Photo of the day: Weeds

Day two of the yellow theme and I'm thanking the weed gods. While wandering around the neighborhood yesterday I noticed an unsurprising mid-winter absence of flowers. And an equally unsurprising abundance of weeds. This is one of my very own weeds. Yup, didn't need to trespass on anybody's lawn for this one. Just went out for the morning paper and there it was.

Photo of the day: 10

Well, since a fire hydrant inspired this week's "yellow" theme, what better way to start? I wandered up the street taking pictures of all things yellow, earning a few odd looks and one chatty woman asking me what I was doing, did I know anything about computers, how to copy music onto a CD, and had I ever been to Iceland?

Yellow. But not mellow.
I was talking to Husband about my idea of doing a theme week for my photo of the day. He thought it was a great idea.

Then I made the mistake of asking if he had a theme idea. The problem was, we were driving past a bright yellow fire hydrant at the time. His suggestion was, of course, "yellow"

Could you pick a more difficult color?

I've gone through my photos and I have nothing (NOTHING!) yellow in my album. So I have some shooting to do. (Yay!) I love a good challenge. So stay tuned, tomorrow....the first in a week-long series of yellow.

Photo of the day : Hardware

I ilke door hardware. The solid feel of an old doorknob in your hand. Not entirely round, but heavy and solid. A piece of ironmongery to be looked upon with approval.

Photo of the day: Ladybug, Ladybug

She's small, but she's there. Diligently climbing up a tree. Sure, she can fly, but the climb is good for her hips and butt. She tries to get in at least 30 minutes of cardio a day and hasn't touched Godiva in weeks. What an inspiration!

Cat of the week: Sirius
Today's cat of the week was a tough choice. He lives in "The Condo of Love". Five amazing kitties, all of them vying for my lap. It was a purr-fest. Lots of cuddling, grooming each other and general sweetness. Any of these kitties (Smokey, Cat, Peggy Sue, or Kelsey) would make an excellent companion, but Sirius really stood out.

He was the first in my lap and was very patient and accepting when the other cats basically walked or laid on top of him to get their share of attention. Sirius is incredibly soft with a heart-melting purr and big expressive eyes. He will make some lucky person or family a fantastic lap cat.

If you're interested in this 2-year old pure black sweetheart (ID# A442517) visit the Peninsula Humane Society & SPCA website.

Me, Me and More Me
My good friend Finny has set me a challenge. On her wonderful (amusing, snarky, fascinating, informative, hilarious, wish-I-could-be-that-funny blog) she answered five interview questions as posed by Kristin at Going Country. For some god unknown reason, she chose me to continue the trend. Now I feel the amazing pressure to come up with interesting answers. I have to pee. I may need a cold compress. I'm not good under pressure (remember the whole ulcer incident of 2008?) I'm scared, hold me.

If you could undo one shitty thing you've done in your life, what would it be?

I dated a guy in college (who we'll call "Ben" although his real name was "Lee") who, it turned out, was also sleeping with a "friend" of mine (we'll call her "Bertha" although her real name was "Abby.") I saw them together, though they didn't know I saw them. The next day Ben and I were going spend the day together. I suggested going down to Monterey. I drove. When we got to the Mission we got out and I "went back to the car for the camera." Got in, drove off. Left him there. When he saw me he ran back to the car and I rolled down the window enough to tell him to call Abby for a ride home.

I would really like to take that back.

I would have liked to have done something that fucked Abby as well.


What is your biggest WT (white trash) food indulgence?

Where to start? I grew up in a total WT household. However, since my mother may be the worst cook since Lucretia Borgia, I don't actually crave any of the food I grew up with because, hey, I'm screwed up but I'm not suicidal. In spite of that I have a lot of white trashiness in my kitchen on occasion. Ruffles (gotta have them in football season). Mashed potatoes. Biscuits.

But the ultimate for me is Rice Krispie Treats. I make a batch at least once a year. There's just something about that Mess'o'Pot'o'Marshmallows that I adore. Especially when they're fresh. Once they get stale they're an abomination under the Lord. But when they are just made, and even still warm, I could easily eat the entire pan. I never have, but I've wanted to. Oh that crunchy-sticky goodness. Come to Mama.

If you could be The Best at anything - ANYTHING - what would it be?

Making money. I'd rather be the best actress in the history of the theatre, the best photographer in the history of film, or the best writer since Shakespeare. But I'd settle for having more money than god. Seriously, I wanna be filthy, stinking rich. That way I can do anything else. And, since I'd make Bill Gates look like a pauper, people would happily kiss my ass and tell me I'm the best at everything in the hopes that I'd adopt them. And, again, look at my bank account, I wouldn't have to do any of those things. I could just sit back, let my investments make me orgasmic, and spend my days playing with animals, napping, reading trashy novels, taking pictures, and generally giving the finger to the rest of the world.

Would you rather be hotter or smarter?
Probably smarter. I'm already so hot you need special glasses just to look at me. But I would love to be brilliant enough to do something like find a cure for AIDS or figure out how to use my juicer.

If you could make one person - celebrity, non-celebrity, public figure, past or present - vanish from existence, who would it be?

Tough question. The instinctive answer is Hitler. But as a historian, I'm dubious about the wisdom of fucking with the past. (Hey, I've seen Star Trek). I mean we wouldn't be who we all are now as a planet without WWII and the horrors of the Holocaust. So while I'd like to save those millions of people, I'm not sure about the whole thing.

