The $16.28 Fix is my last post for a month

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Comedy of Errors (and bonus assignment!).”

One of the great mysteries of life are washing machines.  We have two of them–an old one that is 21 years old and a newish one from my parents.  The New one is bright, shiny and has the highly desireable front loading feature.  It also is a piece of junk, designed to break at seven years.   It met expectations and fell apart about the seven year mark–a broken moter that can’t be easily or cheaply fixed.  Now it sits in the garage, a useless piece of junk.  The motor isn’t even good enough to salvage for a potters wheel.  But we might get a couple dollars from a metal scavenger.

In contrast, Bob has been able to keep our old washing machine working.  Cost to fix–$16.28.  Add some paint to cover rust spots and a fancy orange band–Voila. One washer, solid as a rock, ready for another few years of service.  What a sad commentary on our disposable society.   A Tragedy!  Getting a new motor for the other washer would cost more than buying an entire new washing machine.  And I like the sporty new look of the original washing machine.  Not perfect and getting older.  But that describes me as well.  Perhaps I’ll try some vertical strips and new cinched belts to help my old sagging appearance.

I can’t help but think that old washer is feeling pretty good for itself.  After all, it is one of the oldest and most reliable appliances in my house.  It’s still standing side by side with it’s original companion clothes dryer.  We’ve had to replace stoves, refridgerators, dish washers, microwaves, toasters, and coffee makers.  But I don’t ever want to have to replace that washer or dryer.  May they keep running forever.

As for the bonus assignment, that’s why there will be no posts for the next month.  Like that old washer, I’m going to do something above and beyond  the basic assignment.  Insanity rules as I’ve signed up for the national novel writing month.  Fifty thousand words in one month, hopefully coherently written.  That’s writing a 1000 words every morning and lots of extra words on the weekends in a month where my bosses are already asking what our thanksgiving plans are.  Working at this point, is not amoung mine as was the response from rest of the team.  I believe the words were not just no, but HELL NO, I am not working on thanskgiving.

This novel will be a tough assignment.  For example, this post is less than 500 words.  But I am excited at the possibility of actually writing my novel “What is that thing–a dragon cat?”.  A science fiction commentary on our society, it starts with a 10 mile by 10 mile section of north san diego county.  No photos can be taken of the interior of this chunk of land, even from satellites.  And any living creature — human or otherwise — that steps over the line disppears forever, not even leaving bones on the ground.

Until one house cat crosses the line and comes back, transformed into a dragon cat.  Growing to the size of a golden retriever, sprouting large wings, breathings flames, developing opposable claws, and establishing a telepathic bond with his owner, total chaos ensues.  Because the owner is being summened by an n-th dimensional being to cross the line.  And in a society where everyone and every purchase is monitored, multiple commercial and government agencies want to control this young woman.  She just wants to finish her degree and get a great job, perferably with her boyfriend.  You will have to wait a few months to find out what happens.

A party for me…By the Dots….

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “By the Dots.”

We all have strange relationships with punctuation — do you overuse exclamation marks? Do you avoid semicolons like the plague? What type of punctuation could you never live without? Tell us all about your punctuation quirks!

Punctuation! Puncuation!….The Daily Prompt wants me to talk about Puncuation!!!!!!!!  What the ……..  It’s so grody.:>;  And the wordpress application has a non-functional spell check@##*&@!@#&^  To the max!!!  No punctionation here, I want to talk about is personality quirks!!!!!!  And Parties, great parties.  Like hit me with a spoon!!!!

I did have a party last weekend — a renaisance party.  Not a costume party like the annual faires one can attend all over the country or at least all over southern california.  Nope, one to recognize all the changes in my life.  Yep, I took care of my mid-lie crisis with a party.  It all started on a dark and lonely road, months ago………..Coming home from Liz’s graduation with plans to attend several more graduation ceremonies……

Having three girls graduate and move into totally new lifes without Mom hit me hard.  Yes, that’s what every parent wants, a kid successful enough to make choices, act on them, and live with the consequences.  Hopefully with excitement, joy, and passion: but at least competent enough to take care of themselves.  All three of my girls did that with great panache.  I am so proud of all of them.  Maggie has a new job, a great significant other, and all kinds of opportunities in Baltimore.  Liz just startedher PhD at Akron, Ohio; she seems to be thriving.  And Kate has mapped out a great plan for becoming a school teacher while working as a music teacher and living with Grandmother.  All three of them represent the best of life.  They have hope, optimism, and joy in thier futures.  And I’m left behind.

That’s not bad.  Bob and I have lots of time to do fun things with minimal responsibilities.  The hard work is done.  But the house seemed big and empty.  And there were lots of challenges — money with a new set of school bills and a new car; problem neighbors; changes in my work environment; climate change with the hot weather this summer; family; hobbies; and more –we chances to revaluate everything in our lives.  The common name for this is empty nest syndrome. I hate that name.  Because that implies an end with no future.  Renaisance is a much better name.  We have a new start as well.  The question is what is important to Bob and I?  What do we want to do with our time?  Over the last few months, we’ve been questioning lots of things.  Do we want to move and if yes, where to?  Do we have enough money for retirement?  What hobbies do we want to pursue?  How close do we want to live near family and what part of the family?

So I came up with the brainy idea of having a celebration for our changes in life.  Bob and I deserved a party just like the ones we (the whole family) pulled together for the all the graduation ceremonies last spring.  And the planning begun.  Bob decided he wanted a toy — a new IPAD — instead of a party for himself.  That was fine, but I wanted a party.  Which occured last Sunday.

Went to Artbeat with a few close women friends and family.  Food, wine or other beverages, music, and art–how can it get better.  Kate provided the music.  But since she is under 21, she had to play out on the sidewalk with a speaker piping the music into the art gallery.  Turned out great and she even got a lot of tips (plus the money I promised to pay her and will later this week).  Brought lots of food that no one touched, opened a tab at the bar, and we all settled down to painting wine glasses.  The party was great fun and I feel content.  A new life is starting, full of opportunity and possible joy.  It’s up to me to make something of if.

And I will.  What, is not yet clear.  But I am planning on couple more trips to Europe.  Have several good books to write.  Want to remodel my house into something good for multiple generations.  Will be taking lots more art classes and doing a lot more sailing with Bob.  And of course, a lot more posts to write on the blog.  Even about topics as boring as bad punctuation.  So lets make a toast for the future–may there be many adventures in our lives!  And may we all enjoy reading or writing about the good and bad of adventures afterwards!  May we look forward to tomorrow with optimism and hope!  And may the gods smile down on us with their blessings without getting too close and tangling us in their politics!

I look forward to the next phase in my life.

A New Roof

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Right to Brag.”

We have a new roof.  A wonderful white new roof, just in time for the El Nino Preparations.  I have to brag about it.  New fascia was installed replacing the older boards filled with termites.  Got to get some pleasure before writing a heart stopping check.  The white roof looks good and is supposed to be cooler.  But we may never find out, the weather has gotten cooler on it’s own.  Temperatures are ranging now from a high of 84 down to a low of 72 with ongoing high humidity.  So it feels the same inside and outside.  Sleeping is best done a birthday suit.

