Bowling, Brendon, Byways, and Books

Exciting news: Bowling league starts next Tuesday! I’m bowling with three ladies from work Tuesdays between next week and the end of April. Sweet deal, too, at the end of the series, we get a custom drilled bowling ball. I just recently bought myself shoes and a ball which I can’t wait to bowl with. Here is a bit of my dorkiness coming out, and I don't care. My shoes have stars on them, and they glow under the black light. Cosmic Bowling, here I come!

Hollywood excitement: Nicholas Brendon is going to be on Criminal Minds on the first new episode in April. He’s also signed on to be a recurring character, Kevin Lynch. I’m wondering how it will work out with Garcia; he left her workplace in a total mess and she wasn’t terribly happy. “Kevin Lynch, you may be cute, but if you ever mess with my stuff again…” I’ve heard from a very reliable source that there is some sort of unclothed action involved in Nick’s return. Probably works out. For everyone. *ahem*

Today, I took the kitty cab out with Alec. I found a long trail that goes behind the railroad tracks by my house and over several blocks between open space and some single family homes. I was out for an hour, listening to my new tunes. There’s an irrigation ditch along the way that reminds me of the ditch by the apartments I grew up in. Two boys were playing next to some trees by the water, and it made me think of times I spent in Lakewood by the water, watching waterbugs skimming the tops of the brown wavelets and playing out the latest episode of our favorite action show.

I’ve started a class online called “Listen to your heart and success will follow”. I’m starting to do the lessons and it’s been very interesting so far. The second lesson is about accepting the past and moving on, and it was quite emotional. It didn’t help that I was reading it at the mechanic waiting for my brakes to get done. Next week, I should be back at the Library and I’ll work on my homework there. I’ve got to write my life story, which should be interesting.

Last bit of news: I finished two of my books for the BSF Goals (see the side bar for the link) this week. His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman (the Golden Compass / Subtle Knife / Amber Spyglass trilogy). Very interesting. Many Christian groups have had a lot to say about the story and I heard that the movie The Golden Compass was boycotted by some groups. The first book, and indeed the movie, do not get deeply into the crux of the religious issue. While I don’t subscribe to the view of religion and metaphysical reality in the book, I believe he portrayed his vision well and with a subtle beauty that is still with me. It is a children’s / young adult book, but as many books and movies these days aimed to the younger crowd, it has something profound to say to adults as well. I really loved the portrayal of the ‘soul’ as a creature, part of you yet separate, that you could talk to and gain comfort from, and love.

I also finished the Best American Short Stories 2003. These stories, published in US and Canadian magazines, individually were very good, and as a whole left me with something rattling around inside. I will probably come back to these stories. I love short stories, and I will definitely look up this series to get some of the other years’ anthologies.

I started Brave New World and the Science Fiction Treasury. I generally read books in tandem; it just works out for me that way.

Ok, my kitten is sleeping with his head up, all bunched up on the couch under the open flap of the box my bowling ball came in. His ears are twitching every time I stop typing and his front paw is tucked up over his chest as if he were holding something close. It’s very cute, but my camera is far enough away that he would wake up if I moved. Early for bed, but then again, cats sleep what 14 hours a day? Maybe he’s just catching up.

Grown-up stories

Today I went to The Thrill of the Game at the DPCA. I took the light rail downtown from Aurora and met my mom and my aunt and uncle. It was general seating, and we got our 'regular' seats, which we'll be sitting in on Tuesday for Plainsong.

The performance consisted five different stories with a sports theme. First was Casey at the Bat, read after a rousing group sing along of Take Me Out to the Ball Game. Next was Needle Match about tennis, which was very good and a little creepy. After intermission, we had Lightweight Champion, translated from Spanish, which I think was my favorite, gritty and sad. Raymond's Run, about a girl and her brother; I could just see them running. A rousing rendition of Who's On First by Randy Moore and Kathleen Brady rounded out the afternoon, just before milk and cookies.