My second answer would be Christ because I think we'd be better off without organized religion. But again, past, fuck with, see also "seriously screwed".

I guess I'll have to go with someone around today whose absence wouldn't upset the Space-Time Continuum but who we could easily do without (without whom we could easily do?). It's a toss-up between Jessica Simpson and Keanu Reeves. So my answer is Reverend Phelps, the brain-dead anti-homosexual zealot who stages protests at funerals of soldiers because they're fighting a war to "protect gay sex."

In the spirit of Internet closeness, if you want to continue the interview drop me a line. I don't think anyone will because (unlike Finny) I have all of two readers (Finny and Husband), but if you're lurking and want me to toss you five random questions let me know.

Photo of the day: Pod People

Careful, if you get too close to this pod the berries explode and you'll turn into a giant, mutant worm. It's true, I saw it happen outside of the library where these things grow.

Phases of the Mood
Do you go through phases or is it just me?

Sometimes I think my entire life has been a series of phases. Odd phases. Like for weeks on end I'll want nothing but English muffins for breakfast. Then, suddenly, I decide cereal is what I want and I'll ignore English muffins for a few months. Or I'll be in the mood for reading classic British mysteries. Agatha Christie, Dorothy L. Sayers, Ngaio Marsh, Margery Allingham. One after the other. And then, poof, I'm onto biographies.

What causes that, do you think? Why does something that sounds so appealing one day turn completely uninteresting the next? What happened between yesterday and today, for example, that made me decide that I really don't want yogurt? I'm still the same person. The yogurt is still my favorite flavor (non-fat vanilla). I still need to have lunch. But I just can't bring myself to grab a spoon.

For some reason I'm in a "I don't want to review music" phase. Part of my responsibilities as a music genre director and a DJ is that I have to listen to and write reviews of the new CDs into the station. I have a stack here at hand. Both world music for my stash and a few jazz CDs for Husband's. And yet I cannot bring myself to pop one in. I know it has to be done. I know I have a deadline coming up, that I will have to have at least three CDs reviewed by Sunday in order to have an add for the next week. But I just have no desire to do it. I'm fast running out of time. Tomorrow it cat duty (yay!) so I have today and Saturday. And yet I still procrastinate.

The mind is a funny thing. I'm sure a psychologist or psychoanalyst would be able to explain why humans are creatures of caprice. Why, all of a sudden, I have an urge to bake cookies or a desire to never drink lemon tea ever again. But, at the moment, I wish I could get into a "get off your ass and review some music" phase.

Photo of the day: Bricks and Web

When I first started this whole "Photo of the Day" thing is was an excuse to get me back into my favorite hobby, photography. It's taking me a while. I haven't yet captured anything amazing but then I haven't gone too far afield. Today I challenged myself to walk one block from my house and take as many photos as I could of anything that looked interesting. This is one of the images that appealed to me. I may have to start doing challenges more often. Make one week a "yellow" theme and force myself to find a yellow subject every day. Or a "parts of cars" week. Anyway, if you've got a theme idea, please let me know. I need all the help I can get. In the meantime, I'm really enjoying seeing the world through my viewfinder again. Hope you're enjoying it too.

Photo of the day: Kilmer's Ode

Sometimes you need a reminder to look up.

In praise of the good guy

Whoever said "nice guys finish last" was an idiot.

I like nice guys. I'm married to a nice guy and I couldn't be happier. A nice guy is what I wanted and, luckily, what I found.

I've had friends who always seemed to fall for the "bad boy." The one who looks like trouble. The one who, stereotypically, drove a motorcycle or had tattoos long before tattoos were the fashion accessory of choice for 16-year olds. Bad boys who had broken up with their last girlfriend (not really), was going to pay you back (yeah, right), and who were just misunderstood (poor things). Me? Never wanted one. I mean I went out with one or two, but just to go out. Shoot pool maybe or go to a blues bar. But I never wanted a relationship with one and certainly never, ever wanted one long-term.

Back when I was single someone asked me what kind of guy I was looking for. I had only three requirements. He had to have a great sense of humor. He had to be smart. And he had to be nice. "Nice" seems almost like an insult when your talking about the opposite sex. "Oh, you'll like Sally, she's such a nice woman." You'll take to mean "she looks like Phillis Diller." When applied to men, it's even worse "Bob is really nice guy." Translates to: Bob still lives at home and his favorite place to take dates is Denny's.

But I was never turned off by nice. To me nice meant "having a big heart, Having consideration for others. "Cares about the world and its animals." Nice is what I wanted. Sign me up for nice.

Instead I meet this guy at KZSU. All I know is he's a Jazz god. Knows everything about everthing. Who recorded with Charlie Parker on what album. What year Monk wrote Epistrophy. Who played drums in the Duke Ellington band. He knew these things. He'd learned to love jazz while living in New York and grew up on classic soul in Philadelphia. My image is some well-dressed urban sophisticate, the kind who knows those underground clubs where you sit at round tables you share with strangers and you sip martinis. Yeah, way, way, way too cool for me. I'm wearing jeans and a red combat beret with my honorary airborne pin. SO his type, obvously. But man, did he ever have a truly sexy voice. I thought he's borderline bad boy (although you can't be all bad if you love Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald, Thelonious Sphere Monk, and Django and Bix, and Cab and the Duke.)

