The Well Went Dry

I guess my insightful marbles and rubber chicken post yesterday tapped out The Muse.

I'm at another lean spell on blog topics. So you know what that means!

Imagination Prompt roulette!

A spin of the wheel and away we go!!

Your present job makes you...

Able to pay the rent and buy groceries and every once in a while, a stupidly expensive bauble.

One food you would never give up is...

What?!? Give up a food?!? : looks around suspiciously :

Never! You can't take me and my twinkies alive!

Nothing matters...

You're telling me.

(I don't make these up...they come straight off the prompt)

I remember when...

...my dad used to start a sentence with "I remember when..." and then I'd turn up the television just a little bit louder.

Why do you feel like you do right now?

A carefully managed concoction of sugar, fat, salt, and vodka. Lots and lots of vodka.

What's the coolest piece of technology you work or play with?

I work for the most austere tech company in the world. We don't make cool. We make reliable.

So that lets out the work part of the question.

Play with? Well, the husband has an iPad which is VERY cool. When he got that, I got his MacBook Air. I know the technology is a couple years old but I'm deeply enamored of this little thin machine. It's beautiful and reliable and it makes the PC on my workdesk look like a hunchback.

What's the last piece of art you made?

Ok, now we're in my wheelhouse!

I think it was the three small canvases that I turned in for the Brooklyn Art House Co-Op project. I mailed those out on Sept 1.

That's a LOOONG dry spell of not creating any art.

I'd better get on that.

High school reminds you of...

Horrible dark things I shant share here.

I generalize about _____ because...

... _____ is so specific.

Why now?
Because I'm booked later.

Could you stay in bed all day and think?

Yes. I could also stay in bed all day and not think if anyone is looking for that talent.

Today when I put on my pants, I...

Double checked I'd zipped my fly. Otherwise it's too drafty.

Money is _____ and here's why

Wait. I thought _____ was specific. Now it's specifically money?

I have the golden touch!

Woo hoo!

I'm off to go spend my _____ all around town.

And there we have it.

Thanks for tuning in through the latest edition of Writer's Block!

Ouch. That stings.

Did they really have to use the theme song from my senior prom?

(47 second video on YouTube)

Forever Young

Karen go *bonk*

I have this nasty little problem.

I fall down.

I'm a faller.

'Tis true. I don't know why this is, I just seem to have a propensity for one moment standing, next moment I'm a tornado of arms and legs and I'm startled to be laying on the ground.

I've had times in my life when it was really, really bad. Especially right after I'd first moved to California.

I am a sensitive kid, and I do tend to get a little sensory overloaded. Moving to California all by my little lonesome could quite handily be filed under "a skosh overwhelming".

In the first six months I lived here, almost daily I either locked my keys in the car or fell down, or both.

It usually happens when I’m a little too much up in my head, not feeling grounded, not paying attention.

The last big fall I took was last December. So see, I'm doing pretty good! I mean, I hardly ever fall down anymore.

I had a really smokin' No Fall streak going...until Saturday.

There I was at the day field trip for my photography class. I was feeling *so* great because I was getting some amazing shots, feeling all artistic, and yes, I'll say it, a little smug and self-satisfied with myself.

And so as I was leaving the Rodin Sculpture garden to scale the concrete steps leading into the Cantor Arts Center, I was smiling to myself, feeling happy, folding up my tripod, bopping along and then, as fate will do, I missed the top step, bobbled, and fell.

My tripod went clattering. My knee hit first, then my elbow, then my chin (oooh, took it on the chin!).

Then, somehow, gravity took over from its old friend momentum, and my legs were then flung askew and above me.

As The Good Man says, "When you can see the sky between your shoes, it's not going to be a good day."

I had the definite sensation that I was going to go clank-clanking down all the stairs. And I knew that would be a bad thing.

So I'm not sure what I did, but I was able to clench, or grab or lean or something, but I stopped my downward thunking progression.

*sigh*

I got myself upright again, and sat on that step, midway down the approximately fifteen-stair set of steps, and just...stopped.

I gazed out on the Rodin Sculpture Garden and shook my head.

And sighed.

My tripod was several feet away, my backpack was laying in the opposite direction, and the camera around my neck was still there, but the telephoto part of my very nice lens was stuck at an odd angle.

If I were skiing, they refer to that as a "yard sale."

Thankfully, only my pride was seriously hurt.

Sorry for the angle up the ol' double cannons there. At least I don’t have crazy nose hair!

Check the signs

The government cares. No really, they do. And so with their help, I've taken a good look at myself today. I mean, a real good look.

How are YOU feeling? Maybe you could check in too?

Herewith:

Getting Through Tough Economic Times from the Department of Health and Human Services.

"It is important to be aware of signs that financial problems may be adversely affecting your emotional or mental well being --or that of someone you care about."

In other words....Did Mr. Jones take all your cash? Does that tick you off?

Let's check in, shall we?

Warning Signs

Persistent Sadness/Crying

Only when I look at my bank account.

Excessive Anxiety

Only when I look at my bank account.

Lack of Sleep/Constant Fatigue

Yes. But I can't really blame the economy for the fact that we are having cold windy nights, and since my personal internal thermometer tends to run hot, the cat and The Good Man sleep on top of me to stay warm.

Excessive Irritability/Anger

Only at 3:00 in the morning when I'm burning up hot and can’t get fourteen pounds of cat or six feet two inches of husband off of me.

