Brevity Is Not My Middle Name

(Sometimes the pump just needs priming. After writing about having nothing to say, it turns out I actually did have something to say today. It was just hiding. Here's a second post for the day.)

A few weeks ago, we had a manager's meeting here at work. This is a once a quarter affair where we meet, eat pastry, and talk about our plans for the department over the next three months.

Part of these meetings is also a discussion about how we, the management team, can improve ourselves and be better leaders for our team.

This quarter's growth topic in support of that goal was about our use of words.

A senior member of our staff held aloft the cap from a water bottle, and told us the goal was to "use a capful, don't pour out the whole bottle."

He told us to shorten the bullets on our PowerPoint presentations.

He told us to "speak in conclusions" in our emails.

He told us to always be aware of how many words we're using and then trim it back.

Ironically, it took him over half an hour to pass along this message.

I deeply considered throwing the cap from my own water bottle at him.

But I didn't.

Ahem.

Look, dear readers, you’ve been with me for over three years, and 1,000 posts which amounts to approximately half a million words.

Do you *really* think I can "use a capful" when I write?

People, please.

To paraphrase The Dude, I'm not really into that whole brevity thing.

I'm a writer! I'm a creative! I pass words like currency through my life. My husband and my best friend, the closest people to me, both have kick ass vocabularies! If you're gonna run with me, you gotta love the use of words and language and be willing to endure my penchant for storytelling the whole damn six pack, not just the capful.

No, I say! No! I reject the capful and dive headfirst into the ocean of words, swim around nekkid, get the words all soaked into my skin and then I'll use a few more adverbs just to make it more, erm, wordly!

Damnit! Asking me to ratchet back the words is like tying Rodin's hands behind his back and asking him to craft a masterpiece with his toes.*

Ain't gonna happen.**

* Look who is comparing herself to Rodin. That's a bit audacious, innit?

** That said...I'm trying. Well, trying at work anyway. Be warned, all the words I have to cut out of my days at work are so totally going to show up here.

Cartoon from Toothpaste for Dinner

A less than beautiful mind

When I look inside my head, as I usually do about this time of day, and ask myself "what would I like to blog about today?" I often see many colorful suggestions, images and ideas pop to the forefront.

Sure, many of the suggestions that my monkey mind puts forth are so capricious they become either not appropriate or too complicated to write about in about 500 words, on average. But I can usually find one gem among the rubble and bring that to you, every weekday, on my blog.

Today, on my walk over to the cafeteria to grab a salad and rush back to my office in time for another conference call, when I turned inward for a good blog idea, what I got, instead of colorful confetti and suggestions of "poop!," was resoundingly gray. Quiet. Lonesome.

As gray as the cubicle walls that line my office building.

As quiet as the dark winter clouds that have gathered over the Bay Area to lie down and weep cold rain on our heads.

As lonesome as New Mexico state highway 285 between Vaughan and Roswell.

When I looked inward, I discovered that my brain hurts.

For every company that's ever employed me, December has always been a busy month. My current employer is no exception.

At five months into my new gig, I really like it a lot, and as I've begun to hit my stride, I have discovered that cute little word "global" in my title means my days begin in the UK, lunch with Sao Paulo, a quick break for the US, afternoon tea with Australia, early evening snack with Hong Kong and I am put down to bed for the night with India.

All on the phone. All day long. The UK to India run encompasses about twelve hours of my day.

Then I wake up and do it all again.

While this probably sounds like complaining, it's really not. My job is fascinating and fun and really good stuff.

But I am *tired*.

In the interest of my own health, I've begun working out again. Nothing major, Jazzercise a couple times a week and a sashay on the treadmill a couple other days a week.

I found I need that exercise to build up my stamina so I can sustain these long days at work.

But all that exercise wears me out too.

And my blog, my beautiful, wonderful blog. It's suffering too. My goal of a post every weekday stands firm. Then I go and miss a day (like yesterday) and I've got to climb back out of the hole.

So all of these words (about 430 so far) are just my way of saying I don't have much to say.

For today, anyway. That quiet, gray, lonesome mind only lasts for a little while. Then my severe latent childhood will kick in, and I'll figure out how to write another post about poop.

You can count on that.

Artist Heather Gorham's interpretation of the monkey mind

An Open Letter To My iPod

Dear Shuffle Function on my iPod Shuffle:

Today, after a really long day at work that started WAY too early this morning and ended WAY too late, I climbed my large and rather tired behind up onto my treadmill and fired up the big machine.

Normally I can rely on you, my long suffering iPod, veteran of many miles, to get me through the agony of exercise.

Not today.