I figured with his urban polish he'd be looking for some artistically dressed lady who actually own heels and a dress and who would sit with him at these jazz clubs, nursing a Cosmopolitan and nodding her head at all the right passages in the band.

Luckily for me he didn't want the jazz version of the bad girl. He wanted well, whatever I am. And whatever it is, we've done it. We're together, and happy. I'm more bad girl that he is bad boy but he is more nice guy than I am good girl, It works, even if it doesn't make sense. The sharp-dressed urban jazz club habitue with his bow ties and his notebork can walk into a show he's going to review and people don't notice the woman he's win, in the jeans, sneakers, and sweater. We may look an odd couple, but it works for us.

But it's the niceness that makes it all work. We're nice to each other. When we need a favor, we ask nicely. If we have something important to discuss, we discuss it nicely. We treat each other like the best friends that we are and, therefore, with respect and affection. And it's......nice.

The great thing about nice is that you can call nice up at 3 am and say "my car is broken could you please come." Nice will have the keys in hand before you can hang up. If you call bad boy you're liable to get the "other woman " wanting to know who the fuck you are. But nice is never like that. Nice is clear and generous and thoughtful. Oh sure, nice can make mistakes, but they will be atoned for appropriately. And that, in itself, is a comfort. I know that if Husband and I disagree we won't call each other names or toss the other's shoes out a window. No, we would talk it out calmly, knowing that we had the same goal. We might disagree but we don't use it as a way to hurt the other. Because deep down, beneath the love, there is the "I like you" that was there at the beginning and will always be there. It's something I learned from my friends. All of whom are nice. All of whom I love.

So if you're looking, don't settle for the bad boy. Sure, they have their place. And maybe every woman needs one or two in her past. But for the long term, you can't go wrong with a nice guy. And usually they're the ones that need your love the most because you're the first person to ever see past the playboys, the athletes, the millionaire-dropouts, the foreign guy who will break your heart (and those of several of your girlfriends)...and finally there he is. A good guy. My advice? Take him out for a test drive.

Oh, and one last reminded. "Nice" does not equal "boring". Nice just means considerate, kind, generous, open. It doesn't mean he's going to lecture you in a monotone on the history of how the spool was invented. Go nice....I highly reccommend it.

Photo of the day: Stripes

Cipher (The World's Most Amazing Cat, Screw You if You Don't Agree tm) always closes her eyes when I try to take her photograph. As a consequence, I have dozens of pictures of her looking asleep. So this time I took an extreme close up that she couldn't ruin by shutting her eyes. I tried to get her crop circle, but had to settle for stripes. Umm....soft.

Photo of the day: Tuning

Tuned into a radio station that no longer exists. Perhaps somewhere in the ether you can still hear echoes of "Fibber McGee and Molly" or "Jack Armstrong, the All-American Boy." If you can, this knob will help you find them. And if you do, please let me know.

Photo of the day: Fridge as Gallery

You can tell a lot about a home by what's on the refrigerator. Children's artwork? A shopping list? From ours you can tell we like art, Philadelphia, Egyptology, and that we've been on a plane at least once.

Photo of the day: Green on Green

We've had this bamboo plant for several years now and I haven't managed to kill it. In fact, it's thriving. Go figure...

Cat of the Week: Tahoe
My favorite lake is this week's favorite cat. Tahoe is a 7-year old male shorthair with a beautiful white coat. (Like Tahoe in the winter.) He's a total charmer that loves to be petted and is the terror of any hapless pipe cleaner to comes into his orbit. Tahoe (ID# A443029) gets along well with other cats and is friendly, affectionate, outgoing, and a total charmer. If you're interested, visit the Peninsula Humane Society & SPCA website.

Cat of the Week Update: Brodi (my CoTW for Jan 16th) has been adopted. Also adopted another of my favorites, a sweetie named Pussinboots who roomed with Brodi in the same cat condo. But Clipper and Mr. Peabody, two handsome black kitties who I adore, are still around. People, step up and adopt one of these guys! Each is a total charmer who would make you a loving, wonderful companion.

Photo of the day: Jimi's Eye

There's a mural of Jimi Hendrix on the wall at KZSU. This is his eye. I felt incredibly old one time when some freshmen trainees asked me who that was and when I said "Jimi" they asked "Jimi who?" Sigh...pass me my cane.

Kits and Kids
I'm just back from cat duty. My regular shift is on Fridays, but I like to go in twice a week if I can. Certainly the cats need the attention. And I think I need it too.

Today there were two families with young children there and all of them were perfect examples of why most people should not have kids. Yelling. Screaming. (Oh, the screaming!) Running around. Putting their fingers in the cages to try to pet the cats after me asking them four times not to. Scaring the cats by banging on the cages. They were monsters. I asked the kids to be gentle and quiet around the cats. That didn't work. So I spoke to the parents. That didn't work either. So now we've got five kits running around like demons, making an incredible amount of noise, freaking out the kitties, and generally being hell.

I can't even begin to understand how hard it is to be a parent. But aren't you making it even harder on yourself by raising kids that nobody likes and that will, no doubt, grow up to be out-of-control? At the risk of sounding like an old fogey, I wouldn't have been allowed to behave like that. My parents, for all their faults, always made it clear what kind of behavior was acceptable. Acting like a spoiled brat was not allowed. So why are so many kids now allowed to be this obnoxious?

