uh.

Not gonna do it.

Oh, and *someone* must have told the Bay Area that it's December today because it went and got all overcast and foggy and crappy and, well, wintry.

I'm telling you, if we all band together against this thing, it doesn't HAVE to be December. Roll back the calendar, get the sun out of storage and let's go on about our lives circa, I don't know, June?

How does June work for you? Do I hear a July? Going once, going twice...

Please stand by...I'm going to go see about fixing this.

Winner, winner chicken turkey dinner

I did it! I did it! I did it!

This is my fourth NaNoWriMo attempt and by far my hardest journey.

I am braindead but happy. Celebration begins tomorrow...!

Time, she is a cruel mistress…

Was listening to the radio on the way to work yesterday and the two deejays, one man, one woman, were discussing the work holiday party they had just attended.

The man told the woman how nice she looked. He said it with a bit of surprise. This was chalked up to the fact that since they work the morning show and go to work so early in the morning, she rarely "does it up", opting for easy and comfortable.

The female deejay, who is teetering on the edge of forty, launched into a hilarious diatribe about everything it takes for a woman to get it together to go out to a nice event.

She said something to all the ladies listening about "remember how back in the day all you needed was a bottle of Love's Baby Soft and a Bonnie Bell lip smacker to get started on your day. Oh, and maybe some mascara."

And this, of course, hit a nerve with me.

Hit a nerve hard, actually, as yesterday evening I had a way overdue appointment with my hairdresser to get all the grays covered. And they are many.

I remember when a box of color had never touched this head.

I remember when I never even had to wash my face at the end of the day. Zits? They were not a problem.

How is it that I have more acne in my late thirties than I did in my teens? Does that seem right to you? Don’t answer that.

The lady dj went on to talk about how in order to go out to the party, she had to spackle over all the skin issues, then cover up the cover up cream.

And the hair, oh the hair is a whole other project.

I remember back in the day when I would brush my hair, and it would lay nice. I put no spray, gel, mousse, shaping wax, pomade, or anything else into it.

And I rarely ever wore makeup. I didn't need it. My dewy fresh skin and peaches and cream cheeks were enough.

When, exactly, did the skin around my eyes get…crepe-ish? This I do not enjoy.

Ah well, I won't go silently into that good night.

I'll fight with the help of my color goddess of a hairdresser, a wand of cover up crème, skin renewing lotion and the help of darn good lighting!

I won't begin to talk about the "foundation" garments I have to sling shot into to be able to put on a nice dress. It isn't pretty.

That's another post for another day. Or was another post on another day.

Meanwhile, wishing all out there a Happy Turkey Day! I'm going to attend a pot luck at work, get fattened up like a Butterball, and leave work early.

All in, not a bad day.

It's the small victories that add up

I am ridiculously excited because, on the advice of a couple coworkers, I've found a different route to take to work. It's actually a few miles longer in distance, but since traffic rolls and no stop-go, stop-go, it actually shaves 10 to 15 minutes off my commute.

TEN TO FIFTEEN MINUTES! That means that over the course of a week, I could get around two extra hours with my sweetie. Or sleeping. Or fast asleep next to my sweetie. All good options!

I've got the drive down to about 25 minutes each way, now. Commute to the old job was 45 to 50 minutes each way.

THIS is a victory for sanity!

Oh Sweet Hoopty

An open letter to my vehicular friend.

Today as I was driving you to work, I noticed you making an odd and rather unpleasant sound.

I'd like to attribute it to the early morning, because I know that you, like your owner, are not a fan of the cold morning hours.

But it would appear that this isn't just a hazard of winter chill, because later in the day, when it was warm, you still made that sound.

Which means you have to go see our friend Tony, the trusty mechanic who has carefully protected and maintained you for all of your life.

But it's more than that. Today, my checkbook lays open before you, at your mercy.

Please, please don't crap out on me. I need you.

Sure, you're almost eight years old, but remember the good times?

Remember how I purchased you in late 2001, the last wisp of the model year…the October right after the tragic September 11th when no one was buying cars?

You were the last (and best) of two remaining old model year cars. The end of an era too, as you are the last of your kind, they don't make you anymore.