Last night, I decide to sleep outside (with appropriate attire) after waking up about 1 am.  Lovely time, I got to lay outside and listen to the sounds of life diminish.  By 2 am, there were no dogs barking, no cars driving, no sounds of televisions.  Even the birds and crickets were silent.   It’s a wonderful peaceful time. Until two bad things happened.  First were the mosquitos.  Yuck.   I hid under a blanket, warm but not getting bitten.  And then a skunk infused animal of some kind walked by.  UGHHH…..I hate the smell of skunks.  So between the mosquitos and the skunk, back inside after only a half hour or so of lovely stillness.

My sleeping outside days are probably numbered.  Because there is a hot spot in the ocean west of us, weather predictions are for massive rainstorms enhanced by a hot water feedback loop.  We already had one storm that closed one of the main north-south routes (Highway 5)for a few days.  And a secondary highway (58) will probably be closed for months as they remove 20,000 truckloads of dirt.  Since an average truckload of dirt is 12 cubic yards, that is enough dirt to fill a building with a footprint the size of a football field twice as high as the empire state building.  That’s a lot of dirt.

And a lot more rain means we need rain gutters.  That’s promising to be an heart stopping check in an almost empty bank account.  But that’s a story for another day.  It’s time to brag about the new roof.  Below are several pictures of the process.  It was interesting to watch, at one time there were 9 guys at once working on our roof.    Elly is really glad they are gone, they made scary noises.  And now she’s doomed to a life of boredom since the nice new roof is inspiring a whole new hobby — house renovation.  The roof looks nice, so now the kitchen needs repainting.  The new blue paint on the kitchen walls means we need to fix up the furniture.  New chair covers means new floors are needed.  The list is endless.  So perhaps I shouldn’t be bragging about a new roof.  I can’t afford all the subsequent projects.

FAQ EL Nino Planning based on ADs

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “FAQ.”

Today is El Nino Ad day in the local paper.  Full of great advice on how to prepare for the storm events of the century.  Biggest rain event in 20 years.  “The best time to plant in Decades” screams the ad. Giant 4 page ad-we plant now and you pay later.  12 Months-No Interest.  Monster Back Yard Pack of Maximum Curb Appeal Pack.  For 9,999 plus another 8.5% in taxes, you can get 2 giant trees, 3 blockbuster trees, 12 huge trees, and 36 big shrubs of choice.  And another 100 dollars to have them delivered.  Sounds like a bargain.  Sign me up today.

Now like all FAQ’s the real questions are not answered.  How does the #1 Selling Indian Laurel actually do it’s work.  Is it a his or her?  How does one addrees a tree?  Obviously this tree has lots of helpers–a chauffer, extra sales staff.  I want to see this number 1 seller in action.  Do you think if I called, they would tell me when this tree is working or lie about hours.  Come on down, this tree is always there.

And then there are the difficulty of choosing.  If there are thousands of olive trees and each tree is a work of art, how does one choose?  Locally grown, is that like farm to table schemes.  Caan I get olives from this work of art?  So many  choices, so little time.  And the rains are coming.

Thor’s hammer

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A True Saint.”

In 300 years, if you were to be named the patron saint of X, what would you like X to be? Places, activities, objects — all are fair game.

I don’t want to be a saint, Saints don’t have any fun.  Instead they have horrible trials while alive and usually have horrible deaths.  Often they are part of a war. I’ll take living well now instead, thank you very much.

Speaking of wars,, we win the weather wars.  Its only 72 degrees at 7 am; but it feels much hotter.  That’s because we have no rain, but 99 percent humidity.  It’s fantastically horrible–walk outside and get covered in water.  But no rain.  And we don’t have a roof on the house.  It was supposed to be replaced by the end of the week.  Such is life for the truly deserving.

Speaking of the truly deserving, someone in Venice Beach was able to recreate Thor’s Hammer. You know that giant block of magical metal, only those who are worthy can manage to pick it up.  And almost no one is worthy.  Check out the video.  It made me laugh.  Perhaps that guy should be considered the saint.

http://www.cnet.com/news/engineer-builds-working-thors-hammer-only-he-can-lift/

A Perfect Egg Sandwich

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Saved by the Bell.”

Tell us about a time when you managed to extract yourself from a sticky situation at the very last minute.

It’s hot and sticky here, with no sign of the weather breaking into a more normal pattern.  Changing air pressure last night left me with a sinus headache, only partially beginning to clear up when I heard Bob making me breakfast.  It was that scrap, scrap, scrap of burnt toast that alerted me to the advent of a perfect egg sandwich. He’s learning to cook my style.

I can make an excellent soufflee, pull together a 20 course dinner for 12, and love cooking.  But I’ve never been able to make a simple grilled sandwich.  I always manage to burn them badly on side.  And thus, the sound of scrap, scrap, scrap is one well known in my house.  My girls will remember the mantra “always check the back side of your sandwich” in my house.  That’s because it usually had been burned and scraped.  Well now that Bob does most of the hard core cooking, it’s interesting to see he’s picking up a couple of my habits like burning the toast with the last of the bread.

Just today there was an article in the washington post about inequality.  Evidently the rich do get better breakfast sandwiches than normal.  Of course the price is 4 times the normal price, but if your rich who cares.  But the important thing is they don’t get the sandwiches made with love like mine.  Yes it got scrapped and I had to cut off the burnt edge, but it was delicious.  The perfect meal for a hot day.

Music for diets

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Papa Loves Mambo.”

What sort of music was played in your house when you were growing up? What effect, (if any) did it have on your musical tastes?

Right now I need something livey,  Boom da Boom — lots of drums, some guitar or keyboard, a bit of brass, and a lot of jive.  It’s morning…early morning and I have little fun planned for the day.  Of course work is always fun, tons and tons of fun.  And then there is the diet challenge; have to get started on that and today is as good as any day.

My mom sent two books — the Martha Beck “The Four-Day Win” and Ian Smiths “Shred: Revolutionary Diet”.  Martha Beck’s first chapter has a depressing title “Why are you So Damn Fat?”  There are lots of  exercises and mental games.  Her first real exercise is to write down a daily goal, no snarkiness allowed.  It is supposed to be measurable.  Here’s mine “I want the red pants to fit more comfortably” as a long term goal and “To eat vegtables at dinner, even if I have been eating them all day long” as my short term goal.   Reading farther, it says take what I call a serving of vegtables, cut it in half and then cut it in half again.  Now I can easily achieve that goal and have to set a daily reward.  And a 4 day reward for making it four days in a row.  I’ll have to think about those rewards, something fun for the day.

It’s like the goal I set myself this year– do more exercise.  And every week where I have three exercise sessions, I get to have an art lesson.  This mantra is well known at work.  There I have a crew helping me get the exercise. It works.  I’ve been taking painting and drawing lessons all year long.  So perhaps this diet goal might work.  Perhaps a 4 day goal is playing with some different art supplies or getting some new music.  I have a huge wish list of music I want for my library.

