Your Definition and My Definition Differ Greatly

So every once in a while, I'll read something in the daily news that grabs my attention.

Occasionally, something really makes my eyes open wide.

And then every once in a while, I'll read something that makes my eyes open wide, leap out of my head, fall down on the floor and roll around a while.

The following headline in yesterday's news had just this effect on me.

El Paso named safest US city

Uhhh.

Errr.

"...El Paso has taken the top spot for having the lowest crime rate among cities of more than 500,000 population in the annual rankings by CQ Press, a publishing firm based in Washington, D.C."

So, yeah, I'm gonna guess that those people at CQ Press haven't paid a personal visit to El Paso lately.

Look, I'm not going to bag on El Paso. It is the birth place of my best friend, and that itself recommends it highly.

It's also the birthplace of Sam Donaldson and Gene Roddenbury. So ok. Some decent talent comes from the town that Texas forgot.

Having spent a lot of time in El Paso, I could use a lot of adjectives to describe the city. I'm not sure that the word "safe" would burble up to the top ten.

I'll be fair here. I'll even take out the obvious concerns about El Paso sharing a border with arguably the most dangerous city in Mexico.

In the past year, approximately 50,000 additional troops were located to Fort Bliss, an army installation in El Paso. Those 50,000 include both returning troops and soldiers left after bases closed in other states. That 50,000 is soldiers only. Add in spouses, kids, other family and the number of new residents rises.

Then add in the high number of people who are fleeing the violence in Juarez and the numbers climb even higher.

Put it together and you'll find a city bursting at the seams. You can feel it when you visit, the town is growing so fast that infrastructure is having a hard time keeping pace.

That means busy police, fire and emt forces are being overextended during a period of economic downturn and government cost cutting. Sure, all of the new city residents will pay taxes into the economy which will help shore up infrastructure, but that kind of growth takes time.

And then let's talk about the ongoing immigration flow through a border town like El Paso. My best friend's folks live within visual distance of the border highway's Zaragoza bridge. They have bars on their windows. In their some forty years of living there, they've found desperate illegals hiding in their yard. Neighbors have been robbed. Violence occurs (but isn't often reported). I've been sitting in the back yard and heard shots fired.

El Paso is a fine town with a rich history. There is a lot to offer the residents who live in that city. Reasonable real estate costs. The Franklin Mountains are beautiful. UTEP is a fine university. Great weather. Even lots of job opportunities. It may even be a relatively safe city. But safest in the US? I have to question that assertion.

Evidently, I'm not the only one.

Some Call El Paso's Safest City Ranking 'Bogus'

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!

And now for something completely different...

So lately I've been impossibly busy with work, life and all the joy that long summer days bring to my easily distracted brain.

As such, I've had the attention span of a gnat and have been really running to catch up on my blog.

In reading over posts from the past couple weeks, I feel like I'm starting to be derivative of my self.

And, well, that's ass.

I had a long talk with The Good Man about maybe taking a break from blogging, or quitting entirely.

In fact, I considered it seriously.

But then again...I'm up to 939 posts over three years, and there is a part inside of me that *really* wants to top 1,000 posts on this blog.

So I dug deep inside and asked myself if I wanted to stop blogging.

The answer was clear. No. I don't want to stop.

I love blogging and it's done amazing things for my writing and editing skills on the fly.

And so....

I'm going to keep on keeping on here on the blog. But to keep things interesting, I’m going to try something different this week.

I shall dub the week of June 21 through June 25 as Flash Fiction and Fables Week.

On Monday through Thursday, my blog posts will consist of a no more than 1,000 word fiction story or essay, thus the very definition of Flash Fiction.

As the impetus for each day's story, I will visit a random word generator and use the first word that is presented as the foundation for the story.

I will have to keep an eye on myself for no cheating! No hitting refresh until I get a word I like.

I have no idea what the stories will be about as this is all a fluid process.

I hope you are willing to come along on this ride, as it will be harder than it looks, I can assure you. This is really a task in pushing The Muse to produce. And sometimes she doesn't like that.

Here's a representative sample of her cranky face.

Four days writing a totally new Flash Fiction story each day may be tough to accomplish. We'll see.

And then Friday will be a special day. On Friday I'm going to present a "Fable Friday" selection. This is a story I've taken from one of a couple books I have of fables and folklore. I will read the story aloud complete with funny voices, if necessary, and will also post a link to a scan of the story if you'd rather read it yourself.

