05/31/007 - GDD07

No I did not attend Developers Day 2007 but I did borrow a badge and crash the after party in Mountain View. Fun to ride one of the "Black Buses" that cruise a 50 mile radius, picking up the Googlers and bringing them in perfect creature comfort, to the Googleplex for their daily labor. We just rode from Shoreline Amphitheatre parking lot to the Googleplex, less than 1 mile, but I wanted to see if we might beam up to an alternate universe or slingshot somewhere more exciting like another dimension.

Well there was good free food, lovely wine, and beers from many lands. Google color dry markers called out to developers to decorate the white top tables. The toy d'nuit was a Google/Rubik's Cube. Later, as dusk fell, the bartenders broke out Google glowing rave cups in Google glowing colors.

Our little OCLC outpost is just across the street from the Googleplex, but we will be moving soon. We don't need as much space as a few years ago, when we were still RLG.

05/14/007 - Start of a new day

I'm feeling the love. Employed again and very happy for that! The big orange bag came for me on day two. Beamed down from the mother ship in Ohio. Signature water, coffee mug, sports water bottle, pens, propaganda, and personalized stationary...from the desk of...me!

05/13/007 - Mother's Day

Another Mother's day, cool and overcast. Clear and cold at night. Stanford PowWow 2007.

04/22/007 - Eat a beet for EarthDay

I will myself to become "she who eats beets first." Do chores around the house and then have some fun. Drag that sorry ass to the office.

As my neighbors replace their tacky kitchen cabinets, I collect their best cast-off doors and swap them for my worse doors.

(Now, back to the Tarot reading I gave myself for my birthday)

"Be of assistance to higher-ups if you desire greater influence on the world around you. This refers to social or circumstantial factors which could be affecting your life at this time, or an individual with power who can predict and control outcomes and is central to a situation. If you are not in this position yourself, your role may be to advise the person as long as you perceive that actions serve the common good.

Remember that the person who has "eaten her beets" swings the fate of the nation. You may be needed to provide some objectivity, you will enjoy a wonderful period of overcoming obstacles and hindrances with grace and ease. Despite appearances to the contrary, you will win big and you will help everyone else to be winners as well."

---

04/14/007 - Rain

Perfect day. Spring rain. Flowers soak it up and bloom. Little birds drink from the drops on leaves. Hummers dance together in the air. So happy to be alive, just like me, so happy just to be alive. Living in California is like being on vacation everyday.

This weekend began with a happy visit with my good friend M. Today I sleep in as long as I want. Have a couple chores to do like paint the upstairs bathroom. I will enjoy the benefits of the completion of that task ever day...or most ever morning.

I have a final date on my contract and I'm so looking forward to the freedom of working at home again. No more hourly in an office. F that. I'm 55 and I'm too old to be tied down. I've become more inflexible with age, less physically flexible...the joints are going, More importantly, I'm more inflexible in my habit. Less willing to bend and conform to corp culture. F that.

I'm deep into the re-fi that will save my bacon financially, and give me a fresh start. Working that all week.

I tripped and fell when I was a toddler and pushed one of my front baby teeth back up into my jaw. It rotted up there and I had a gap toothed smile as a child. Then the permanent tooth came in damaged and it never was very good looking. One dentist did a bit of work on it 20 years ago but that has worn down and I really need to get veneers but that is too expensive right now.

My dentist spent some effort on my front teeth...evened them out a bit. So I look a bit less snaggle toothed when I smile. Such a small subtle thing. but it feels so good that someone is willing to give me that confidence boost. I have a great dentist. She helps me smile and feel good about myself.

Thurs was a good day to cry. Kurt Vonnegut died at 84. He was a significant influence during my college years. When I found him...well I found the Sirens of Titan. Then Cat's Cradle. I also discovered pot and LSD and well... began to practice deep thinking. At age 18, I began to think different.

Vonnegut helped save me. His writing resonated with my own experiences and washed over me in waves that felt like coming home. He made me feel not so alone on earth. I cry at his death. Ouch it hurts.

04/04/007 - Tarot Reading "The Pterodactyl"

If you are Ptaralized by uncertainty about your future, you cannot develop your talents and enjoy greater abundance. This pterosaur in the Self position reveals aspects of how you Pterceived yourself in the past.

The Pterodactyl soaring in this position indicates sublimation of survival fears, freedom from worry and uncertainty. The reverse image plummeting, shows a person who never has enough, is uncared for, and needy. The abundance she will not allow could block her freedom to be herself and cultivate her natural talents and interests.

This is a wonderfully optimistic card that says you have attained a well-supported Ptosition. Somehow you have placed yourself in a flow of abundance. The question is "What are you going to do with this opportunity?

04/07/007 - Obit, ten years old

001264 Carls - Patrick James Carls, A Former Clergyman With The United Federation Of Metropolitan Community Churches, Died Monday At Project Lazarus Of Complications From Aids. He Was 43.
Mr. Carls Was Born In Allegany, N.Y., And Lived In New Orleans For Many Years.He Received A Nursing Degree From State University Of New York At Albany And Studied For A Master's Degree At Loyola Institute School Of Ministry. He Was A Former Systems Analyst At L'chaim Group Home And Worked With The People With Aids
Coalition And Darrell Hamby Food Bank.He Was A Member Of The Board Of Directors And The Choir At The
Vieux Carre Metropolitan Community Church.Survivors Include His Companion, Charles Midura; His
Parents, James R. And Orma Carls Of Allegany; Three Sisters, Pamela Carls Of Sunnyvale, Calif.,
Virginia Carls Of Olean, N.Y., And Elizabeth Carls Crissafuli Of Fort Worth, Texas; And Three Brothers,
Richard L. Carls Of Allegany, John J. Carls Of Sarasota, Fla., And Timothy F. Carls. A Memorial Service Will Be Held Tuesday At 7 P.M. At The Vieux Carre Metropolitan Community Church, 1128 St. Roch Ave.
Burial Will Be In Allegany.