Here's a hint, little musical device: when I need a little inspiration, how 'bout we avoid every single four bar blues available on the playlist, huh?

Minor chords don't really scream "get that heartrate up!" Albert King and John Lee Hooker are really better suited to competitive whiskey drinking, not sweating for my health.

And that John Denver song? Yer killin' me! (yes, I have John Denver on my iPod. No, I'm not ashamed)

Workout time is also not time for Colbie Callat, John Legend, or Coltraine.

Damn, iPod Shuffle, that skip function got more of a workout today than I did!

That said, dropping a "Stayin' Alive" on me near the end of the hour? That was inspired.

Occasionally, you still got it, Shuffle.

Sad iPod cross stitch from benjibot's Flickr photostream.

This is a test, this is only a test

This is a test. For the next several words, this blog will conduct a test of the Blog Reader Awakedness System. This is only a test.

Quick! What is the square root of 6,465,232,168? No calculators!

How much would could a wood chuck chuck, if, indeed, a woodchuck could chuck wood? No references to the Geico ad!

A tree falls in the forest, what time did the train leave the station?

Explain quantum physics using only six words and pantomimes.

Awake yet?!?!? No? Then click here.

If this had been an actual blog post, there would have been an actual premise, some witty prose, and an insightful conclusion.

This week's Theme Thursday is "test."

There's a special place in hell for...

Long time reader and cyber friend Elise suggested yesterday in the comments section that I pipe down on my Christmas cheer. So today, I bring you a crankier post, more in line with my usual holiday mood.

There is a special place in hell for...

...people who cook bacon in the work microwave. How exactly am I supposed to concentrate?

...people who park their moderately fancy car diagonally across three parking spaces.

...people who won't take the last cookie, but they'll break off half and leave the rest behind as a guilt offering. Just take the last damn cookie! (same deal on pie, cake, donuts and other pastries).

...people who don't flush the toilet after they use it

...people who arrive late then stand too close to me in aerobics class. (How's a tall girl supposed to swing these limbs with you up my behind?! I got here early and so can you.)

...people who lecture the work group about being brief in emails, and take half an hour to repeatedly make the point

...people who leave their dirty dishes in the break room for someone else to deal with instead of taking them back to the cafeteria. Entitled much?

...people who are mean as a standard course of action throughout their day (yes, I have someone in mind)

...executives of any company or government agency who cannot be bothered to acknowledge a hello when passed in the hallway, on the street, in general

...people who run Craigslist scams when an honest person is just trying to find a decent place to rent

...whoever that person is who keeps sending out the "I am a Nigerian Prince" emails. Does anyone even fall for that anymore?

...used car salesmen (no particular reason, just on general principle due to the lack of principle)

...anyone at any time as I see fit. Bwahahahahahahahaha!

Photo by Glenn Pebley and used royalty free from stock.xchng.

Revised Sentiments

Since I'm still in that obnoxious happy Holiday mood, I've been listening to my own mix tape of fave Christmas tunes in my car to and from work.

I don't play them much at home. Not sure The Good Man would go for piping all my insane Xmas cheer into the house.

Aaaaanyhow, this morning I was listening to the George Strait song, "Christmastime in Texas" and the line "it might look just like a summer day" which, of course, made me think of Christmas in New Mexico. I think there was snow on Christmas just once when I was growing up, and that was all melted off by noon.

Christmas in New Mexico was more like sixty-five degrees and shorts and a tshirt to play with my new toys outside.

I've always loved all the standard Christmas tunes, but hey, to a New Mexico kid, they don't really apply.

So I decided to tinker with some of the classics to give them more of a New Mexico vibe.

Here just a few, feel free to add your own!

______

"Up on a Housetop"

Up on a rooftop, stick stick stick, tar paper roof laid on too thick

"Walking in a Winter Wonderland"

Walking in a surprisingly summerlike wonderland

"Silent Night"

Silent night, holy HELL my neighbor's yard decorations are bright

"White Christmas"

I'm dreaming of a red or green Christmas. Green please, with a fried egg on top. Pass the tamales. (whoops, lost the natural rhythm of the song there....thoughts of Christmas tamales will do that to me)

"Let it Snow"

Oh the weather outside is windy, and the weeds are very tumbly, and since we've no place to go, let it blow, let it blow, let it blow

"The Christmas Song"

Calf's nuts roasting on an open fire, branding iron nipping at your flanks
(yeah, ok, so winter isn't exactly branding season, but go with me here!)

"Jingle Bells"

Paper bags, paper bags, burning in my yard

"Frosty the Snowman"

Nobby the mud tires, on a very four wheel truck,
with a four on the floor and a headache rack,
and two headlights made out of halogen

__________

Ah, mud tires and a headache rack. Now that's what Christmas means to me.