Now Shred is a complex diet book.  Lots of basic small meals all day long, very strict guidelines about what can be in the meals.  They only allow 1 cup of coffee per day, I don’t know why.  But that makes it hard to make it past the first day.  So perhaps, I’ll leave Shred for tomorrow morning.   Today I want my second cup of coffee.  It helps me think.  And perhaps some good tunes although this morning, the natural sounds are wonderful.  I can hear birds singing.  The kids at the local elementary school are about to have the bell ring. But at the moment there are shreiks of joy and clanks from playground equipment.  Traffic sounds, might hear the train horns in 15 minutes.

How does all this diet stuff have to do with music from when I was a child.  Well my musical education really began when I became an adult and was able to start collecting my own music.  Being broke, my favorite place to buy CD’s was from the junk stores and garage sales.  Eclectic taste in music — Jazz, Rageea, Rock and Roll, Classical, Musicals, Stories, and more.  Joined a mail – order music club and found by waiting for sales and buying 20 CD’s at a time it cost the same as buying 5 single CD’s.  I sampled, experimented, and learned to love many different genres.  With the advent of podcasts and streaming music servers, my library has grown exponentially.   And with this diet, I can also experiement, sample, and learn some new skills.  Perhaps even loose some weight; but more importantly to me become healthier.   We will see how it goes.  I might even get the new Omnia album as a reward.

Not a candy store

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Life’s a Candy Store.”

You get to be a 6-year-old kid again for one day and one day only — plan your perfect 24 hours. Where do you go, what do you do, and with whom?

Damn, wish I was a kid where the only concern was visiting the candy store.  Instead I’m at home listening to a police helicopter circle somewhere really close.  What they are saying is inintelligible except “call 911” the emergency number.  Don’t they have someone on the ground who can radio back that the helicopter message is unitelligible, give the mike to Barbara or Joe or whoever else is sitting in that helicopter?  The dog is barking, we brought her inside.  The garage door is closed.  There is nothing else we can do about this undefined terror circling the skys and presumably running around in the neighborhood.  Wish I was six years old.  It’s been a shitty day.

Over the last few days, I’ve learned some new torture techhniques.  Thought the worst thing was my co-worker would be sick and I have to do it’s (not his or her) work. And get blamed for being late.  Actually had some bets–a can of coke–on that very scenario. I lost the bet, my co-worker showed up to do it’s job.   But I’m on the hook waiting for results.  Friday (an off day), sunday, monday, and even this morning.  Did I mention the deadline was last week. Nope, that doesn’t matter when torture is the subject.  Although IT seems to consider that IT did a favor by giving me a couple extra days of unexpected work.  And unfortunately, IT is right, I am taking advantage of a flexable workspace to take a trip.  Guess that means an apology tomorrow.  Damn, I am not ready to apologize for losing my temper. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll be in a better mood. If not, then definitely next week.

And I am getting an unexpected but welcome holiday from this exercise.  On Thursday, Bob and I are going to visit my parents.  Why–to make a new table with some huge oak slabs they have.  Sounds like fun.  Only this was a busy weekend, so we have social events, table making, a few more social events, a few more beautiful houses to visit, and even brunch one morning.  Sounds like a difficult schedule; I may have trouble adding in some art.  What a hardship, I can hear you all sighing with disapointment.  But my mom is promising social events, house beautiful tours, dinners, drinks, and brunches.  My dad talks about bits and routers, plywood, boxes, tables, and woodworking.  Both of them talk about cruises since we all are going to France next year for a cruise.  Hurrah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  So that is my perfect 24 hours or even 12 months–daydreaming about a trip to France.  I am very lucky and happy.

Now this post was supposed to be from the viewpoint of a six year old kid.  That’s too far in the past for me.  Can’t do that.  But I am happy as an unexpected holiday from work and an unexpected visit to my parents.  Sort of like being in a candy store.  I’ll get to see those I love, do lots of fun things, and perhaps even get to do some art.  All that makes me happy, better than the candy store where the sweetness only lasts for as long as the candy.

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Modern Hunk drinking coffee

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Home Turf.” Name five things in your house that make it a home.

Some of the  things that make my house a home include

• Modern Hunk sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee
• more coffee for me
• cats and dogs lying around
• photos and momentos of kids, life, and vacations
• books on almost any imaginable topic
• An open garage door inviting the world into my kitchen
• a bag of art supplies sitting on table next to me.

The list seems fairly self explanatory..a  home for me starts with the occupants,  good food and drink, and a chance to play.  Modern hunk is the mainstay of my life.  He’s everything good — love, companionship, and joy.  He makes me laugh.  Provides order in my world where chaos rules.  And that goes beyond clean and neat into making me focus on projects and remember the important things.  Of Hunkiness goes without question.  I’ve always thought he is the most attracttive man in any room.

And all the pets.  We get endless hours of amusement with the pets.  Cats and dogs and thier needs demanding attention.  Sophie is the worst.  Unless it’s time for her morning constitutional outside, she stays about 2 feet away from me at all times.  She even gets up and follows me around the house.  If at night, I am sleeping outside and decide to come inside, she comes too.  And then her first task is clearing the bed of all other pets.  “Charlie, get up and go sleep somewhere else.  Sally, what are you thinking, sleeping on this bed–I am here.  And Elly, don’t even think about getting near me.”  Amazingly enough, the other animals obey her.

And thene there is the stuff of life.  Right now, I am looking at an early picture of my three girls hanging on the front of the china cabinet.  Inside, you see the set of fancy dishes Bob got for me as a special present.  We use those once or twice a year for special occasions.  I did take them up to Los Angeles when we cooked a special dinner for my parents 50th wedding anniversary along with my silver set from Grandfather Lohmann, pots and pans, and a huge cake that Kate made.  Unfortunately the frosting started slipping so we bought a bunch of small roses and covered all the messy frosting.  YOu can also see a seal my dad brought me from Sweden when I was a little girl and he was doing business travel and a cat my parents brought me from Russia this summer.  That cat is beautiful, I want to put it on display.  Unfortunately the first time we put it out, Charlie thought that was a new toy and knocked it onto the counter.  Not damaged by it’s fall, we immediately put it into the cabinet of precious stuff to be used somewhere.

Precious is not a measure of financial value.  The hundred year goblets may have some monetary value, but they don’t have the memories of great afternoons the two clay and latte painted dragons hold.  Right now I use those dragons as centerpieces during fancy dinners.  And the glasses, I store for Kate who wants to use them in the future to make her own memories.  When they break, she knows to mourn their loss by remembering the joy they brought.  After all, the next big earthquake could come today; shattering everything in a matter of seconds.  Better to enjoy these objects while we can.

I could go on about all those other objects in the list, but you probably have an idea of what’s important in my life already.   But more importantly, it’s time for me to go to work.  Even thought I want one more cup of coffee enjoyed with modern hunk, duty calls.  And thus like a toddler, I go to work while having an internal temper tantrum “I don’t want to go, I want to stay and play”.  It is just like the days where I hated leaving my girls at day care.  I would stand and wait outside the front door of the daycare place and listened to my girls screams turn into laughter as they adjusted to the changes of the day.  It was the process of changing that upset them, not the daycare itself.  And so, I go off to work whinning and settle down to do a job that is reasonably interesting and pays enough for me to maintain our lifestyle while saving a little bit extra.

