Turning the same old pages
What makes a book re-readable? Why are there some books that you can't even get through once and others that you can pick up every few years or so and enjoy every time?

Last night in one of my middle-of-the-night rambles I picked up Dorothy L. Sayers's classic "Have His Carcase," which I've probably read 6 or 7 times -- and started right in. And I'm enjoying it just as much as I always have. Even though it's a mystery and I am completely aware of whodunnit, I'm loving the characters (I'm a sucker for Lord Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane), the setting (a 1930's seaside resort), the crime (body found on a beach) and the wonderful prose. It's incredible how the old familiar favorites can still deliver.

Most of the time I read a book and once is more than enough. But then there are those rare gifts that you can enjoy time and again. Jane Austin. Ms. Sayers. Agatha Christie. Ngaio Marsh. (I know, I'm heavy on the mysteries.) Authors who can get you through even the longest nights (or longest flights) with comfort and joy. Thank heavens for old favorites!

Rome, if you want to
Well, it's official. Husband and I have booked our long-planned cruise. Florence,Rome, Mykonos, Rhodes, Santorini, Istanbul (not Constantinople), Ephesus, Athens, Athens, back to Rome. We can't wait. Thanks to our fairy godfather for the magic. Now we just countdown to October....which gives me plenty of time to feel guilty about leaving Cipher, the World's Most Amazing Cat Screw You if You Don't Agree (tm) for two weeks. Wahhhh! Whattawegonnado about our kitty?

It's all about hate
Husband and I are long-time supporters of The Southern Poverty Law Center, one of the most under-rated and yet most important organizations in the US. Their cause? Ending hate. Hate in all its forms: racism, Nazism, anti-gay movements -- in short, if it's based in hate due to someone's skin color, religion, politics, ethnicity, country of origin, sexual orientation, or gender -- they're there to fight it.

I urge everyone to read their magazine, The Intelligence Report for a bone-chilling, frequently terrifying reality check. The current issue is entitled "The Year in Hate" and it's a eye-opener for those of us who feel safely cushioned from such things here in the beautifully multi-cultural Bay Area of San Francisco. You'll be stunned at how many klan groups there are (155!) (and yes, even in California. There are 7 in the state.) There are 207 neo-Nazi groups in the country (13 in California). And in the "general hate" category, California has 24 -- including groups that are anti-gay, anti-immigrant, Holocaust deniers, radical traditional Catholic, and others.

Many have seemingly innocent sounding names. One of the Holocaust denier groups is called "the Institute for Historical Review." Sounds harmless enough, doesn't it? One of the anti-immigrant groups goes by the name of "Rescue without Borders," which pisses me off as it steals from the wonderful organization "Doctors Without Borders" and sounds like a relief organization.

Other groups don't even bother to deny their affiliations. In the list of active websites we find such distasteful URLs as "adolphthegreat.com" "allwhitedating.com" and "godhatesfags.com" Just typing those leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

So why am I telling you all this? Because I think it's important to remember that hate exists. And that organizations like the SPLC also exist, dedicated to making sure that groups like the klan don't win. As part of an interracial couple, I take this kind of hatred personally and refuse to accept it. If you're looking for a great cause to send a check to, you might want to consider the SPLC. In the meantime, teach love.

On strike
Husband has informed me that I'm not allowed to go to ER for the next week or so. The reason is that the nurses at our "local" are on strike.

Great, for most people their "local" is a nice place to get a drink after work. For me, my "local" is a nice place to get an ER after zarfing for 12 hours.

OK, Husband. I promise to do my best to avoid ER until the nurses come marching home.

In other news I think I've been fired by my acupuncturist. After 2 or 3 really good sessions, a lot more sessions that didn't seem to do anything/much, he's decided that he really can't do anything for me. Boo. He tried something new yesterday and I'm to call him on Monday to report how it worked. Considering that I woke up at 2 am in severe pain and it took 2 vicodin to get me through the next 9 hours, I'd have to say that it didn't. But all is not lost, he shares office space with a massage therapist who is apparently amazing and will refer me to him. Keep your fingers crossed.

Thanks to Mama D for her advice on the Eddie Bauer catalog. I'll check it out. I broke down and dashed into Mervyn's the other day for a new pair of jeans, since I got fed up with having to cinch my old jeans so tight. I bought a size 8 which is still a bit large, but I think they might shrink. Good lord, an 8! I haven't been in single digit clothing since I was in high school -- if then. I looked in the mirror this morning and realize that I've misplaced my butt. If anyone finds it, please put it in the mail. Thanks.

An island of one
Apparently I am the only person in the United States who doesn't need/want to lose weight.

I always knew in the back of my dim mind that the majority of Americans are overweight, but it never really sunk in until I lost weight thanks to the mystery syndrome. Today's doctor's appointment found me tipping the scales at a whopping 119 lbs (and that's wearing jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers!) My doctor gave me the wonderful advice of "eat" and I would love to comply, but I have no appetite and when I do eat, a few bites fills me up. But I'll nibble when I can because I really, really don't want to lose any more weight.

Which puts me firmly in the minority. Turn on the TV and you're bombarded with ads for Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers, and some scary thing called "hoodia." Not to mention Low or no fat diet foods. Non-fat yogurt -- indulgence without the guilt. 100 calorie cookie packets -- indulgence without the guilt. (What a unique slogan!)

How ironic to basically have free reign to have cookies if I want -- and yet not want them. Oh the humanity! Many's the day I'd have given anything to know I could have a hot fudge sundae without feeing guilty but now that I can -- well, I just can't.

R.I.P. Paul Scofield
Just a few weeks after watching his Oscar-winning performance in A Man for All Seasons, British actor Paul Scofield has died of leukemia at the age of 86.

I am sad. He's always been one of my favorites. Unfortunately he didn't make many movies, but whenever he appeared on screen he was magic. In his role of the French King in Branagh's Henry V he was a model of subtle power and sadness. There was something so clean about his acting. No frills and yet always believable. I will always regret that I never had the chance to see him on stage.

I drop first, so I don't shop
Thanks to the mystery syndrome, I no longer fit into any of my clothing. Nothing. My jammies fall off me. My jeans have so much extra room I could smuggle something in them. Even my sweats are too big.

I know many people in America would love to have that problem, but the one thing it signifies to me is this: I must go shopping. And oh, how I hate to shop. Bookstores and music stores notwithstanding, the world of retail bores and annoys me. I hate the trying on of clothing. I especially hate how women's clothing is so ridiculously sized compared to men's. Men's clothing, with great logicality, goes by actual measurements. If you know your neck/arm measurement, you can buy a shirt. If you know your waist and inseam, you can buy pants. You might not even have to try things on.

With women's clothing it's a huge crap shoot. Am I a small or medium? A regular or a short? A 10 or a 12? And if I'm a 10 in this line, am I also a 10 in that line? Oh, no, wait, according to this other manufacturer I'm an 8. Everything must be tried on.

I've put off shopping for quite a while now. Firstly because I hate it and secondly because lately I've been too sick to do much of anything except hang around the house all day and envy the cat. But it's gotten to the point where my jeans are riding so low I look like a wanna-be gangsta rapper.

There are a lot of things I'm looking forward to doing when (if?) I get better, but shopping is not high on the list. But, alas, it's probably also the first thing I have to take care of.

The ghost in our kitchen
Our kitchen appears to be haunted. Cipher, the world's most amazing cat, screw you if you don't agree (TM) is suddenly afraid of the corner of the room where her food is.

The first appearance of the ghost came three weeks ago. She was fine at breakfast. Come dinner, however, she wouldn't get anywhere near her food. She backed away like we were trying to feed her live cobra for a snack. If I picked her up and tried to put her down near the food she squirmed like an eel. Her food is right near the fridge, and we traced the source to some highly spiced leftover Chinese food that she apparently didn't like the scent of. (Memo to self: cat does not like Mongolian beef.) We cleaned out the fridge, opened the window, and she was fine.

Until Wednesday, that is.

Wednesday night, same problem. A dubious look towards the food area. A refusal to go near it. If we moved her food out a few feet, she dove in with her usual lack of table manners. But the ghost of the food corner had returned and nothing would induce her to confront it. And it's been like that ever since. I've cleaned out the fridge, but there wasn't anything there particularly fragrant. I've cleaned the area around the food space. And still she's skittish. I'm thinking next time I'll clean with Holy Water, maybe that'll do the trick.