Bend The Rules Until they Squeak

You know, over the years I've come to accept the fact that the internet is a place that full to brimming with misspellings, bad grammar, and callous disregard for the English language.

My only refuge has been in "respectable" news organizations that still take the art and rules of writing seriously. So there I am today, reading an article on cnn.com a (relatively speaking) respectable news source.

Trouble is, I can't focus on the article because this is glaring at me from the right hand side of my screen.

It actually hurt my head.

Yes, I know, that's an advertiser and not CNN. Yes I know CNN just pumps out the ads, they don't proof them, yada yada yada.

That said...Funk and Wagnall wept.

Warfare On The Not-Really-All-That-High Seas

Back in August, I mentioned that I work in office buildings located right next to a public park and marshy baylands that are home to quite a few birds.

Back in August, it was all about the Canada Geese. Lots and lots of geese.

I'm endlessly fascinated by all the wildlife, so I try to find the time during my work days to take a break and use the beautiful walking trails in the area. I love to stroll by the lagoons, all teeming with wildlife.

Among others species, we have flounder, bat rays, ducks, herons and egrets. The more I sashay around the lagoon, the more I've come to recognize many of the animals.

For example, there is this handsome fella (at least I think it's a fella). This is, I believe, a great white heron:

This heron is always found camped out in one corner of the lagoon. It is where the water flows into the lagoon from an underwater pipe, so the bird stands there gazing into the water and picking off small fish.

For comparison, here's a snowy egret. They are a bit smaller than the herons.

As the weather has turned cold, I've noticed more and more numbers and species of birds have come to call our little baylands area their home.

Mostly, these birds all live together in harmony. There is plenty of fish to eat and lots of room to roam.

But a few weeks ago, some new thugs hit town, and they're messing up the harmony in my lagoon.

Dun-dun-duuuuuuuun

Pelicans.

The pelicans have brought a weird vibe to the whole area.

Today, I went for a walk and took my camera along hoping for some inspiration. After a long week at work, I had little left in the tank. A photowalk seemed like a good idea.

So while taking a few snaps of my friend the heron, I noticed something odd happening.

About eight pelicans were swimming in fast, full speed ahead. I suppose you could call it ramming speed, and they were headed toward the subject of my photographs.

In other words, they were charging the heron.

Suddenly, every heron and egret in the large lagoon came flying and squawking their way over. There was dive bombing and vocalizing and tense moments.

After a few minutes, the pelicans turned and swam off.

Wild! I'd never seen anything like it! Shaking my head, I began walking again.

A while later, in the next corner of the lagoon, it happened again.

Water splashed, birds squawked. This one was a doozy. It was a well-executed, well-choreographed battle.

After a lengthy tussle, the herons and egrets prevailed again and the pelicans were chased off.

Now every heron and egret was on high alert. They were positioned strategically around the lagoon, each surveying a different direction, eyes sharp for another attack by the pelican insurgents.

Soon, in yet a new section, it all started up again. The splashing, the squawking, the fighting.

From the rear, a large battalion of little black ducks (I believe they are called American Coots) got in the game. They swam over in formation and clumped up, creating an obstacle to prevent the pelican progress.

This is a few minutes after the battle was won. Here, they rest, conserving energy to prepare for the next battle.

A heron soon made his way over to address the soldiers.

"Excellent work, troops. Today, we'll endure this pelican insurgence. Historians shall speak of this day. Children will learn our names. Our women will weep at our graves.

Coots! Ready your snackies and eat hearty... For tonight, we dine in hell!"

Sure enough, it was only a few minutes later when this gent sailed by.

And OH IT WAS BACK ON!!

This time the herons took a different approach and lined up. They all stood guard, and as the pelicans swam by, each heron in turn would yell and flap at the pelicans until they moved on, then the next would pick up the fight. It was an amazing bit of coordinated defense.

Not sure if this photo can even capture it all, but bear in mind that while you can see about fourteen herons in this photo, there are more around the bend, waiting their turn.

By this time, I'd made my way around the loop and it was time to head back to the office. As I left the scene, I wondered how long the battle would rage on.

Crazy, mixed up, wild maritime fighting. My peaceful lagoon is now a war zone!

And the geese don't care.

Don't let the vicious battle happening just a few feet away get in the way of your gorging yourself there, big guy.

All photos by Karen Fayeth

Theme Thursday = Stone

Stone, stone...how I hate the stone.

Too much focus on the stone.

Makes people crazy.

Can't we focus on other things? But no. We're obsessed with the stone.