This was inspired by a great night at a friend's house reading fables and folklore aloud. It was a fun and touching night and I'm experimenting with making this a regular item on the Oh Fair New Mexico blog.

After my week of Flash Fiction and Folklore ends, I will likely go back to my regularly scheduled stream-of-mind posts that I've done for the past three years, hopefully with a renewed sense of creativity and verve.

Verve...what a great word.

Anyhow, do join me and give feedback on the stories if the spirit moves you.

Personally I'm both excited and scared about the week, but I'm also raring to go!

Wheeeee!!

A boy scout, I am not...

"Be prepared."

Yup, that is the motto to which all those two-finger-holder-upper kids with the yellow kerchief around their necks swear to every chance they get.

Ah yes, be prepared. Think ahead. Plan your next move. Expect the worst and all that.

Sometimes, as the grown up I've become, I'm quite prepared. Oh I'm thinking about "what's the worst that could happen and how will I take my bacon back outta the fire when it does."

And then there are the days where the gas tank light is on and the needle quivers over the E and I forgot the tickets for the event I'm attending and I can't put my shoes on the correct feet.

So which was it on Sunday? You see, by the good grace of the baseball gods, I had some of the best seats in the major league stadium where I like to watch my favorite baseball team play. On this day of interleague play, my Giants are facing their across the Bay rivals.

Ooh baby! I'm ready! I'm prepared!

Tickets? Got 'em right here.

Gas? Plenty!

Sunglasses? Yes.

Spending cash for ballpark schwag. Certainly!

Portable radio already set to KNBR? Heck yeah!

Cool clothing for the warm day? Check.

Jacket in case it cools off? Sure.

Parking pass? Without a doubt.

Hooray! I've got it wired tight!

Off we go! We get to the park and plop into our seats that are THISCLOSE to the field and oooh, there's the players almost close enough to touch and what a beautiful day and rock ooooon!

So the game is starting, and what do I do?

Well, I'm a burgeoning photographer! I pull out my carefully packed camera and my 75-300 lens that will get me RIGHT in the middle of the action!

Yes! I even remembered to charge my battery! And the spare battery too!

This is gonna be so great! I’m going to wow the world with these shots! I will win awards! There will be accolades! I will get my invite to be an AP photographer with open access to the camera well on the field.

I am a rock star!!!

And so I begin to snap some photos, looking to take light levels and see about making adjustments for this bright sunlight.

Click goes the shutter.

And click once more.

Then I hit that little play button to review the shots.

And the camera says on its pretty little LCD screen:

No CF card,

NO CF CARD?!?!?!? What the seventeen kinds of sam hell does this damn camera mean no cf card?

And then I remember...

I left the memory card on my desk at home.

I was feeling sooooo Captain Prepared that I was going to do a full clean off of the memory card, reformat and be ready for the game.

Except I forgot to do that with all my attention on all the other careful pre-game preparations.

Uh. Whoops.

So you see, here's that amazing shot of Aubrey Huff at the plate right before he hit that first homerun:

Oh wait...

And that amazing shot of Pablo Sandoval taking a walk:

Yeah, no.

And that fabulous look of concentration while Andres Torres runs like a cheetah around the bases!

Heh. Nope.

Be prepared.

Be fracking prepared!

BE PREPARED DAMN IT!

Prepared, my ass.......

Clampetts come to town

So there I am today, at the Target store. They got in a fresh load of summer wear, so I tried a few on and made fun selections.

I'd picked out a pretty cute loose flowing skirt and had it in the basket, ready to buy. But then I wandered through more of the ladies clothing section and found another skirt almost exactly like it, but a bit different.

I thought I might like this newly found skirt better.

So did I go back to the dressing room and try it on?

Nope.

Did I toss it in the basket thinking I'd try it on later at home, and bring it back if it didn't fit?

Nope.

I yanked the skirt off the hanger and pulled it on and up over my jeans.

It had an elastic waist....(as if that's any defense).

Hey, you know what, it fit fine and so I bought it.

A few minutes later, The Good Man came over to the ladies section with a pile of clothes he'd found over in menswear.

"Hey, what do you think of this shirt?" he asked, holding it up.

"I like it," I replied. And I did.

"I wonder about the fit, though," he said.

So he whipped off his button down shirt (he had on an undershirt) and put on the store shirt.

"Yep, fits fine," he said, then took it off, and dropped it in the basket.

And then, I laughed.

This is what we've become.

The Clampetts. None of the class, all of the charm.