04-12-1997 Times Picayune

04/03/007 - In peace

perfect crystal forms
take flight, float, twist, turning, fall
quiet. still. rest. melt

(for Bret)

03/27/007 - Just keep swimming

Some of my daily horoscopes are more apropos than others. Today's is particularly apt:

"You may be facing a basic conflict between needing to work and wanting to play, yet you aren't receiving enough support to ease your concerns. Let's face it: you have been burning the midnight oil in order to get everything finished. Unfortunately, it's not quite time yet to slow down. Pace yourself until you complete your work. The fun will follow."

03/25/007 - Walk at the Beach

This is what last Sunday looked like. Foggy, waves crashing, sea breeze made us cold and sticky with salt spray. Birds and flowers and sand o my. Walking, walking, chatting, taking photos, eating, and walking back. Girls day at the beach.

03/18/007 - Lord tie my shoes for me...

St. Patrick's day was going to be my day. All day, a me day. I am my own best friend, ma amie. What does that mean? It's my life; why is every day not my day? Truth is I wake up every day thinking about other people, worried about other people's lives. My family, my ex used to consume me. For a while my troubled teen consumed me. My family, I left behind, often fills my dreams.

C fills my days, even today. Took me hours to look at the car in the garage. But then I did some of the things I had planned to do and it was a good day.

As I was sipping coffee, the doorbell rang insistently. I had dressed by then so I went to open it. Ahhh, good. Just a couple guys in suites with fliers in hand. Not the cops. I smiled at them, prepared to be polite but firm. The front guy held out a flier and tried hard to get out his spiel but sputtering did not resolve into a speech; the utterance would not come, so I started looking at the flier and he let go and passed it my way. I said thank you, I will read it. I smiled a genuine kind smile because after all, they were not police here to give me more bad news.

The guy behind, poked his head out and said something perfectly clearly, about participating in an event, detailed on the back of the flier. OK. Off they went, picking their way carefully off my stoop and back down the short side walk. Tidy suits but oh , one shoe is untied. I hope their lord and savior looks kindly at their efforts and gives him credit for trying to speak. Please don't let him trip, I pray.

Later that night, I packed up fuzzy boots and ripped jeans and schlepped those across town to the bistro where C is working. Valet guys had packed it in by then, so I could park the truck all by myself, and drop her clothes off. Asked why girls were screaming in the adjacent room. Party... 40 young people. Whatever.

On my way home, 10:30 ish, in the few minutes since I had left 101 to cruise across town, the way back to highway has been turned into a DUI/Traffic Safety Check funnel. All lanes are compacted into one and as I inch forward, roll down the window and prepare to...blow into a balloon? or have a flashlight shine into my eyes. Guy in front of me was waved to the side where folks were out of their cars, among the crowd of cops in reflective vests...carefully walking straight lines.

Cop looks at me...well looks into my truck and yells at me to keep driving; drive on through. Almost in disgust. Huh? That gigantic spliff I just smoked gone unappreciated? haha just kidding but WTF? Am I too old for a sobriety check? Damn. That was the end of my day.

03/14/007 - Remember the blender

Don't forget the blender...I wrote it on my wrist. Don't forget the blender; too bad I took a shower. So I forgot to bring my blender to the potluck party at the office today. My mind is like a sieve. Solve the problem, just go home and get it before the party. Oops stop for gas first. $3.01 for regular at CostCo. My fill up stopped at the exact same amount as the previous customer...to the penny. How wierd is that??

Then home. Reluctantly lift the lid off blendy and sniff inside. Examine him carefully; is he clean enough for the office? No! some debris from Chocolate protein shakes clings to the base. And there is crud between the buttons. At least the jar has been through the dishwasher; so no worry about that.

Now, clean enough...gather it all up in my arms and run back to the car...oops my neighbor hands me a check that has come back from the bank. Someone wrote the amount in numbers and a different amount in words. Sheesh. Did the teller have to read it? There was a pile of checks all for the same amount...our HOA dues. I made the deposit. Never noticed the discrepancy. Damn, why did they have to question it? Out of context it looks weird but amongst the pile of checks all for the same amount, same every month, and same for the past 4 years...oh well.

Going back to the party, thinking I'm in a hurry and it is mid -day and I still have to stop by the post office to mail the HOA Corp Tax filing that is due for CA tomorrow. I'm mailing it today...I am so good. But then it happened.

Looking for that little U shaped loop that takes you by a bank of post boxes at window height; looking for the drive by post office. And there she was in a red car, waiting patiently to emerge and there I was looking for the entrance, but she thought...well I guess she thought she could read my mind and felt sure I was going to turn into some non-existent entrance, so she pulled on out and kept on coming and I'm being forced into the opposite lane, and OMG! I just squeaked by and found the mail drop and thought I'd be lucky to make it back to the party in one piece, with my old blender in my arms.

I was thinking, remember the blender in the "Brave Little Toaster"? Got his base in a vice and rudely got his motor yanked out for spare parts. Very sad and really gruesome. Not for my old blender. Cleaned him up pretty good. Good enough to make some "Irish Pirate" blended drinks.

Oh yeah, and Erin go Brach...blendy go brach too.

02/25/007 - Best Oscars Show !

I was sick for two weeks with a cough - that was draining. Goal for this past weekend was to sleep in and not talk, not cough. Time to think, and settle in to watch the Oscars from start to finish. Multi-tasking as usual. This year working on closing the books for '06 LTHA. And keeping a watchful eye on my sleeping sweet Baaboo, whose life has taken a tragic turn. I remember when I was 19 and my life was also altered by a tragic turn.

The show was great; Ellen was smashing! And the Oscar Website is not too shabby either.

I had heard about "seat fillers" a couple years ago but now I think it would be a hoot. I hear there is a process, just like the Red Carpet bleachers and SuperBowl tix. Know someone who knows someone...maybe next year or the year after that.