Remember how you were the only car the dealer had sold that month? We giggled together at the rockin' deal I was able to negotiate so I could take you home?

Though almost eight years old now, you've been without a car payment for four years. And this is the heart of the issue, dear, sweet vehicle.

You see, times are a little rough. The economy is pretty bad, you know? I mean, hey, gas prices have improved, so that's something. But Mr. Jones has stolen all my money. Ok, not all, but a good portion, and your humble owner is starting to freak out.

To be fair, so far, I've managed to keep a good job with a regular paycheck. And yes, I *could* swing $300 to $500 a month to make payments on a new, shiny car.

But I don't want to.

That $300 to $500 a month could be better spent on things like food, you know, and uh, necessities of life.

Or, and here's a fun thought, that $300 to $500 a month could be put in savings in an attempt to rebuild my sagging nest egg.

But these plans, this hope for the future depends on you.

Please, please keep it together. I'm going to take you to be fixed, yes. And I'm even willing to spend a little cash to get that done. But that means you have to help me back. You have to stay solid for a while after the repair.

If you start nickel and diming, or really five-hundred and thousanding me, I'm going to have to reconsider whether you are still a valuable part of the family.

I need you to continue to be the reliable, dependable vehicle you are.

Give me a couple more years, ok? Let me see if I can get my financial feet back under me and we'll talk about retiring you to a nice life where you can wander the pastures and eat all the motor oil you'd like. But for now, I need you to stay solid and light on the pocketbook.

Plus, The Good Man says he doesn't believe an American made car can go 100,000 miles. I think we can prove him wrong (only 15k to go!).

I believe in you, fabulous Jeep, now you have to believe in me too!

Not my actual hoopty, but a sibling of....

Bluuuurp

Yes, I just said bluuurp. And I meant it.

One thing about my new employer, they feed people. Maybe that's the plan, keep people complacent by filling them up with food. I was warned to watch out for the "freshman fifteen" at this place.

Tuesday lunch was a delicate and perfectly prepared steak topped with a skewer of shrimp. Followed by the fudgiest piece of cake ever. I couldn’t even finish it!

Today at lunch we were treated to a full Thanksgiving spread. The works, turkey, stuffing, green beans, mash taters, gravy, punkin' pie, and warm apple cider.

I think tomorrow at lunch I'm going to find this company gym I've been hearing about.

Meanwhile, I need a nap.

This is the first of many turkey meals to come in the following weeks. Can you believe it's already Thanksgiving? Where does the time run off to?

Photo by way of Fire in my Kitchen.

The Trickster

Oh yes, I am.

The Trickster.

See....soooomehow, in the course of a series of interviews, a fairly well crafted resume and a bunch of conversations, I've managed to convince the procurement organization of a well respected Fortune 500 corporation to award me the title of Senior Manager complete with an office (with a window that has a really nice view) and a fairly robust staff of minons to do my bidding.

Me. The goofball from New Mexico. The kid who, once upon a time, had to be taken to the doctor because I got a piñon nut stuck up my nose.

That one.

For some reason they actually think I might be.....good.

Damn. I convinced them. Now what?

I'm pretty sure I'm a fraud.

Day 3, the rubber is, you know, sort of starting to meet the road.

Can I shove another piñon nut up my nose and sidestep this responsibility?

No, probably not. Guess I better just keep showing up and trying to make good on who they seem to think I am.

Abject fear. Whatta rush.

Day 2

Brain at capacity.

Hoping to resurface soon.

I come home from work exhausted.

Not a NaNo word has been written in a couple days. I go from being caught up to falling behind...again. *sigh*

I got an office today. An actual office with a door and a pretty nice view out of the window.

And I get to use a Mac!

A little bit of familiar in days filled with the vastly unfamiliar.

Met all of my direct reports today. They don't seem too upset or hostile about my appearance. We'll see how this goes.

Meanwhile, I'm still the new kid at school but so far I've made a few friends, so maybe this won't be so bad.

Here's hoping.

Meanwhile, pardon me while I go try to keep my overtaxed brain from leaping from my noggin.

I plan to sleep profoundly tonight.

