Let me first say that I'm absolutely no scholar on anything "artistic". At all and period.
I read all sorts of books . . . in many genres, I gaze upon art in all forms, I tap my foot to music and I know what strikes me in knitting architecture. Tagging isn't art to me, and neither is cookie-cutter design, in any form.
My all time favorite forever artist is Larry Bell. A long time ago, I worked for Robert Higashi, CPA and lucked into meeting a few of his wife's art patrons and clientele. My stereotypical Libra soul felt a kinship in minimalist art. Diptychs and triptychs of solid colors in different saturation (but I didn't know that term then) spoke to me.
It's also where I first learned that our country interned Americans of Japanese decent during World War 2. Americans! I don't think I'll ever wrap my head around that fact.
I've learned and experienced so much in 40 years. SO much. Everything has made me who I am today, and today will help shape my tomorrow.
In the end though, music is the one thing I could not give up. We all have our favorites - swing, do-wop, rap (not so much, but I could pick ONE artist!), A cappella, piss-cutter, oakie, arena rock, 30's, 40's, 50's, 60's, 70's, 80's, 90's, soft rock, hard rock, glam rock, the Motown Sound, Rockabilly, you name it.
Music speaks to my heart and soul. It's no wonder I married a closet singer from such a musical family, lol.
What medium speaks to you, my friend?
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Parents By Proxy:
It's Thursday night y'all. The night of which we've spent the day excitedly anticipating the newest Survivor episode . . . and it didn't air, no thanks to Basketball. BOOOOO on Basketball! I think it was College Basketball, which is even more of an insult. The only way I will ever find basketball interesting is if they paint gridlines on the court, erect goal posts at each end, use a ball made out of pigskin that has pointy ends and call it football. Not a moment sooner.
We lucked into some pork ribs on sale at the grocery store the other day, and knowing our current house-guest and his son love them some meat on the bone (as does The Mike. Me? I have an almost freakish disgust of meat being eaten off bones. The concept is so barbaric I would probably starve to death if that was the only way to gain sustenance. For reals.) we had the big plan of bbq-ing this evening.
As we're starting the grill, our house-guest comes home from work and proceeds to tell The Mike that he's off to stay in a motel in Morro Bay with his girlfriend (who is on her way from Fresno to MB that very moment)and oh yeah . . . his son will be staying the night with us thankyouverymuch.
Here's the deal.
Wanna stay here for a week or three? No problem
Wanna bring your well-behaved and all-around good kid with ya? No problem
Wanna have your kid stay with us overnight while you have "a night" with your gf? No problem
Do not communicate these desires until the last freak'n minute. Big problem
My sneaking suspicion is that he didn't want to give us any wiggle room to say no, which seriously chaps my hide. That's not a real friend, in my book. The Mike though, he'll put up with shit like this even though he isn't impressed either (and I know this because he tells me but no one else, grrrrr).
The bottom line in this latest scenario, for me, is that I feel bad for the kid, J. He's well aware that his dad left him here so said dad can have "time" (wink wink nudge nudge) with the gf. Dad hasn't taken the kid anywhere or done anything with him for the last four days they've been on the Central Coast, but now he's off hanging with someone else. I had a single mom at one point, and maybe this is bringing up my own feelings, projected onto J. He's had a single dad for a long time, and really crappy mom for even longer, so maybe he's more okay with the situation than I am. He's definitely a nicer and less-bratty kid than I was at that age, for sure. 'Course, back then, I didn't have an iPod and a cell phone to keep me occupied . . . just my own inner thoughts and books to escape into, lol.
Lest I make this blog a diary of all my "gloom and doom" musings, here's something I really like:
Knitting.
I love it so very much. It makes me happier than reading books for pleasure and I never thought I'd utter those words. Ever. One of my earliest memories is reading my own book alongside my mom as she read (and who is an avid reader and instilled that love in me). She loved crochet though, and I just can't wrap my head around that craft. Go figure!