02/11/007 - Little Miss Sunflower

Payperview.
Sickkid.
Rainyday.
LittleMissSunshine. Great movie.
Especially the yellow VW bus. Just like dad's; just like the one I learned to drive.
Just like the red one, my first car, that I rolled. I was going to use it as a camper and drive to CANADA. Drive across CANADA. Then go to nursing school.
That did not happen.
In the movie, they stow a dead body in the luggage area in the far back; we used to call it the doggy seat.
The horn gets stuck. You know the weenie ahhhh sound VW's horn makes. Kinda like the way coneheads scream. Yes dear the VW horn did sound like that...still does.
There are still some hanging on in sunny California.

02/03/007 - Dream maze

Rising from beneath the sea of grass. Barely have a chance to suck in a quick breath. Then drop back down to the depths of dreams. My dreams, my life played out on the screen in a darkened theater. "Pan's Labyrinth" or more accurately, "'El Labirinto del Fauno" as this is a Spanish movie with English subtitles.

Seems Guillermo Del Toro knows something about my life. As many times as I've jokingly described myself as a changeling, this is the first time a parallel story line so echoed the fine insanity that has unraveled over the past 54 years of my life.

Observant, she sees the truth yet believes in magic: like magic chalk that can create a portal where no doors exists. She is alone and spends much of her time lost in her own imagination. She experiences terrible loss and violence. She tries to do the right thing. She fails but in the trying redeems herself.

That is a cheerful thought, maybe there is still hope. For me.

I've begged and stolen a handful of my Aunt Gerry's paintings. The illustration above is one of her's..unfinished. It is my favorite. Because this surreal perspective was a very real place; my grandparent's place in Woolcott NY.

Scene of many hours walking the elaborate above ground root system of the tree pictured above. Also scene of the first abuse I can remember. Upstairs in the front corner attic bedroom.

01/28/007 - Jones Girls

Party down last night, with the Jones Girls. I be the DD; well just one of the DDs. I wrenched the car away from my daughter. Tank was empty. Could not see out any of the windows. I figured my passengers would understand if I was a bit late from waiting on a Sat night gas line and hitting the Windex inside and out.

First scrambled up to Redwood city which has changed since my last visit but found my destination and hit more Windex. Rain slick streets and slimy wiper action. Then back down to Palo Alto and my second rider. Off we all went down 101 to 237 and then up and over to 880,680 and 580.Tassajara X.
2 hours later. We are there.

Mystery gifts in hand and pot-luck food contributions prepared. Party games en route and lots of champagne. That is what we are all about; food, drink, gifts, games and laughter.

There are 10 of us. 10 little Indians. 4 Jones girls, and 6 wannabes.

After food and dessert and more dessert and more food (and bubble water for me). We played the board game. and drew numbers for picking gifts.

I went last. I only got one token from the game board and that was a gimme. However, this is a strategically good position; a couple wrapped gifts left and all the rest open to be stolen. I went for the unwrapped gift, it was calling to me. A dragon incense burner, sits his butt down over a burning incense cone and the smoke comes out his face. He sits like a drunk coyote howling at the moon. Yes!

Passed up a marble top plant stand, a spice rack fully loaded, hand knit scarf and my favorite the Beatles remaster album, just released. OK, that was a struggle to let go. Candles, wine glasses and OMG wine!

I love my dragon.

I passed on all the gifts in addition to all the alcohol. Did my DD thing and made it home at 1:30AM. That is a very late night for me. It was fun to drive around on Sat night after midnight. Before the 2 AM scramble. Just quiet dark streets; I'm driving fast through familiar territory but blessedly free from traffic. Party down and out for the night. Thought ahead and made my little bed up with fresh clean linen. Gotta love it. Life is good, with the Jones Girls.

01/23/007 - TGTG

"Thank God They're Gone". It means pizza for the few remaining survivors, left behind while movers and shakers do their thing at far flung meetings, mid-life conferences and such. It is good to be left behind, to eat pizza. These parties must have EANABs. "Equally attractive non- alcoholic beverages". Such is life.

At one time there were rows of stacks of melting pizza from Tony and Alba's; this time it was New York style, there was only a thin layer, one box thick, so few of us left. TGTG is a happy day, even though the parking lot is more empty than usual.

January 23rd is also one of those days I direct myself to stop and think. I make resolutions. Crystallize my commitments. Evaluate my life and get straight about what I want to be when I grow up.

Time to have a glass of wine. Good French wine. Think about Mary. I approach the subject of my sister Mary often but always carefully, gingerly, adroitly.

On January 23rd it is more important to be direct. See how close to the fire I can get, before I conflagrate myself. Tonight is the night. I will live through this night, I think. I always have so far.

Mary did not in 1972, when she was 14. Unconventional, stubborn, goofy, prone to drama, ready to explode, pushing the envelope of her microcosm. I feel it like a great heat in my heart. Heart stopping words. She is gone. One day, Mary is a 14 year old girl, the next day gone.

But no, not quite gone. Not as long as I can make myself cry into my wine. Not as long as my nieces Mary and Margaret live to celebrate her name. I cherish a couple old photos of her and hold on to some of her childish letters. It isn't much. And why be maudlin about something so far in the past. Why take time to surrender to such saddness. I say, to honor her life, respect her death, and appreciate what I have. Precious life.

01/21/007 - Clear the track

Anonymous horoscope advises
I'm over committed and I agree
So how the hell do I choose what to trim?
Shall I wait for natural attrition?
Money issues aside what would I do?

1/14/007 - Can't get enough of that Colbert stuff!

I discovered you Stephen, during a stressful season. You came out of nowhere. I even learned to appreciate Jon Stewart as a warm up act. You exploded on the screen and I was left aching for more. Thing is, I hate suits. I think of you as a razor sharp version of PeeWee. Then it seems alright.