So we're moving her food dish out when we feed her, but it's hardly convenient to have it in the middle of the room. We've debated moving to another area of the kitchen entirely but it's currently in the only spot that doesn't get a lot of foot traffic. Any other spot and we're likely to be spending a lot of time mopping up spilled water. But we can't have the poor thing afraid to eat. Although I suppose she'll confront the ghost when she's hungry enough, it's just kinda sad to see her looking at that area like Jacob Marley is standing there.

Why do they always wear pearls?
Enough with the trotting out the loyal political wife for these "I have sinned" press conferences! Of course I'm talking about Gov. Spitzer, the latest in a long line of "can't keep his pants zipped" politicos who got caught with his penis in the cookie jar.

But what I can't understand is why they always make the wife stand there like a shell-shocked zombie through the whole thing. Why can't she just say "listen fuckhead, you screwed up, you take the heat. I'm going to the Bahamas." I suppose they're trying to show he's not a total sleeze; that if the wife will stand by him, why can't the voters, that kind of thing. But it still seems surreal, pointless, and just plain mean. The poor lady has just found out that after all her sacrifices on his behalf he turns around and spends thousands on hookers. That's bad enough, but then she's got to be on the front page of cnn.com too?

I think the women of America should take a stand in the whole "sisterhood" myth by saying "OK, screw the politics. Give the wife some privacy and dignity. No more stoicism in the face of sex scandals."

I am not every woman...
This kind of goes along with the "I am not fashionable" post, but I am so sick of phrases that begin "every woman."

"Every woman dreams of her wedding day." (Overheard on a news program about the cost of weddings.)
Nope, not once. I didn't play "dress up bride" as a child. I didn't spend hours in high school designing my perfect dress. I never poured over Brides magazine and daydreamed about flowers and limos. Never. And I'm sure I'm not alone in this. Blanket statements like this piss me off, because it makes it seems like there's something wrong with women who don't go along with the pre-conceived flow. But there's nothing wrong with not dreaming about your wedding. I mean look at me. I never have, never did, and I'm still happily married -- even if I didn't start planning the day when I was 7.

"Every woman has her own beauty secrets." (Overheard in a commercial about some beauty product whose name and purpose eludes me.)
Again, no. I have no beauty secrets. I have no beauty routine. I brush my teeth. I wash my hair. I bathe. I use prescription lotion on my face because I have some minor skin problems. That's it. No eye liner tips. No super-special lipstick. No hints for the best way to pluck your brows. I think the only beauty secret I have (and it's not much of a secret) is "don't care what other people think."

"Every woman wants a Prince Charming." (Overheard in a cheesy movie.)
Oh God, spare me! Are we still, in the 21st century, perpetuating the myth that women are fairy princesses who need big, strong men to rescue them? Come on, ladies, grow some balls! I can't think of anything worse that perceiving of myself as a helpless flower waiting for the knight on the white horse. I don't need a man to rescue me. And I'm not sure what I'd be rescued from. There aren't a lot of dragons in the SF Bay Area. All I ever wanted was a nice guy who'd treat me well and whom I could love and respect in return. I wanted a best friend, not a romance hero. And I got exactly what I wanted in Husband.

"Every woman needs the perfect little black dress." (Read in a magazine while waiting at the doctor's office.)
Why? Why do I need a black dress? Why does it have to be little? Will a little red dress do? Will a big black dress suffice? What if it's not perfect? What if it's only marginally acceptable? Oh the pressure! I can't stand it! My head will explode! You know, not once in my 40+ years of life have I ever gone anywhere where a "perfect little black dress" was required. And guess what? I survived. I'm happy. I have a great marriage and good friends. But do I deserve all that happiness if I don't have the dress? Is my happiness just a sham?

No, I must believe I'm happy....even without the dress, the prince, the beauty tips, and the dream wedding. Pity me.

And how was your Saturday?
So what did you do with your day? Me? Well...any guesses where I spent Saturday night? Anybody?

Yes, that's right, ER!

I'm OK. Just spent 8 hours zarfing and was really dehydrated and generally miserable. So, two IVs of fluids later, plus two shots of painkillers and anti-nausea medicine, and I was home. Today I feel fine. Really weak; kinda shaky, sort of just this side of absolutely no energy at all, but not sick. Going into the kitchen for water (trying to load up on fluids if I can) pretty much wipes me out for about 30-minutes afterwards. But so far, no zarfing. No nausea. No incapacitating back pain.

Once again, Husband was my hero. Driving me to ER at midnight. Holding my hand. Giving me lots of TLC and even managing to make me laugh. How in the world did I get so lucky?

Anyway, I'm trusting you all had a better Saturday than I. Today's plan is lots of rest, some juice, bland food, and trying to get my feet back under me.

Oh, on another topic. The other night Husband and I watched the most recent "Die Hard" flick: Live Free or Die Hard and our review is surprisingly positive. Completely unbelievable on so many levels, but pure escapist fun. Bruce Willis can still carry of balls of steel action hero, and Justin Long was charming and really funny as a young hacker in over his head. Great fun.

CD Pick of the Week: Johnny Whitehorse
Totemic Flute Chants was the 2008 Grammy Award-winner for Best Native American Music Album. Whitehorse is the alter-ego of Robert Mirabal, an extremely talented singer/songwriter/guitarist/flutist and one of my top two favorite Native American performers. This blend of flute, keyboard, tribal drums and vocals celebrates our animal spirit guides. Beautiful music, ranging from meditative to quietly powerful.
(For the record, I'm an owl. Husband is definitely coyote.)

...and still nothing on
Yeah, 80+ channels on TV and still nothing on. Why is that? Why is American TV so, well, crappy? Reality TV (why would I want to spend time with people that I wouldn't invite into my home?). Entirely un-funny sitcoms. Crime dramas so lacking in mystery that my cat could solve the crime before the TV detective can. One-hit wonder has-beens. Bad movies. Newsmagazines. Remember when TV was good? No, I'm not sure I can either.

Like most people, Husband and I have cable TV and yet with all those channels to chose from, we still can't find anything worth watching. Even PBS...I mean if I have to skip one more "Golden Age of Do-Wop" show I may cry. Yes, there are the good old PBS standbys. Masterpiece Theatre, Mystery, Nova, American Experience. But there is so much out there that I have absolutely no interest in seeing.

I have a few don't-miss favorites. I'm completely hooked on the Discovery Channel, especially Dirty Jobs andMythbusters. I love Torchwood and Doctor Who. And I'll watch pretty much anything about history....it doesn't even matter what the subject is. World War I. The Renaissance. Civil War medicine. Women's rights. The development of the atom bomb. I don't care. But one can only watch so much history before it begins to slide out of the brain.

I miss pure escapism. The simple joy of watching a comedy that is actually funny. (Reruns of I Love Lucy will always make me laugh more than any comedy currently on the air.) Or enjoying a drama with an intelligent script and solid acting (not just pretty people who know how to recite.) But today's audiences seem content with so little. And really, why should a network pay for writers and actors when it's so much cheaper to invite a bunch of second-rate celebrities to tango?

But I just wish America had higher standards? Where are today's classics? Will any show currently on the air rank up there with The Mary Tyler Moore Show in terms of being remembered? The only network show our TV ever turns to is Lost which Husband completely loves. I don't watch anything on network. I'm strictly a cable girl. And it seems that HBO is the answer to most people's hunger for good TV. But even there nothing appeals to me. I never could get into The Sopranos or The Wire.

When I was a kid (and I'm dating myself here), before there were 80 channels of cable, I remember my family turning the TV on after dinner and enjoying it all evening. OK, so not everything was great, but even something like The Waltons or The Wonderful World of Disney was better than How I Met Your Mother and Survivor: Pacoima.

Thank heavens for good books.

Puttin' on my cranky boots
- It's amazing that people will pay $30,ooo for a brand-new SUV that apparently doesn't have working turn signals. Why is that? Why do SUVs not come with working turn signals?
- Why is "popular" American music so bland and soulless? And when did lyrics stop making sense? Have you heard any song in the past year that you think will be remembered 30 years from now?
- Why is it that female newscasters all have to be thin and beautiful, but male newscasters can look have faces like the north end of a south-facing cow and still have a successful career?
- Why is it that conservative bumper-stickers are short and to the point but liberal bumper-stickers are 27-work epics that you can't read while driving behind them on the freeway? No, really. Why? For every "Support our troops" sticker there's some poor Prius driver with a sticker that reads "I really don't think war is a very good idea and I think we should all wage peace. Oh yeah, and don't eat meat."
- What is the appeal of American Idol? Why is it that a million people can tell you who won last season but can't tell you who is the Prime Minister of Great Britain?
- Is there a reason why so many has-beens have there own reality show? Is there a line? A waiting room? Does one show get cancelled and some secretary comes out into the waiting room and says "Erik Estrada, you're next?"
- How come the smaller the purse the more expensive it is? And are they small because you spent so much money on the damned purse that you can't afford stuff to put in it?
- Not knocking Christmas cheer and all that, but why doesn't it occur to people that the underprivileged kids who need presents at Christmas need new shoes in the summer, and school supplies in the fall, and a warm coat in the winter, and...?
- Why can't I seem to ever finish reading National Geographic before the next issue arrives?
- The man who invented informercials should burn in a fiery hell. Worst thing to ever happen to insomniacs.

