there's something in the air.

I think it's pollen.

How did I get so lucky to have spring twice this year???

"Trying hard to look like Gary Cooper, super duper..." Ah, Taco...

six strings that sing, wood that hums against my hipbone

I've been enormously musical lately. And not in the sense that I'm working as a therapist, as I did for a while and had limited time for myself musically. Rather I've had time to indulge my musical needs. I've played the guitar for at least 2 hours each day for the past few weeks... I'm finding I'm only thinking of about 8 songs, and needing to look up others in my book for inspiration. I've also been in the mood for old Ani DiFranco songs (from the first 2 albums) because they're so simple with just her and a guitar, and not that penchant for horns she's had for the past few years. And I'm ALWAYS startled when I hear "Pictures of You" (Cure, not AD) in a commercial for HP. But it makes me bust out my Disintegration album, and sends me back to that place I don't necessarily want to be... However, in travesty notes, I just today learned that my Disintegration CD is nearly destroyed with skips and scratches of unknown origin. I think I have to buy a new one.

Of all things, I might be ready to look for an open mic that doesn't necessarily get on you for playing covers for your whole set.

Fantastic lightning show today.

the humble avocado

I'm really obsessed with Chipotle's guacamole... I wish I had a better vehicle for it than their chips.

Of course it's not at all like Annie's guacamole, but I can at least get it in Colorado. So Annie, come make me guacamole.

And I've seen 2 Wahoo's fish tacos here... That's just bizarre since you could only get it in LA and OC, in Boulder and Broomfield, CO, but not the IE??


So, I've started wearing my carpal tunnel braces while I sleep again. I forget that when I go through periods of sleeplessness, this often helps, because I usually bend my wrists into the dreaded position when I sleep, causing tingling and discomfort bordering on pain. Driving to CO aggravated it again. Last night I dutifully put on my right brace (usually gives me more trouble than the left), and woke up in the middle of the night with my hand right hand all a-tingle. I had removed the brace during sleep, and put it in my closet and shut my closet door. I didn't know it was in my closet until this morning when I went to get dressed. This concerns me. I'm not a sleepwalker, and I'm a light sleeper. Does someone need to confess to breaking in, taking off my brace and hiding it in the closet without disturbing me or Ernie? Or am I just becoming somnambulent?

The power of Three

Three is:
-the number in a Trinity
-how many times my dog turns in circles before lying down
-what you count to when you are planning on saying something in unison or lifting heavy objects with another
-the subject of the song "Three" from Schoolhouse Rocks
-the number of times I have sneezed more than 9 times in a row today
-the secret knock of the Freemasons
-the number of offspring Mike and Carol each brought to the Brady Bunch
-my favorite meter to play guitar and piano in
-the number of piercings in each ear my parents consented to
-the number of arms I have... wait, that may be wrong
-the maximum number of dollars I will tip for a walk-in pedicure
-the number of times I have driven stick plus two

Twenty-seven is:
-three times three times three (or 3^3)
-the number of days elapsed this month
-the number of times I've completed a trip around the sun,precisely

So, happy birthday to me. I hereby authorize you to leave work early or start drinking margaritas at work to celebrate. I was going to authorize you to drink margaritas at lunch, but I didn't get online until too late. Either way, I will disavow knowledge of this authorization if you are caught, reprimanded, fired or sued in the acceptance of this permission. There's a lemon cake in my future, and we all know how I feel about cake.

Here. In My Head

So, I got to visit my mom and sister briefly in the anomaly that is Denver International Airport. It's got these crazy tent poles and it's REALLY bright inside. But I had an early birthday celebration which included my family sating my crazy orange compulsions by giving me an orange patent leather tote. It's sort of in-between sizes of a purse and a tote, but it was handy because I could stick my book I was reading whilst waiting for them in it, as well as the handheld milk frother they gave me so I could make my own lattes (or au laits since I don't have an espresso machine). All in all it was a short visit, a nice visit, and a good visit. And I went outside to the parking garage (I was on the top level) and since it's waaaay out in the middle of nowhere, it looks like you can just see forever. And forever is evidently bordered by the lovely, snowcapped Rockies. The sky was a goregeous shade of blue, the wind was cool and refreshing (if not a bit pesky and kept trying to blow my skirt up), and it was 72 lovely, sunny degrees. When it's 72 degrees, I always think of the Kids in the Hall movie Brain Candy: Gleemonex makes it like it's 72 degrees in your head... all the time.

Last night I taught myself something new: I set a zipper in my skirt that I'd been altering since it's too big. Could I have just bought the skirt in the right size? Of course, but that'd be logical. It came out pretty well for a first zipper and since I don't have a zipper foot for my sewing machine, it's relatively close to the coil, and combined with the altering, the skirt doesn't fall down anymore. It's my favorite skirt. If you happened to receive that email, it's the one I was wearing this Sunday when I spilled coffee all over it and had to change (into blue capris, if you're curious).