You see it every day. Kids having temper tantrums in restaurants. That ear-shattering screech that only children can achieve lingering in the aisles at the grocery store. Little whirlwinds running wild in public places without a parent to be seen.

One of the things I love about my friends is that those who are parents are good parents. Their kids have manners. They behave. They know right from wrong and are not allowed to be headache-inducing little demons from hell. So I'd like to thank my friends for being responsible parents.

As for me, no kids (ever!)(thankfully). But one hell of a headache.

Photo of the day: A Work in Progress

Following upon yesterday's photo is this one of the building that unearthed that valuable piece of archeological history. There's something about all those hard lines contrasting to the tree in front that I like.

Photo of the day: Archeology

They're constructing a new building on Memorial Way near KZSU. There are two consequences of this. The first is that there is NEVER anywhere to park now because it was already tight and they got rid of about 30 spaces near the station. The second is that the work as disturbed the landscape (OK, the overgrown ivy) along the way. As I was walking to the station to do my show last night, I spotted this bottle emerging from the dirt.

Patent medicine? Some opium-filled concoction consumed by the class of 1932? Nothing so glamorous, alas. It was one of those apple-shaped apple juice bottles from approximately 2002 AD. But it certainly looks like it had the potential to be something dramatic, doesn't it?

Sigh...now I'm sorry I pulled it out. I should have lived with the mystery.

Photo of the day: Deco-lite

What can I say? I like shapes.

Grammatical rant #157

Nobody every "does" anything anymore. No, they have a "journey." You don't hear "Grad school was hard but I'm glad I got my Masters." Instead it's "I'm happy I took the journey." People, the pilgrimage route from France to Spain was a journey. This is just an event.

I'm all for finding meaning in life and, yes, it's the little things that make you happy. But why, for the love of Santana, does everything have to be so dramatic? Not everything in life is earth-shaking, yet contemporary society treats a trip to the grocery store like it's The Odyssey. Everything is momentous, a bonding experience, a fucking journey.

When I was a kid I remember riding on the train up to San Francisco with my father. It's an OK memory, I suppose. But in the hands of someone with more pretense, and less self control, than I it would become an epic. "Unlike real life, the click-clack of the train was taking us straight somewhere. Me and the enigma that I called "father." It didn't matter where. What mattered was sitting by his side, looking out the same window at the same neighborhoods, eating popcorn from the same circus-patterned box."

This trend makes even the dullest moment seem like a college's freshman's embarrassing attempt to find symbolism in a book they desperately want to be seen to understand. "I realized that, for my mother, that clean kitchen was Cyrano's white plume." No, bitch, it just meant your mom was incredibly bored and brainwashed by Mr. Clean.

Why can't something simple just be simple? Why does the most mundane memory (your first baseball game, getting your hair cut, getting your first puppy) have to turn into a rite of passage? "It was a really intense journey." No, it was you obsessing about getting Botox.

The offshoot of this is that it minimizes the things that really are important. It's like the trend towards referring to even the most minor of losers "superstar." The result is that people who really do have talent are lumped in with them so that Meryl Streep and Paris Hilton rate equal on the hyperbole scale. If the driving lesson with your mom becomes a touchstone of your life, what does that make your wedding day? The Rapture?

Photo of the day: My Blue Period

Famous pants
Companies have really gotten out of hand when it comes to naming things. I recently saw an ad on TV for air fresheners that have a scent called "Brazilian Carnivale." Which makes me think it smells like sweat and vomit.

Clothing lines, too, have gotten even weirder. Green is now "moss" "elm" or "Irish mist." Thanks. And blue can be everything from "soft ocean" to "spring sky." "Gee, Bob, you should wear spring sky more often. It really brings out the red in your eyes."

But I had to laugh when I was in Macy's Men's Store with Husband today and he pointed out these pants. If you know Husband, you'll know why they are so funny.



The Dylan? The Bryant? "Honey, have you seen my Bryants? I want to wear them with my butternut blush shirt."

Photo of the day: Behaving

Nothing worse than unruly chairs. The chairs at KZSU are all nicely stacked, thank you. So are the female DJs.

Dead fish
Creepy? Hilarious? A complete joke? You decide. Farawayfish.com. Because it's never too late to piss people off.

Photo of the day: ... and a Hard Place

Sometimes textures just really appeal to me. I can't explain it. The rough. The smooth. The bumpy. Or, as in the case, the rocky wall of that most photogenic of all places on the planet, Safeway.

Cat of the Week: Clipper
Clipper should have been my CoTW ages ago. He's a total sweetie. Pure black, very loving and affectionate. Today he flopped down on the floor next to me and purred non-stop for 20 minutes. He's such a love bug (you can see him in action here).

Clipper is 7 years old and really needs a good home. He'd make a wonderful companion for someone in need of a little extra love in their lives. You can find out more at the Peninsula Humane Society & SPCA website.

Oh, and just in case you ever wonder about karma, it works. I had to run down to KZSU today to do a favor for Husband. I was in a hurry because I didn't want to be late for cat duty. Since there's never anywhere to park during the day, I pulled into a red zone, crossed my fingers, and dashed inside. Six minutes later (I timed it), I came out to find a cop writing me up. I walked up to him and calmly waited for the ticket. I didn't say anything. And he just closed the book and and told me to move on. I thanked him, apologized for breaking the law, and took off. So I did a good deed today and was repaid by the universe. Thank you, Mr. Traffic Guy, for letting me go.