That's it. Talk among yourselves.

A productive use of jail time
Convicted of fraud, Jonathan Lee Riches is spending his 8-year sentence in an obviously productive way. by suing pretty much everyone on the planet. He claims Tiger Woods stole his luggage, Barry Bonds benched-pressed him against his will, and Mike Tyson pulled the plug on his jukebox. He's apparently also suing Daniel Day-Lewis, George Orwell, and the Unabomber.

CD Pick of the Week: Kat Parra
Stylish, sexy Latin jazz from a local vocalist with an all-star band that includes percussionist John Santos, Ray Vega on trumpet, and Wayne Wallace on trombone. Her new release Azucar de Amor showcases her warm, delicious voice, effortless style, and engaging way of phrasing things. Several tracks are non-Latin tunes given a fresh (and colorful) coat of paint. Great stuff, one star each track. Lyrics in Spanish and English.

And the winner is...
During the recent Academy Awards they showed a montage of all the Best Picture winners over the years. It made Husband and I realize that there were many we'd never seen and we decided to remedy that. Within reason, of course. I'd rather have a bikini wax than ever have to sit through Terms of Endearment or Titanic ever again.

This past weekend we crossed one off the list. The wonderful 1966 costume drama A Man for All Seasons featuring Paul Scofield as Sir Thomas More. Since it deals with More's martyrdom for refusing to reject the Catholic Church and support Henry VIII's quest for wife number two, it lead to a discussion of moral courage. Husband said he'd probably wimp out and sign whatever they wanted. I said I wasn't sure. I don't think I'd ever be a religious martyr, but I'd like to think there are some things that I have the strength to die for. But I'm sure I'm idealizing my own courage. It's easy to paint yourself brave when safe at home with a mug of tea and a cat purring contentedly by your side.

We have two more Best Pictures saved in TiVo: the Charles Laughton/Clark Gable version of Mutiny on the Bounty and Kevin Costner's epic western Dances with Wolves. Husband has seen neither. (I love the man, but his film career is sadly lacking.)

It'll be interesting to see how far we get in this quest before we lose interest or forget our goal. Between the two of us I think we've seen most of them...though I'm a bit thin in the recent winners category. We're both very strong on the 30's and 40s films, but we do have a few gaps. Oh yes, and we've both seen Wings, which is good because that doesn't show up on TV very often.

We're hoping to get through all of them in 2008. I'll let you know how it goes.

Yeah, about that carjacking?
Um...she's 27. She's a stripper. And she has a curfew?

Friends, fashion, Friday
I received a call this evening from a dear friend. One of the people I love most in the world. "Of such small acts are memorable days made." Thanks for checking up on me, dear Lurker. I appreciate it more than I can say.

So, have you seen the TLC show What Not to Wear? Women, labeled "fashion disasters" by their friends and family get nominated for makeovers. Two fashion experts (one of whom I think might be just the slightest bit gay) trash her wardrobe (both verbally and literally) give her $5000 and a week of shopping (with their advice) in New York. The week concludes with hair and makeup and the big debut back home where the family and friends are suitably impressed.

I have nightmares like this.

I am fortunate to have many wonderful female friends. Many, like the aforementioned Lurker, the Foreigner, Ms. S de M, the Belle of Belfast City, and Mama D are beautiful, stylish, chic, sexy...all those wonderful female adjectives. And then there's me....the fashion conscience objector. Remember me, I was married in jeans and a vintage purple tux jacket from a thrift store. My make-up bag consists entirely of Chap-Stick. My beauty routine is lather, rinse, repeat. I hate to shop (except for books and music). I hate trying on clothes. I hate having to keep taking your shoes off and put them back on again (I really hate that part). And I have no doubt that at least one of my beautiful female friends has on more than one occasion wished I could be made over. Or at least kidnapped for a day and forced at gunpoint into a dress and some mascara just to see what you got in the end.

I am proud to say that I am the least feminine woman I know. I'm not sure where that comes from. My mother and sisters like their lipstick and heels. They're not exactly girly girls, but they do like to get dressed up, put on perfume, and layer on the eye shadow. I, on the other hand, like to pull on my jeans, run a comb through my hair, and get the hell on with my day. I've never tried to be fashionable because I've never wanted to be.

No, really.

It's odd, because many people perceive an unfashionable woman as one that is lacking in self-confidence. And while I'll admit that I'm completely insecure about a lot of things...I've never really given my appearance any thought. My naughty bits are covered, my shirt is clean, my jeans have no holes, that's about it for me. I've never wanted to be in style, although according to Husband I do have a style. It's just quirky. (Thank god for men who love anti-girls!) I think if someone nominated me for a makeover show I'd refuse. Not because I'm insecure, but because I really am happy with who I am and how I am.

Happy Friday, dearies. Hope you all have a wonderful weekend.

Health update
Well, first the good news. I had another great session with the acupuncturist yesterday and have been back pain-free for over 24-hours. You have no idea how huge that is.

Unfortunately my old mystery GI trouble is back and I've been vomit girl again, along with a few other nasty symptoms. Every time I think I'm over the worst, I have another flair up. Very frustrating. So I'm my usual weak self at the moment. No real food since Monday night. Today I had 3 whole Saltines (woo hoo!) but later on I had a few sips of ginger ale that seemed to set things off again.

Sigh...

I do not recommend this diet.

In other news this week on PBS there's an episode of "American Masters" that focuses on folk singer Pete Seeger. I can highly recommend it....even though I haven't seen it yet. Why the confidence? Turns out Husband's mother, Pamela Bloom of NYU was one of the researchers for the documentary. I can't wait to see her name in the credits. I'm so proud of her.

Never a good idea...
A professional soccer player in Austria is in trouble for showing up in public dressed like Hitler.

OK, here's a tip. DRESSING LIKE HITLER IS NEVER A GOOD IDEA.

Seriously, on what plane of crazy existence does that ever make sense?

Also not a good idea:

- Not voting.
- Buying a SUV because that's what everyone else drives. (Trust me, you don't need one!)
- Being embarrassed to have fun in public.
- Spending more time watching reality TV than you do reading, talking to the people you love, or having fun outside.
- Avoiding black and white movies "because they're old."
- Not using your turn signal.
- Making racist or sexist jokes.
- Dressing like Hitler (I know that's already been covered, but it can't be stressed enough.)
- Thinking "Dancing with the Stars" is culture.
- Making a tuna sammich outta tuna cat food.

Hey, look at the time! Off to KZSU.

Whatever happened to...?
I envy people with long-standing friends.

I consider myself lucky to have friends that I've known for 20 years. But many of them have friends they've known since elementary school. I'm not even really friends with anyone I went to high school with. The one person I was really close to, my best friend Steve, died of AIDS in the 90's.

Since then the only other high school friend I've kept it touch with is my friend Maria. And it can hardly be said we have a close friendship since she hasn't lived in the US for about 20 years. She and her husband and their two gloriously international, globe-trotting children, have lived all over the world. Maria & Robert take teaching jobs and they'll stay someplace for a year or two and move on. They're rarely back in the states. Our friendship is now really my waiting for their yearly Christmas card to find out where they are this time. (The most recent card has them in Saudi Arabia. Before that it was Malaysia, and before that it was Japan.)

But I don't have anyone who "remembers when." And sometimes I miss that.

I've never been one of those people with dozens of friends. I have a lot of acquaintances, but people I consider friends; the kind of real, close friends you can call when you're sick or your life has fallen apart....of those I'm definitely in single digits. But I know how fortunate I am to have that many. And believe me, I went for quality -- not quantity. My friends are each and every one amazing, fabulous, wonderful. I love them all. And my best friend, Husband, is the most amazing of all. I just hope I'm as good a friend to them as they have always been to me.

Sometimes I can't believe how lucky I am.