I remember as kid out shopping with mom, and she'd do the, "here, just try this sweater on over your tshirt."

"But moooohhhhhhhoooom!" I'd howl! It was *so* embarrassing.

Now I'm that lady, trying on stuff in the aisles. And I don't even care.

You know...Mark Chesnutt has this song about when "ol' country" comes to town.

That's my excuse. I just don't know any better.

I have no idea what excuse the city-born Good Man's is using.

Maybe I’m setting a bad example?

"Whooooa, let me tell ya story about a man named Jed....."

Saturday is rantacular!

An open letter to the Bay Area's NBC-11 (KNTV) television station

Dear programming directors at my local television station, NBC-11:

I'd like to begin our conversation by thanking you for televising Friday night's San Francisco Giants baseball game on your regular ol' not-cable television station.

For people like me who have gone back to days of yore by using rabbit ears to tune in my television, it's fun to actually get a chance to watch my home team instead of only being able to listen on the radio.

The Good Man and I celebrated by eating bratwurst for dinner to get in the mood.

Very cool.

That said...

I'd like to kindly remind you that your whole reason for being in Los Angeles Friday night was to video and broadcast the game on behalf of your home viewers.

You know, the residents of the Bay Area? The SAN FRANCISCO Bay Area?

See, here's the funny thing, by and large, on Friday, your viewers in the San Francisco Bay Area were all actively watching your fine station in order to see the Giants play baseball.

You know, the SAN FRANCISCO Giants?

So when you spend large portions of the game focused solely on Matt Kemp, giddy about Matt Kemp, how wonderful is Matt Kemp, showing us Matt Kemp in the dugout, Matt Kemp in the on deck circle, Matt Kemp picking his nose, you might fail to understand why I might be rather upset?

Why would I be this upset? Because %$!&ing Matt Kemp is a sonova$%#@ing player for the Dodgers!

How do I know this? Well, you see, I was able to take a gander at the front of his jersey. You might try this trick. Focus your freaking camera on him in every idle second, and you might get a close up look at the letters on his chest. Can you see it? Can you see it says D...O...D...G....

....ARE YOU EVEN PAYING ATTENTION!?!?!?!?!?

You are broadcasting a Giants game to Giants fans! Screw the Dodgers fans in the Bay Area! Who cares about them? They are not your core demographic!

I do not want to see Manny Ramirez unless he's batting. I do not want to see Casey Blake unless he's fielding a ball. I do not give one miniscule rat's ASS about Matt Kemp unless he is batting or actively making a play.

And I give even less than a miniscule rat's ass about all of the repeated views of Matt's Kemp's adorable little girlfriend Rhianna sitting in the stands.

Yes, we're all very excited that Matt Kemp is dating Rhianna. Yes, she's very cute. Yes, I know all you big sport broadcasting boys are squeeing with glee about the chance to film Rhianna sitting there with a hoodie over her head looking all cool. I know she's like, oh my god, whoa, isn't that the coolest thing ever, double squee!

But for f*ck's sakes! Let's just let the LA station broadcast the gratuitous lingering camera shots of their own players and their own players girlfriends.

Hey, here's a cost saving idea! Why don't *you* just use LA's KCAL television feed for the next Giants-Dodgers game? That way I can, at the very least, listen to the dulcet tones of Vin Scully call the game.

At least that would be something interesting!

Now.

That said.

Saturday's game is nationally televised on Fox. You know that that means? That means Joe Buck.

I guran-frapping-tee you that your crappy Friday night television coverage will hold up well by comparison to Joe freakin' Buck's uninspired and wooden-like call. I plan on feeling nauseated. Buck's voice usually inspires that in me..

Because, NBC-11, you suck, but Joe Buck sucks worse.

And that's something to build on.

Baseballically yours,

Karen

P.S. These are my pants. They are cranky. That is all.

Literal girl takes things literally

Ok, so there we were on a day of running errands, The Good Man and me.

We pull into a crowded parking lot behind the store where we've taken our bicycles to get tuned up.

Fabulous. All good.

TGM parks the car and heads inside while I get out change to go see about the meter.

Muliti-tasking couple, that's us. Efficiency!

Ok, so we parked in one of those lots where you have to "note your space number and pay at the machine."

Sure. Ok. I'm in!

So I note "space number 6" and then I swivel my head around to find the pay'er machine.

I see a sign that says, "pay here" and I go toward it like a moth after a 60-watt bulb on a hot summer's night.

I literally walk right to the "pay here" sign. Seeing ONLY the "pay here sign."