I have not become my parents, but….

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “I’ve Become My Parents.”

I have not become my parents, but I get along much better as an adult than as a teenager with them.  In fact, I even enjoy their company and look forward to our too few visits every year.  It has taken literally years to reach this state, but the rewards have been vast.  In fact, I just agreed to participate in a joint diet with my mom.   Don’t know anything about it, mom will send me the book this week and we can start next week.  Goal is to get fitter and slimmer for another european vacation next october.  Mom wants to go crusing in southern France and visit a truffle farm.  Of course I said yes.   Europe is fantastic, I’ll come visit anytime.  And if lucky someday, I might even get to live there for a while.

Anyway, back to the diet which includes lots of pyschological tricks, games, and other mental gryations.   It will be an interesting challenge.  But since I don’t really know the rules, want to propose a few ground rules of my own.

1.  No Scales.

The purpose of this diet is to make our selves healthier for a european vacation. So lets pick something that actually measures health.  First thing I suggest is finding a pair of pants that are bit tight.  Success is when these pants fit well.  Second is adding some exercise.  So we add a couple easy stretches, two pushups, five sit ups a day.  And then over time, we increase it.  Success can easily be measured by doubling the number of daily pushups or adding a new exercise.  Each of us gets to choose our own set of initial exercises.

2.  Cheating

It’s OK to cheat once a week.  And no one has to confess to cheating.   I don’t even want to define what cheating means, but I’ll know it when I do it.

3.  Measuring progress.

We measure progress on a weekly or bi-weekly basis.  That means trying on those damned tight pants and seeing how they do.  Record how many push-ups or whatever one is doing.  Mom–do you think we have to share these figures?

4.  Terminology

I don’t to hear the word diet, deprivation, or denial.  Lets focus on the positive words like adjusting portions or adding in healthy behaviors.   Yeah, I know, it seems petty to worry about the words. but that makes me happy.  I can live in denial and focus on the positive.  It’s soft of like when I tell myself that reading 100’s of line of code is fun.  A challenge, a puzzle to figure out what that code is doing.  Or like the day the air conditioning broke at work and I kept reminding myself we were adopting the european fashions on airconditioning.  Although to be honest, I would really like a compromise between the two settings.  80 degrees in the office is hot.  But 68 or even 70 degrees is too cold.

And with these conditions….let the diet competition begin.

I am an Idiot (Other Incident) Sailing Adventures

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Mountaintops and Valleys.”

Describe a time when you quickly switched from feeling at the top of the world to sinking all the way down (or vice versa). Did you learn anything about yourself in the process?

Last week it was hot, so hot even the dogs and cats didn’t want to move.  Bob and I attempted to escape the heat by going sailing.  Got some lovely pictures that I’ll share below.  Intersting thing about the heat, when the sun would go behind a cloud, the wind stopped.  This made the bay really flat, perfect for paddling.  I did mention this was a sailboat, not a paddleboat.  But it turns out they are small enough that paddling is not too bad a chore.   In one harbor, there is a houseboat parked there.  I can’t imagine it’s see worthy.  On one trip we got to see an aircraft carrier returning to base.  We even got a personal visit from the escorting navy ships telling us which way to go–backwards because the carrier was much bigger.

Altought we both felt like ignorant sailors, I managed to earn the idiot award after returning to dock.  The Convair Sailing Club has a blue box on shore where members can check out dock keys.  These keys are essential for gettng down to the docks, checking out a boat, and then leaving the docks.  Only while Bob was washing the boat, I was busily locking the keys in the checkout box.  Yep, we got stuck on the docks.  And thus Bob had to go up, beg someone to let him out of the dock area, retrieve a new key, go back down to the boat area, and retrieve the locked key.  Yep, I won the idiot award.

Enjoy the photos.  Me, I’m going to enjoy a lovely breakfast at Allen’s Alley which just arrived.                                                                                                                                                                                            

I am an idiot

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “These Horns Were Made for Tooting.”

Today, share something you love about yourself — don’t be shy, be confident! — but that few other people know about you or get to see very often.

And last night I won the Idiot Ale award.  Unfortunately we didn’t have an actual bottle of that beer around to celebrate my idiot status.  Learned something new…..What you ask was that?  Well let me tell you.

Yesterday,  I left my lights on all day long.  And as expected in the evening, my car would not start.  Of course, I had been hopeful that the car would start and hadn’t even realized that the lights had been on.  Yep, Idiot time for the second time in a week.  You’ll learn about the first case when I post the sailing pictures.  That’s another story so back to the car.  It wouldn’t start.  And that meant walking back to my desk on the second floor in the middle of a huge building.

First found a co-worker to look up the building address.  My computer was off and it takes about 30 minutes to get them started and ready for use, so using a co-worker for research was important.  He didn’t know how to find the building address on our company website, so he learned something.  Called AAA, they told me that someone could be there in 30 minutes.  Found another co-worker to look up security’s phone number.  He convinced me to cancel the Auto Club service call because he would give me a jump start.

Trotteed back outside in the rain.  Had I mentioned that it was raining during this entire experience.  Anyway, had to push my car into the middle of the parking lot driving lane so his jumper cables could reach both car batteries.  Guess what–it didn’t work.  Nope, my car wouldn’t start.  So I left the car with hood up blocking the road in the back parking lot and trooped back upstairs to my office.  Called AAA for the third time and said that they should bring a battery since the jump didn’t start my car.  Called Security and got told under no circumstances should I let the tow truck operator into the back parking lot.  Since I don’t want any security violations on my record, I agreed.  They promised to send someone over by 7:50 pm.  And I went outside to wait.  Did I mention that I did not have a cell phone, so there was no way for anyone to contact me or me to contat them without trooping back upstairs to the middle of a big building.

Waited 30 minutes in the rain before the auto club jump start service arrived.  Security person was a no-show. The auto club guy agreed to wait while I trooped back upstairs and called security.  He was happy, it gave him a chance to eat his lunch at 8 pm at night. And it turns out that security had walked to the back, missed seeing my car with the open hood in the middle of the driving lane and thought I had left. So he left.  Eventually all was sorted out and the AAA guy was able to come help start my car.

Last wrinkle.  Car starts, but my battery is no good.  Was told that my car would not start again, so don’t stop until I get home.  But I needed gas. However both the security guy and the Auto Club roadside service guy assured me it would be OK to put in gas with the car running.  I did it and nothing burned down.  And thus I learned something new.  And this morning, I get the joy of being a mechanic in about 10 minutes.  Time to take out the battery, troop down to the auto parts shop, and get a new one.  Thank goodness, Bob has a working car.

And that folks, is how I won the idiot award last night.

Getting Old Sucks

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Doubters Alert.”