Photo of the day: Tiny Commuters

To sleep...
I've been an insomniac all my life. Even as a child I couldn't fall asleep or sleep through the night. As I got older, it just got worse. It typically takes me two hours to fall asleep, then I wake up a few hours later. I average 4-6 hours on a good night. I'm used to it by now. I watch old movies. Read. When I lived alone I would clean the house or do laundry. I will TiVo pretty much anything that seems interesting because I know at 3 am my viewing choices are limited. (Curse all infomercials and thank god for TiVo.) Some things I'll only make it 5 minutes before I know it's dull. Other things I'll watch straight through while I wait for the cat to wake up or the sun to rise (usually the cat wakes up first).

The problem is that the older I get the harder it is to be awake all night. It's not as easy as it used to be to get by on only a few hours sleep a night, especially after a few nights in a row of being awake. It's harder to drag my tired butt out of bed in the morning...even harder because I don't have a job to get to so I lack that motivation. Given the choice, I'd sleep 'til noon if I could. But that just makes it more difficult to fall asleep that night.

But there are compensations. I like the quiet. The peace. I like curling up under a warm blanket and watching an old movie or some fascinating documentary where I learn something new. I like turning the pages of a good book, a sleeping kitty curled up on my tummy, with I Love Lucy getting into trouble quietly, in the background.

On cold nights, I'l make a cup of herbal tea or some cocoa and, for some reason, feel decadent. In the summertime I'll open the window and listen to the neighborhood cats do the tango in our backyard. I'll pad barefoot around the house, reading the BBC news at 2 am, responding to e-mail at dawn.

Tonight Husband will go to bed like a normal person. I'll set up my nest of pillows and blankets in the living room and select a DVD to watch. Or perhaps I'll read. Eventually I'll fall asleep, two hours later I'll be awake. I can pretty much guarantee that sometime between 2 and 4 I'll be awake, watching Lord Peter Wimsey solve a baffling case or lost in the pages of one of the three books I am currently reading. (Don't ask.) And it'll be quiet, and I'll be slightly jealous of everyone with a normal sleep pattern. But mostly I'll just be content with my coziness, my cat, my sleeping sweetie, and the fact that I will, at some points, finally get some sleep.

Photo of the day: Listening to The Shadow

Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows....

Frankly, my dear...
One of my favorite films of all time, Philadelphia Story, was on last night. Last week I ranted about how American speech has turned into crap. I’d have to say that holds true for movies as well.

Think of all the classic lines from the classic movies. “We’ll always have Paris.” “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” “The stuff that dreams are made of.” “Rosebud.” “You know how to whistle, don’t you? You just put your lips together and blow.” “What we have here is a failure to communicate.”

Now think of any line from any movie of the past five years. Go on, I’ll wait.

Can’t do it, can you? OK, if you can you’ve either got a better memory than I, or you see a lot more movies. The last film I can recall that has a memorable line goes back over 10 years to Apollo 13 and Tom Hanks saying “Houston, we have a problem.”

I saw two recent movies in the past two weeks. The Golden Compass and The Namesake. I enjoyed both and couldn’t tell you anything that was said in either one. I’m a bit clearer on the latter film because I also just read the book, but in neither case was there one line of dialogue that lasted longer than the popcorn took to digest.

Why is that? Why is the history of Hollywood dotted with amazing lines and yet nothing in the past decade has lived up to that tradition? Has the dumbing down of American conversation moved into its movies, or have movies contributed to the demise of the English language? Or is it both? If movies reflect the times in which they are created I suppose it’s little wonder that contemporary filmmaking includes insipid dialogue. Perhaps it’s all part of my rant on how words have lost their magic, their sense of play and wonder. Whatever the cause, I miss movies where you walk out thinking “I wish I’d said that.”

Photo of the day: Green Pepper Swirl

Makes me want ice cream.

Confessions of a World Music DJ
"So how did you get into world music?" the trainee asked me tonight.

When I first came to KZSU, I was planning on being a blues DJ. But there were two superb blues DJs on at the time and I was, quite frankly intimidated. So I fell into my second choice, world music.

I had two world music epiphanies that led me to that genre. The first came in Paris. I was visiting friends on my way to Africa and one of them put a CD on the stereo while we were getting ready to go out to dinner. It was Samedi Soir Sur La Terre by Francis Cabrel, and it was love at first sound. Everything about it just struck me, including the fact that I'd never be able to hear anything like this on American radio. I bought the CD at de Gaulle airport on my way to Malawi and it remains one of my favorite CDs still.

A few months later I was down in LA and heard an interview on the local PBS station with a singer/songwriter from Cameroon named Henri Dikongue. They played a few tracks from his release C'est La Vie and, again, I had to have it. I was able to find it a few weeks later.

Those two CDs were the beginning of my world music collection. And of my love affair. But when I started at the radio station, nearly 10 years ago, I knew next to nothing about the genre. I had heard of a few non-American artists; superstars like Caetano Veloso, Miriam Makeba, Ladysmith Black Mambazo. But not much else. Certainly not enough to do a 3-hour show once a week. My learning curve on this one was so steep that I lived in terror for the first year because every show required hours of preparation. I'd spend entire weekend days in the library, pulling CDs and listening. Finding new artists, following new threads. I discovered how wonderful compilation albums were for introducing me to people I liked. I found those areas of world music that I didn't particularly like (such as gamelan and reggae) and areas that I liked but would probably never play (Indian classical). And I learned that I'd chosen a genre of music where I would be forever doomed to mispronounce every artist on my playlist.

