Things Are Crazy Here

Dear Pen Pals,
By way of explaining my protracted absence: Things are crazy here. The computer has been slow as cement, the car has been dented by a palm tree, and the majority of my clothing has been shredded by the new kitten, Jesse Jack. (Seen here on a good day.)

In addition, we have head colds, sore throats, chills. The weather is rainy and the dog has pains. I put a family heirloom on ebay to pay the vet.

Meanwhile, I attempt to edit an old novel. Whether I'm making it better or worse is a question for the sages. I do hope your life is progressing more smoothly than mine, dear friends...

P.S. (i am completely innocent of all charges against me, says Jesse Jack)

Dance, Chaz Bono, Dance With the Stars!

This is sad. In a world that's falling down, where we ordinary peacemakers struggle to keep some semblance of humanity in daily life, even if just common courtesy, a large so called Christian group has nothing better to do than call for a boycott of the American TV show "Dancing With the Stars."


Because of the show's inclusion of Chaz Bono, Cher's daughter turned endearing son, and Carson Kressely, a fabulously sweet gay man, onemillionmomsdotcom is reported as saying, "Christians should not watch the show, no excuses." (if you do, they'll smack you in the crotch with a ruler, i imagine...)

(and anyway, these kinds of persnickety "Christians" should already SO NOT be watching that skimpily costumed, lust inducing show...)

Chaz Bono and Carson Kressely have the same heart, soul, mind, humanity, intelligence, as any of us, and probably MORE compassion, considering the hate they face, and the arduous struggle endured to become who they are.

Our teacher said, Do not judge. Our teacher went about doing good. Our teacher brought life, light and hope. The only ones he judged were the religious types, NEVER the common person. Remember Mary Magdalene?

Stop showing us what you are against, and start showing us your LOVE. Perhaps then, more will believe.

Back To School Already? Geez Louise!

When i was a kid, summers were longer! now they end when they've barely begun, it seems, especially for the teachers. so i wrote this wee lament...

Teacher's Fight Song
(for Louise)

Orientation is today
As usual I am running late
The dog needs walked, the cat has puked
Where is my bra, can't find my shoe,
Oh geez, I need a brandy
Sure wish I kept some handy,

School begins on Wednesday
And I'm a wreck already.

Glue stick instead of chap stick
Oh what a sticky mess
My hair is like some tragedy
Something has shrunk my dress
It fit me fine just late last fall
Oh well, damn hell, and blast it all,

School begins on Wednesday
And I'm a wreck already

The kids will all have tummy aches
Blisters, warts, and cramps
Half of them will wail and moan
"I left my I-pad at day camp"
By ten o'clock on the first day
I'll have a migraine on the way,

Oh, school begins on Wednesday
And I'm a wreck already

Good thing it's just a half day
Too bad we're getting half pay
These pay check cuts are killing us
Too bad the state keeps billing us
Now where the hell is my laptop
Why does my hair so strangely flop,

Oh, school begins on Wednesday
And I'm a wreck already.


(Good Luck all my beloved teacher friends...!)
Star Saint Claire, San Diego, August 18, 2011

Hermaphrodite Baby

last year i was in contact with a man i'll call Fred, a friend of a friend, who wanted a ghost writer. in our phone interview, he revealed he had been born a hermaphrodite, and had been raised the first several years of his life as a girl. the project never materialized, and we lost touch. recently, i'd tried to email him, but it was returned.

(prior to this, i had finished a novel in which my main character, Robin, is androgynous, and i'd done research into androgyny and ambiguous sexuality/gender.)

a couple weeks ago i had a dream. i was being handed a newborn baby girl, presumably mine. she was wrapped in a towel. as i cleaned her off with a second towel, she spoke. "my name is Karen," she said. "i am a hermaphrodite." the dream made me think i should contact Fred, but i wasn't sure if i had his number.

when i got up i was cleaning my desk drawer and just happened to come across Fred's number. i called it, but it had been disconnected, so i called our mutual friend in Iowa and left her a voice mail that i needed Fred's number.

later that day i gave a postcard with my book cover (a depiction of my birthplace, Seattle) to my chiropractor, i then went to see my acupuncturist who trained in Seattle.

walking home, i saw an acquaintance, Karen, on the walk. a woman walked up to her and said Happy Birthday!

i remembered my dream of a newborn baby named Karen, and got chills. i felt it was a sign to try harder to contact the man who wanted a ghost writer to help him tell his story.

i called my friend in Iowa again and she answered. she hadn't heard my message. i told her the whole story. she had just run into Fred the day before. she had not seen him in ages. he had been in Seattle for six months!!!
i thought it all meant i truly should write this mans story. but i haven't heard a thing from him since. so i don't know what any of it means.

lately, i have been forced to affirm "i am happy to let life remain a mystery."