R.I.P. Ben Chapman
The film world has lost another icon with the death of actor Ben Chapman. I'm sure you're familiar with his work....if not his face.

Are Women Human?
Ah yes, the ever-delightful Oddest Book Title Awards. Interested in a copy of I was Tortured by the Pygmy Love Queen? How about How to Write a How to Write Book? Maybe Cheese Problems Solved is more your speed?

Finally, some good news!
OK, I think I'm in love with my acupuncturist. Yesterday was only my third session with him and he treated me with indirect stimulation. Needles in my hand, arm, head, foot and ankles. The result was the best night's sleep I've had in over a year. When I came home I was completely exhausted and (thank goodness for being unemployed) took a 3-hour nap. Last night I turned into coma girl and slept for nearly 11 hours. No back pain at all!!

This, friends, is huge. My typical night is sleep for an hour, wake up in terrible pain, be awake for 2 hours trying to work out the pain. Sleep for another hour, repeat. Last night I woke up a few times but not because of the pain and I was able to go right back to sleep. The last time I slept this well I was recovering from surgery.

Obviously it's too soon to call this a total success, but even for one night's relief I am incredibly grateful and, for the first time in recent memory, incredibly rested.

What's on my mind
Inspired by something I overheard, here's a list of the ten things on my mind at the moment. Some important....some silly.

1. The election. (Go Obama!)
2. My show tonight....I've been sick for the past two weeks so this is my first show in a while. Now I'm beginning to wonder what to play. New stuff? Raid the library? Bring stuff from home?
3. My health. Why did I zarf right after this morning's bowl of cereal when yesterday the same cereal sat just fine in my tummy?
4. My friends. How can I ever tell them how much I love them and how much they mean to me without sounding like a cheesy Hallmark card?
5. Saltines. The perfect food when one is nauseous.
6. The History Channel. What would I do without it?
7. Cipher, the world's most perfect cat, screw you if you don't agree (TM). How is it possible for her to sleep so deeply all night when I can't sleep at all? And why aren't I jealous?
8. Native American art. I really, really, really want a Native blanket.
9. What's next? Can I ever find a way to make a living saving the world?
10. Agatha Christie. Why are the BBC adaptations of her books so wonderfully cozy to accompany a sleepless night?

So, what's on your mind?

Music and drugs
You know, when you hear those words "music and drugs," you think of 70s hair bands doing way too much coke and/or acid and ending up on VH1 Where are they Now. You don't really think "reviewing KZSU's world music under the influence of percocet and valium."

Ever since my two trips to ER this month I've been hitting the painkillers on a regular basis. (Unfortunately, I'm running out so I have a feeling I'm gonna start hurting again real soon.)

Part of my role as World Music Director is to review the music we add to our library so that our DJs know what they're getting when they pick up an unknown CD. Fortunately for me I had built up a cushion by reviewing 6 CDs last week so that this week, when I was really out of it, I didn't have to worry about meeting this week's quota. I tried listening to music, I really did, but the drugs pretty much wiped out my critical ability. Everything sounded pretty. It was impossible for me to come up with anything insightful or even useful to say. That, combined with the fact that I couldn't seem to type, pretty much ruined my ability to do anything productive this week.

In other news, I had my first acupuncture appointment on Friday. It went well. Mostly a consultation, but I really liked the doctor and was encouraged by what he had to say about my condition. I'll keep you posted.

And back to ER I go
Yeah, the "no visits to the hospital in 2008!" resolution lasted about as long as a Pamela Anderson marriage. Yesterday, after 30+ hours of total back pain agony, I ended up back in ER. In addition, this time my old pal non-stop vomiting came with me. Between Saturday morning and last night, here's my food diary: a half piece of toast, a bowl of cereal, two oatmeal cookies, a home-made burrito. That's it for 4 days. Since then I've had 8 saltine crackers, a half cup of milk, and a small bowl of cereal....at this rate I'm going to get huge.

But the point of all this is not to complain (sorry if it seems like I am) or to praise the wonders of Percocet and Valium (which I do), but rather to thank all the ER nurses at Peninsula Hospital in Burlingame. Every since time I've been to ER (probably a dozen times in the past 18 months), the nurses have been exemplary. Kind, compassionate, gentle. Even when rushed off their feet, as they were yesterday, my nurse, Lynda, took the time to check in periodically to make sure I was OK, see if I needed anything, and generally make me feel like I wasn't being forgotten.

And she's just one example. Each nurse, from the quiet, middle of the night shift to the busier than hell on a Saturday morning shift has been fabulous. Sure it's the doctors who make the lovely pain-go-away drugs possible, but it's the nurses who give you the most one-on-one attention -- and they do it with admirable skill. They've never failed to make me feel like I was being taken well care of and for that I am beyond grateful to these unsung heroes and heroines.

The two times I was admitted for a week, the floor nurses were equally wonderful. I will always be thankful for those middle-of-the-night chats when I was wide awake and they had time to spend in between seeing to other patients. They make me laugh, gave me a much-needed dose of human contact while being stuck in a hospital, and in all ways were warm, extremely capable, and delightful.

On a side note, I must once again praise Husband for staying by my side during yet another ER trip. In spite of the fact that he's crazy-busy at work, he made me his number one priority; holding my hand, keeping me company, and making sure I was OK. Even after I got out he took care of me; picking up prescriptions, getting me water, and once again treating me like I'm the most important person in the world. Husband, you are amazing. Thank you.

Searching for Mr. Goodchair
Cipher, the world's most amazing cat screw you if you don't agree (TM), has one nasty habit. She has claws of death that she has used to great effect on the chair in our living room.

We tried to prevent it at first, and then gave up and let her have it. After all, the chair is about 15 years old and cost all of $20 at Salvation Army, so it's hardly an heirloom.

But she's done her work well and it's now in shreds. Literally. The cloth has been ripped up, the stuffing pulled out, and it's down to bare wood in parts. It's so hideous that we've been longing to replace it for months now. But it's surprising hard to find a chair.

For one thing, we're pretty sure she's have her way with the new one as well, in spite of whatever efforts we can make to prevent her, so we don't want to spend a fortune on something that won't last long. But even shopping within a budget we find that there are really only two kinds of chairs: ugly and uncomfortable.

Even if we didn't have a budget we find that the $800 chairs are also ugly and/or uncomfortable.

Today we went to a home consignment store where the prices were reasonable (the chair we liked the best was $299) but again everything was....well, you know.

What is it with furniture designers that they don't realize that comfort is a quality people might actually find desirable? There are chairs that force you to slump (great for those of us with bad backs). Then there are those that force you into a position so upright that they should come with a corset and a Jane Austen novel. Others with big huge arms so far from the seat that you have to rest them at shoulder height -- very comfortable. Or seats that so deep that my feet don't reach the ground. Oh good, I'm five.

And the lovely color options. Green plaid. Black with green and purple flowers. Stylized "modern art" fabric that manages to combine the worst of cubism with the worst of surrealism. (Think Dali meets Helen Keller in a field of dead wild flowers.)

Is it too much to ask for a chair that costs less that $300, is comfortable to sit it, and doesn't actually cause visual offense?

At this point, we'll be living with the chair of shreds until it's just a pile of fluff and threads.

Scenes from a marriage
I'm reading a fascinating book. Uncommon Arrangements: Seven Portraits of Married Life in London Literary Circles by Katie Roiphe.

So far I'm only halfway through, but it's a wonderful look at just what the title suggests: uncommon arrangements. The book is full of marital secrets. Nearly all these marriages (including those of writers such as H.G. Wells, Vera Brittain, Katherine Mansfield, and others -- both heterosexual an homosexual) were extremely untraditional. Couples with acknowledged lovers or mistresses. Couples who didn't live together. Secret children. Society images to be upheld or conventions to be flouted. It's a very well-researched and written book, but it's gotten me thinking about something I've pondered for a while. Namely - marriage.

What exactly makes a marriage work? And how can there be so many flavors of one institution? Every married couple I know has a relationship that is different from every other married couple I know. And that just fascinates me. Husband and I have many married friends whom we love, but whose way of conducting their marriage is markedly different from how our works. Why do some couples look forward to separate vacations while others want nothing more than non-stop couple time? How can some happily married couples spend every weekday evening apart -- at classes, rehearsals, the gym, work, etc., -- and yet others will cut themselves off from outside activities in order to just be together? I know of couples who are madly in love, happily married, and each other's best friend -- and yet I've never once seen them hold hands or kiss in front of anyone else. Another duo bicker like like two cats in a pillowcase about everything from dinner to politics, and yet they still look at each other with the misty-eyes of newlyweds.