I arrive at the "pay here" sign to find that there is ONLY a "pay here" sign and no sort of payin' machine.

What. The. Heck?

Ok. A photo will probably explain this better.

It actually took me several moments to turn around and actually figure out how to get my parking fare paid.

The sign says, "pay here." It DOES NOT say, "pay over there, like eight feet away."

Pay here with an arrow means pay there! At the end of the arrow.

Very, very literal girl was really perturbed by this whole setup.

So perturbed I took a dang photo of it!

I totally need to take up yoga.

Or meditation.

Or something with plinky-plunky music that will help lower my blood pressure.

Literal girl is *tense* sometimes.....

Tapping Into My Personal Genius

Boy, that's a title, eh?

I'll provide a guarantee right now, this post won't live up to that title.

Maybe it's aspirational. We'll see.

There is a blog I read regularly that takes the form of an online journal. The author is really open and straight forward. It really is like reading her personal diary.

She suffers from quite a bit of writer's block, and so when that happens, she'll do a free association blog post where she asks herself questions and has her mind answer any which way it wants.

I find those posts fascinating as they always contain some nugget of something good that makes the whole exercise worthwhile.

I'm not saying my version of this is going to provide anything other than a nugget of "what the sam hell?" but I'm willing to try.

So. Here we go.

Chatting with myself...

Heeere we go!

Yup, let's go!

We're doin' it!

Crimeny, I'm so blocked I can't even write interviewer questions.

Ugh.

Ok, for real this time.

Hello, welcome to our self-chat. How are you feeling today?

Wait, that's how a therapist likes to start a conversation. "How are you feeeeling?" How am I feeling? Bite me, that's how I'm feeling!

I sense a little hostility.

Congratulations, your sensors are working fine. Can I go?

Yes, you can. But would you stay a minute more?

Why?

Because I asked you nicely.

Fair enough.

Why are you so cranky?

I get cranked up when I have writer's block. It usually comes so easy to me, the words. In fact, I can write too many words. I was constantly admonished by a former boss, a numbers guy, that I wrote too many words.

He was a toad, though, so no need to let his opinions matter.

Isn't writing a process? A flow? Sometimes a raging river, sometimes a trickle?

Thanks. Now I have to go pee.

Some of the greatest writers in the world had and have writer's block.

Sure, sure. I know it's all a part of the creative process but damn, I hate it!

Don't you think railing against it only makes it worse?

Don't you think being a smarty-pants is going to net you the backspace key, repeatedly?

Hey, this is your mental exercise, hot-shot, I'm just asking the questions here.

Oooh, touchy touchy! Fine, yes, I know that railing against writer's block only makes it worse. But railing against [insert item here] is sort of how I make my way through life.

You know, "Hulk mad! Hulk smash!" or something like that.

Yeah. How's that working out for you?

Today, not so well.

What do you think would help clear the block?

I don’t know. It usually passes in its own time.

So, if you can just wait it out, it will resolve itself.

Usually.

So, being patient with yourself and letting it pass by might actually be the quickest route?

Yeah, probably.

So why don't you do that...be patient with yourself?

Damned if I know.

Well, maybe that's something to work on today.

Yeah, you're right. I'll grudgingly admit you are right. Maybe even helpful, too.

Any closing thoughts?

I like pie.

Thank you, and good night....

It's daytime, stupid brain. You good fer nothing piece of......


Thus concludes today's conversation. I hope we've all learned something here. Though I've no idea what that would be.

Come tip a glass with me!

Yes, tis time to celebrate St. Paddy's Day again. The wearin' of the green. The drinking, and the pinching (not necessarily in that order).

But St. Paddy's Day means something different here on ol' Oh Fair New Mexico.

Twas St. Paddy's Day 2007 that my little blog was begun.

Three years and 860 posts later, it's still going strong.

Look, three years ago, I didn't know if I had a year's worth of content in me, but I was willing to try. It was The Good Man's idea to start a blog and damnit, I guess I have to admit he was right.

He really is, you know, a good man. Smart too. Dashing, handsome...but I digress.

My meager three years don't come anywhere near the longevity and volume of blog friend, NewMexiKen. He just celebrated six years at his own url and is closer to seven years blogging and still getting ten to fifteen posts a day. I am humbled in his sheer blogging presence.

But my three years still beats the heck out of a lot of blogs I've seen rise and fall since I got my start.

Cheers! To Oh Fair New Mexico and another year of random acts of bloggery.