Now I'm the world music director; a job I for which I still feel unqualified. But I do it because I love it, because I love being on the air and doing a great show. (Which I do. Sorry, I can't have false modesty about this. It's not me, it's the music.) And every week I listen to new CDs by artists I've never heard of, and releases by old favorites. I still get a childlike thrill when I open the mail and see "oh wonderful, X has a new CD out!" or I hear some unknown and think "wow, this is amazing." There's nothing like discovering a new musician that speaks to you and it's worth all the occasional crap I have to listen to to find that one gem.

So here I am, 10 years later and a bit wiser (musically) and still loving the music I fell into. I'm so glad I was scared away from doing a blues show (though I love it on those occasions when I do one) because it forced me into a journey that excites me to this day. OK, so I know something about a really obscure (to most of the US. And most of my friends, come to think of it) area of music, but I'm actually proud of myself for the work I've put into the acquisition of that knowledge. And on nights like tonight, when I feel a sense of satisfaction after doing a good show, I think of that night in Paris when I heard music unlike any I'd heard before. And I have to smile. Because sometimes fate is just way too much fun.

Photos of the day: History




All I can say is "joy!"

Photo of the day: King

A few years ago, wandering through an antique store in San Juan Bautista, Husband and I found this work honoring Dr. King. We bought it for Husband's beloved grandmother and sent it to her in Philadelphia. After she died, Husband's mother was cleaning out the house and put it aside for us. It came back to us this Christmas and now hangs in our music office.

It serves as a daily reminder to honor the legacy of Dr. King and all who fought in the Civil Rights battle. It's a great piece of inspiration to make a difference, to fight for what you believe in, and to remember that sometimes you have to make sacrifices to achieve something great.

Happy MLK day to all my friends. I am proud to know so many amazing people who do the right thing, and fight the good fight. Who give money and time. Who are active in changing the world. Who have an active social conscience and a good and generous heart.

And thank you to everyone, everywhere who has dedicated their life to human rights.

A day on, not a day off
So what are you doing tomorrow? Many people have the day off in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Well our incoming president (yay!) and the King Center are asking America to make it a day of work, not a day of rest. They are urging people to spend the day volunteering in their community. I think it's a great idea.

You can find projects near you by visiting the USA Service website, or you can just start your own. I was going to do an extra shift at the shelter, but they're closed tomorrow. So Husband and I are going to grab some gloves and trash bags and find a stretch of beach, park, hiking trail, whatever....that needs a pick-up. Other options? Donate blood. Take the money you would have spent on a movie and popcorn and donate it to your favorite cause. Have a "I care for the environment" day....don't use your car, minimize your energy and water consumption. Or plant your own "victory garden" in your backyard to help green the planet, give you some yummy food in the coming months, and save you some money too.

There are so many ways of getting involved in the world. I urge you to find one that speaks to your heart and do it. An ongoing commitment would be wonderful, but just tomorrow is a good start.

Remember "if you're not part of the solution, you are part of the problem."

Photo of the day: Still Life with Jam

At our favorite breakfast place. How diminished life would be without those individual jam tubs.

Photo of the day: Husband in Heaven

Oh the dangers of letting two DJs loose in a used record store...

Annoying is the New Clever
I am so fucking sick of the phrase "X is the new Y." Red is the new black. Green is the new cult. Gay is the new straight. What does this even mean? Does "gay" now mean "likes to have sex with members of the opposite gender?" Every time I hear that phrase I cringe, because it means nothing.

It means, in fact, that annoying is the new clever.

There's a great line in Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey where the heroine, Catherine Moreland, bemoans her lack of social skills by stating "I cannot speak well enough to be unintelligible." Funnily enough, it's as true now as it was in Austen's time. In contemporary culture, making no sense whatsoever is what now passes for being smart, sophisticated, or hip.

Think about it. How many commercials these days have tag lines or claims that make no sense? Beer proudly proclaims itself to have "drinkability." Wow...a liquid with the ability to be consumed, who'd have thought it? A shampoo says it delivers "hair so strong, it shines." Since when did shine become a hallmark of strength? "That ugly perfume fragrance is so strong you're shiny." "Did you see how that weightlifter shined? I needed special glasses just to look at him."

Remember when words meant something? When being able to speak and write well was something to be respected and admired? Now being able to shorten entire sentences to a gibberish collection of symbols is viewed as the epitome of cool. Can anyone really admire the ability to text "C U L8er?" I hate that American culture is being reduced to the equivalent of the text on a vanity plate.

And there are so many insipid words and phrases that show no reluctance to die. "Think outside of the box." Here's a tip folks, don't get in the fucking box to begin with. "Superstar." Half the time that word is applied to someone I've never heard of and who is famous solely for being famous. Then there's the relentless shortening of words. "Phenom," for instance. That one gets me because not only is it annoying, but it invariably refers to someone or something barely adequate, let alone phenomenal.

I love old movies, and one of the reasons why is because the scripts are so good. The dialog is witty and assumes the audience has a brain. Or the plot is suspenseful (rather than merely stupid interludes waiting for the next disembowelment) and the characters speak like people you'd like to meet, as opposed to someone you'd cross the street to avoid. And everyone speaks in complete sentences, in actual English. They don't speak in shorthand. And the lines are memorable. "Here's looking at you, kid" will never be forgotten. "You are one phat ho, mama." can't be forgotten soon enough.