My ex-husband and I have been fortunate enough to have stayed good friends. Both of us are remarried. And we seem to have married someone quite opposite from our original spouses. Oh sure there are some similarities: intelligence, sense of humor, kindness, generosity, etc. But in other ways night and day from our first marriages. Luckily we both seem to be extremely happy in our second (and last) marriages, but is it because we changed our definition (or expectation) of what a marriage should be or is it because we realized what we first wanted wasn't right for us. On the other hand, I know a man on his third marriage and I swear that wives #2 and #3 are all but interchangeable. Like the theme song to the old Patty Duke show, "they look alike, they walk alike, they sometimes even talk alike"). Will this one work, or is he doomed to repeat the failure because he didn't change his tastes enough?

Marriages are fascinating. And to an outsider, every one is something of a puzzle. I'm just happy that for all their crazy differences, my friends all seem to have found their own unique flavor of marriage that works for them and makes them happy.

CD Pick of the Week: Ladysmith Black Mambazo
Ilembe: Honoring Shaka Zulu is another delicious release from LBM featuring the fabulous vocal harmonies and a capella music for which they are justly famed. Warm, glorious and all wonderful. This is music that is truly life-affirming. It's joyful, pure, and completely without pretense. Just gorgeous.

The Super Bowl of Sickness
While most of the US wallowed in junk food and first downs yesterday, I just wallowed. It was another sick day for me. A semi-sorta-kinda repeat of my ongoing mystery syndrome. So no chips and guacamole for me. Just zarfing.

I was sick the whole day. And not just sick, but miserable. I'm not sure how people who are sick all the time deal with it. One day of feeling like crap and I was totally upset. Of course I did spend Wednesday in ER, so it hasn't been a great week for me health-wise. But it's just so awful being that out of it. There wasn't much I could do except lie in bed with a hot water bottle on my crampy tummy and wait for the next round of throwing up.

Now I'm not saying all this to feel sorry for myself, I'm just honestly wondering how you keep your spirits up when you have ongoing health problems. When you don't know from one day to the next if you'll feel like getting out of bed. When you spend entire days in major pain, with no end in sight, knowing there's nothing you can do but get through the day and hope the next day will be better.

And today, I am better. Not perfect but definitely better than yesterday. I had a half a bowl of cereal and it stayed where it belonged. (Yesterday I couldn't even tolerate water.) I'm weak and wobbly but not in pain. But today I'm wondering how you stay optimistic. How do you stay strong, stoic, and brave when you feel like your body is working against you?

So much for resolutions...
My number one New Years Resolution: No visits to the hospital in 2008!

Well, that one didn't even last a month. Yup, Wednesday morning found me and long-suffering Husband in our old familiar stomping grounds, ER.

This time it wasn't my mystery illness, it was my back. While I'm used to being in pain everyday because of my bad back, the past few days have been absolute hell. After not being able to eat, throwing up from the pain-induced nausea, and no sleep for two days, I broke down an said "I need help." Two butt-shots of painkillers later, they sent me home. I now have Valium (as a muscle relaxer) and some sort of extra-strength (i.e. stronger than my usual Vicodin) painkillers, and I seem to be doing OK.

The very nice ER doc said the key was to break this cycle of muscle spasms, which these drugs seem to be doing. I'm in pain, but no more than usual and certainly much, much better than the agony I was in earlier this week. There are even moments (fleeting though they may be) where I don't hurt at all -- a wonderful release, I must say.

Last night, though, I took both pills at 4 am after waking up in pain (and induced to get out of bed by Cipher the world's most amazing cat, screw you if you disagree TM). I found out that these two pills, in combination, followed by sleep, produce some really weird, really vivid dreams. Even while dreaming them I remember thinking "wow, this is trippy." Bonus!

Anyway, I hope all your resolutions last longer than mine.

Highway to Heaven
Sigh...

You know, Christians are just play wacky. It turns out that for a frighteningly large group of holier than thou-ers, I-35 isn't just a road....it's a sign. According to the Bible, Isaiah 35:8 reads: "And a highway shall be there, and it shall be called the Holy Way; the unclean shall not pass over it, and fools shall not err therein." Seems to me that fools are actually erring therein...

Send in the clowns. No! Don't!
Like all sane people, I hate clowns. Freaky-faced, big-shoed, red nosed gnomes force feeding glee on an unsuspecting world. Well, turns out I'm not alone. A recent UK poll of 250 kids aged between 4 and 16 reveals the startling fact that every single one of them hates clowns!

I feel vindicated.

Floor 97 please...

Oh those wacky Japanese. According to the BBC Japan's Mitsubishi Electric Corp has just opened what it says is "the world's tallest elevator testing tower." Who knew there were such things? You live and learn.

2008: The Year of Pictures
Thanks to Husband, I now have a spiffy new camera to indulge my shutterbuggery. Thanks to flickr, now have a page to show things off. I'll get more interesting (and better) as I become more familiar with the equipment (both camera and modern technology) but I invite you to check out our life in the coming year.

Happy new year!

Won't you blog about this song?
At the risk of parodying a parody, check out this spot-on video by the Richter Scales an a capella group who obviously know the Silicon Valley score.

CD Pick of the Week: Kitka
Kitka, 9-member female choral ensemble from the San Francisco Bay Area turn to Slavic folksangs in the Rusalka Cycle; based on “restless spirts, thought to be women who had died unjust or untimely deaths.” As you’d expect it’s dark, disturbing, and haunting. Amazingly beautiful vocal harmonies combine with unpredictable rhythms and dissonant counterpoints to produce gorgeous sounds; lightly backed by cellos & percussion. It is powerful, mystical and truly scary at times with an other-worldly evocation of ghosts. Wonderful and chill-inducing. One of my favorite CDs of the year.

The School of Brutalism
Of all the ridiculous (and yet somehow fitting) names for architectural styles, the School of Brutalism has to take the prize. And I bet I don't even need to describe it, do I? Check out this article from The American Spectator about a crappy "Brutal" building and why it won't (or can't) go away.

Knit one, purl death
Death by knitting? Check out Sock Wars "the bloodiest extreme knitting tournament."

According to the rules of Sock Wars, participants must knit a pair of socks for another player and then mail them to the "target." Players are "killed" when they receive their socks in the mail. There's more to it, but I'm just amused at the concept.

You know, the can walk....
Now in the people are WAY to freaky about their pets department

Check out Just Pet Strollers. The "Burley Tail Wagon Stroller w/optional ski attachment" is only $400.
.

That baby ain't black enough...
From the Sunday London Times. "James Watson, the DNA pioneer who claimed Africans are less intelligent than whites, has been found to have 16 times more genes of black origin than the average white European."

After he published his own genome, researchers found a level, "you would expect in someone who had a great-grandparent who was African." So, Jimmy, what say you now?

No wonder people don't read any more...

Have you seen the New York Times list of the 100 notable books of 2007? No? Here's my advice....if you like interesting books, an old-fashioned "thumping good read", and an enjoyable way to spend a rainy evening....don't read this list!

I swear the descriptions of the plots in these books reads like some parody of modern literature. Who would want to read this stuff? Here are a few samples:

- "A tale of two sisters, one awake all night, one asleep for months." Gosh, bet that's a page-turner.
- "A first novel about an Ethiopian exile in Washington, D.C., evokes loss, hope, memory and the solace of friendship." I'm a sucker for any book that evokes loss. Especially when it also evokes the solace of friendship!
- "A young woman searches for the truth about her parentage amid the snow and ice of Lapland in this bleakly comic yet sad tale of a child’s futile struggle to be loved." Oh God, not another "growing up lonely in Lapland" book. Haven't we had enough?
- "A Russian World War II veteran posthumously acquaints his stepdaughter with his grim past of rape and violence." Prozac not included.
- "The small-town regulars at Lucy’s Tavern carry their loneliness in “rough and beautiful” ways." Silly me, I carry my loneliness in a lovely quilted bag.
- "In this short yet spacious Norwegian novel, an Oslo professional hopes to cure his loneliness with a plunge into solitude." Hmmm....someone should introduce him to that lonely Lapp kid.

People, remember books that were fun to read? Full of interesting, lively characters doing fascinating things? Not "searching for the truth behind the brutal injustice of growing up left-handed in Zambia" fascinating but "hunting the bad guys, falling in love, searching for treasure, laughing with friends, living a real, normal life" fascinating.