I'm sorry Bill. I still have the hots for you but ounce for ounce, the Colbert Report has what it takes to satisfy me in every way. At first I thought it might have been the fatty that accompanied the Cobert Report in April '06. But that fog cleared and lo, you are funnier and more addictive than at first glance. You surpass yourself so often, I can't wait to see what you will say or do next. You are surprising! That is so refreshing!

1/13/007 - Shredding my life today

Early January is the time of year I'm in the habit of recycling stuff from the accordion folders that contain each year's accumulated paper backup for the IRS. I keep 6 full years back and empty the oldest, scratching out the year and using it for the new year. So for example, 2000, (the famous Y2K) got recycled and shredded and scratched out to become 2007.
Some things got pulled out to be housed in the "permanent" file.This is a cube of file folders that hold literature and bills of sale for major appliances and such. Contracts for new car loans, original agreements for health club memberships. Interestingly, Y2K contained some investment contracts that were enormously inflated and which are not worth a tenth of that value now. C's famous 35K college fund that is now down to 2.5K. Not the first or last nest egg to break, but mine to cry over.
Also found some holiday cards from folks I no longer correspond with. And a couple handwritten notes from my Mom. So cool to see her handwriting and recognize it. I save those. Every once in a long while, I'll poke through boxes of old correspondence. It makes me wonder at the several different lives I've lived and people I've been close to. So far away from who I am today.
Y2K was a year of unhappy feelings between me and my ex. C was in the middle of all that. I stumbled across a long and agonizing Email exchange that I re-read with dread. Why would I keep such a painful memory? Keep it? File it? no...shred it. Shred it. And vow to never say anything negative again no matter how I feel.

1/7/007 - Memories

Color everything. Define self. Warm relationships. Deepen emotion. Amuse me in moments of zen, while driving alone, taking a long hot shower, swimming laps, or even in those half waking minutes before the rosy dawn, after hitting snooze again, and again.

I remember running away. I was placed with my Aunties, Mabel and Irene Carls, at their farm house on Four Mile Road, down the road from Great Grandpa Carls farm. Parents were busy having another baby...maybe Rick. I got up early as I always do, pulled on my little red boots and started walking down the road in the snow, still dressed in my PJs. They found me of course and dragged me back. Not the first time I ran away or the last.

That time I was three or four. I did not like the taste of their food; it was the tang of their well water. I did not like the smell of the house or the chilly upstairs bedrooms. I wanted my own home, my warm bed and my mommy. We suffered long stints at another Aunties; Alma's farm in Lyons NY. I did not like the taste of their food, the tang of the well water, the smell of the swamp, or my uncle's loud snoring. But it was a change from the long hot summers in Allegany. Made that trip ever summer and got really dehydrated cause I could taste the well water even in Coolaid.

Those summers held some good times and some bad. Picking berries and putting up jam was fun but got eaten alive by mosquitos in the process. I remember sleeping on the screened-in porch at last. That was pleasant. I always enjoy sleeping outside in summer...well anytime really. Paradoxically, it started that last summer of torture at Alma's.

In fact, I think I will move my old daybed out onto the patio this summer; that would be indulgent and harmless fun. All this unfolds and leads up to the nonce. I share one of my precious memories, and I still miss my mommy.

1/4/007 - Fold me!

Fold me! Colorful paper squares beg to be folded into graceful cranes, and delicate hummingbirds. My third try looked like a red pterodactyl but at least did not sail into the trash can in a tight little wad.
There are wide variety of folding instructions online, good and not so good, and then there are the creators of folded magnificence.

1/3/007 - Bird Food

Yummy gummy worms wiggle around in a pot filled with crushed Oreo cookies, ersatz topping for plain vanilla ice cream; but what was it doing next to 16 pints of high-end gellato? huh? Seemed like such a good idea.
Among the other good ideas: a variety of cheesecake with tons of nuts and seeds imitating a suet brick. Tasted great.
Tree branches downed in the last wind storm, were fashioned into a "tree" and festooned with little bird ornaments.
Champagne spilled freely in toasts to our newly retired friend. Our key colors: moss green, lavender, and gold; thank dog someone mentioned she does not like to drown everything in purple, as I so do.
A plethora of "Certificates of Achievement" really made the scene festive. Especially the one bestowed by the boss. Bravo!

1/2/007 - So nothing has changed

Bridge tolls are up, housing market is down. Traffic is slamming on 101 North when I drive to work.

If we get closer together and huddle for comfort, will we start pecking each other?

Is casual sex an oxymoron?

I used to be driven to workout everyday and I was driving myself insane with anxiety. I traded that insanity for survival in a fog of SSRI induced placidity. Time to come out again...it has been three years, maybe I have learned how to survive on my own. I need to be driven to workout every day or my body will not survive. I'm going to let go the fog and see what life is like without.

1/1/007 Happy New Year! Resolved

Y2K? Why not.
An image, a list, a link.

My wedding anniversary.
I Vow:
Write everyday
Exercise everyday

More photos, less carbs.

Clear the decks. Simplify my life so I can move on.

Holidays are upon me...cannot excape...

Each year brings less enthusiasm, less time, less interest on my part to participate in the Christmas hubbub. This year I have accomplished a new personal best. No cards; have not even tried to find the boxes of cards I always buy on sale in January and squirrel away for the next season. What the haps?
I want only to be a funnel, for nice interesting gifts that come to me; I rejoice in re-gifting them.
I enjoy other people's trees.

Las Vegas Ladies

Back from my first trip to Las Vegas. Something to say about the people who stand along the sidewalk in groups, and snap cards, slapping them against the huge pile in one hand, offering a naughty naked lady card to passersby. The first group I walked past did not offer me any; why would they, no-one was taking the cards. Then I got the idea that it would be a generous gesture to take some of their cards. That way they could get rid of them, which is the point, I think. And I would keep them long enough to put into the recycle bin at home. Free stuff, free fun...a good deed.