I love being read to, and after listening to several books on cd, I've come to appreciate the skill involved in reading a story. Today, I really enjoyed being read to live by some very talented people.

Cyclone Power

This is going to be a quick post. We're getting ready to leave for New Mexico for the Albuquerque Balloon Festival tomorrow morning.

Mom is an avid Kohl's shopper. I get a lot of my clothes there, and there's always the umpteen times a year they give special discounts, including the coveted 30% off everything in the store. It's a lottery system, most people get the standard 15%, some get an exciting 20%, but only a few get that height of discount, the 30% off.

Well, of course, just before we were due to leave for vacation, Mom got the 30% off sticker on her Kohl's ad in the mail. And we'd been waiting for it. I've been wanting a Dyson Animal vacuum, and Mom's been cautioning me to wait for the 30% off. Twice I've wanted to buy one, but she keeps telling me to wait. When I got in the car and the ad was on the seat, I picked it up and peeled back the sticker. It was Dyson time! And of course, the sale would be over by the time we got back.

When we got down to the store, I was calculating how I would pay on Mom's Kohl's card and chatting amiably away about how nice it would be to have a Dyson, etc. When we finally got the top of the line Dyson 17 in the cart, Mom pulled out her trusty calculator. She came up with a figure, which was pretty good, considering how much they are in the first place and she smiled. "That's only $5 more than I paid for the one in the basement."

What? Which one in the basement? She had her own Dyson, which was how I knew I wanted one of my own. I raised an eyebrow and looked at her. "Which one in the basement?"

"Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas!" she replied, grinning. "I got the lower model on 15% off when it was on sale back in April.

April! She's definitely a mom; she can keep a secret for six months or more. I can't hardly keep a secret for more than a couple of weeks (which is why I do my shopping after NaNoWriMo so I don't have to worry about blurting it out by mistake).

Well, I have to wait till we're back from vacation to use it, but yay! It'll be great! Clean carpets. Won't the kitties be surprised!

Ok, so it wasn't as quick as I thought. Oh well!

One final look

Saturday I drove into a wet and rainy Boulder to see the last show on my punch card. After much deliberation, I chose to do a repeat performance.

I parked at the Library (huzzah for free parking!) and walked by Boulder Creek under Broadway and up to 13th to the Boulder Museum of Contemporary Art. I got my last punch for Arachne and wandered through the muesum until the show was opened. I got a second row seat along the back, where I could see the entire stage (the first time we were to the side and missed part of the story in the stage dressings).

I saw a few of the actors from different pieces at the Fringe, which was fun. Everyone seemed to be supporting everyone else.

With a different persepective, and a different night, the show came alive in a different fashion. Some of the surprise had left the piece, like the skittering spider part, however, the story and the acting withstood the loss of my innocence.

Whereas some of the pieces at the Fringe showed different or updated visions of an older story, Arachne told the myth set in the time and place of its origin. "We tell the same stories over and over again." "If we're lucky and we have a story where we're really smart or really clever, then we tell that story over and over again." Her retelling of this ancient tale not only brought the myth to life again but also gave me a glimpse into the eyes of an angry Goddess and I felt the loss of faith that Arachne purported keenly.

"I am here in the corner, where you don't want me. But I am still here."

Bittersweet chocolate missing the funny

Last week I had a surreal little email exchange with Girlzoot about an octegenarian named Daisy noticing that Spring was two weeks away. I got the reference to the line in The Great Gatsby (one of my all time favorite books) where Daisy Buchannan asks "Do you always wait for the longest day of the year and then miss it?" Literary bizareness, very good. Then I talked to her again today.

G: Her name was the weird thing.
J: Glory? or something?
G: No, Daisy, like in the book.
J: Ohmigod, you're kidding! I didn't get that!

And today I got a Happy Pi Day email from another friend. I saw it and smiled that she emailed me and let it go. Seems I missed something here too...

G: Did you get that email, Happy Pi Day?
J: Yah, I didn't open it because I was at work. Was it funny?
G: Um, yah, today is 3/14.
J: It is...
G: Today is 3/14...
J: OH! Hehe, I get it!
G: Ok...