Cat of the Week: Brodi
Brodi shares a condo with five other cats and while several of them could easily have been my CotW, she really stood out. She claimed the middle of my lap, but happily shared with PussNBoots and Belle and I had a lapful. She's very sweet and affectionate, gentle, good-natured, and loves to purr. She and Puss seem to be especially close, grooming each other and falling asleep in my lap with paws around each other. (Talk about "awww.")

This little grey and white cutie (ID A442558) will make someone a wonderful companion. If you're very lucky, she might be yours. Find out more at the Peninsula Humane Society & SPCA website.

Cat of the Week Update: Motley and Mikey have both been adopted!! I am so happy. And I'm really going to miss Motley. When I woke up this morning I was already looking forward to a good face-licking, but am thrilled she's found a home. Whoever is Motley's new family is very, very lucky. Several other of my favorites have also been adopted (it's been a great week), including Satch, Gouda, and Addidas. I'll miss them all, but I'm so happy to know they now have full-time laps. Especially Motley, she was very special and so deserving of a good, loving home.

Photo of the day: When is a Door Not a Door?

The Story of India
Husband and I are really enjoying The Story of India a six-part PBS series hosted by Michael Wood. It's a fascinating show, beautifully photographed and presented and full of "I didn't know that" moments. India is one of those places that has always fascinated me. And yet, oddly enough, I've never really thought about visiting there. I'd probably catch something fatal, because I am just that unlucky.

But this is a way of vicariously learning about this ancient and glorious civilization. The first episode traced the origins of Sanskrit and the Indian peoples. Episode two, which we've just finished watching, is about India's spiritual past, specifically Buddha and the ancient kings who searched for enlightenment.

If you have any interest in India, or even if you're just looking for some literate, fascinating TV, check out this series. I don't think you'll be disappointed.

Photo of the day: Purple

I love the purple flowers that grow in the iceplant in front of our house. There's a nice covering of them thanks to this warm weather and it always makes me smile when I open the curtains in the morning and see them. Purple is my favorite color...for things. Not on me. On me I just look like the Fruit of the Loom Grapes.

Photo of the day: Dust on the Sax Case

It's dusty, it hasn't been played in decades, and it's one of the the things I love the most. My brother Steve's baritone sax. Gathering dust, but still making me smile.

(Can you tell the camera is back?)

A real sports hero
Bravo to Florida State safety Myron Rolle who is delaying his entry into the NFL draft to attend Oxford on a Rhodes Scholarship. He still plans to enter the NFL and then would like to go to med school and then open a free clinic in the Bahamas.

So nice to read of someone putting education ahead of sports/money and with a social conscience as well.

Photo of the day: Watch the Birdies

Yum....bird food. It must be highly colored to make these guys so pretty.

Photo of the day: Branching out

Another "saved" photo (so looking forward to having the camera back), this time from early November. Proof that I do, occasionally, go outside. (And yes, I'm looking forward to having Husband back more.)

Photo of the day: What?

Camera is in NYC with Husband, so my Photo of the Day entry is dependent upon what I have stored in iPhoto. Oddly enough, I have lots of photos of Cipher (The World's Most Amazing Cat, Screw You if You Don't Agree tm) so that's what you're getting. This is her "why are you bothering me with that black flashy thing?" look. I'm usually intimidated enough to put the camera down. For a beautiful cat, she often takes a lousy picture. (Then again, I often take a lousy picture too.)

At 85
Yesterday was my mom's 85th birthday. It's a good age. She was born in 1924 in Detroit and grew up poor in rural Michigan. During Prohibition, her father and uncles brewed illegal beer, which they served on wooden planks in their living room...turning the house into a speakeasy when my mom and her sister were asleep.

Eventually the family came to California in search of work, and they settled in Oakland. That's where my mom when to high school and where she lived until she married my father. Mom and dad met at work, Southern Pacific Railroad, after he came home from WWII and they lived first in San Francisco and then moved to the peninsula where they raised their five kids. My mother and father were a great couple, very much in love. Sadly, he died too young in 1981 and she's never really gotten over it.

As many of you know, I'm not terribly close to my family. They're all nice people, but we have nothing in common. And mom is, sadly, deteriorating quickly. She has basically no short-term memory left. She's at that stage where she'll tell the same story several times in the space of a few minutes. She can't remember names, places, sequences of events. She'll talk to me about my father as if I'd never met the man. Last night we took her out to dinner and couldn't remember the names of the siblings who weren't there.

It's sad. And yet, because of the lack of closeness with my family (which they don't seem to feel exist) I feel detached from the loss that is to come. It's odd, because when Steve (the brother of my heart) was dying, I felt every single painful moment. Maybe that's why I'm so removed with my mom -- because I know how much it hurts and I want to spare myself.

No, that's the answer I'd like to be true. That's the sympathetic answer. The truth is I feel removed because I feel removed. Because I don't feel like I'm one of the Waltons, in spite of the fact that my mother and sisters think we are. My brothers seem to have similar feelings to mine, but maybe they're nicer than I. I wouldn't be surprised. I'm not the nicest kid in the playground. But I'm already feeling guilty because I'm not reacting the way the world would expect me to. No, not guilty. (Surprisingly.) It's just a sense of not living up to what I feel I should be. But I've never been good at persuading myself into emotions. So here I am. Detached. Once again feeling like I'm looking at my family from the outside.