Someone pays them to hand them out. No foul there, everybody has to make a living. So next group I passed I stuck my hand out and took as many as they could shove at me, saying thank you, thank you, and lastly, thank you very much. I did this a couple more times as I passed other groups of men and women holding enormous piles of these cards. Naughty, half naked ladies; Las Vegas Ladies for various prices. Introductions guaranteed.

I heard a little sniff and a comment behind me one of these times, so I just turned and said I thought I'd help them out and take a few. Lady behind me did not get it. Oh well. Maybe I'm a lesbo. Or maybe I feel sorry of the maybenotlegal immigrants and the tedious job of pressing these cards into the hands of passersby. It was amusing.

When I got home I had collected 60-70 cards with very few duplicates. The prices on the back of each card included a price for 1, 2, or 3 girls. One card said "Lydia - she is a real girl" Not sure what the others could be. And strangely enough they all had little twinkling stars in strategic places. Word!

Las Tres Amigas

So much to say and then really nothing that can be said about this brief moment. Rave came back for a few hours; just long enough to get cleaned up and loved up. Then she got watered, well fed and was sleeping all sprawled out on the floor. Just as sweet and innocent as when she left.

So why is she digging out of her new yard? The new owner does not seem to be able to keep track of her and won't let her in the house. We were called to come get her by someone who found her running loose. So we did and checked her out and called the new owner and said to call us because we had Rave and she had run away again, and we wanted to talk about placing her somewhere else.

Later that night the Sunnyvale cops banged on our door. They banged loudly and rang the bell like they do when they think you are a criminal. They took Rave away from us and gave her back to her new owner, who had somehow convinced them that WE HAD STOLEN RAVE FROM HER YARD!

Unfortunate. Unbearably sad for us. We wanted Rave to have a good new home and it seemed that we had found someone who really wanted a dog for her son and had a big fenced in yard.

But now, we want her back. I'm sick about the whole affair. I even offered a couple hundred dollars to buy Rave back. Even if it seemed like ransom. The new owner gave my daughter a few dollars and we gave her Rave and all the expensive doggy equipment to take care of her. Because we just wanted her to have a good loving home and the attention she needs.

Now, I just want another chance to place her with someone who will take better care of her. I fear for her safety. The breeder also wants her back. We pray that Rave will dig out again soon and somehow be found by someone who will get back in touch with us or the breeder so we can find her a better home. Since her new owner cannot be reasoned with, I depend on Rave to do her thing. She is smart and she will find her way to a better home one way or another.

We are looking for her at shelters and on Craigslist. The cops told us we cannot go anywhere near her new home, since they believe we are trying to steal her. I believe everyone will get what they deserve in the end. Just a matter of time, so hang on Rave and dig out soon! Run away Rave and we will come find you.

Horse Therapy

"Equine Facilitated Psychotherapy" at Taylor Made Farms, San Martin, CA, just south of Morgan Hill. I'll be there one day each week for the foreseeable future. Horse Therapy flickr set.

See: NAHRA - "North American Riding for the Handicapped Association"

EFMHA - "Equine Facilitated Mental Health Association"

For lonely horses. For CASA volunteers.

The pumpkin patches are therapeutic, the cornfields are therapeutic, the boarding stable with 100+ horses is therapeutic. Everything except the commute back home in rush-hour traffic is therapeutic, for me.

This is part of my life now, so in a real sense, it is all about me. But I wonder how much am I getting into MBP syndrome?

I will ask Dr. Low.

Stay tuned.

Yes - I said Vegas!

I've got a room at the SAHARA for 4 nights in November. Next conference to support the Webmaster business model. PUBCON, sponsored by WebMasterWorld.

All organic, mostly green...emphasis on coding and content. The geeky side of an industry that has been taken over by Sales and Marketeers. Bless their pointy little heads. They have brought the mega bucks into E-commerce.

Started gambling early; let PriceLine find me a *** hotel. I booked so late...just a week ago, not much left close to the convention center. It will be an adventure. And my version of continuing education. And not the least draw...home of CSI. The original and some say the only CSI.

CSI - Las Vegas

CSI LasVegas weekend.

Not me; C went with friends. No job for her yet. I have a job.

All I got from her trip was this crummy coffee mug, and a screen saver.

So I will savor the sights until my trip to Las Vegas, planned for November.

Actually, I love the mug. And C as well, living outside the box.

Moving on out, to a shared house in San Jose.

LLUXE! - My new Etsy store for Spa therapy products

Circumstances permitting, I plan to sell my house and move to the Oregon coast. One of the legs supporting this move is my newly developed product line of handmade Lavender Luxury Spa Products for hot/cold therapy and aromatherapy. "LLUXE!"

I set up an Etsy shop: LLUXE! - Lavender Luxury Spa Therapy by IrisDragon

All made from sensuous silk-blend brocade fabrics in various weights.
Here is a Flickr set of product shots: LLUXE!

So far, I've given away many samples to friends, and they in turn have helped me make refinements and enhancements. I'm ready to sell the established line of products, if anyone wants to buy them. I started pricing them very low, almost at cost. I sold one on EBAY, but the profit margin was just one dollar. They are expensive to ship because the rice is heavy.

I have many fabrics and colors; many sewed and ready to fill to order. I purchased incredibly fragrant bulk lavender flowers from Watsonville. Is there a business model here? I'm pushing the price higher and higher. Looking for folks with disposable income and mega$$$ who enjoy luxury and appreciate unique, handmade, sensuous products. Where are you Oprah?
Stay tuned!

So now we cry

Be careful what you wish for. My friend Jan often warned me about that. My house is quiet and peaceful. There is a chance that it will still be clean tomorrow. There is no reason not to get a good night's sleep tonight. Rave is sleeping over at her new owner's house. And now we cry ourselves to sleep.