I guess I'm just missing the funny in my life lately. Need to look more on the funny side. One of our later exchanges was funny, but not in the traditional sense:

J: I am on my way to writer's group.
G: Well, what are you working on?
J: Not much right now. I mostly go for the social occasion, lately.
G: I need a little less social occasions. I miss my house; I miss my bed.
J: Yah, I hear you.
G: I want to sleep in my own bed.
J: You poor baby.
G: Shut the fuck up.

Here's to enjoying the lighter side, or at least the funnier one.

The Story of the little Christmas Tree

My mother still has her Christmas tree up. She's got a project this year to write down all the stories associated with all the lovely ornaments she's collected and displayed over the years. I'm going to help.

Here's the story of the little felt Christmas tree that hangs on her tree every year, usually in the back, because I made it when I was six. The tree itself is green felt, with a bit of stuffing between the two sides, with a silver corded ribbon and some shiny sequins shaped like candles, stars and moons glued on with Elmer's glue.

The day I made the little felt tree I was in kindergarten. Some time before the craft happened I was pulled away from the group, probably to take some medicine. I tended to be a sickly child and was always taking some sort of medicine, usually some pink bubblegum flavored syrup. By the time I got back, all the big gold star sequins were taken to top the other children's trees. I gathered what I could, which looks like two gold moons, two red stars, two gold candles, and a tiny blue star, which topped my tree. I decorated the tree with the glue in paper dishes in the middle of the table (which is why there is glue on the front sides of the ornaments) and had the nice teacher stuff and glue it together. The teacher also wrote "To Mommy 1978" on the back of the tree.

Today when I was sitting in Mom's living room waiting for her to get ready for the play we were going to see, I looked at the little Christmas tree and started to cry. I took it down and turned it over in my hands and realized that the nice teacher, so many years ago, had spelled Mommie wrong, on top of everything else. I really was feeling sorry for myself. I had a very trying day at work, was told I was letting things get to me, that everyone felt the way I felt, that I shouldn't be as frustrated as I clearly felt, and not to make a scene as it wasn't good for the team. As I looked at this little ornament, I felt like my whole life had gone the same way as that long ago craft project. Everyone got to the table before me and got the good stuff, and I was left to make the best of what I got, which was pretty pathetic and sad. Every time I try, it seems I fall on my face, and everyone has something I want, but I am too afraid to go after it. Hell, I don't even know what my gold star would be at this point.

Since getting home from the play, I sat down to finish writing this post. I'm not saying that I had any epiphany and now realize that if I'm given lemons I should make lemonade, but I did think that I'm possibly the only child who still has their little ornament from kindergarten on the family Christmas tree. I'm just trying to decide if that's enough.

Liquid Luminosity

Driving home tonight I was under a spell. I could barely keep my eyes on the road. An early summer thunderstorm and the setting sun painted the sky with a marvel of nature and physics, a stunning rainbow lit the stormy sky my entire drive home. At first I only saw a part of the rainbow, an arching swath of color and light spilling on the ground from the dark clouds. The colors glowed so clearly, like liquid light pouring from the sky. I could see the vivid bands of color spilling onto the ground and buildings behind it.

The other edge of the rainbow looked like a pastel drawing on dark grey paper, smeared smoothly with a celestial finger to blend the colors and light into a band of soft beauty. After a few moments the light came together and I could see the semi-circle from end to end. I thought of my great-uncle who told me a story of how he had stood on the side of one mountain and saw a three-quarter rainbow arching into the sky and dipping into the valley below him. I always wondered if there were a perfect spot to see a circular rainbow, from end to not end banded in bright liquid luminosity.

And above the main rainbow, the second rainbow shimmered at the edge of my sight, like an object in the darkness that you can't see straight on, but have to watch through your side vision. I couldn't be sure, but it seemed to me instead of being roygbiv it was vibgyor, a dim and fragile reflection of the main rainbow. Everytime I tried to look straight at it, the second one became blurry and smeary until I blinked and looked away.