Here's a job that's posted but I won't apply for: Seeking Will Smith, Gloria Estefan and Bette Midler look a likes

I just had a slightly sad but good conversation with my favorite 89-year old woman. Among other things we talked about how parents (typically) raise you to become independent people who live happy, fulfilled lives. And then she started talking about how it's very sad to outlive everyone you've ever grown up with, and that's she's ready to go "whenever the Good Lord decides I'm done futzing around this place." All her friends, husband, siblings, cousins, and entire peer group are just gone. Which made me sad for her. She's been alive since 1915. WWI, WWII, Abolition, Roaring 20's, the Great Depression, Facism, the Spanish Civil War... All of these things she was alive for. THat's just fricking remarkable. This is WAY more nutshell than I wanted to be about this, bt it's too long (we talked for about 2 hours) to synopsize any more than what I already have. But it kept bringing me back to a song my friend Colleen wrote in college ("Grandma died 2 weeks ago, she raised her soul up to the sky. But she was ready, you know she lived a long and trialed life. Born in 1901, she'd seen so many changes in her life, social worker, music teacher, mother of 8 children, and of course she was a good wife. But in the days, the hours, the minutes before she lifted up her soul, she prayed to the Good Lord that he would finally come and take her home.")

A lighter part of the conversation was about the movie Chicago, with which she wasn't duly impressed, but she liekd the jazzy music, especially better than some of the music they play these days. "Like that hip hop. They call mothers the most awful things in those songs." I almost fell down it was so funny.

I'm tired of breaking out and finding grey hair. (I don't find grey hair when I break out, those are two separate things I'm tired of) My sister started breaking out again when she turned 30. I have 3 more years (plus one day, if you're keeping track) before I should have to deal with that again. And since I see millions of grey hair in the front, and can't see in the back, I can only imagine what's going on there. I'd been on a strike of coloring my hair until I had to, but it's official. I have to start coloring my hair.

Tomorrow, I'm getting a pedicure (and why not, dammit? my birthday will be a perfect cube, why not get one?), playing fetch with the animal, baking a cake (please vote: chocolate or lemon?) and having some dinner with family. A quiet day. Maybe it'll be crowned by me getting a job.

The job I thought was in the bag didn't come through.

2 of my midwestern cousins are graduating from high school this year... Wow... I remember when both of them were born... I am getting old. Please pass the Geritol.

Free the Expo '67!

Going back to Fred's what do certain songs or artists remind you of post, all of Lincoln by TMBG (which is one of the few cassettes I have that still gets regularly circulated and listened to) always reminds me of Fred, Speckman, and the NOLA crowd.

And "Life is a placebo masquerading as a similie" is actually a metaphor. I forget with whom I was arguing this, but it is. It just contains a similie.

It's a funny day. But not funny Ha Ha. Just funny. And although I slept normally last night, I have an unhappy sinking feeling in my stomach anyway.

Weekend Leftovers

So, congratulations to my lovely friend Jill, Esq. for passing the bar exam and being able to hang up a shingle, work for ContraCosta County DA's office, or doing whatever int he world she feels like doing!

Last night a friend came out and we made tacos for my birthday. (It's not my birthday, it's not today... Freddie, do you remember when it is yet?) We also had some good conversation. Which is immeasurable (although tacos are yummy they can be measured) Among the topics that left me thinking after he left (and spilled over into the season finale of Alias) were the following:
-Songwriting is hard. I'm my own worst critic, and so maybe I should just sit down and write a song and not worry about it so much. In fact just as I watched his feet pass my living room window (basement apt), I was overcome by this enormous urge to sit down with m guitar and try to fabricate what was whirling about in my busy little head, but the words didn't come out, and then Alias started. I think I'll buy a bottle of wine and try again tonight.
-Finding someone when you're not looking. I've said it before and I'll say it again. If I'm looking for someone to love me, it usually means I don't love myself enough... It's when I'm doing all right with myself that I am actually more receptive to being involved with someone because I'm not thinking about me, I'm thinking about them. And I just have to throw it out there, I think it's generally a really bad idea to get romantically involved with your roommates. But that's just my (very rarely) humble opinion, and I could be not the most objective person in the world on this topic.
-Spicy food is gooooooooood.
-Gin makes me happy because it smells like Christmas trees, but I don't believe I can drink it straight anymore.
-I love reading and thinking about what I've read.
-I wish that I did like writing because I'd likely travel and write all of the dissertations I have floating about in my busy little head (there are currently 5 theses in 4 distinct academic areas). I'd like to teach only at the university level because as horrible as it sounds, I'm not all that interested in making other people understand me.
-Scrabble by yourself, while sad, is quite challenging because you're equally motivated to win, but you somehow find yourself leaning toward one of the several players you represent.
-I'm all for looking for ways to get paid for what you think is fun so that you just really like your life. (Hello, I got paid for playing guitar and singing, reading books and dancing with kids). And I think that's one of the best ways ever to be ultimately happy in life.
-Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen are geniuses of songwriting. Their songs are almost always better when covered by someone else. Paul Simon is a genius of songwriting and arranging and performing, and very rarely does a good Paul Simon song lack either good lyrics or good music... (and "Sometimes even music cannot substitute for tears" is possibly one of the most jaw-droppingly insightful and perfect lyrics I've ever heard)
-There's way more but I need to move on.
So thanks for the good company and good food even though there was no wine to be had.