First Day at the new school

I remember, lo these many years ago, one year when it was time to return to school, my mom packed up all the supplies she'd bought from the teacher's list of requirements into a brown paper grocery bag. Then she sat me, dressed in my new school clothes, next to the bag on the carved wooden bench near the front door and took a picture.

It was a "first day of school" photo.

I searched high and low in all my photo albums for this photo to scan and post today, but sadly I could not find it (it's there, but just didn't dig far enough). I did, however, find my first communion photo, taken seated on that same bench in a fluffy white dress and little veil, but figured the effect was just not the same.

The reason for me recalling both that day and that photograph, is that today, I started my new job at a brand new company. And I felt as nervous and jittery as I did in second grade wondering if I would like the place, if the other kids would like me back, and if I was doomed to eating lunch all by myself for the duration.

Day One of the new place was not so bad. My mind is a bit blown with all the information handed out during the day. I'm working for a company that is smaller, less high profile, but more important to the "greater good". I work for a company filled with PhD scientist types. Brilliant folks, all sharp as a whip and it takes work for me to keep up.

It's a lot like my old employer in a lot of ways (most of them good). It's also very different in a lot of ways.

But none of that matters. What matters is I spent nine and a half years at my last job. I'd built up friends, confidants, and credibility. I knew where the bodies and the land mines were buried. People knew me, knew I would do a good job, and trusted me.

Today, people don't know me from Adam and I have zero credibility. All that must be built, and it's a long process.

I have to learn the names of new and strange (and let's face it, rather geeky) executives. I have to learn a bit of biology and a skosh of chemistry to keep up with the conversations. I have to be able to speak clinically about some big hairy scary human diseases, which is going to be a tough change for my sensitive soul.

But mainly, I have to survive. I need this job. Mr. Jones keeps stealing my money and while I was feeling ok about things a few weeks back, I've finally succumbed to the fear and horror this economy has sent our way. I like feeling comfortable about my financial situation and loathe worrying over something as ridiculous as money.

And yes, I'm quite grateful to have a good job in these troubled times.

I did make a friend today. She was very nice and agreed to be my "new hire" pal. I have a new hire pal from the old place. He and I are still friends and celebrated every work anniversary by saying to each other, "god, you still work here?" I expect the same from my new friend.

Tomorrow I'm plunged into the icy waters of my new team. I met a couple ladies today who will by my direct reports and they eyed me suspiciously, but were friendly enough.

Hopefully no one will steal my lunch money and someone will let me sit at the table with them at noontime.

And hopefully someone will tell me how to find my way to the bathroom. That's essential.

Tuesday is going to be a really long day.

¡Feliz Cumpleaños!

To New Mexico's own Governor Bill Richardson!

Have an extra biscochito today, big guy, you've earned it!

Arithromance

Not to be confused with arithmancy, the art of divination using numbers.

No, I'm talking romance here...and, uh, numbers.

You see, I have a sweet, fatty love.

No, not The Good Man. It's rude that you thought that. :)

No, my love is creamy, and delicious. And the best topping Mexican food ever met.

I'm talking the fantastic invention that is...Sour Cream.

Oh sweet love.

And here's where the numbers come in...did you know that if you took a spoon out of the drawer and used it to eat an entire Costco three pound tub of sweet, delicious sour cream, you'd only be out 2,700 calories?

45 servings times 60 calories a serving.

I mean...not so bad, right?

I believe this is the type of post that, when read by the good man, he will remark, "I can't believe you blogged about that."

Believe it, Cute Boy.

Great Googelly Moogelly!

I paid two dollars and thirty-three cents a gallon for gas today!

I almost wept! Given that gas was touching five dolla' a gallon not that long ago, this was AMAZING!

Ok, to be fair, there was a forty-five cent surcharge for using my debit card at the pump. But that's ok. On twelve total gallons, that brings my price to two dolla' and thirty-six cents a gallon!

Look!

Unbelievable.

I procured this petrol while out running errands. I have enjoyed going out to stores on quiet weekdays rather than busy weekends.

I'm actually not seeing a slow up in spending. I'm guessing the economy might be doing ok, people are still spending with reckless abandon.

I personally provided my own "stimulus package" to the economy by spending WAY too much money over the past couple days.

Retail therapy always cheers me up!