Increased drinking

Yeah, a little. The Good Man, his friend and me did have two bottles of wine on Sunday (at a bar-b-que). Did you know that Lambrusco is really tasty and drinks awfully easily? Did you know that with enough fizzy red wine in your gullet, you kinda feel a lot better about a whole lot of things in your life? Well, that and the red meat. And the smoked fish from Alaska. Damn...that was a fine dinner.....

Illicit drug use, including misuse of medications

Does Claritin count? Because with this wind, my eyes and nose are like faucets. I may be abusing the stuff...not sure.

Difficulty paying attention or staying focused

What's that over there? I think I'm hungry. What's the square root of 686?

Apathy - not caring about things that are usually important to you

Whatever.

Not being able to function as well at work, school or home

Let's see...after a marathon two days of writing a presentation in which I basically justified my job to our new austere European owners, today I'm at work with nothing to do and writing on my blog.

Not sure I could be less value added if I tried. Or should that be value subtracted? Not sure how the absolute values work in relation to lazyosity.

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Hmm. Ok. So I'm not sure I can draw any conclusions from that exercise.

And I think they may have left a few off the list. My additions:

Do you check your online money accounts more than three times a day?

Do you find yourself in the lunchroom with your coworkers discussing tax rates?

Do you cut coupons where you rarely did before?

Do you and your spouse look for "free" events, samples, activities and services?

Do you calculate how much gas it would take to get to a destination as a "go/no go" decision on running an errand?

Do you watch too much CNBC and then find yourself yelling at Jim Cramer and blaming him for a lot of things that aren't actually his fault? (this one applies to Jon Stewart only)

Do you have fantasies about how good it used to be...in 2006?

If so...seek help.

______________

Ok, ok, I kid, I kid, but the online resource is actually pretty serious.

Link thanks to Bruce Daniels over at the ABQjournal.

______________


"I'm certain I have no idea what you are blathering on about, human. Now feed me.

When reality reaches up and grabs you by the throat

I have a milestone birthday coming up in May. It is an age I'm not sure I'm happy about being.

Ok, fine, I have to get old. Everyone does it (barring the alternative, of course). I'm ok with it.

Until I'm reminded clearly and plainly how old and out of it I am.

It began, this past weekend, with the shopping excursion to procure new jeans (see previous post for my thoughts on that). While out and about, I wandered into a store called Anchor Blue.

I'd seen an article in a trashy gossip magazine last week while at the dentist's office about "the best jeans." There was a pair of Anchor Blue jeans featured that looked like I'd be happy with them.

So. Anchor Blue. I'd seen the store but had never actually been inside before.

Well. If you go to the webpage (linked above) you'll see several fresh, dewey-faced CHILDREN on the splash page, showing you just how cool and beautiful YOU can be if you wear their clothing.

Walking into the store, I practically coughed dust and picked cryptkeeper tendrils from my person as I looked around and the clerks looked at me.

I did, actually, pick out a few pairs of jeans to try on, none of them the fabulous pair I'd seen in the magazine, of course.

So, yes, happily, the jeans I'd picked fit me. Well. Sort of. I mean, I could get them on and button them.

But to look in the mirror, you could see clearly where the jeans ended (below my hipbones) and my (evidently) granny panties continued on.

Now, I don't wear old lady briefs (yet)...what I wear are respectable cotton bikini chones. But in the spotlight of Logan's Run (In case you missed that film, everyone is executed at age 30), my respectable bikini yonderwear appear to be practically up to my ribcage (just below what they must believe to be my sagging boobs).

I may as well give over to the white belt and Velcro shoes ferchrissakes!

So I gave up on those jeans, but continued to look around the store. I checked out accessories.

They had quite the assortment of Che Guevara-style caps for the ladies. I want to look like an Argentinean communist revolutionary why again?

I looked at skirts. I have this little cloth that I use to clean my glasses. That cloth is larger than these "skirts." Even if I could get a lens cloth skirt to fit me...no, it's too terrible, I can't even go there.

Fine. Thus ended my shopping trip.

Sunday rolled around and The Good Man and I traveled up to Muir Beach to meet with some friends. "Take a walk," they said. Oh, sure, yes! A walk on a sunny day would be nice. Maybe even help me work off some calories in hopes of wearing that lens cloth to dinner!

These folks are all about my same age...well, TGM and his best friend are a year younger. And the best friend's wife is a couple years younger still. Ok, so I'm the matron of the bunch, what of it?

So we walk on the beach a bit and then decide to hike a trail. Fun!

An uphill trail.

What?

So evidently that one-year age difference between TGM's and me is a huge gap, because all of my friends scampered up the hill while I was in the back gasping for air and feeling my thighs wobbling.

Now, the other lady in our group is in knockout shape, I forgive her. But TGM and his buddy have no excuse. They billy-goated they way up the hill with ease, leaving me with hands on knees feeling like I was going to puke.

I was further insulted when a tiny fourteen year-old dog named Chester paced me, turned and ran halfway back down the hill to greet his people, then turned around and paced me again.

His legs are three inches long!

Damn you Chester!

Now it is Monday and my legs hurt. My lungs still burn a little and I'm faced with my group of fifteen employees, not a ONE of them over the age of 30.

I remember 30. That was a good year. My thirties...yes, a fine decade. *sigh*

*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*???

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.

A Symphony of Anxiety

Yeah, we all know it's bad. To punctuate, every day, we get a new photo of an anxious stockbroker.

As though we don't know it's *really, really* bad unless we see angst.

Behold, a symphony...

This post best viewed with the sound of "aaaaaaaaaagh" in the background:

These photos come from newspapers and a couple blogs all around the world. I've direct linked them so I'd imagine I'll soon be asked to take them down...but for now, behold......