And Happy St. Patrick's Day! To celebrate I took my new (to me) camera and snapped the prolific clover in the backyard.

I think it's beautiful. My landlord curses at it.

And so goes the ways of my world.

(I don't see any four leafers in there, do you?)

Every Holiday Needs a Song

You know Clinton and Bush(s)
and 'Bama and Reagan
Carter and Kennedy
Ford and Nixon

But dooo you recaaaaalll
The most hated President of alllll?

Andrew Johnson, the first impeached president
Was not a really wonderful dude
And if you ever saw him
You would even say he blews (as a president)

All of the other parties
Used to laugh and call him names
The National Union Party
Never managed to hold any sway

Then one foggy April night
John Wilkes Booth came to say
Lincoln with your hat so tall
Won't you go away?

Johnson was sworn in the next day
Now he's the guy in charge
All his wishy-washy Confederate leanings
Crashed ahead on the country like a barge!


Two years later Johnson was impeached (unsuccessfully) for the first time. The next year, 1868, Congress made it stick, so buh bye Johnson.

He may not have done much with his time as commander in Chief.

But in his short rein, he did manage to buy Alaska.

Home of Mz. Palin and Republican grief.

So his legacy lives on......

Or, one might say....

Andrew Johnson, the first impeached president,
You'll go down in history!

Photo and facts courtesy of the Andrew Johnson Wikipedia page.

Tis the Season

Yesterday was a weird day.

Sure, mid-December always gets a little bit dicey when going out to run errands, but yesterday was especially odd.

I had a list of things to procure and not a lot of time, so over lunchtime I started at the top of the list. First stop, Home Depot.

Oh Home Depot, I know so many people love you, but I rarely visit your orangey evil warehouse.

I needed some tools (I have a fun Christmas project for The Good Man's little sister in progress). Since Home Depot is the Wal-Mart of hardware stores, and I wanted to spend only a little green, I decided to give it a try.

Wow, did you know there is some sort of force field going on in Home Depot? As soon as I set foot in the lumber aisle, I became invisible! It was really instant and rather startling!

The U.S. military should look into this!

The secret to a true complete invisibility shield!

A girl in the lumber aisle.

I found that on the tools aisle, I was only partly invisible. If I said, "hey, I need help!" then they could sort of see me. It wasn't just me either, there was another woman trying to get help regarding a door knob she was considering.

She got the attention of one male employee who condescendingly answered her question then walked away...though she wasn't done asking questions.

Oh, I did discover that in the gardening section, by the small pink canvas pruning gloves? They could see me fine.

Something about hardware and lumber.

Weird, huh?

My next errand was to go to the post office. A gift ordered online had arrived. Yay!

Well, it being mid-December and at lunch, the post office was crazy busy. We use a very small postal annex with only two employees, so that makes things an even bigger holdup.

It was a very, very long line.

Well, you know, this is to be expected this time of year.

Except for the cranky old man and the horribly cranky old woman in line behind me.

The old man kept cranking about how he can't believe the lines and he had been there and hour before and the line was this long so he went and had lunch to wait it out and wouldn't you know it the line is still long and how can this be!

You get my drift.

Then the lady chimed in.

"There are just too many people these days. Too. Many. People. You know why it is so crowded don't you? Because of all the immigrants. Obama keeps letting all of those immigrants in. They all want the free stuff so those damn people keep coming in and it is just too crowded!"

Uh. WHAT!?!?!?

Crazy old bat continued on that line of rant for a bit longer, then went back to complaining about the line. She said, "Why is there only one person working, where is that [racial epithet redacted] who works here?"

I was horrified. Absolutely stunned into a horrified shock.

Evidently the "spirit of the season" is discrimination, racism and anger.

Once I picked up my package, I got in my car and made my way out of the parking lot. As I waited to turn out into traffic, I had the audacity to wait for a group of six kids from the nearby high school walking by on lunch break.

Audacity because the evidently impatient man behind me felt I shouldn't have paused. So he laid on the horn and yelled "GOOOO!"

Well, clearly the spirit of the season has infected me as well, because I unrolled my window and shouted "WHAT THE F--K IS YOUR PROBLEM!?!?"

Tis the season to be assholish, fa la la la, la la la la......

Look at me pass on the season's cheer....

I think I'll hunker down at the house for the remainder of the year. It seems better that way.

Dear Tareq and Michaele Salahi,

Since I have now taken over the PR storytelling duties for Tiger, you're next.

So, herewith, five reasonable and acceptable stories to explain your behavior.