In other news....from the retail front lines...why are leg warmers back? I was at Target and they had a full rack of leg warmers. They also had also neon colored baby doll socks (perfect for wearing with your patent leather stiletto heels).

When exactly did my HIGH SCHOOL years return to fashion? Look, I wore the rhinestones and vintage clothes and armfulls of black rubber bracelets back in the day. Sure, I was into it.

But looking back on my own personal fashion...well. It is best left in the past.

But no, Target sees fit to return it to me.

Just. Ugh.

I'm doin' it!

Clearly I've lost my mind. But that's ok, I never really had it gripped all that tight to begin with.

And that's oooookay.

In the midst of traveling and changing jobs and the upcoming holiday season, I have decided, once more this year, to participate in National Novel Writing Month, or as we in the know call it, NaNoWriMo or just NaNo.

This will be my fourth year to attempt the death defying feat of writing 50,000 words in thirty calendar days.

I have tried and succeeded each time. Each year has been its own odyssey into learning about myself, about how I write and about scooting that internal editor over to the side and just putting down the words.

This year is looking a little...shaky.

I wasn't as fired up about my story idea as I've been in past years. And I've learned when you are lost in the abyss at about 25,000 words, a really good, fun, story idea helps you climb through.

So that's worrisome.

Last year I got a late start but ended up finishing in fifteen stupid whirlwind days. Who does that? 50,000 words in fifteen days?

Ah, the occasional benefits of being rampantly OCD!

This year, I got a late start, and despite having a killer six thousand word day yesterday, the fire just isn't in my belly.

And that worries me.

Ah well, too soon to get really concerned. There are still 19ish days left in this race. A marathon, not a sprint.

If you want to follow my progress, I've put a handy dandy little widget over on the left sidebar so you can follow me along. Today I'm at about 12k words. Still many, many left to go.

All good thoughts and voices of support are welcome!

Slacker

Lazybones

Laggard

Sluggard

Loafer

Shirker

So endeth the thesaurus list.

Today, I am a slacker (sluggard?).

Today, I join the great masses of the unemployed.

Ne'er do well.

Thankfully, my shirker ways will end in exactly one week when I begin my new job and a whole new adventure.

I spent nine and a half years toiling for my former employer, and it was with a heavy heart that I left on Friday.

But ultimately, though painful, it was the right decision.

Next Monday I start with a company that is consistently in the top ten "best places to work". We'll see in the coming months whether or not I agree with that assessment, eh?

But for today, I'm a layabout. And I like it. Maybe a little too much.

Alternate spelling, alternate universe

You may recall from a post a while back that I use my secret agent 007 stealth first name when I order coffee and they ask for a name to write on the cup.

My secret agent name is Lucy. I use that name because it's:

1) easy to pronounce

2) easy to spell

3) heard clearly over the whooosh whooosh sounds of an espresso machine

I copied this from a friend (who has my same real first name), even borrowing her own made up nom de bebida, because of the ease of use.

Until this past week at the Honolulu airport.

They asked my name. I said Lucy. They nodded and wrote the name. I got my beverage and it wasn't until I was on the plane that I noticed.

You can't make this stuff up.

A real mind bender

Yesterday at 1:15pm local time, as I was boarding a plane in Honolulu, CNN was reporting that "the polls in the east will be closing soon".

When I got off the plane in Oakland, The Good Man told me it was a done deal, Obama was president.

That sort of blows the ol' brain pan!

I'm still wrapping my mind around the fact that it's over, it wasn't a dream, and a new day has begun.

Just. Wow.

You can't make this up

And you wouldn't believe me if I told you.

So I'll have to prove it in photographs.

I was shopping the book store at the Kona airport, looking for something to occupy me on the five and a half hour flight.

When my eyes fell upon this:

What is this, you say? Yes, someone actually took the time to translate the new testament into Hawaiian pidgin english.

Behold

Dats some supa spesho spirit right der!

Aloha!

Defies words

I had a day today that defies all possible words.

Started out with a road trip down south of Kona to the very end southernmost of the Big Island of Hawaii.

My destination was Punalu'u Black Sand Beach.