8ULL$H!7

This is what the video Ipod was made for:

http://video.google.com/videosearch?q=penn+and+teller


Penn and Teller

Question Authority!

Happy, happy, joy, joy!

This post is about John Kricfalusi and the "happy happy joy joy" song from the "Ren & Stimpy" show. I sing it because my teen aged daughter is looking for a place to live. It is possible I may get my life back soon, if she succeeds in moving out. I will help her. Oh yes, I will gladly help her!

I love her but we are going in opposite directions. She and I do not make good house mates. Yahoo! off she goes! I will miss her but that will feel good. I will be so happy to see her when she comes to visit! That will feel good.

John has an excellent blog. I knew I loved Ren and Stimpy from the first time I saw the cartoon and literally ROFLOL'd. Partly because I was living with a neurotic chihuahua, who peed inside my stereo cabinet and bit me when I tried to save him from being eaten by large ferocious Real Dog.

(more about FrogHopper)

Sleeping with my clothes on

In order to remain sane. I have taken on PJs. Not my preferred flimsy gowns or diaphanous negligees, but substantial cotton lounging pants and sport weight T shirts. There are two reasons.

One: The dog often needs to get walked between 12-1 AM, when I am in my deepest sleep. It seems I am capable of rolling out of bed, creeping downstairs, and exploding out the front door with the dog in tow, or the dog towing me.

But only if I am already dressed and ready for public viewing.

Two: my daughter's boyfriend is sleeping over most nights and I should not be sprawled on the bed with my door open...which is my usual sleeping scenario.

Now I sprawl with a light cover, and fall into bed as if I were camping. Only time I used to sleep in my clothes was camping, enabling me to crawl out of the tent and stumble through the dark to the designated tree or nearby loo.

Website Usability Review and SEO Audit

*:-:¦:-·:*Website Usability Review and SEO Audit*:-:¦:-·:*

posted on Craigslist:

"Does your Website need attention? I'll audit your site first for Usability issues, and then for Search Engine Optimization. I'll examine your site's Information Architecture and coding. The product you will receive is a report with general advice and specific recommendations.

I charge $50/hour, minimum $100.00 per site. We can talk SEM in general terms. I'm building a portfolio of successfully transformed customer sites, so my rate is low right now. My audit is neutral, objective, and based on the most current info and established best practices. I take a very green, natural, thoughtful approach.

Why hire me? I am an experienced "bug magnet"! I have no agenda other than improving your Web presence. I'll review your meta tags, examine your copy, and be all over your navigation. If I cannot find anything to improve, I'll tell you that. I'm happy to share a sample report, so you can preview what you might expect.

Prelim evaluation and estimate provided."

The question is, is this a business model that could sustain me if I move to Oregon?
hummmm

You are too big to be Jesus

Birthday gift! It is party time. The big 50. Lots of balloons, singing helium balloons, Tweety singing happy birthday helium balloon was my favorite, but there were 5-6 others. Yummy appetizers and wonderful food. Fish...what kind of fish? Oh, one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish. Lots of fun-loving folks. We discussed movies, fast cars, new bright yellow boats, high school yearbook messages, the fate of Pluto. Planet or not a planet. What if your horoscope was based on Pluto's influence? Now what?

Shall we sing along with Oklahoma or Rocky Horror. Lets do the Time Warp again, or maybe just watch. Not enough for some but way too much for others. They do not make cult classics like they used to. "Snakes on a Plane" Please! Give me Rocky so big on a giant HD flatscreen, I can see Tim Curry's 5 o'clock shadow under his makeup.

Then there was a guy who was considering a part in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat. Someone suggested he play Moses...his striking jock image, type cast...but no, he said, I want to play Jesus, then the question skips around the laughter...you are too big to play Jesus. How do we know? I mean I agree...too big, too craggy, too cut.

And I am to big to play Mary: too flabby, too immodest, too profane. and to old to be the next Shirley Temple. I'm 50 too, no 54...too old. But I so enjoyed being there for someone else, turning 50, throwing herself a big party with a chocolate fountain, build your own cocktail bar, and then find your way home in the dark.>

Driftwood horse

Munch, munch, no wonder I'm so skinny and dried up. Only one meager weed is within my reach. I have many brothers and sisters around the world. Funny, it must be genetic; skinny, bony, looks like driftwood that has been turned to bronze for sculptures that last.

Echoes of August. Hot, dry, clear blue sky after Marine layer burns off in California. Long summer working for that hourly wage. Not clear why any more. A say, "get as much as you can from this gig", who knows what is next. Could be worse. Could be a bronze cast of a driftwood horse. I so relate to the site, the sight, driving out the back way from the hourly gig...hot dry August, in California. I love it. Days get shorter. Evenings are cool. We all feel like moving around again.

Going to the frogs

Slipped out of a hammock yesterday; just a graceless plop, but reminiscent of the graceless dismounts I executed when learning to ski, and reaching the end of the T lift, in Vermont. The hammock was up Calaveras county way, near Big Trees and Murphys' Shakespeare at the local winery, where they pour really full plastic cups of their wonderful Cab. But the bouquet was slightly spoiled by the fumes of bug spray that necessarily save the evening from turning into a feeding frenzy for the bugs.

Shared the lake swimming with ducks, all females for some reason. The water was warm at the surface but cold if you dropped your feet down, and filled with grass that got tangled in your toes. Very clear and clean but still, showered thoroughly after swimming around for an hour or so. So quiet and peaceful, we paddled out past the platforms and toward the far end where no one else hung out. Lake swimming, have not done that since the late 70's.

We drove up early in the morning so practically flew past highways that are often clogged with Bay Area traffic. Driving home today was not so pleasurable. Plus, had to face the end of the weekend. Plus, seemed like someone had a wild party at my townhouse while I was gone.