It’s horrible getting old. Most of the time, it’s not that bad, and then whammo, something big reminds me that I am not as strong, healthy, or nimble as a 30 year old.  Not even asking to be as nimble as a teenager, even reaching the early 40’s might be OK.  This weekend, I went and looked at a piece of property.  Fascinating four acres in Vista, it was an old bible camp in the 1930’s.  Three rental units, one was the parish hall and the other was a house divided into a duplex of 3 bedroom, 1 bath rentals.  Plus a stand along garage, an 800 square foot stand alone chapel, six 300 square feet cabins, a building pad, and a shared bathroom unit for the cabins at the top of a hill.  Lots of Oak trees, lovely old bridges, a dry stream bed, and incredible vegetation.  At the top of the hill, one could build a house with views of the pacific ocean and Palomar mountain.  Sounds wonderful except….

This piece of land is steep, really really steep.  It’s like going down to the Yuba river.  So you step off the 10 feet behind the house and descend about 50 feet on 60% slope.  Other side is a bit gentler, but not much.  And I can’t walk on the trails.  I am too old and my knees hurt too much.  It would be foolishness to buy the place.  And that’s why I choose this bottle of beer for tonight.  IDIOT IPA–the perfect drink for someone who wants to do something stupid.

Charlie and the Cone

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Inside the Bubble.”

A contagious disease requires you to be put into quarantine for a whole month (don’t worry, you get well by the time you’re free to go!). How would you spend your time in isolation?

In cat years, Charlie spent about a month in isolation with that cone.  Although it was only one week the King of the macrame, Charlie, terrorized the house with the cone.  Of course, most of the terror was watching him bump into things as he learned to walk, jump, and eventually run with this cone.  It didn’t garner him any special status with the other cats; Sally still controlled the food bowl and Sophie bossed him around like normal.  Pills twice a day, hot compresses on the chin, and other indignities were suffered daily by both Charlie and Bob.  It turns out that coating a pill with butter makes it easier to shove it down a cats throat.  There was one benefit for Charlie, every time there were indignities he would get some extra special food.   Lovely mouse or rat sized  lumps of tuna, chicken, and other delicacies delighted our housebound cat.

Well I am pleased to announce that Charlie no longer has a cone.  Like a male stripper, Charlie is showing an inordinante amount of skin.  Setting a new fashion, Charlie is strutting the bare look neck which has a ruffle down along the collar line.  Not having the cone is useful for this trash digging cat, he can now stick his head and half his body into the kitchen trash without knocking it over.  Here he is, strutting his new skin look.

Now seeing that skin reminds me about my dragon cats.  The one in the long standing novel where the first 200 pages written were supremely boring.  Written like a technical manual with no dialog or character development, I am now starting over.  It means teaching myself how to write dialog and add human interest to the story.  And I am finally learning how to draw the dragon cat.  Here’s my first successful sketch.  All I need to do is change that bare skin of Charlies neck into some scales and he’s on his way to a new modeling career as the archtype of a dragon cat.  Think what fun a cat about the size of a golden retriever, with opposable claws, wings, and a bit more intelligence could do.  No door would stop them, so it’s free range time in the refridgerator.  And hunting became a lot easier when they can swoop down on unsuspecting prey.

Back to School Shopping, So Cal Style

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Decisions, Decisions.”

How are you more likely to make an important decision — by reasoning through it, or by going with your gut?

Ah, the beginning a of a new school year and with it, the all important back to school shopping.  Must be in style, must not show fear, must have the essentials, must not be nervous at a new school.  The list goes on forever.  Against that backdrop of emotion, Kate and I went back to school shopping–after all she is now a college student; independent and free.

We started that adventure searching for a cell phone store.  One small bit of water, a bit of frantic drying, and the black screen of doom appeared on her samsung galaxy phone.  Smart phones are one of the essentials for a college student or any younger person (that is younger than 30 years old).  Shop one didn’t even know if they repaired smart phones.  Shop two, the phone is dead, can I sell you a new one.  Great deal, will only last until monday at prices never to be seen again.  Shop three, success, they fix smart phones.  Waterdamage treatment, 45 dollars if it works, 20 dollars if it doesnt.  Phone call an hour later, no water damage only a dead lcd screen.  130 dollars to fix.

Having finished with the first back to school essential, onward brave shoppers.  But first we need to stop for substance.  It’s hard work shopping in the high heat of San Diego.  We are wimps here, not used to 98 degrees with 80 percent humidity.  Give us back our perfect weather of 85 degrees with 45 percent humidity in the summer.  I want my nice cool summer days and lovely warm winter days.  The only cure is a burrito.  Two lovely rice and bean burritos, green salsa; eaten in the coolness of a local taco dive called Juanitas.

With full stomachs, on to the next shopping task, Shoes.  Head over to the birkenstock store, buy two pairs–one for mother and one for daughter.  Not matching, Kate’s don’t have backstraps.  Me, I have to have the backstraps.  Dress code at work demands all shoes have one.  Plus we have different colors.  Kate got dark brown, I got light brown.

So how do we make decisions here?…definetly with the gut.  Burritos were the most important  part of the So Cal Back To School Shopping process.

King of the Macrame

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Only Sixteen.”
Tell us all about the person you were when you were sixteen. If you haven’t yet hit sixteen, tell us about the person you want to be at sixteen.

Well Charlie is about 3 years old which in Cat Years means he is about sixteen.  And like a teenager, he has unbridled enthusiasm and the ability to get into many interesting scenarios.  Not all of them are good.

We went away for the weekend, leaving three cats locked in the house under the care of a neighbor.  Three bored cats including one teenager who was mad he could not go outside and patrol the yard.  What do bored cats do–they squabble and fight.  And Charlie lost.  We came home to find  a cyst growing on his neck.  Anywhere else on his body and this cyst would have exploded. But it turns out cats have extra thick skin at the neck because they fight.  And his cyst did not explode.

Probably a good thing since it would have imploded inside, leading to an even bigger vet bill.  750 dollars for surgery was not in my budget for the month.  Ouch.  We will be watching expenses.  Anyway Charlie left in the morning, a cat with a big swollen lump on his neck and came home a cat with tube under his chin and a cone around his head.  But that doesn’t stop him from doing all the important things like begging for milk in the morning or ensuring my macrame strings are all tangled together.

A friend told me a story about his two cats.  The bigger one, Fluffy used to terrorize the smaller cat Plato.  Then Plato had surgery and came home with a cone.  Big terrifying cone, Fluffy was scared.  And from that day onwards, the balance of power had changed in my friends house.  Plato was in charge.  Now I don’t think that is going to happen in my house.  Sally has always been a big scary cat that takes no guff from anyone.  If she wants to be first for food, she gets first eating rights.  And Sophia is crazy.  Even the dog is terrified of her.  But Charlie, he is king of the macrame and he’s going to spend his day defending it and sleeping upon it.  Even I won’t be allowed to work with those strings.

Charlie’s perfect day

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Lucky Star.”

Today is your lucky day. You get three wishes, granted to you by The Daily Post. What are your three wishes and why?

Today was my lucky day.  Can’t believe how great it was.  Early in the day, I caught a hummingbird.  Oh, that was fun.  Plus the bird tasted delicious, there is nothing like a freshly caught bird snack early in the day.

Then dinner arrived.  And Sally didn’t want her tuna.  Stupid cat, but all the more for me.  I love tuna.  Actually I love dinner.  Have not yet found a dinner that I don’t like.  But Tuna, now that is one of my favorite meals.