I had stumbled across this gem online while looking for actual beaches. Kona is the newest of the islands and as such, doesn't have fabulous sand beaches. It has stunning lava coastline, but no happy sandy beach to lay about and catch some sun...or even walk on and put your toes in the water.

So not only is Punalu'u an actual sandy beach complete with watery toes....it comes with sea turtles!

Yes, actual sea turtles!

I was lucky enough to see five today on the small stretch of sand that comprises this amazing, glorious, gorgeous beach.

Then, after I'd spent several hours with the turtles, full of a turtle induced I, I decided to move on to the Volcanos National Park.

Both Kilauea and Mauna Loa were visible and AMAZING.

I took about three hundred photos today, and I'm sorting them out. The volcanos put a muted light haze on the day which my photographer friends will know is KILLER light for taking photos.

So here's a few to start, more to come:

All photos by Karen Fayeth

Feliz Dia de los Muertos!

A personal high holy day for me.

I think I got deeply into the spirit last night dressed up as Frida.

It is a thoughtful day, remembering my loved ones who have moved on to the next journey.

I'm in a hotel room in Hawaii, so hard to celebrate properly, but I'll make do.

I'm working on a make-shift ofrenda. If it comes out I'll post a photo.

Mostly, just a reminder to remember those closest to you, both here and beyond.

Happy Halloween!

Here's my costume!

When I tried this on last week I think I sort of startled The Good Man...:)

Fish!

Bit hard to tell from the photo, but if you look, you can see a school of bright yellow fish schooling around there in the crystal blue waters.

I'll just say this: WHOA!

Doin' pretty fine

Lava rock means not a lot of sandy beaches. But it sure is pretty.

For my New Mexico friends, parts of Kona I have seen so far (the non-ocean part) reminds me of The Valley of Fire in New Mexico. Black, stark, and really beautiful.

Humid. Obscenely so. But warm.

The morning vog (volcanic fog) has moved on and it promises to be a gorgeous day.

Well shut my mouth...

Look what I found in a Kona grocery store!!

I wept a little.

Hello New Mexico!!

Thoughts from a westbound plane

I'm aware that since I'm in "airplane mode" that by the time I actually manage to get this posted, I'll no longer be ON a plane, simply working my new six-day life as an island girl.

That said, as of right now, the moment my fingers fly across the keys of my battered MacBook, I have a lot of thoughts about this exceedingly westbound plane.

First. Looking out the window is boring.

We're flying so freaking high that all I can see are clouds. And I know that if I didn't see clouds, I'd see only ocean. A lot of ocean.

I think I'd rather see clouds. If I consider the vast miles of ocean, and me up here in a sardine can with wings, I might go a little buggy. Since this here flight is due to last some five hours, that's a LOT of spare time in which to go buggy.

So I'll refrain.

Next.

When did the airlines start cheaping out so much? Remember when you'd receive packets of snacks for no charge? And headphones too so you could watch the movie as you slide down the window shade and try to imagine the patchwork quilty American Midwest below your feet instead of vast chilly salty waters?

Remember when you didn’t have to have a credit card so you could check your luggage?

Remember when the flight attendants and crew were actually nice?

Remember when people used to dress up to travel?

Ah. Memories of a bygone era.

My white-haired Irish grandmother in a fur collared overcoat and perfect lipstick descending the metal stairs from a plane parked outside the Albuquerque International Airport. Impossibly glamorous to a sun browned hick kid from the desert.

It left a lasting impression.

On to the next thoughts…I get it that I'm going to a tourist destination. Sure. But the abject marketing of product at every turn is a bit more than I can take.

Sure, money makes the world go round. But it's also what got my ass elevated to 35,000 feet. I've paid my dues already. Haven't I?

As they play this "Hawai'ian Skies" video highlighting all the charms of my destination, they keep pausing to play Hawaiian Airlines ads. I give. You got me. I'm here. You have my money. I don't. Quit marketing to me!

Oh no, but there's a Hilo Hattie coupon on my food tray, an on-flight magazine chock-a-block full of "Buy this! See this! Do this! Only this many dollars!"

Dude. Mr. Jones took most of my money. I'm doin' what I can already!

Next thought.

When I sat down, there was this young punk looking kid at the other end of the row. Like straight outta Compton-wannabe-ville. You know the type. Hat turned, thick gold-plated zirconium bling, chest bowed out fussin' and fumin'.