I have absolutely NO desire to read any of these books. I long for the day when writers realize that "important" doesn't have to equal "dreary". It IS possible to write literate, poetic books with plots that make you want to stay up late -- rather than make you want to throw the book across the room.

I knew it!
For years I've said modern art looks like crap. Like paint thrown randomly on a canvas with no purpose other than to give art critics a chance to pretend they're esoteric geniuses by conning sheep into believing they too know art. And finally, I have proof.

A UK art critic, as a joke, wrote typically over-the-top reviews of a "modern artist" who is, in reality, the critic's 2-year old son. With lines such as "A bold use of colour. Inspired by the 'plein air' habit of painting by Monet, drawing on the natural world that surrounds us all," and "It seems that one stroke is being repeated - the same stroke or one very close to it, hence the possibility of the infinite opening up of the structure of time," writer Estelle Lovatt managed to fool people into thinking he was a real artist. Someone event bought one of his works (albeit for only 20 pounds -- but still...).

Screw the experts...
Finally, some good news from my favorite African nation, Malawi.

According to the New York Times, Malawi has turned around its hunger status by ignoring the experts. By focusing on the importance of fertilizer they are now selling more corn to the World Food Program of the UN than any other country in southern Africa and exporting hundreds of thousands of tons of corn to Zimbabwe.

Both the US and Britian were skeptical about the need for fertilizer subsidies, a fact with which Malawi's new president, Bingu wa Mutharika disagreed. He saw the importance of regenerating his nation's soil -- crucial if they were ever going to make a true stand against hunger. And thanks to his forward-thinking, and his stand against the so-called experts, Malawi is succeeding.

Go Malawi!

That is one pissed fish!
Thanks to the wonderful Design Observerfor pointing out the 5 most unintentionally hilarious comic strips. You'll laugh, trust me.

Also, thanks to the same source, check out Rosa Loves, an online t-shirt company with a cause. Remember that some holiday gifts are more "giving" than others....

Surviving another Thanksgiving
Yes, it's true. Husband and I survived yet another Thanksgiving with my family. Regular readers might recall that soon after Thanksgiving last year I spent a week in the hospital with the first onset of the "mystery illness" which has plagued me periodically ever since. Stomach pains. Vomiting. Nausea. Having lived through years of hilarious tales of dinner with the folks, my friends (not surprisingly) asked if the symptoms were related to Thanksgiving at my mom's. And, strangely enough, the answer was "no."

This year wasn't too bad. True, the turkey did have a metallic aftertaste but other than that, nothing too awful. A shame, really, as it left me with no good stories to share with the next bookgroup. Poor souls, many of them live for my yearly post-Thanksgiving tales of microwaved instant mashed potatoes, sweet potatos with mini-marshmallows, canned cranberry sauce and the famous and patented "floating-bits-of-wonder gravy."

Perhaps Christmas will bring the requisite "my family tried to poison me" story for the holiday season.

CD Pick of the week: Trio Mediaeval
Glorious vocal harmonies mark "Folk Songs," a wonderful collection of hymns, lullabies, and ballads. It’s the 10th anniversary for this Norwegian - Swedish female trio. Joined by percussion but it’s the solo voices that carry it all. You can’t go wrong with any track, they’re all beautiful, mostly down/midtempo. In keeping w/their name, all tracks have a medieval/Renaissance air & are all too short.

Clockwise or counter?
An interesting "are you right brained or left brained" test.

Check out this dancer. Which way is she spinning? I saw her first going counter-clockwise and then she switched and went clockwise. Proving, once again, I'm just messed up.

CD Pick of the Week" Youssou N'Dour
A new release from this man is always cause for joy in the world music community. Rokku mi Rokka (Give and Take) is yet another delicious gift. Joyous, Senegalese mbalaz-inflused rhythms w/hints of the desert and touches of blues, reggae, even Cuba. Joined by his longtime band Super Etoile, it’s a total lovefest featuring his warm, engaging voice. Every track is a delight.

This week also check out Bamisphere by Gino Sitson:
Wonderfully versatile vocals from a Cameroon-born jazz singer. African rhythms pervade with touches of everything from bop to straight-up Afro-jazz. Fabulous musicians include bassist Ron Carter and drummer Jeff “Tain” Watts. Vocal gymnastics reminiscent of Bobby McFerrin but with a stronger African flavor. The tracks that are just layers of his voice(s) are gorgeous.

I love eggs!
Actually I'm sort of ambivalent about the danged things. But this video is too good to resist. Crank up the sound and watch until the end. Oh those wacky Japanese cartoons!

Sure it's ugly, but hey...it leaks too!
OK, I admit it. I hate most contemporary architecture. I'm a classicist. I like beauty, not "statements." I'll take "asthetically pleasing" over "significant" any time. And I love beautiful details and materials -- why have concrete boxes when you can have Corinthian capitals?

So I was more than amused to find this story about how MIT is suing architect Frank Gehry "charging that flaws in his design of the $300 million Stata Center in Cambridge, one of the most celebrated works of architecture unveiled in years, caused leaks to spring, masonry to crack, mold to grow, and drainage to back up."

Guess the word - feed the hungry
For a fun, free way to help feed the hungry visit FreeRice.com. Sponsored by various corporations who actually provide the rice and through the auspices of the UN Hunger Project, FreeRice.com is an online word game where each correct answer puts rice in the bowl of one hungry person. The game has already raised 50,000 pounds of rice.

And lest ye think the game is a no-brainer, let me tell you that some of the words are pretty tough. Ophidian? Contemn? Annulate?

Come on folks, play the game. Feed the world.

Last Supper: The Musical
The art historian in me loves this.

An Italian musican believes he has discovered musical notes hidden in Leonardo's "Last Supper." How cool is that?

Making room
Oh the joys of a good clear out.
Husband and I are in the process of taking apart our seldom-used spare bedroom and turning it into a music room. (Not "music room" as in "that's where we'll put the harpsichord" but "music room" as in "we have 5000 CDs, where do we put them all?) To that end I've forced myself to become a ruthless "clearer outer" with piles of old clothing, bedding, books, housewares, and various other items we'll never use.

Thanks to the fine folks at the Salvation Army a HUGE load of items was picked up this morning, leaving me with a tremendous feeling of relief and lightness. It really is a magical sensation. Last night I went to bed overburdened with stuff and this morning I'm probably a hundred pounds lighter and much happier.

Of course along the way I had a few moments of "but how can I get rid of this overlarge sweater that I haven't worn in 5 years because nobody looks good in mustard?" I was resolute, however. Out went that beautiful picture book of English churches that I haven't opened in 10 years. Out with the comfy sweatshirts that I really don't have room for (OK, I kept one or two). Into the pile with old purses, jeans that no longer fit, kitchen gadgets that I've used once and vases that I don't recall buying. Ah.....the jettisoning of the unwanted fills me with such peace.

And a strange urge to go shopping...

All hail the capybara!
Just because.

Monterey notebook
Fo's day-by-day review of the Monterey Jazz Festival is now online. It's so good that I don't mind the 4 days we were apart.

The joys of delayed gratification
These days it's all about "I want it now."

When a webpage takes longer than 3 seconds to load, we give up. When our digital cable takes a few seconds to change channels, we all but swear at the technology. And if the product we order isn't available to ship for longer than 24-hours, we demand an explanation. But sometimes waiting for things can be a delight.

Recently Husband was cleaning up the office and found a mysterious exposed roll of film. We had no idea what was on it. Really, it could have been anything. Christmas from 4 years ago? Our trip to Yosemite? The beach? A Giants game? A weekend in Tahoe? Who knows. The anticipation was delightfully tingly out of all proportion to the tiny plastic canister. An to make it better, it was real film Real, tangible, must-be-developed-which-prolongs-the-mystery film.

OK, so it was just some film but I found myself truly intrigued. What if it was (gasp) film from when I was married to my ex? What if it was footage of my much beloved, gone-too-soon best friend who died of AIDS in the 90s? How long would my hair be? Would Husband be included or would it be from the vast wasteland that was life pre-him? Come on, Walgreens, do your stuff.

And the winner is.... our dear friends Bridget & Dustin's wedding in Minnesota (at which I officiated) and snaps of our trip to Vancouver, B.C. How wonderful the chance to unexpectedly relive those wonderful memories. To recall how absolutely beautiful Bridget looked. To see that gorgeous mansion where they were married. To recall the tremendous honor of being asked to perform the ceremony. And Vancouver! The totem poles at Stanley Park. The architecture down at the waterfront.