Time for a great nap outside.  All the humans are there eating dinner.  Maybe after my nap, they will share that delicious food.  Here’s to dreaming about it.

Sports Bra Advice and other matters

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: Well I never…

Tell us about something you’ve done that you would advise a friend never to do.

First and most important piece of advice: If you sprain your ankle or knee and need to use crutches, don’t wear a sports bra during the first few days.

Your arms will hurt so much that you consider cutting the damm bra off instead of lifting it over your head.  In fact, don’t even bother with a bra, the crutches keep hitting the bands on the side of your chest and cause rubbing.  Instead go for double layers in shirts.

Yep, I’ve been using crutches again for the last few days.  Nothing too serious–slipped and fell on the kitchen floor, spraining my knee.  First day needed the crutches, the second day sort of needed them, and today, the third day, they are my stupid insurance.  You know, the thing that keeps me from doing something stupid like wobbling while walking and really hurting myself badly.

Which leads to the second important piece of advice:  When asked what happened, use only two words “Bar Fight”.

Great answer for everything.  Much better story than the truth, who wants to hear you slipped on a puddle of water in the kitchen.  Makes people laugh and you laugh with them.  And might just raise your street credibility, although in my case I am not sure about that.  People look at me and basically say or think “Right” with a very sarcastic tone.  I mean it could have happened.

Its been one of those weeks where things go askew in very different directions from the basic plans.  Oh well, blame it all  on hormones.  On monday at work, I almost burst into tears when the dammed computer system would not respond.  It was taking too long to find all the network drives.   On tuesday morning, I did break into tears when my pc at home would not find an storage drive.  Decided at that point to take the day off work and go out with my family.  I was not in fit shape to handle the woes of work.

Instead went to Balboa Park to visit museums.  It was free tuesday for the museum of man and the art museum.  Long lines to get into these institutes, but fun.  They are nice, small, and only take an hour to visit even with big crowds.  I can’t imagine paying 12-15 dollars per museum, its a lot of money per person for a small visit.  But the day was great a good restoretive.  I needed that because the rest of the week has been challenging.  First the knee injury and then my annual review at work.

I have defintely gone into dilbert land.  Last february, was told that I was not qualified for a new job that might open up because I didn’t have the title of Lead on my Resume.  Yesterday, I got told that the LEAD position was on grade below my engineering grade and that I didn’t want the job becausee I would have be downgraded.  Which applies–I don’t know.  Doesn’t matter because obviously one manager doesn’t want me in the job.

Plus I got a shitty mid year review.  It doesn’t matter if one is the most productive and doing lots of extra stuff beyond the basic job.  Since I did that last year, it is now expected and part of my job.  Therefore I am barely “meeting expectations”.  But if I had been doing nothing and then started doing something, then I could have the ranking of “exceeding expectations”.  Doesn’t matter anyway, we have a ranking system where everyone gets a 3 out 5 on the final review.  If I were to get a 4 or 5 (godlike or walks on water type review); the company would have to pay me a bonus.  No one has gotten a bonus over the last couple of years, even when they do fantastic things.  And if a person gets a 1 or 2 (totally screwing up or at least doing very badly) the managers get punished and have to do lots of paperwork.  So even those who deserve low scores get a 3.

And that gives me freedom to totally not worry about reviews and scores.  No matter what I do, as long as I do a half decent job, I get a three.  Hurrah.  And that gives me freedom to concentrate on sculptures, art, and writing.  Those are fun things that really make me happy.  The comic strip Luann expressed that perfectly.  So to end this post with a laugh, I give you “Luann”

http://www.gocomics.com/luann

The forces of chaos

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Clean Slate.”

Explore the room you’re in as if you’re seeing it for the first time. Pretend you know nothing. What do you see? Who is the person who lives there?

Looking at my kitchen table, the following items can be seen

• watercolor pencils, brushes, some half finished drawings
• a package of wate color coloring post cards
• a check on top of which are a pen and a paint brush
• a small square bowl with pencil shavings
• one pair of spiral wood earings
• 2 boxes of earrings and jewelry
• a strange wooden stand
• a movie — the princess bride
• bottles of cleaning supplies
• reading glasses
• paper towls
• a bag of oregano
• napkins
• headphones
• two tablets
• two cups of coffe, now empty
• two candle stick holders — one with a few small pieces of wax and another with a half burned candle.

As you continue looking around the room, the same eclectic collections of stuff can be seen.  Tools on the kitchen counter next to a small brass pipe and a potato, a jar of milk next to the coffee pot.  The kitchen is the center of our world, the place where everyone hangs out, talks, eats, does their projects.  Even the cats and dogs hang out here, the dog hopeful that a piece of breakfast bacon will fall on the floor.

And so, the table becomes a repository for half finished projects.  A snapshot into the clutter that is my life.  Bob tries to keep things clean and simple, but the forces of chaos are too strong.  And perhaps that’s the way it should be.  There is only a limited amount of time for play while the shoulds, coulds, and ought to’s constantly pile up screaming “I have to be done” and “Do me now”.  Instead, I pick up the earrings and put them on, the spirals and wood grounding me for a day a work.  I look a the wooden table base that needs sanding.  Saturday will be here in a couple of days and just maybe I can finish that table.  With help from Bob.

A pager, roll up windows, or ?

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Going Obsolete.”

Going Obsolete
Of all the technologies that have gone extinct in your lifetime, which one do you miss the most?

A pager?  My life for a pager?  Never had one and they were gone before I knew it.  Of course, it was like a jail sentence for those who had one. So it must be something else that I miss.

Roll up windows with an actual handle?  Those were handy, if the windows were left down during a rainstorm, it was easy to roll them back up without the keys.  And they didn’t break in the same nasty way modern window controls do.  That’s a good candidate for missing the most. But there has to be something more.

Printed books.  Now that is a big thing.  I love printed books.  While it is nice to get a book instantly by downloading, there are many problems with our e-books.  Browsing is not much fun, the ability to find something totally different when you don’t even know what you want or whats available is lost.  No more visiting the bookstore on a Saturday afternoon looking for something new.  Search algorithms give you more of the same, over and over again.  Pages and Pages of crummy reccomendations.  And that old standby — a friend handing you a book with the words “I think you will like this one” doesn’t happen anymore.  So I stopped reading for pleasure.  But that’s good for the art projects.  More time to work on painting and sculptures.  So it must be something else I miss the most.

I think my choice for the technology I will miss the most is an IPOD classic.  That classic device which holds 120 or more gigabytes of music, stories, and italian love lingo lessons.  It was almost the perfect device and they killed it.  Not enough money.  Someday, I dream that a replacement will be made.  Pono I’m watching your reviews.  Perhaps you will grow up and become the replacement for my beloved IPOD classic when it dies.  Easy to use, preferably without ITUNES software, holds tons of music, and great quality sound.   A market that Apple abandoned when they killed the IPOD classic.

Celebration Aftermath — Elly Eats a Thong

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Celebrate Good Times.”

You receive some wonderful, improbable, hoped-for good news. How do you celebrate?