Pick one, say it, and then please, on behalf of everyone (I'm asking nicely) go away.

Here we go:

1) Well, you know, that Tareq (Michaele rolls her eyes here), he will *never* ask anyone for directions. I told him I didn't think turning left back there was the right direction, but he swore up and down this was the right way. We were supposed to be at a nice dinner party over at the Farklebergs. You know the Farklebergs? Lovely couple. Anyhow, I have no idea how we ended up here. Could we get a ride to the Farkleberg party? Margie will be beside herself if we are late! And I know Tareq doesn't want to miss her famous mini quiches!

2) What? Where am I? Who am I? I was abducted by aliens. The big greenish gray ones. They came into my room, forced me to put on this tux/dress and then there was a bright light. I don't remember what happened next. When I came to, I was shaking the president's hand. I really have no idea what happened! I think they may have probed me.

3) Oh heck, haw haw haw, this is all one big practical joke! I mean, everyone was in on it, c'mon, this is all a big press stunt for that reality show (which I'll refrain from naming)! No seriously, they paid us well and we donated it all to charity. No one snuck past the Secret Service, it was all planned out. Everything is *fine*, hasn't this all been a great big hoot?

4) Look, now that you have totally blown our cover...we can only say that we are part of a top secret black hole government project and we *may* have perfected the ability to beam ourselves through the space time continuum. It's not totally perfect yet, Michaele's face wasn't quite so pulled back and *tight* when we beamed up, but we're getting close to a technology that will BLOW YOUR MIND. That's all I can say. Hush, hush you know.

5) Tiger's dad told us to. From the grave. It was all very mystical.

And there you have it.

Now scootch along. We've other media whores to deal with. Where's Lindsey or Brittney or Paris? We're due for a stunt from the professional crazies!

Anyhow, hugs and kisses!

Your pal,

Karen

Dear Tiger Woods,

You seem to be having a skosh of trouble recently with your personal life, and you've managed to kick over the rock, allowing all the creepy, crawly, greasy things to begin speculating about you in the media.

The PR people say address it fast and be confident about it, then get it out of the way.

Well, you've tarried on the "fast" part of it, thus making the frenzy worse.

But now, my friend, you need a good story, and fast.

As I am a teller of stories, I have come up with a list of five stories you can sell to the media and thus get your fabulous self out of trouble.

You can thank me later.

Herewith, five good reasons why Tiger drove his Cadillac into a tree:

1. The baby was sick and I needed to go to an all night pharmacy to get medication. I was so very exhausted, having been up with her all night, that I accidentally ran into that fire hydrant. I had only the best interest of my daughter in mind.

2. I was sleepwalking. I'm seeing a doctor about this debilitating condition. Please respect the privacy of me and my family during this troubling time.

3. I shanked one! Heh, heh, no seriously folks, since my game has been off a bit lately (bad knee and all) and the Chevron World Challenge is coming up, I wanted to go for a drive to clear my head. Perhaps I was thinking a bit too much about my swing and not paying attention to where I was going.

4. My wife and I were having a disagreement. I stepped away to cool off and whoops, the car got away from me. I've since realized that my wife is the best thing in my life (thanks for breaking out that window, dear) and from here out I will strive to be a better man, a better husband and a better father. (an invocation of God at this point would really seal the deal)

5. My dad told me to. From the grave. It was a very mystical moment.

See? This isn't that hard!

C'mon Tiger, give us a good story and put this crap to rest, eh?

Thanks.

Your pal,

Karen

So. 4:30 a.m. huh? Really?

Balloon Fiesta gates open, at, ahem, 4:30 in the morning.

What the $%#& am I thinking?

And to make it more fun, it is supposed to rain tomorrow. Oh yay.

Wonder how many of the seven dwarves I can be tomorrow? Cranky and snarky are part of the crew right?

Let's see, there's sleepy, cranky, snarky, PMSy, drunkey, slap happy, and Bob.

Right?

Wheee!

Today, more than ever...

...I am convinced that the members of the human race are all nothing more than a truckload of clucking chickens wandering around the big cosmic coop.

Seriously.

Ok, so, backstory:

Over the Labor Day weekend, the people constructing a new eastern span of the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge closed the bridge to traffic. During this closure, they removed one section of the lower deck of the bridge, and placed a temporary section in place to divert traffic and allow vital work to be completed.

This made big news all over the Bay Area. It was much ado about "The S Curve"

Ba-kah! An S curve!