Whatever. I was having a wild time working on a laser cut limited edition wood jigsaw puzzle and gazing at the starry sky between the tall trees. Little brown bats buzzed us. Who knew I should not have slept well at all last night. Time for my princess to move it on out. I'm not happy living with her anymore. I am only happy when I'm away.

Books and linen and flip-flops...oh my

This was Cherokee; I stopped on the way to my friend's, on the way up to visit her one last time. She is on her way to Ruidoso, NM. I helped her get started. Packing box after box; actually mostly empty cases formerly packed with exotic beer.
She said fill them so they all weigh the same; couple books, some linen, topped off with a pair or two of flip-flops. New flip-flops, old flip-flops, certain styles in a variety of colors, most very girlie and fun.
Labels, I marked them with a Sharpie, piled the boxes up on the front deck, in one corner. Just a small dent in the contents of her house, that needed to be packed, but it was a start and that is what needed to get done.
We needed to get started. Same with my job hunt. I finally got started. Now I ask everyone I meet. Just needed a jump start.

No more camp coffee in the morning

Little things mean so much and add pleasure and value to life. At work, at the office, we have long suffered from camp coffee syndrome. Another symptom of sad life clinging to a sinking ship. Too cheap to find and buy the correct sized coffee filters, we carefully made coffee with little tiny filters sized for half the volume of grounds as must be used to make passable coffee using the restaurant style coffee makers. Pre-measured hot water flows rapidly through inadequate sized filter overflowing the grounds into the coffee pot and leaving the coffee drinkers to pick the grounds from between their teeth before going to meetings.

This tradition has finally been put to rest. The pleasure and happy satisfaction of confidently making and pouring fresh Peet's coffee for the all important first cup at 5 AM makes all the difference in the world to me. I could work here forever now. If they would only make me an offer...

Last visit with Dr.Low

She said "You are saying all the right words. You need to work on acting on your own best advice"
I say...good trick

She said "Take 24: delay acting on your impulses. Wait 24 hours before acting on any obsession"
I say...OK another game I can play with myself

She said "Practice doing the right thing. Start fresh each day"
I say...I like to think that way...it fits my psyche

She said "Save yourself!"
I say...but what about all the other souls I'm trying to save

She said "You are overfed...food will not rescue you"
I ask...no more calming myself with carbs?

She said "Who do you think you are...god?"
I say...well no but, I have learned how to survive and I believe I can teach others

She said "Be focused on the dog...you will learn about yourself"
I say...amen.

How do you spell god? I spell it Cesar.

Cesar Millan is my hero. Who else could bring religious fervor to a cold atheist soul. He is my new best friend and the savior of my relationship with Rave. I may finally learn how to parent from watching the "Dog Whisperer" on NTGEO/National Geographic Channel. I recently changed my satellite network pkg so that channel is included and dropped HBO. Nothing on HBO in the next few months...(no new Sopranos, nor Bill Maher, nor Carnivale). I look forward to the Closer, but I worship Cesar.

His shows are a series of one or two miracles each half hour. He has clarity and knows how to demonstrate sane behavior. It looks like well rehearsed fakery. After getting sucked into the first show, I went downstairs and tried something simple on Rave. She knew immediately what was the haps. It was cool. Suddenly, I had learned a new language...dog. No more screaming; barking has been replaced by gentle persuasion. A look or not looking, a touch or a gesture...it just works.

I am usually calm but now I practice solid calm and open aware. And Rave knows it. So does my daughter. It so works on people. In fact that is Cesar's tagline. "He rehabilitates dogs and trains people." That is exactly what I need. I was never taught how to parent and I have always known I was not a good parent. I'm a good person and I've got by on my merits and morals, loosely defined and constantly evolving as they are.

Now I learn how to behave. I am learning how to behave like the leader of the pack. I am confident in my role. I know who I am and how to talk and walk. I make my expectations clear and correct when I need to give feedback. Late in life to be learning the basics but surely not too late. Practice, lots of practice and patience. I'll never be perfect but I can see improvement daily. That is rewarding and inspirational. I love Rave and I love C. I can tell they love me too. We are all learning manners and how to communicate. I do not know how to spell g o d but I do know how to spell dog (whisperer).

Letter to Orma Carls on Mother's Day 2006

Hi Mom,

You and Amie seemed very happy to be together last time I saw you. I hope you like the Mardi Gras beads I sent you for Mother's day this year. It has been a very strange time since last May, for me and for you. Too bad there is not room by your bed for the yellow roses I usually send. Will you miss them or had they become a burden?

Wish you could tell me today, what it is like for you, in a way I could understand and remember later when I am sitting in a chair with a little belt on that is connected to an alarm. Hopefully, someone always notices when I try to wander off, away from home and caregivers and my special chair.

Last visit you talked to me about your mother and the house where you grew up. I think that is what you remember and where you want to be. I hope you feel safe where you are now, and cared for now, like you felt safe and cared for in your mother's arms.

A lifetime has passed for me, since I felt safe and warm in your arms. 54 years to be exact. I was one month old by your first Mother's Day. Your third baby, alive and perfect and healthy; all sweetness and potential; your number one daughter.

You were young, you married and settled down. You did everything you could to make your new family happy with you. Was there ever enough? Is this your reward? There were few rewards during all those years of caring for us, and caring for dad, sewing special dresses and knitting sweaters. I remember you taught me how to do those crafts.

So many things I still don't understand. We were always worlds apart. I felt like a changeling. Still do. Sometimes I've found older people to learn from but rarely the gift of infinite love and generosity as I have poured into my relationship with my own daughter.

You and I were together a very short time; we have been walking away from each other much longer than that. It is a bittersweet moment when I see you or think about you. I feel the loss and I mourn for what might have been our lives and our relationship if somehow we were different. And the times were different. Like today...what if we could be together as if it were 1952 again?

But my life has already happened. Your life continued on your chosen course. I think of you and about our lives, every Mother's day. I'll try with renewed commitment to be a good girl, a daughter for you to be proud of, and the best Mother I can be. I love you. I hope you hear me say that to you, somewhere in your memory.