We lucked into some pork ribs on sale at the grocery store the other day, and knowing our current house-guest and his son love them some meat on the bone (as does The Mike. Me? I have an almost freakish disgust of meat being eaten off bones. The concept is so barbaric I would probably starve to death if that was the only way to gain sustenance. For reals.) we had the big plan of bbq-ing this evening.
As we're starting the grill, our house-guest comes home from work and proceeds to tell The Mike that he's off to stay in a motel in Morro Bay with his girlfriend (who is on her way from Fresno to MB that very moment)and oh yeah . . . his son will be staying the night with us thankyouverymuch.
Here's the deal.
Wanna stay here for a week or three? No problem
Wanna bring your well-behaved and all-around good kid with ya? No problem
Wanna have your kid stay with us overnight while you have "a night" with your gf? No problem
Do not communicate these desires until the last freak'n minute. Big problem
My sneaking suspicion is that he didn't want to give us any wiggle room to say no, which seriously chaps my hide. That's not a real friend, in my book. The Mike though, he'll put up with shit like this even though he isn't impressed either (and I know this because he tells me but no one else, grrrrr).
The bottom line in this latest scenario, for me, is that I feel bad for the kid, J. He's well aware that his dad left him here so said dad can have "time" (wink wink nudge nudge) with the gf. Dad hasn't taken the kid anywhere or done anything with him for the last four days they've been on the Central Coast, but now he's off hanging with someone else. I had a single mom at one point, and maybe this is bringing up my own feelings, projected onto J. He's had a single dad for a long time, and really crappy mom for even longer, so maybe he's more okay with the situation than I am. He's definitely a nicer and less-bratty kid than I was at that age, for sure. 'Course, back then, I didn't have an iPod and a cell phone to keep me occupied . . . just my own inner thoughts and books to escape into, lol.
Lest I make this blog a diary of all my "gloom and doom" musings, here's something I really like:
Knitting.
I love it so very much. It makes me happier than reading books for pleasure and I never thought I'd utter those words. Ever. One of my earliest memories is reading my own book alongside my mom as she read (and who is an avid reader and instilled that love in me). She loved crochet though, and I just can't wrap my head around that craft. Go figure!
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
You there. Scoot Over and Make Room:
When plurk came along, I admit I checked it out. There are some really good knitters and popular knitting podcasters on it, so yeah, I spent a tiny bit of time there.
It didn't grab me and keep my attention, so after a few days I pretty much walked away.
Facebook? Nope. Not even close to interested. There isn't anyone from H.S. that I want to find or have find me. I already know what my two best childhood friends have been up to, and I'm pretty up-to-date on my very first love's life since that time. Whatever random stranger from this area is not on my list of "must meet" and really, there's a much better online resource I enjoy.
MySpace? Hell to the No. Last I checked, my age and lifestyle are counter to the usual denizens over there. Think I'm kidding? Meet my niece . . . and her boyfriend. :shudder: Not my thang.
Today, though? Today I climbed right on board the Twitter bus, elbowing my way to a window seat! Not because of my friends Alex, or even CJ! Nope. It's all because of this guy. The man, the myth, the legend, the D.C. regional treasure, Mr. Don Geronimo (Michael Sorce).
I fell in love with the show about 1994-ish. Before I knew my husband, before I knew of this thing called "internet", and well before I ever started knitting. The Don and Mike show is one of my most favorite things in the world, despite it not even being on the air any more. One time, I flew from SLO to DC, stayed in a complete stranger's home and had people in several states all meet up at the station - completely grassroots and one of my treasured memories. On the airwaves, I've listened to his son grow up, him and his wife agree, disagree and laugh together, his heartbreaking talk when Freda suddenly died (and I still tear up just writing that), antics with the other guys on the show, descriptions of his bat cave, the princess phone and his thoughts while viewing television shows. Years and years and years of 4-hours-a-day, 5-days-a-week funny ass shit. There is an entire online community based around the D&M Show (and remember, the "D" in that show left the airways quite a while ago!) and it's where I'm the only female moderator and have been since around 2001. I love the show that much.