The entire three-quarters of an hour I spent driving home became a study of the rainbow set as it seemed so close then moved back and back to finally become a faded rememberance of the shining glory it was, then to finally fade as the light left the sky and the rain cleared.

Dallas TX

I just got back to Colorado after a week training on our new platform's accounting system. While I was there, I saw my best friend from high school and college, who I haven't seen in over 2 years since she moved to Texas. Instead of boring and long evenings at the hotel, I was treated to her charming company and whisked away from the mundane every evening.

My favorite evening was Wednesday night we saw Star Wars Episode III. We sat in the air-conditioned silence of a mostly empty theatre as the epic drew itself to a close and whispered back and forth about plot and our thoughts. Afterwards, we even talked about it over dinner at Firewater, a bar and grill close by. While we were eating possibly the worst meal ever (definitely the worst on the trip) some music came on over in the bar area. We finished what we could of the meal (and sent back the bad, colored vodka disguised as a Cosmo) and went to check out the music and discovered it was a live band playing.

Outside there was a large porch area with a bar and a bandstand. Bad Karma, a four (sometimes five) man band from Ft Worth, was belting out covers to songs from the 80s to today that sounded as good as the originals, with great flair and gusto. We stayed to the end of the second of three sets and ended up on stage dancing and singing to Mustang Sally with the band. That was fun.

Afterward, during the set break, I asked the bassist if they had any cds - he said no, they mostly did covers, and I told him that they sounded really good, just like the originals they were emulating. (besides Mustang Sally, my favorite was The Georgia Satalites Keep Your Hands to Yourself). He got us cards and said to check out the website (which we were already planning on doing). Before we left, he came back and said they were playing Friday night in Ft Worth. Which was a real bummer, seeing as my plane ticket was for Friday afternoon. Altia was all ready to follow them the next night, damn our current plans.

The next time I'm in Dallas, I'm definitely checking out Bad Karma's schedule... it was a lot of fun (and did I mention that the lead singer was hot? Altia said that she thought that he would be more Girlzoot's type... he reminded me vaguely of BNL's Steven Page.) I think I'll forgo local offerings for a chain that night... just to be safe.

So the training was ok; I did learn some things. The company, however, was stellar. I had such a good time, getting back to the hotel progressively later (oooh, the last night was after midnight - ok after 1 am... hehe) The one thing I regret was we didn't get a picture together of us. I forgot my camera every night except the last and it just didn't work out... But I have lovely memories :) And a small Texas State flag blowing in the imaginary Texas wind.

He Likes the Spankin's

Mix it into conversation; it makes every chat more lively, trust me.

I found out tonight that a friend's beloved cat passed away this weekend. I'm so sorry he's gone; he was truly a friend and my heart is heavy tonight at his loss. He was a fine animal, a good friend, and a loving member of the family. My thoughts are with his family in their loss.

Fat Boy was always up for a petting, or more specifically a spanking. He would fall off the couch in an effort to get closer for some more lovin's. And then look up at you and expect love on the floor now. Over here, and scratch behind the ear, and then some more spankin's.

He was such a sweet cat, except to his sister, Midget, who he regularly chased, bit and sat upon with his large bulk. And later, sometimes moments later, you would find them curled up together licking each other and sleeping in a big furry white, black, and grey pile. Because that's what brothers and sisters are for, torture with a grooming chaser followed by a nap.

I can remember when he first came home, after flying half way across the country to live in his new home. At first that consisted of one room, mostly under the bed in that room, for upwards of two or three weeks. He was a small ghost of a cat, moving so fast you could hardly see him. The Boy and the kitten-who-would-be-Fat-Boy met each other and grew to love one another. Fat Boy would often be found sleeping with The Boy, if he wasn't laying on his mom's legs so she couldn't move in the middle of the night.