I thought "oh geez…five hours with this?"

Until across the aisle plopped down a mom and a dad.

How hard must it be to represent when mommy and daddy just bought you a turkey sandwich so little Johnny won't be hungry?

Whatevs.

Click, click…what next?

Here's a thought. If you are *going* to Hawaii and while on the plane you are wearing a tee shirt that *says* Hawaii…then I'm pretty sure you are a tourist.

I'm just sayin'.

The guy pulling this stunt is huge and sort of angry looking. So I won't say.

But I'll think it. Ooooh I'll think it real good.

One woman is also already wearing coconut smelling lotion or sunscreen or something. She smells like the swimming pool at the Dunes in Vegas, and not in a good way (The Dunes, RIP, you were a fabulous schlocky hotel).

Can ya wait to get there to put that crap on? Evidently no.

Next!

I read a pretty interesting article in the in flight magazine about a guy who grows avocados in Hawaii. Evidently these local avocados are delightful.

The article mentioned that your traditional California Hass avocado is about 8% fat and the Hawaiian avocado is more like 25% fat.

The grower said, "it's like eating butter."

Where can I sign up?

Evidently most groceries in Hawaii ship in California Hass. You can't get the local stuff (it's looked down upon, oddly).

Maybe there will be a farmer's market nearby? The grower mentioned in the article lives near where I’m headed.

Journey to a Good Avocado.

Now THAT is worth the trip.

Next thought.

Hawaiian words. Will I be expected to know them and use them?

Will I be branded a moron for not knowing the vernacular?

Mele Kaliki Maka is about my limit. Thanks Bing for putting that one into my brain. I imagine saying Merry Christmas to the locals won't put me in any good stead.

Mahalo. I can probably work that one.

But what about aloha? When does one use that? It's sort of a one size fits all word. Is there ever a wrong time to use it? Will I whip out an aloha and get frowny eyes in return?

Is it like when the pimply web designer at work tries to talk Spanish to the girl who makes espresso drinks? She tolerates him mangling her native tongue because, why bother correcting him, really.

What's the right way not to insult locals? To attempt the language or to refrain?

It is to wonder.

Next.

Well. I'm only two hours into this flight. Not even half way. My right leg is already bouncing and I'm itching to stand.

Have I mentioned I actually dislike flights that go more than a couple hours? When I went to New York, I was so worried about my buggy feelings that I packed an art project to keep me busy. Worked pretty well, actually. My seat mate wasn't too impressed with my cross-stitch craftsmanship, but what's a cranky businessman got to do with it?

I brought along a book. After hearing, well, EVERYONE talking about this young adult series "Twilight", I thought I'd give it a whirl.

I'm a veteran of the "young adult" genre, Harry Potter, Pullman's "His Dark Materials" series (from which the movie "The Golden Compass" was born), and more.

All the ladies of about my age range are twittering about "Twilight". A vampire love story, I believe.

It's a thick tome, some 481 pages. I thought that would be sufficient to fascinate me for five hours.

And if that worked, I wouldn't be writing this, now would I?

Final thought.

I have to pee.

Man I hate peeing on an airplane.

I can hold it for three hours or I can just cowboy up and get 'er done.

Not the most erudite way to end this missive.

Ah well. I'll try to be a little classier when I descend from this plane in Honolulu, channeling my Irish grandma and pretending I'm actually a grownup.

Mahalo, aloha and Mele Kaliki Maka to everyone!

This just in…I have wrongly accused the coconut smelling woman. Turns out it's the soap in the bathroom. Great…now the whole plane smells like the swimming pool at the Dunes. Ugh.

Me and Mr. Jones

Who the heck is this Dow Jones fella and why does he keep taking all my money?

Irrefutable evidence

That there is my actual hand putting my actual absentee ballot into the actual mailbox.

I will be in Hawaii for Election Day, or rather will be traveling home from Hawaii, so I won't really be able to keep an eye on the results.

Either way, it will be newsworthy.

But there you have it. I voted.

Now it's your turn.

I won't tussle over your opinion versus mine. All I ask is that you make your opinion known.

Vote.