Snafu on Blogger Caused By Schwarzenegger?

i can't comment, or respond to comments, on my blogs!
and i can't comment on other's blogs!
this has been going on for weeks, ever since i posted about Arnold Schwarzenegger's snafu.
do you think he has the power to control blogger and mess with my account?
or maybe because i spelled his name wrong?
will this post come through?
how do i fix this mess?
any suggestions?

Schwartzenegger Snafu

so. breaking bad news in California. arnold schwartzenegger fathered a child with the household help ten years back. a long kept secret now revealed. i hope that lovely maria shriver leaves him, i really do. men who have done that don't deserve to be stood beside.

not only did he mess around, he lied for ten years. but the worst part is the abuse of power. the mistress was in his employ. did she wan't to say no?

some wise man once said, when you cheat, you're not just cheating on your wife - you're cheating on your children's mother. that is sobering. how mean can you get? be honest at least, and get the divorce first. because that will eventually happen.

by the way, SNAFU stands for, "situation normal, all f---ed up." and no, i probably wouldn't write this had i not just heard, had i not been still angry, and had i not just consumed a bracing Irish Whisky. be that as it may...

Squirrel Therapy

easy. you go to the park and watch the baby squirrels. you feel better.

but today the baby squirrels are not out because the lawn was mowed and watered and a big machine dug out those little plugs of earth that look like goose poop. lots of ruckus on your rooftop makes you stay inside and hide. and reminds me that the reason i went to the park for squirrel therapy was to escape the dread fact that my home will soon be having evil-landlord-inspired pounding and drilling deconstruction/reconstruction of wooden staircase just outside my kitchen window where i attempt to write my next novel and though it will most likely be ignored and rejected i still treasure the hope of otherwise.

so no baby squirrels and no feeling better.

except then i saw a blind man tapping along. and how would i describe the honeysuckle flowers if he were to ask me. and i would ask him if he ever had sight. and i would say the flowers are small, one inch long, and they are white but then turn yellow and yellow is the color of warmth, of the sun, and lemons.

Zen Abstract or Pure Hell?

so, i got an abstract painting of mine, entitled "Zen Window," into a juried show! at the reception, i spot an older woman intently examining my work and bio, and whispering to her husband. wow! a possible sale?

so i sidle up behind them and mumble, "love it or hate it?"

'I don't understand it," she says, angrily, in a German accent.

"well, it's an abstract," i say, taken aback, "it's emotion, a feeling."

another woman walks by and says, "you painted this? it's beautiful!"

at this, critic woman actually rolls her eyes and makes a prune mouth! obviously she has never been near ZEN in her long life. yet me, silly me, still trying to be kind, explain that many artists move beyond the figural into abstract.

"I know," she spits out, "I'm an artist, I paint abstracts, and I never get into these shows." ah ha, so that's it. and, people pleaser that i am, ask gently if she ever comes to the museum gatherings where people share their work. "I did once. I didn't get anything out of it." oh well, nice to meet you, Ingrid," I say, and beat a hasty yet long past due retreat...

now why, flighty person that i am, could i have not been drawn, like a moth to a flame, to the woman who loved my work, rather than a moth drawn to...well...poo? another artistic mystery!

(and now, oops, i uploaded the wrong painting. and i don't know how to undo it. but at least it isn't abstract!)

Laughing Gas or Peyote?

The Gentle Art of Dental Arts

so i finally tried laughing gas. at the long dreaded dentist. started to time travel, like near death, and maybe hallucinate a little, so my brain just said "think of it as a peyote ceremony." huh? never had that either.

the dentist behind my head seemed anti-social. so i looked on YELP when i got home to read his reviews. one said, "this man either hates his job or all mankind." ayeee!

figures, after the months of dread i'd get "mr. charm" assigned to me by insurance. but laughing gas helps, inspite of a hangover later.

"see you in two weeks for the other side," he said and walked out.

i have two weeks to find a new dentist, or else...what? medical marijuana? peyote?

I Try Sci-Fi?

I'm trying a new genre. Check out my sci-fi story, "Invasion Of Love," in progress on my sister blog, if you care to. I welcome your comments and critiques. Thanks for reading and responding. All of you keep me going!
http://howoprahsavedmylife.blogspot.com