My aunt's cocker spaniel, Ollie, just got his spring haircut and they went a little nuts on his ear fur. He also looks about 1/2 as big as he did before the haircut when all the other dogs in the field would point and laugh, saying "baaaaaa" to him. He's sleeping next to me and has a rather impressive snore for a dog of his size.

I have had the worst time sleeping since I bought my bed 2 or 3 weeks ago. I can't fall asleep, and when I do, I usually am wide awake by about 3 and I have been feeding into this cycle by taking naps to compensate for the 3 hours of sleep I'm getting and it's all a very vicious circle. And it's been too blooming hot in my apartment because the heater's been kicking on (rather unnecessarily) and I have no control over the heater.

My mom and my sister have a layover in Denver on Wednesday, so I'm going to go out to the airport and visit with them. This is the first trip that's been non-medically motivated my sister has taken since she got sick in Jan. '00. The trip she took right before that, however was a doozy, and involved my family flying to New Orleans for my college graduation, we were all sick, my dad was in the hospital first in New Orleans, was expedited back to California and was re-admitted to Redlands Community Hospital that same night, I had to move out of my apartment that my roommates didn't help clean even a little, my mom and sister were SO sick with bronchitis that they took a cab to go 2 blocks down the street, and were lucky enough to see it SNOW in New Orleans as I took my car that was packed to the gills with my earthly posessions and I moved to Georgia. All of this happened 6 days before Christmas. When I finally moved in in Georgia, I had 2 days to collect myself, got on a plane and flew back to California.

I wonder how my dad will do in the 2 weeks he'll be alone.

I dig morrissey

I really like the new Morrissey song that's been floating about the radio. I've been a Morrissey/Smiths fan for years.

But isn't it weird that he's headlining Lollapalooza?

boo, hiss

I didn't get the FBI job.

Spring is sprung, the grass is riz.

It's another goregeous day in Denver. I'm really quite happy here. I've decided that since I've had some spare time (i.e. everything I do is pretty much under this category) that I'm going to work really hard at being happy. Happy doesn't always come easily to me. Neither does relatively content. But I'm investing time in myself. By doing little things like adding stripey colorful pillows to my living room. And using really nice Philosophy skin care products on my face. And walking through my neighborhood on lovely days. And as corny and 12-steppy as it sounds, counting my blessings and challenges every day. It helps. And rearranging my living room a whole bunch is quite cathartic as well. Because it's not fun to be an unhappy person. I've spent most of my adult life with at least a sense of malaise and discontent. It's time for me to stop waiting to be happy and to just be happy, dammit.

The ratrace blows.

So, I had 3 job offers yesterday. Only one of them seems feasible, and only for the short term, because it would cover my rent, my bills, and then I'd have to sit at home alone and not eat or drive anywhere. But it's more than I'm making now.

I'm still holding out for the FBI job. I'm hoping that I' haven't been disqualified from that one.

We'll see.

The windows are open

There's a thunderstorm right now.

I've really missed those.

Lightning, thunder, the clean smell of rain.

In other news...

I have an interview with a nanny agency tomorrow. I called them to let them know I had gotten a Colorado phone number, and left a message addressing the president by the wrong name.
Oops. Wish me luck anyway.

le chien fou

I'm glad it's a lovely day today. After the icky snowy stuff yesterday and the day before, the sun looks lovely to me. But I really wish I were asleep. In my big comfy bed with my crazy doggy. Because he's so warm and sleepy when it's sleepy time. He always wants to be doing what everyone else is doing. Even if that's laying down and not being awake. Good thing he doesn't run with the drug crowd. He'd be a junkie doggy with a tendency toward freebase and rolling.

Geeky little geek. But no chickens were decapitated.

organized my cd's last night. It was fun. I know I'm a geek because I like to alphabetize. Does it matter what? No, just let me put it in alphabetical order. There's always the tricky ones that cause me to stop and think:

MC Solaar. M or S? Is MC a title or a name?

Dave Matthews Band: M or D? If it were DMB, Inc., I'd know it would be D. But it isn't.

that's all I can think of at the present time, but there are more. Maybe later. I'm doing laundry at my aunt's house. Ordinarily, I'd feel funny doing that, but they've begged me to, and I'm poor, and running out of clean skivvies.

I just got an email from a friend with mention of Oingo Boingo. I don't know if I mentioned them in a post, in an email, or what, but it was really funny because just last night when Iw as organizing my cd's I threw Only A Lad in my cd player to help me work, and was listening to the song that reminds me of Camazotz (I get enough nutrition by eating protein biscits recommended by the system)

Salt Lake City also reminds me of Camazotz.

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erratically updated for food, yarn, or other nonspecified reasons