Today I found out that he twitters, and so now I'm a bangwagon-jumper-on-er! Oh, you bet'cha I'm following his tweets!
It didn't grab me and keep my attention, so after a few days I pretty much walked away.
Facebook? Nope. Not even close to interested. There isn't anyone from H.S. that I want to find or have find me. I already know what my two best childhood friends have been up to, and I'm pretty up-to-date on my very first love's life since that time. Whatever random stranger from this area is not on my list of "must meet" and really, there's a much better online resource I enjoy.
MySpace? Hell to the No. Last I checked, my age and lifestyle are counter to the usual denizens over there. Think I'm kidding? Meet my niece . . . and her boyfriend. :shudder: Not my thang.
Today, though? Today I climbed right on board the Twitter bus, elbowing my way to a window seat! Not because of my friends Alex, or even CJ! Nope. It's all because of this guy. The man, the myth, the legend, the D.C. regional treasure, Mr. Don Geronimo (Michael Sorce).
I fell in love with the show about 1994-ish. Before I knew my husband, before I knew of this thing called "internet", and well before I ever started knitting. The Don and Mike show is one of my most favorite things in the world, despite it not even being on the air any more. One time, I flew from SLO to DC, stayed in a complete stranger's home and had people in several states all meet up at the station - completely grassroots and one of my treasured memories. On the airwaves, I've listened to his son grow up, him and his wife agree, disagree and laugh together, his heartbreaking talk when Freda suddenly died (and I still tear up just writing that), antics with the other guys on the show, descriptions of his bat cave, the princess phone and his thoughts while viewing television shows. Years and years and years of 4-hours-a-day, 5-days-a-week funny ass shit. There is an entire online community based around the D&M Show (and remember, the "D" in that show left the airways quite a while ago!) and it's where I'm the only female moderator and have been since around 2001. I love the show that much.
Today I found out that he twitters, and so now I'm a bangwagon-jumper-on-er! Oh, you bet'cha I'm following his tweets!
Monday, March 16, 2009
Humanity? Color Me Done:
The Mike's fishing partner (and a really good friend of ours . . . usually . . .) showed up this last Sunday night. To stay for the week. Not just him, but his teen-aged son. Ayup. Please to be knowing that they live in Porterville. Two-and-a-half-freak'n hours away.
Call me koo-koo-krazy, but wouldn't the average duck either 1) call about a week ahead of time to clear it or 2) at least take 5 minutes somewhere during that 2.5 hour drive to call ahead and clear it.
Y'all know how this story played out, I'm sure. No call until they were a few minutes away.
He shows up, not only with a packed case for him and his kidlet, but gawd-damn pillows to boot. Again, if you have time to put extra pillows in your hooptie, you're thinking about the ending of your journey (our house!) and should take a few minutes to get on the horn and give your "friends" a heads-up. And by "friends" I mean me and The Mike.
Don't get me wrong - we love them to pieces and bits and would never turn them away. Our friend is a pleasure to know and his son is from the same mold.
My only complaint, which starts with them but expands to life in general, is . . . where is the civility any more?
The civility that calls before it shows up?
The civility that uses voice-to-voice instead of text messages?
The civility that says "Thank You" when a food server tops off your beverage.
The civility that makes eye-contact with the person behind the check-out counter.
The civility that hangs up their goddamn cellphone in order to maintain human interaction.
The civility that keeps our middle finger tucked down as we pass the slow driver over in the passing lane.
Really. Just the (used to be) common courtesy we all had instilled in us from our parents.
Maybe I'm turning into that stereotypical old lady that shakes her fist against interlopers on her suburban lawn, and it wouldn't surprise me in the least.
I'm just so damn done with people who don't appreciate other people's boundaries.