So when the bridge re-opened to traffic the following week, all the traffic reporters reminded commuters that people would be getting used to the new S curve, so allow extra time.

Ok, fine. Right? It's a new thing, we all get used to it and move on.

Oh but nooooooo.

No, today, I had a rare occasion to have to cross the Bay Bridge. (stop shuddering, my dear mother!)

So, first of all, the approach going in an eastern direction on a good day is a cluster of merges that has always made me nutty.

Fine, it is what it is.

Then there had been an accident an hour earlier that had still left traffic snarled. Fine.

But oh...the best part. Once traffic was flowing along, I came through the tunnel that goes through Treasure Island, and then I was confronted with...DA DA DUUUUM...

The S Curve.

And people hit the brakes! Oh did they hit the brakes.

Fer crimeny's sakes, people! It isn't a frappin' Z curve! It is quite easy to navigate. You follow those fabulous little white lines they paint on the ground. You turn your steering wheel gently one way, and then gently the other way. This is not a step on the brake-able road hazard!

My god. The freak out. The pandemonium! The utter ba-kah!

The Bay Bridge carries some 270,000 cars every day. And this change was implemented TWO WEEKS AGO!

But nooooooo.

Ba-kah!

*sigh*

This, along with people on the southbound highway slowing down to look at an accident that occurred on the northbound side, you know, OVER that heavy concrete barrier?

Bah. Kah.

Fine. I'll just peck at my grain and shake my tailfeathers and call it a day.

I. Am. Cranky.

For my own good

So in trying to feel better physically and mentally, I've made the choice to give up most of the sugar in my diet. Caffeine too, including decaf (it has some caffeine).

I'm ok on the caffeine part. That's no problem, I've never really been able to have that much and when I do, I feel like crap.

Oh but giving up the sugar. It's killing me.

I hear that quitting cigarettes is about the most difficult thing ever. I've never been a smoker, so I can't compare.

But I can say that Demon Sugar is whispering in my ear right now. "Just one cookie. It won't hurt. You'll feel so much better! That headache will go away! You'll have a little lift! Come on! Just one chocolate bar, what can it do?"

Gad, even this image makes me drool.

I gotsa problem!

Oh heck no!

Ya know, my boss and I may not always agree, but I don't get smacked around for my troubles.

Report: Violence common among Scientology managers

The article makes it sound pretty awful. A little perspective for my workday.

Conservationism is hogwash

I know, I know. Heresy to say such a thing the day after Earth Day, but I'm saying it.

Ok, let me be a bit more specific.

Water and electric conservation is poppycock.

I'm mad. Can you tell?

I'll tell you why in two stories.

One from several years back. One from a couple days ago that got my ire all up again.

First story. Electricity.

You may recall in the early 2000's, California was going through a power crisis during the hot summer months.

We were subject to brownouts and rolling blackouts. Which is just a nice way of saying, "oooops, your power is out, we did it on purpose."

Then-Governor Gray Davis challenged all of us to conserve power with the threat of increased power rates. It was a rallying cry. Stores turned off half or more of their lights. The Bay Bridge and Golden Gate went dark (turned off the accent lights, kept the roadway lights on), and I personally worked really hard to use less energy.

What happened?

The state of California conserved 11% energy. ELEVEN PERCENT!! That is a HUGE number.

We were then rewarded by the news that the power companies were corrupt, our overuse was never the issue, and rates went up, by a lot, to offset the crisis.

Conserving power meant nothing. Nothing. We paid more anyway.

Second story. Water.

It's been noted in the news recently that California is having an especially dry year. Our reservoirs are a bit low. We didn't get the snow pack that those that know would like to see.

So in Santa Clara County, they have enacted conservation...with the threat of raising rates.

And the people and businesses are doing it. They are conserving.

On the radio Tuesday, I heard a report that conservation has worked SO well that the water company hasn't been bringing in enough billing revenue to sustain their beleaguered business model.

So they are going to raise rates, anyway.

Working so hard to conserve water meant NOTHING.

This concept of voluntary conservationism is useless and a bunch of bullhockey! Don't threaten or coerce me. If you are just going to raise my rates then go ahead and raise my rates. That will get me to use less, I promise!

Any first year business student can draw for you the chart showing supply and demand. And price is a factor in demand. A BIG factor.

You raise rates, people will want to pay less, they will use less and conservation of resources happens.

This jimmy-jacking around, blaming the victim, telling me I'm a bad consumer and must use less or bad things will happen...so then I use less and bad things happen anyway?