There in the middle of an average week we were given the opportunity to have a delicious memory fest of some delightful times. I don't know how we managed to misplace such an important roll of film. But I have to highly recommend it. In fact, in the future I might just do it on purpose. Come back from vacation or a gathering of friends and put the roll of film in a drawer to be forgotten and found again a year or two later. Because there's nothing quite like the unexpected gift of delayed gratification.

The amazing internal cat-clock
Cipher (The World's Most Amazing Cat, Screw You If You Don't Agree TM) has an amazing internal clock. 6 am is the wake-up call. 5:30 pm is dinner. 9:30 is play time. You can set your watch by her. In fact, my poor husband hasn't had to use an alarm clock since Cipher came to rule the house.

The whole setting the clocks back thing, however, has really upset her schedule. This morning at 5 am she was raring to go. Last when the clock hit 4 she began to do her "it's dinner time soon, I just know it" pace. And her evening crazies began at about 8:30 and didn't really let up until nearly 10. Cat knows best and the time change is just some stupid human idea designed to keep a cat away from her dinner.

Husband and I have a deal. The cat is mine from 11 pm to 6 am. After 6, she's his. So the extra early wake up is my problem. She'll adjust in a few days (the writer says hopefully), but until then it's going to be hard to keep looking at those beautiful, pleading green eyes at 4:30 and tell her that she needs to wait for dinner.

Christmas is next month?!?!?
Having worked in bookstores throughout most of my college career, I developed a hatred of retail Christmases. Due to that hatred, I always try to have all my shopping done before Thanksgiving. Now the advent of the internet has eased some of that pre-holiday angst, but I still want to be done by turkey day.

The problem is, however, my large family. One mom, two sisters, two brothers, one sister-in-law, one nephew, one girlfriend-in-law, one girlfriend, one boyfriend. Forrest's family is easy. His mom and her husband. But my family requires a lot of inspiration and imagination. This is complicated by the fact that in most cases their taste is so incredibly far from my taste that you can't even drive to it from here. I seem to be out of inspiration this year. And I really, really hate to give dull gifts.

Oh poor little Mackenzie!
And now the winner of the most spoiled brat on the planet award. Check out this video clip where some rich bimbo freaks out because the car she gets for her birthday is the wrong color! Oh the poor, poor thing!

CD Pick of the week: Jim Robinson
Economy Hall Breakdown.Classic New Orleans jazz recorded live at Preservation Hall on Aug. 22, 1965. The late Robinson was a fabulous trombonist with a rich, warm sound. He’s joined by equally talented artists on cornet, clarinet, piano, and drums. All instrumentals except for one track featuring Robinson on vocals. It's brassy, sassy, and scintillating with a ragtime, speakeasy kind of feel. Great stuff.

Poor Philly!
Philadelphia just can't get no respect. Years ago a survey voted them the city with the most overweight citizens. Now Travel & Leisure magazine has decided they also have the most unnattractive citizens. I love the headline in the Philadelphia newspaperHey! We're not just fat -- we're ugly too.

Being married to a native of Philadelphia, I must object. Although I have to admit, the most overweight cops I've ever seen were getting pastries in a Philadelphia cafe.

For the pretentious, but poor

Talk about ridiculous! Check out Bag, Borrow, or Steal a website where you can rent "the latest authentic designer handbags, purses, jewelry, and accessories."

OK, so obviously I'm not their target audience because I have no idea what the difference between a handbag and a purse is. But what the hell??? Why would you want to rent a Gucci purse? Because you want people to think you're rich enough to afford something both ugly and expensive? How shallow can you be that this is something that matters to you?

The heartbreak museum

I love Europe.

Check out this exhibition in Berlin.

"The Museum of Broken Relationships asks people in the cities it visits to donate mementos of everything from short flings to painful divorces."

In the report on the BBC website, it asks readers what they would donate to such a museum. Tough call. Having had my heart seriously broken in the past I know the power that objects associated with the ex can hold. And how cathartic it can be to take out your anger and hurt on inanimate objects. I don't think I have much left from that relationship and now that I'm past the hurt and have luckily managed to maintain a precious friendship with my ex, I'd have to say that I have nothing to donate. But right after it happened, I'm sure I could have found some suitable object.

Oh the humanity!

Ok, I'm sure I'm the last person in the world to see the latest You Tube hit but just in case you haven't seen this example of "talent" you really should check it out. Turn up the sound and sit in stunned silence as you watch this crime against humanity.

A good place to recommend to your annoying brother-in-law

Check out these reviews of the Eden Plaza Hotel in London. A sample of the headlines:

- Horiffic
- Dire
- Most disgusting hotel ever
and my favotite
- Bring disinfectant

Scrolling through the amazingly disgusted reviews is actually amusing. Some even include photos that lead you to believe every venomous word is justified. The place looks like a total pit.

Why can't birth control be retroactive?
In another brilliant move by our clueless leader, Bush just appointed Susan Orr to oversee federal family planning programs at the Department of Health and Human Services. This "highly qualified" (translation: brain-dead zealot) has been quoted as equating contraceptives with "the culture of death." She's written a paper entitled "Real Women Stay Married" and thinks that birth-control shouldn't be covered by health insureance because "fertility is not a disease."

Gosh, should I get barefoot and pregnant now or wait until Christmas is over?

CD Pick of the Week: Tango No. 9
This San Francisco-based band plays stylish, sophisticated tangos with flair and polish. A mix of tango standards and new compositions. At times they have a Cirque du Soliel-style creative theatricality and edge, at others there’re achingly romantic. All instrumentals, except for #7. Every track a gem.

CD Pick of the Week: Taraf de Haidouks
With their new release, Maskarada, Taraf goes classical with a crazy gypsy take on Bartok, Khachaturian, and more (plus some originals). This is fabulous stuff, wacky good (mostly) instrumentals with an overall sound like some freaky traveling carnival that makes you want to lock up your kids. The playing is superb. Tight arrangements too. It's the soundtrack to Satan asking you to dance...

Move over Nobel Prize
There's an even more prestigious award in town. America's Best Restroom! No, I'm not kidding. I wish I were. Yes, there are photos. But if you want to visit this year's number one (to do your number one) you'll have to go to Fairfield, Ohio.

CD PIck of the Week: Beto Villa
Beto Villa: Father of Orquesta Tejana is a wickedly cool blend of big band swing and Mexican Tejana music recorded in the late 1940s and early ‘50s. All instrumentals, featuring Villa on a swinging alto sax. If you like retro charm, you will love this. Trust me.

CD Pick of the Week: Love Letters from Ella by Ella Fitzgerald
Oh my...
This selection of previously unreleased love songs from the ‘70s (one track from the early ‘80s) shows why she’s the undisputed queen of jazz vocalists. Every note is pitch-perfect and whisky-smooth, her style is impeccable, and it’s all worth at least three stars. Miss Ella, we love you right back.

CD Pick of the Week: The Rough Guide to Flamenco
Yet another wonderful Rough Guide compilation. This is a wonderful exploration of the contemporary state of Spanish flemenco music featuring artists at the top of their game. You can’t go wrong with any track. This delivers flamenco in all its emotional flavors – from absolute exultation to pure misery. Damned good stuff.

For women only
Well the fine folks at the Southwestern Baptist Theolgical Seminary in Tennessee knows what's important for their female students. Knowing how to cook, sew, and raise Christian babies.

They now offer a bachelor of arts program in humanities that includes a 23-hour concentration in homemaking -- for female students only.

According to an Associated Press article, "Coursework will include seven hours of nutrition and meal preparation, seven hours of textile design and "clothing construction," three hours of general homemaking, three hours on "the value of a child," and three hours on the "biblical model for the home and family."

What century are we in again? Sewing??? Who sews anymore? Why not just include a course in butter churning?

CD Pick of the Week: Dobet Gnahore
Artist: Dobet Gnahore (DOH-bay gna-OR-ay). CD: Na Afriki From the Ivory Coast, delicious pan-African vocals ranging from sweet ballads to upbeat African grooves. Backed by a wonderful band and back-up singers, this release is a delight throughout. Fresh, at times funky, always fabulous. She is the real deal and, most impressive, she sings in about 8 different African languages. Read the lyrics, her songs have a lot to say.