Oh, and our friend that showed up Sunday with his kidlet? He's here working for this week (and many more after)and his son J is "off on break" from Monache (yeah, where we just escaped from) and "would it be okay if he (J) hung out here?".
Ain't no way we're saying no. J is a very good egg and we respect him immensely (yeah, I just wrote that I not only just respect a teenage boy, but that I respect him immensely. So. Get. The. Irony.)
Bottom line is, our very good friend dropped his (and his kid's) visit on us Last Effing Minute. When did that behavior become not only passable, but fucking acceptable?
Call me koo-koo-krazy, but wouldn't the average duck either 1) call about a week ahead of time to clear it or 2) at least take 5 minutes somewhere during that 2.5 hour drive to call ahead and clear it.
Y'all know how this story played out, I'm sure. No call until they were a few minutes away.
He shows up, not only with a packed case for him and his kidlet, but gawd-damn pillows to boot. Again, if you have time to put extra pillows in your hooptie, you're thinking about the ending of your journey (our house!) and should take a few minutes to get on the horn and give your "friends" a heads-up. And by "friends" I mean me and The Mike.
Don't get me wrong - we love them to pieces and bits and would never turn them away. Our friend is a pleasure to know and his son is from the same mold.
My only complaint, which starts with them but expands to life in general, is . . . where is the civility any more?
The civility that calls before it shows up?
The civility that uses voice-to-voice instead of text messages?
The civility that says "Thank You" when a food server tops off your beverage.
The civility that makes eye-contact with the person behind the check-out counter.
The civility that hangs up their goddamn cellphone in order to maintain human interaction.
The civility that keeps our middle finger tucked down as we pass the slow driver over in the passing lane.
Really. Just the (used to be) common courtesy we all had instilled in us from our parents.
Maybe I'm turning into that stereotypical old lady that shakes her fist against interlopers on her suburban lawn, and it wouldn't surprise me in the least.
I'm just so damn done with people who don't appreciate other people's boundaries.
Oh, and our friend that showed up Sunday with his kidlet? He's here working for this week (and many more after)and his son J is "off on break" from Monache (yeah, where we just escaped from) and "would it be okay if he (J) hung out here?".
Ain't no way we're saying no. J is a very good egg and we respect him immensely (yeah, I just wrote that I not only just respect a teenage boy, but that I respect him immensely. So. Get. The. Irony.)
Bottom line is, our very good friend dropped his (and his kid's) visit on us Last Effing Minute. When did that behavior become not only passable, but fucking acceptable?
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Brass Tacks:
I know (I know, I know I know (hides head in shame, trust you me) it's been a Coon's Damn Age since I've talked over at my Blue Content page.
Here's where I talk The Truth, ugly as it may be, and trustyoume, it's fucking ugly.
The economy (lower case) is in the toilet. Everywhere we turn, we're bombarded with Bad Economy, Bad Investment, Bad Investors (Hi Mr. Madoff), bad start-ups, BAD BAD BAD.
Who lost this round? You, me and every small business owner we personally know. Who won this round? I'm thinking every Insurance/Investment/Government Contract Holder tied to big business six ways to Sunday.
That's my Brass Tacks vision at the moment. We (as Americans) have some big damn issues to deal with. Don't think we don't, because we do. We certainly do.
What are you all doing right now?
Here's where I talk The Truth, ugly as it may be, and trustyoume, it's fucking ugly.
The economy (lower case) is in the toilet. Everywhere we turn, we're bombarded with Bad Economy, Bad Investment, Bad Investors (Hi Mr. Madoff), bad start-ups, BAD BAD BAD.
Who lost this round? You, me and every small business owner we personally know. Who won this round? I'm thinking every Insurance/Investment/Government Contract Holder tied to big business six ways to Sunday.
That's my Brass Tacks vision at the moment. We (as Americans) have some big damn issues to deal with. Don't think we don't, because we do. We certainly do.
What are you all doing right now?
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