By the by...I already use so little water and so little power as to be laughable. I turn off lights, I unplug appliances, I use Energy Star. My bills stay pretty low.

So no. I'm done. I'm done trying really hard to conserve even more, only to be rewarded by higher rates anyway.

Done!

/rant

Saving the best one for last

Why do we do this? Why do *I* do this?

A Singapore counterpart from work gave me a set of reeeeally nice hand lotions on her last visit to the US. I went through and sniffed them all, picked my favorites, then put them in order, thus allowing myself to use the least faves *first* before using the ones I like.

Why? Why would I do that? Why not use the ones I like best first? Life is short!

Today, my admin was kind enough to bring me a sample plate of desserts from a conference room downstairs. I ate the yucky ones first and the nicest one last. Why didn't I just eat the good ones and leave the yucky ones? Nope. Ate 'em all.

I'm not proud of it, either.

Suppose this is a hazard of being born to Depression Era parents? The propensity to "save" things for later was strong with them both.

Or is it a hazard of my severe obsessive, overly anal personality?

Or could it be just a facet of human nature? Especially as a woman. "Oh no," : hand to head : "I'll take the burned toast...."

Whatever.

I just pulled out the jar of *good* lotion and slathered it on. I smell pretty!

Life is too short to dance with short men. Life is too short to drink cheap beer wine. Life is too important to be taken seriously. And life is too dull to not use the "good soap" in the guest bath.

Opening Day

And so, the 2009 baseball season is underway.

The major leaguers started early in the week.

But that's not where I'm at.

I'm talkin' about one lowly Single A.

Yeah baby.

The San Jose Giants kicked off their 142 game season in the Pacific Coast League with their home opener last night.

It was, perhaps, one of the strangest baseball encounters I've ever experienced.

And I've seen some weird sh*t.

To start with, the weather was was, what the indelicate call "pissing rain". The not quite raining, not quite not. Just...dribbling.

For my home-squirrels in the 505/575 who come from a place where, when it rains, it means it, this phenomenon may not make sense to you.

Imagine those misters they have at Hooters. Only as big as the sky, unrelenting, and without the desert dryness to evaporate that water.

Close enough.

So it was Hooters misting all night long...and cold...and not very baseball-y weather.

Pretty much, the not really capacity crowd thinned out over the course of the game, leaving only the die hards to carry it to the end.

Which would be both me and The Good Man.

We stepped under cover for the third and fourth innings to indulge in bbq-sauce-up-to-your-ears tasty ribs and came out of there recharged and ready.
When you've endured several hours of cold soaking rain, it does something to your brain.

So as most people left, and us weirdos starting losing our minds, it got really fun.

Best moment will take some backstory.

Every game, the San Jose announcer designates a player on the opposing team as the "beer batter". If the San Jose pitcher strikes out that batter, then beer is half price for the next half inning.

Needless to say, people cheer pretty damn hard for a strikeout.

Usually, they end the beer batter promotion in the sixth inning.

So, round about the seventh inning last night...we, the looneys in the crowd decided to dub that same opposing batter the hot chocolate batter (it was freaking cold!). Cheering went up. Someone yelled, "C'mon, daddy needs marshmallows!"

That damn beer hot chocolate batter would NOT just take a swing. Poor sport.

And then, for some reason, in the eighth inning, the announcer played the usual beer batter song and dubbed the guy the 'apple juice batter of the game, as sponsored by Martinelli's'. I don't know if that was a legit promotion, but then all of us started hollering for our apple juice.

As the beer batter stood at the plate, we screamed "aaaaaaaple juuuuuice!" Damnit if that guy just wouldn't strike out for us! No, he kept foulin' 'em off! So I yelled "I'll share mine with you!" No, he wasn't to be swayed. I even offered to *give* him my apple juice. Considering I was sitting in the third row behind the plate in a nearly empty stadium, I KNOW he heard my offer.

But no, instead of sipping my apple juice, b--tard hit a rope out to center.

A cold soaked to the bone crowd couldn't even get an apple juice. That ain't right.

But damn did we have fun!

And yes, the Albuquerque Dukes pennant is still painted on the wall at Muni Stadium and I touched it for luck, like usual! Worked too! We won 7-1!

Tonight, I think I'll stick to the couch and a blanket and my feline (who I've finally forgiven) and baseball on the television.

But I may be prompted to yell "aaaaaaapple juuuuuuuice" at a hitter who needs to strike out. : shrug :