The last time I spent time at my friend's house, I watched some Food Channel while Fat Boy curled up next to me and purred. I gave him some spankin's but only when Mom came home did he get the really good lovin's. He was so happy to get his lovin's, you could almost see him smile.

Good-bye, sweet Fate, you are already much missed.

Morning Commute

This morning, as I do every morning, I turned off of the turnpike onto a state highway for the last leg of my commute. The parkway was a bit slow. I was running a bit late to work already and I knew this would just make me later. But what can I do? I continued along and then out of my rearview I saw this motorcycle zooming along in the right hand breakdown lane. Then another car saw him and decided to follow suit.

I have been in a few fender benders, had a couple speeding tickets (many years ago), and one careless driving ticket (long story about a U-turn and no turn signal). And as Girlzoot will tell you, I’ve run my share of red lights (they were PINK!)(well, except for that one on Leetsdale, it WAS red). In general, though, I take my safety and the safety of others around me seriously. Besides, I know that if I do something so flagrant, I’ll get caught, there’s no question.

Something else that has been bothering me: no one in their car is more important than me; we all have somewhere to be but that doesn’t mean you have to break the law or be a jerk. Besides, what would happen if there was an ACTUAL emergency and someone needed the lane, or everyone had to get over for an emergency vehicle? But that wouldn’t happen, not for just a moment while I’m driving over here in this completely empty lane… not to me… I’m so IMPORTANT…

So this morning I’m thinking that I would just get caught if I pulled anything that stupid. And as I pull around the final curve and make ready to pull into the right hand turn lane and what do I see but the little car, the motorcycle, and three or four other cars all pulled over to the side getting ticketed by two police officers. I felt such vindictive glee as I made my turn and went to work. Was I wrong to be happy at another’s misfortune? Well, they kind of brought it on themselves, now didn’t they?

And I’m still smiling.

"Save The Date"

I was going through my work emails today and I found a “Save The Date” request. I checked it out and realized it was for our Christmas party last December. (Ok, so this means I need to clean out my inbox more often, I know, I know) In years past we have had lavish parties at the Historic Boulder Theater, a stunningly beautiful venue. This past December was no exception, we had a lovely dinner along with magicians entertaining us with slight of hand and silver coins, and, of course, a live band.

During this evening of fun and frivolity (company-sponsored, of course) I spoke briefly with someone I had become close to in the past few years. Over the course of the last few seasons we had drifted apart and now, at the end of the year, I was facing a stranger that I once knew. It was awkward; I was both flattered to be sought out yet a bit stand-offish since we had not spoken since Halloween. By the end of our conversation, I was a bit confused and just wanted to go back to somewhere I can only visit in memories.

At the end of the evening (which came early as it was a Sunday and everyone had to be at the office the next morning) only the dancers and a few others were left out of the huge influx of people. And I got my set-list from the violist, and I left without looking back.

And today, I found that email, and realized, I haven’t heard from or spoken to my old friend since that night almost four months ago. And that makes me sad for what was, and I’ll probably be a bit melancholy today, but somehow it doesn’t bother me as much as it did last year this time. I suppose time does heal, and distance yields perspective. Yet on windswept days where the sky is clear and the mountains seem close enough to touch, I miss him.

Lunchtime Musings

I made a totally nostalgic purchase yesterday at lunch. I went into the EB by the shop I got lunch at, and I got myself a “previously played” copy of The Dukes of Hazzard racing game.

When I was little, I loved this show. I would watch it every week, and after every show, I would write to John Schneider and tell him how great the show was. I had a photo of John , a black and white 4x6, “autographed” that I toted around with me in a little wicker basket. I even snuck into my mother’s closet and borrowed her strappiest high heel shoes and pretended I was Daisy Duke. Ah, to be 9 again.

At any rate, the game is pretty fun, and even tho I’m really good at racing games, I’m not so good at them on the Dual Shock controller (but the analog stick is easier to use than the buttons) And you get to hear voices from the show and get to go over ramps and do the General Lee horn sound. So for my ten bucks, it was worth the ride.