Ok, we’ve done nothing but celebrate for the last 2 months.  4 Graduations, 3 Birthdays, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Solstice, New Jobs, Vacations (for at least some in the family), Planetary Conjunctions, Juneteenth, and more general life.  I am all partied out.  It’s been exhausting, wonderful, and overwhelming.  Lots of Angst, Life Changes, and Drama.  But surprisingly very few tantrums, issues, or meltdowns.  So when the two youngest adults (AKA grown up kids) left on vacation today, it’s not surprising we have a meltdown.

This time it was Bob and Ellly.  He got worried over a hot spot.  And righty so, when the vet called it “Cellulitis, a Dog Bacteria  Skin Infection”; we both got scared.  After all, that was a disease that one year ago made me terribly sick.  Almost a month off work, all because of a baterial infection related to the skin eating diseases.  Evidently not that scary in dogs–steroid shot, antibiotics, a skin ointment, an elizabethan collar, and lots money later; the dog is home feeling miserable.   She hates the collar.  But the vet promises she will feel better tomorrow.

Now why the title you ask?  While waiting at the vets, Bob sent his daughters a text “We are at the vets.  Elly has apparently eaten a bright pink victoria’s secret thong.  They will have to operate to remove it”.  Several frantic texts later, the message to the girls was “Vet was able to remove thong with long tongs, no operation needed”.  Don’t know if the girls believed it or not, but there was some frantic texting over a couple hour period.  For the record, There was NO THONG and NO OPERATION.

So here are a few photos of Elly in her misery.  In the first photo, Bob holds Elly why the vet’s assistant checks her temperature.  Second photo, Bob has gone to check out some kittens in the lobby.  They are very cute, but Elly does not approve of him leaving.  She watches forlornly through the door.  In the last photo, Elly has come home and is laying in the living room with Bob. 

  

  

Welding a new house

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “If I Had a Hammer.”

If you could learn a trade — say carpentry, electrical work, roofing, landscaping, plumbing, flooring, drywall — you name it — what skill(s) would you love to have in your back pocket?

Interesting this prompt appeared today, because yesterday I was wondering about welding and using a torch on metal.  Specifically, building a house from shipping containers.  A single container, 10 feet by 40 feet and 12 feet high costs about 2000 dollars or perhaps as cheap as 1000 dollars if in poor shape.  Buy several of these containers, stack them artistically, and you suddenly have the foundation for a very sturdy house.  But the house needs doors, windows, and walls.  And that means cutting holes and welding various walls together. All this can be done with fire — hot torches to cut the holes and melt metals together.  Sounds like fun; the ultimate playing with matches experience.

Or perhaps I should learn how to make a house out of straw.  They are supposed to be great for the desert–lovely thick walls holding out the heat of the day and the cold of the night.  Then I need to become a drywall and stucco expert.  Making beautiful walls with wonderful ledges for sitting and sleeping upon.  Places where one can watch the world or grow a garden of plants.  Built in nooks for storage.  All of this with wonderful wooden floors and high wooden beams in the ceiling.  A courtyard in the middle with big porches, like the classical mission and hacienda style from early spanish and mexican settlers in california.

Why a new house when I have a perfectly fine house already?  I want a house where I can see the stars at night, especially the milky way.  Yeah, I can see some stars although the number is far less than out in the country like my mother and dad’s home.  Its a city view of the stars, one or two peaking through the clouds; the ones bright enough to stand out against all that light from the neighbors.   I want a complex, a place where I can have friends and family come stay for months at a time and yet still have privacy.  I want an art studio with spaces for storage, a room dedicated to messy projects, and a place to show off my work.

Or maybe I stay where I am and become a scupltor.  Fill the yard with bronze statues.  A dragon cat and a giant mouse big enough for kids to climb.  Smaller fountains and hidden animals under Bob’s garden.  Learn to cast concrete statues and cover them with mosaics like Queen Califa’s garden in Escondido.  But unfortunately first breakfast and then work call.  So the lovely daydreams need to be put back in the box.  Later I can take them out again and play.

Tomorrow awaits

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Three Letter Words.”

Damm, it is Friday.  That is what my husband tells me.  I so wanted it to be Saturday.  No Work, only play.  Those dreams about lovely activities need to wait until tomorrow.

That damned cat

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Me Time.”

What’s your ideal Saturday morning? Are you doing those things this morning? Why not?

The plan was for an ideal or almost ideal day.  Breakfast in the morning at curbside.  Art class — oilpainting where I get to use color, a friend coming over in the afternoon for power tools extravaganza, and an evening at home with my husband.  And then the damned cat strikes.

Brought home flowers for Bob last night.  We both like them and it was easy since I was at the grocery store anyway.  Since Bob has been feeling a bit under the weather for the last few weeks I’ve gotten in the habit of bringing home something to cook for dinner, then cooking it, and doing the dishes for him.  Flowers are just a nice touch.  I like being able to spoil him occasionaly since he does such a good job taking care of me.

Beautiful not quite blooming flowers looked wonderful on the table last night.  But this morning came out to find that Charlie had been at work.  Knocked over the vase and ate the unopened flowers.  So we won’t get to see them open.   Spilled the water all over my laptop computer.  Hope it is OK.  I’ll find in a couple of days after we let it dry out.  Right now it’s sitting on the table sideways, dripping water from the insides.  That DAMNED CAT.

The day will go on as planned.  Breakfast, Art, Friend over for Tool Making, and a date with Bob tonight.  So a perfect hedonistic day of joy.  Only slightly marred with worry about the computer.  I don’t have a good backup of my stuff and I should since as a software database engineer I know better.  But on the optimistic side, no more water is coming out from the vents, so it will probably be OK.

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Why I want to paint

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Three Perfect Shots.”

Have you ever been at the playground that still has the old fashioned very tall old metal slide, complete with the steep narrow ladder for stairs?  Someday I want to paint that slide covered in kids.  This picture has to be painted.  I am not sure there are even eny slides like this remaining in southern california.  Plus kids are never given the freedom to just swarm all over a big dangerous toy like the metal slide.  They might fall.  And even if I found this scene, probably could not capture all  be able to capture the emotions in a single photo.  Might not even happen with three photos, but I might get closer.

First shot, one kid is climbing up the ladder.  This little boy is terrified, but there is one kid ahead who is excited and several more behind on the ladder.  The little boy cannot go down.  He doesn’t want to go up, but the pressure of more kids behind him forces him to climb.  He knows everyone else can do it and that he should also be able to do it.  He wants to slide, but also doesn’t.  The picture would clearly capture all these clearly conflicting emotions.

Second shot shows one kid sitting on the top about to be pushed down by yet another kid.  This little girl holds tightly onto her stuffed animal which is perched between her legs.  She’s preteding it’s her baby brother or sister that she’s teaching how to slide.  On the slide, there is another little girl shrieking with delight as she flies downward.

The final shot shows kids grouped around the bottom of the slide, picking up a kid who fell on his but.  The kid sitting on the grown has a huge goofy grin on his face.  He survived the slide and it was FUN.  He wants to do it yet again.   And again.  Life is good.