What she said

RLG set on Flickr

RLG blog

RLG Corp Site

CC:GROLL *new news

"Endless Bummer" * new (picnic report in photos)

FaReWeLL T-SHiRT DeSiGNS *new designs added so check back

Easter egg

alt egg

Here are more pix of the results of our Easter Egg decoration party. It was Easter Simple this year. All the fun but no parade in fancy hats, or new white shoes, or enormous feast. Our friend/guest Matt, played along, and our fingers got soaked in food color. It rained all day.

Waxed paper worked. Wax crayons worked. Our paper-towels were also works of art, at the end of the session.

April Fool: I'm 54 and there is so much more

H E double toothpicks :

When I went to see my shrink I thought I wanted her to give me advice on how to save him. Although I was desperate for this advice, she told me to save myself. When I got married was it a match made in heaven or hell. Psych hell but perfectly complementary. He chose me and I choose him. Can't say no to a broken man; I liked him to be vulnerable. Looking for a battered woman? I have the baggage. I wear it with a certain amount of pride. Because I survived. Since I was 4. Always looking to save someone. So, I say again, save myself. I wish I knew how to get selfish.

Gods and Monsters:

I've always dreamed I'd rescue someone. Rescue a baby, adopt a kitten, nurse a baby rabbit to maturity. Rescue me. Stop trying to rescue others. Save yourself. Time to move on.

She 's a predator:

Rave is a dog's dog. She wants to kill my cat. She eats like a scavenger. She sleeps with complete trust and I'm happy to have her on the floor in her bed next to mine. Since someone forgets to lock the door more often than not, at night.

Beautiful mind:

Can turn ugly. In defense or is it offense? Offensive yes. But who do I offend? I'm sure I do sometimes. So what? Let it go.

Equalization theory:

Eventually you and your significant other person will continue to interact until you both feel the same about each other. Unbalanced relationships do not last. They move toward a stable state. Just like a chemical reaction. Equal love or equal hate. Steady state? Prove that.

Nothing New:

Live refurbished, recycle and re-use. Consumed too much...wasted so much time. Now there is some time left but less. Less each day. Today, it is time to get serious. Time to get back on a goal train. Travel. Learn.

Just say no:

Change your mantra! Just say non.

God Bless JohnD

Likely my brother Rick, will be the only one who remembers saying our GodBlesses ever night before bed. They started out "God Bless JohnD, granma&granpa, mom&dad, Pam, Pat, Rick, Mary, and baby Virginia..." There were more after that but that was the last time I remember saying them with feeling.

John D McCarthy was my godfather, who died a young man during the Korean War. He gave me Boppy, the little sleepy dog I carry around with me to this day. Amie looked a lot like Boppy, come to think. Boppy never came to the door to greet me, but acted in my defense against my two younger brothers...hence the name Boppy cause I used him as a weapon.

Amie did not come to the door with her usual wildly enthusiastic greeting on Fri. I had to go look for her. She was not in my bed where I left her at 5:30 AM that morning. She was downstairs in a comfortable chair, on a blanket, but she didn't look up at me when I found her. She had that drunken stupor stare; I had seen that look right before she had her first medical crisis, almost three years ago to the day.

So off we went to Cherry Chase Pet Hospital; Dr Standley asked politely if she could run a liver panel and I said OK, but nothing more. C met us there and we waited for the results. The nurse even brought out a nice big fluffy towel so Amie did not have to lie on the cold metal table; a gesture that both Amie and I appreciated.

The values were off but not completely off the chart. So we took her home. On the way home she and I decided it was time to let her go. Earlier she clenched her teeth when I tried to force water. So I listened to that. I remembered transporting Ouzo the cat, at age 18 and asking him if he wanted to fight any more. He mewed back at me with a spark in his eyes, so we kept on fighting. Amie was a limp little rag in my lap; she seemed too tired to fight any more.

She slipped into a comma while we were all taking a short nap. During the night she came out of it, but she was blind and probably deaf by then. She had become zombie puppet Amie...swimming around back in the womb. We made her comfortable, and waited, and watched, and talked, and cried.

What if she goes on like this until next week? What if she is in pain? Maybe I can sneak her into the office if I put her in my purse... Or what if she seems to be suffering and it is Sunday and there are no Vets to help us? Why won't they give me a euthanasia shot to take home? Amie only weighs 4-5 lbs...No C said, what if you lost it or used it on a baby? right, of course...what if...

Amie went through her process very quickly. C kept taking her pulse and breathing rate as she had been trained to do at Banfield. Amie was slowing down, hour by hour, like a coiled spring...gently relaxing. And like a wind up toys sometimes do, she would suddenly roll her head and make swimming motions with her paws in the air, then settle back down. If she stopped in an awkward position, we returned her to a more comfortable position, back in her little bed.

She was cold, so she kept her sweater on, but I took her collar off when we got back from the vet's. Now I wear it as a bracelet. I moved her into the sun for a while so she might feel the warmth, and opened the window so she might hear the familiar sounds of the neighborhood, and the mocking birds singing. Or not...

I held her on my lap as she passed. I thought I could feel little vibrations, faint rushes of energy leaving her body, for some time after she had stopped breathing. Then C helped me wrap her in a piece of silk I had cut for this purpose, and we put Amie in a plastic bin. Then C took her to work and signed her up for cremation service.

Amie has waited patiently in her pretty peach sweater, wrapped in an aqua silk brocade shroud then zipped into a body bag, in the dead animal fridge, for pick-up today. Soon she will be home with us again, in a tiny marble urn.

God bless Amie. Small dog, very big heart. She had a lot to say in life; our house is very quiet now.

Amie: Sept 24, 2000 - March 18, 2006

Amie: small dog, very big heart. This is her last portrait; see more at Pictures of Amie, a Papillon dog. .