It's unhealthy, really.

And the holidays! Oh the holidays make the stone more a focus of conversation than ever!

Damn stone. All of them. Hate 'em.

Fight! Fight the addition of another stone!

Ahem...

You guessed, of course, that I'm using stone in that unit of weight sort of way, correct?

Stone = 14 lbs

You didn't guess that?

Oh. Shoot. I've been on too many conference calls with the Brits again.

Theme Thursday fun can be found here.

Really, it can't be helped

Uh oh. I went and did it again.

It was ANOTHER boring conference call.

And the marker board...it calls to me.

It's my employer's fault for giving me such a nice big marker board and a full accoutrement of colorful markers.

It can't be helped. It really can't.

Herewith, my latest seasonal doodle (click photo for larger size):

All the peppermint sticks and sugar cookies might be getting to me, ya know?

Thanksgiving doodle here

Let's Have A Brainstorming Session

I just finished reading a book called "Riding Rockets: The Outrageous Tales of a Space Shuttle Astronaut."

It is the biography of NASA Astronaut Mike Mullane, and it's a pretty damn good book, not just because it's about a kid who was raised in New Mexico (though many, many bonus points for that!), but because Mullane gets down to the nitty gritty details about what it was like to ride NASA's Space Shuttle on three separate occasions.

Add to all of that, I personally think "Riding Rockets" is a fantastic title.

Which got me thinking...if I was going to write up the story of my life so far, what in the blazes would I call such a tome?

Tell you what...let's brainstorm together, shall we?

Here we go...let me clear my mind...remember no idea is too outrageous, all have merit.

If Loving Cheese is Wrong, I Don't Want to Be Right: My Life from Velveeta to Camembert

Fart Jokes Are Always Funny: A Retrospective

Decision Points: Red or Green? (<== honestly, doesn't that truly sum up my life?)

Ain't Got Sense Enough To Come In Out of The Rain: My life, and other things my father said

It's 10:00am and I Already Ate My Lunch: The trials and tribulations of a perpetually hungry girl

Nina Karen: Wisdom of the Ages (<== I can include the time I let my toddler aged goddaughter grab onto an electric fence. Great moments of godparenting...)

I'm From New Mexico: You don't look like you're Mexican, so Find A Map @#$&hole

Mommy, Why Does California Act That Way: A New Mexican's tales of living in the craziest state in the union

Whoops!: One woman's life of "excuse me" for inappropriate bodily noises

The Audacity of Taking the Last Piece of Pie: One woman's quest to become a better wife, except when there's pie involved

I'll keep working on it....

Cartoon from Noise to Signal by Rob Cottingham

I Don't Even Recognize Myself Anymore

Oh no.

I have a confession to make.

It's too horrible to mention, though it must be said out loud. Perhaps an open discussion will take the stigma out of it.

Here it goes:

: deep breath :

I've got the Christmas spirit and I don't know why.

This is a perplexing condition. Usually I'm very, very cranky from about November 15ish until about January 3ish.

I hate the music. Hate the cheesey decorations. Hate the whole hubbub.

For reasons I cannot explain, every once in a while, I get the spirit. I *want* to celebrate the season. I have a burning desire to decorate. I hum Christmas carols. I plan out gift lists and actually, *gasp*, send holiday cards out.

It's an illness for which there is no cure.

It's been about three years since I had this affliction. I cannot explain why it hit me so hard this year, but here it is with all its screaming tinsel and shouting jingle bells.

Halloween snuck up on me out of nowhere. Thanksgiving arrived and caught me unawares.

But Christmas? Nope. I've got my catcher's mitt on and I'm waiting for ya!

I even...well, I did a bad thing yesterday.

It looks like this:

I know! Don't look at me...I'm so ashamed.

At least it's not decorated yet.

But that's only because...

No, it's too terrible to speak.

But I must.

There are no ornaments on my tree yet because....

Ok fine.

Because I'm MAKING THEM ALL THIS YEAR!!!!

It's a sickness.

: hums : Just hear those sleigh bells ringing their jing-jing-jingling tuuuuune. C'mon it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with yoooouuuuu.

Photo by Karen Fayeth, taken with my iPhone 4

G'bye Ol' Friend

Thanks for all the movies, all the fun and all the laughs.

Leslie Nielsen, Actor, Dies at 84

Happy Gobble Gobble Day

To celebrate the holiday, I present to you a doodle from my marker board at work.

I was on a *really* long conference call. It was boring. I got distracted.

May you and yours have a fabulous, gluttonous day!

Photo taken by Karen Fayeth with an iPhone 4 and the Hipstamatic app.