These photos are why I am taking oil lessons.  Not this year, but maybe in another year or two I can paint this picture.   Plus the picture of the two old surfer dudes. Two older guys going to the beach in wetsuits holding thier boards.  But they have the same excited look of a younger men going surfing.  It’s going to be a great afternoon.  Who knows, theose older men may just get the perfect wave which leads to scroing the perfect girl and that might lead to the perfect evenings entertainment.  Wouldn’t it be great to paint those scenes.

ive happy, laugh often, love deeply

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Be the Change.”

This year, my coffee cup says it all – Live happy, laugh often, love deeply. What a great set of goals. I plan to enjoy what I do, both at work and at home. I want to eat less, but savor every bite and enjoy every sip. I want to dance or at least relearn how to dance. I want go out at least once a month on a date with my beloved husband. I also want go out with friends. I want to learn how to use oil paints and continue studying art. I want to see all three of my daughters graduate from their respective programs and start a new lives; probably in new cities with new jobs or schools. Spend time with my parent. Enjoy my animals. Write more. Finally I want to share that passion, love, and joy in life with my family, friends, and others. Here’s wishing the best for a new year.

My Hero, Elly

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “My Hero.”

The one person who is always glad to see me is the Family Dog, Elly, AKA the Family Dog or FD for short.  When I come home from work, she gets so excited.  Runs and picks up her bone before wiggle waggling her way to me.  As she runs, she makes the cutest orrrowwww sounds.  Homecomings can be a bit overwhelming.

But she is my hero for what she does with the family.  She brings joy to everyone.   Its fun to visit the dog parks.  The happy energy felt at the Del Mar Dog beach is amazing and inspiring. It is hard to not feel that joy watching her run with the other animals.  When we go down to that beach, everyone laughs.  What could ever be better than that.

No more twinkles, no more photos

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Twinkle.”

All week I have been waiting for the meaty comment, the thought provoking idea, or the statement that could force me out of a writing funk. But no, no help from the daily post. Instead there are endless sugarry sweet pictures of lights. ARGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

There is only one thing to be done and that is go to work. Yep, spend the day looking at my computer and counting the minutes and seconds until the plant has a holiday shutdown. Only a few more days until the kids get home. Although they are not kids, but young adults. As mom, I always get to call them kids. And this year we have a bonus with one of the girls bringing home a friend. It is so much fun to have a full house.

But bring back the witty comments and pithy challenges. I miss my friend the daily post.

Twinkle

Maggie is winning the blog wars this week

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Ready, Set, Done!.”

Yep, that’s correct; Maggie has won.  3 Posts in 24 hours all well written and interesting on the subject of bugs.  ARGGHHHHH!!!!!!  I can  not keep up.  Essays about identifying flies and working on bug deals.  Could be a great addition to my novel set in a future dystopic society where bugs have become delicacy as well as a collectors item.  Ant farms are passe.  What everyone wants is their own preying mantis pet like Frankie or even more exotic.  Big time deals   similar to the ones we have now for orchids.  Crocodille Dundee (will she even know who this is) characters setting out on expediitions to find the next hot bug.  And hot it might be; everyone will want the fire breathing dragon scorpin at thier house.  2 Feet long, a scorpin enhanced by nano bots to have wings, opposable claws and fire breathing.  Great protection for the house, better than those Great Danes or other attack dogs.  Of course if these critters got free, look out since they have both poison and fire as weapons.  And with oposable claws, they might be able to open the front door.

Link to Maggie’s Blog

The joy of blogging almost daily

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Winning Streak.”

Winning Streak
What’s the longest stretch you’ve ever pulled off of posting daily to your blog? What did you learn about blogging through that achievement, and what made you break the streak?

I have been blogging for the last few years — usually one post every day or two.  Photos, short stories, links, whatever seems interesting to me gets posted.  And I have found joy in the very process of writing.  By blogging, I get to practice telling stories in short small segments.  Fun little things that allow me to conneect with my daughters.  The best response is when one of the kids away at college makes a comment about the blog post; I know I succeded as a writer.

And now even more amazing, I find that other people like writing these blog posts.  Wow!  I never thought of myself as a write while growing up.  And I never had to write while in school.  Being a math/science nerdy geek meant that writing was given a pass at school.  Biggest essay in college was 3 pages about John Muir and I got an A for that paper.  Plus an “excellent” comment from the teacher.

Then I got into grad school.  First class, the teacher said he was going easy on us–2 ten page essays and 1 twenty page paper.  And per other students that was easy.  But I couldn’t do it.  I remember being in tears at the professors office the day before it was due explaining I didn’t know how to write the paper.  He gave me a couple more days.  And another student showed me some tricks, basically breaking a techincal paper into parts.  Introduction, background, research  plan, results, conculsions were needed, each part at least 1 paragraph.  Those three papers got written and I passed the class.  More classes, more writing, and we jump ahead 25 years.

Now I write for a living.   Technically my job title is “Software Engineer Level 5″ tasked with software requirements.  Basically my job is translating pretty picture diagrams of things like engine drawings into something a coder (that is someone who writes code) can understand.  For example: ” When the driver of a car pushes the gas pedal, the car shall move faster” or ” The software shall turn on heaters based on the figure XYZ showing altitude versus temperature bars”

But there is a lot more writing than just those statements.  Descriptive text.  How-to instructions of other co-workers.  Technical descriptions on how the system should work.  Process documentation.  Justifications for decisions made.  Endless amount of writing on things that must be accurate.  Very boring writing, thank goodness someone else has to read my stuff.  I find it a lot more fun to do the writing.

But the writing bug has taken hold and I find a need to write more.  Sewing books (unpublished), short stories (unpublished), novels (unfinished), and blog posts all fulfill an urge to write.  Blog posts have proven to be very rewarding.

Because I primarily write for family in a very broad sense, it makes me happy to post blogs.  And it lets me practice writing skills.  The discipline of writing fifteen minutes or an hour in the morning is very good for developing storying telling skills.  And that becomes a need after a while.

NABLOPOMO was a disappointment.  I don’t like the format for this forum.  Too many posts on one page plus a hard to use posting tool meant that I posted on my blog and occasionally do the daily prompts.  But I am not taking credit at that site.  It just did not seem worth the effort.

The Daily posts are lots of fun.  Small short problems or statements which are intellectually challenging.  A good focus for practicing writing skills.  And some great responses from other authors allow for growth as I compare their responses to mine.  I learn from these posts.  And they can help me break a non-writing streak by providing that focused challenge.

What makes me stop posting for a few days — Life.  Work, too much fun, exhaustion; you can name the excuse.  But what keeps me posting on a regular basis is family and friends.   I like knowing people get enjoyment from my posts. Thank you to everyone who reads my writing.

Easy Answer

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Under the Snow.”

Under the Snow
You were caught in an avalanche. To be rescued, you need to make it through the night. What thought(s) would give you the strength to go through such a scary, dangerous situation?

Family and Desire.  Taking care of my family–the best job ever for me.   And Desire to do so many things.  One day I will get free time to travel, paint, and try new jobs.

Heres a photo that captures family.  Mitzi curled up with my mom.   Extended Family at its best.