Book Review: Suite Francaise
Suite Francaise, by Irene Nemirovsky details life in France as the Germans march in during WWII and what the occupation was like. There's one problem, it's the first draft of the first half of an unfinished novel.
It was never finished because the author (a Russian-born French writer) was Jewish and was transported to Auchwitz where she was killed. Given that tragic story, I feel guilty and petty for criticising this book but I didn't like it. My reason is just what I said -- it's a first draft of the first half of an unfinished novel.
The first part focuses on a group of Parisiens leaving the city before the Germans arrive. In short, it's a group of unpleasant people doing unpleasant things during unpleasant circumstances. Critics have hailed it as a biting satire, but I just found it unenjoyable. I liked the second half better -- set in farming country where the residents learn to deal with having German troops living in their homes. The characters were more likeable, the story focused more on people an less on what everyone chooses to pack while fleeing a war (what is that obsession with linens?), and it was a more polished work.
My short review is that this work has promise, and had the author been allowed to finish it I believe it could have been truly important. But were it not for her tragic end, would thid have deserved to be published?

Firecracker Jazz Band
Their CD "Explodes," truly lives up to the name. It's a total explosion of good time fun. Classic Dixieland that harkens back to the roaring 20s. Great material played with energy, style, and an obvious love for the material. Plus lots of tongue-in-cheekiness. Solid playing throughout with wonderful retro vocals and arrangements. It's the kind of music that instantly improves your mood. Trust me, it's impossible not to smile with this on the stereo.

I'm free!
Well, it's official. I am now unemployed. Having had it up to the preverbial "here" with life in the iPit, I quit my job and am now two weeks into life. Ahh.....

I can tell it's going to take me a long time to decompress. I still have that nagging "I'm sure I'm forgetting a major deadline" feeling in the back of my mind. But it's delicious to wake up in the morning and not dread having to go to the bad place.

So what am I doing? Reading a lot. Doing two radio shows (At the Cafe Bohemian, my regular world music show. Tuesdays from 6-9 pm. And The Hair of the Dog, a blues show on Friday afternoons from 1-3). Catching up on sleep. Going to physical therapy twice a week, and finally getting back into the swing of my daily walks. All-in-all, it's wonderful.

Many thanks to my beloved husband for supporting me in my decision to quit and supporting us while I take some time off.

Quadro Nuevo
This Munich-based quartet takes the tango as their starting point, turns it into jazz with a worldly accents, and creates something delicious with their CD Tango Bitter Sweet.
They expertly play an impressive array of instruments (sax, clarinet, mandolin, vibes, perc, accordion, bandoneon, piano, guitar, plus some vox). Each track is a fresh, new surprise that leaves you wanting to know will happen in the next minute.

It's a win-win situation!
Hate fake words and pointless cliches? Yeah, me too. That's why this article from the London Telegraph struck me as being so funny.

They held a contest to use as many cheesy phrases as possible in one paragraph. The results are cringe-worthy and truly funny.

"Thank you God"
And thank you Fo for pointing me towards the best book ever! It is so hilariously bad, so tremendously awful, so painfully, wonderfully crap that you'll thank me for enriching your life.

So, what's your favorite part? I think mine is the picture of the horse that apparently died from smoking a joint.

Too bad it's not retroactive
The best commercial in Europe? Maybe. But it's pretty damned funny for those of us who have chosen not to breed.

The man with the tiny mind does it again!
Once again George Bush has earned his moron points.

His nominee for surgeon general, Kentucky cardiologist Dr. James Holsinger, wrote in 1991 that gay sex is unnatural and healthy. According to Dr. Tolerant, homosexuality is also a "choice" that can be "cured." (No doubt through prayer.)

Tiny brains think alike, apparently.

Oh, and don't ask me to comment about Paris Hilton's early release -- I'm just too pissed. Spoiled little bitch. (Did I say that?) Ok, one comment....this seems to have succeeded in encouraging rather than punishing DUIs. I mean hell, I'd love to be confined to my home (or, in her case, mansion) for 45 days. 45 days of sleeping late, watching movies, reading, playing with the cat, sitting in the sunshine in my yard -- and not having to go to work, or deal with grocery shopping or errands. Where do I sign up for that? Oh, I just need to drink and drive? In that case, pass the Cuervo.

Not a good sign
Poor London. First they unveil what might be the ugliest Olypmic logo ever conceived. Now their pro-Olympic TV footage has been pulled for causing seizures.

Have you seen the logo? Go look, I'll wait. It's supposed to represent the year 2012. Am I the only one who seems a man (on the right) doing something of an adult nature to a woman (on the left)? OK, ignore my dirty mind...it's just bad. It's about as far from asthetically pleasing as you can get. It's Paris Hilton ugly. And the sad/funny bit? It cost £400,000!

I understand that grapic designers are a high-paid species but that's just ridiculous. That much money and it looks like crap? So far petitions have been started for it to be scrapped and the London Olympic committee have gone on the defensive to say how proud they are of it. Here's a hint, people....when you have to publicly defend a decision, usually it's a bad decision.

This is a bad decision. A bad, bad decision. Hell, I can't draw a stick figure and I could do better than that ... and for a hell of a lot less than £400,000.

Got a match
I love this, from the unofficial website of Jeremy Hardy a British comedian, satirist, and journalist. He read this on the hilarious BBC radio program "The News Show."

"And thanks to David Carr for this, a transcript from the News Quiz. It’s from Jeremy’s friends Emma and Martin, taken from The Winchester and Mid Hampshire Observer, and it’s the editor replying to a reader’s letter (although Carrie Quinlan claims it is from an episode of the West Wing—I know not which came first):

“Good point well made, Mr. Duncan. As you clearly say, it states in Leviticus Chapter 18 Verse 22 that homosexuality is an abomination. Which reminds me—there are a couple of things I need guidance on. Firstly, If I wanted to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7, how much could I expect to make from such a deal? Also, my colleague Pete insists on working on the sabbath. Exodus clearly says he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself, or is it OK to get some outside help? Lastly, does the whole city really have to be together to stone my brother John for planting different crops side by side. And when I burn my mother for wearing garments made from two different threads, do I torch her whole or just a bit?”

To which I can only say, "bravo!"

Burgers and blues
Or hot dogs and hip hop. Yeah, whatever your food and musical preferences, the most ridiculous iPod accessory ever has you covered.

Behold the George Foreman BBQ grill with built-in iPod dock.

Good lord. Why?

I've got the whole world, in my hands
This weekend I took on the position of world music director at KZSU. I've been assisting Fo (my husband and the previous world director) for a few years. But now the position is mine. Fo has become the new jazz director -- which is just where he should be. Given his encyclopedic knowledge of the genre, he's the perfect person for the job.

The change means that I'll probably have to do more reviewing, but I'm very excited about the role. I'm also still continuing as public affairs director, so I'll be extra busy from now on. But at least I can rest assured feeling like I'm doing all I can to earn my show.

It's amazing. Before I came to KZSU my knowledge of world music was limited to a few random artists discovered during my travels and on NPR. Now I'm the genre director. Cool!

Gee, that sounds like it could almost be a real country
Oh dear. Sweden, bless its scenic little heart, has opened an embassy in the virtual world of second life. No, I'm not kidding.
In addition to just being freaky, this will no doubt cause all sorts of problems to geographically-challenged Americans who will now think Sweden is only a virtual country and not a real place at all.

Spanish Harlem Orchestra - "United We Swing"
Holy crap! United We Swing has got to be the hottest Latin album of the year. The SHO’s 13-piece ensemble delivers fabulous salsa-based tunes with polish and style. Every track is amazing and it’s all totally on fuego. Wicked brass, solid vocals, hot percussion, it’s great -- seriously, seriously great.

Oh bite me
This ridiculous article from the NYT has the insulting tittle of "The Tyranny of the 2nd House." And it's all about those poor, way-too-rich people in New York who have country retreats for the weekend and how difficult it can be to own two houses.

People, and I mean this in the kindest way....SHUT THE FUCK UP!

I just want one, OK. Just one house. Not a mansion. Not a 2500-square foot monstrosity with a hot tub and 75-foot ceilings. I just want a little place, just big enough for me, my sweetie, our cat, and our books and music. But buying a house in the Bay Area, unless you have a trust fund, is impossible.

So forgive me if I just can't muster up sympathy for the fact that it's hard to get a pool contractor in West Chester.

He gets a bazooka for his first birthday
Oh goodie. A 10-month old baby has just gotten a gun permit. As ridiculous as that sounds, here's something even crazier:

The baby's father applied for the card after the baby's grandfather "bought Bubba a 12-gauge Beretta shotgun as a gift." The poor child would be named "Bubba" wouldn't he? And what kind of lunatic buys a shotgun as a gift for his baby grandson?

Early Retirement?
Can you imagine working for 93 years without a vacation? At age 104, this man has decided it's time to retire. Wow...