The problem is that mom needs a lot of care right now. She's physically OK, but she gets incredibly lonely. My eldest sister lives with her (thankfully) but when she's at work or goes away for the weekend, mom is by herself. And she's never been good at being alone. I know I should spend time with her. Take her out, have her over, go visit her at her house to keep her company. The fact is I'm just selfish enough that it's hard for me to be there. I'm just not nice enough to be good at pretending I haven't heard her tell me about this one episode from grammar school seven times in the past two hours.

When Steve was dying there was a joke among my friends that I was the cold-hearted bitch because I didn't show how much it was killing me to watch my best friend die. But the truth is, deep down, I can be a cold-hearted bitch. It's hard to put yourself out, to do something difficult for someone that you don't love as deeply as I loved Steve. And I guess I just don't feel for my mother what a daughter "is supposed" to. I'll do my best. I guess my 2009 resolution should be to spend more time with her, to give my sister a break and do what is right. But it's going to be a damned hard resolution to keep.

How do you force yourself to do something difficult when you don't feel the emotional need to do it?

Photo of the day: Tower of Tunes

Part, a small part, of Husband's music collection. It misses him too.

Cat of the week: Mikey
Mikey is a 3-year old brown tabby (you know me and brown tabbys) with amazing yellow eyes. He's extra sweet. A bit shy at first, but loves to sit on my lap and soak up the attention. He seems to be a bit scared of new things, but with patience relaxes and settles in for a good, long pet. He'd make a wonderful companion for a child-free home with an owner that knows good things come to those who wait I really like this guy and hope he finds a good home.

Mikey's ID is A442136 and you can find out more at the Peninsula Humane Society & SPCA website.

Also, can someone please tell me why Motley hasn't been adopted? She is the sweetest kitty who just wants a warm lap all her own. Surely someone out there has a lap with a vacancy!

Photo of the day: Studio A

Ah....the high-tech, state-of-the-art wonder that is the KZSU studio. Thanks to our hard-working Chief Engineer it works, even if it isn't very pretty. (Or photogenic.) This was taken during my show on Wednesday. Behold my second home.

Flying solo
So Husband is off to the wilds of NYC for a week of jazz, family, jazz, meeting up with friends, jazz, maybe a museum or two, and some jazz (if he has the time). I'm home with Cipher (TWMAC, SYIYDA tm), a stack of books, about 75 hours of movies on TiVo, and a house that suddenly seems too big.

Don't get me wrong, I love my solo time. I love having complete ownership of the remote control, the bed, the blankets, the sofa, and the bathtub. I love not having to think about what to cook for dinner (and then cook it), having to clean up after dinner, or straighten up after anyone but myself. But I'm going to miss him, big time.

He just called. He's there safe, saw his folks, got an unintentional tour of Manhattan thanks to a "short cut" and is now getting ready for the Ron Carter show where he's going to meet up with another jazz critic and also meet up with, well, Ron Carter.

Me? I'm making a cake for me mum's birthday tomorrow. And, in the background, Top Gun with the sound off (because it's dumb but hey, they're so pretty). What can I say? I'm a sucker for the volleyball scene.

Photo of the day: NECH

This is a mysterious door near KZSU and Husband and I have always wondered what "NECH" means. And why is it such a nice sign? At the radio station, we have "KZSU" hand-painted on the outer door. But the NECH building (well, it seems to be more of a shed) has this engraved sign letting all NECH-ers that they have found the place.

Photo of the day: Fall in Winter


There's some nice crunching underfoot at the Stanford campus.

Best menu ever!
From the wacky folks at Engrish.com comes this Korean menu. (Part two is here.) I can't decide between the "house bear thang" or the "six membership fees pip rice".

Photo of the day: Envious
How do cats sleep so deeply? I can't. Never have. But I just walked into the bedroom and saw Cipher (The World's Most Amazing Cat, Screw You if You Don't Agree tm) curled into a perfect ball on the bed and looking like she'd sleep until the Rapture. It's cold out, and kind of gray. The perfect day to be curled up like a sleepy cat on a comfy bed. But no, I'm cleaning the bathroom and doing laundry.

Cat of the week update
Megumi has been adopted! The cute little black and white charmer that was last week's CotW has found a home. I'm going to miss her but I'm so happy to know she's got a family now. And yes, I do have a new favorite now. You'll have to wait until Friday though...

Photo of the day: I Second The Motion
Strangely enough, many of the people who work or volunteer at the PHS are liberals. Go figure... I captured this in the parking lot today.

Photo of the day: As a bone
The secret to being weird is in finding odd things interesting. Like the inside of your dryer. Hey, I just took the photo....you're the one actually looking at it.

Photo of the day: Kaleidoscope
I just loved the colors on this one. Drop some acid and it becomes truly mystical.

Cat of the week: Megumi
Behold Megumi. Or, as I like to call her, "The Purrminator." Seriously, she purred non-stop during my entire visit. I had to socialize her in the cage as all the rooms were busy, but we had a great time hanging out there. She is all about the love. She adores having her face scratched, butting heads, and showing a pipe cleaner who's boss. While I was with her there were several people who commented on how beautiful she is (and they're right) and how sweet (ditto). She'll make someone a wonderful companion (her ID is A439523) who will get a great lifetime friend with beautiful green eyes and a lot of personality.

And, a self-satisfying updateI helped make a match today! One of my favorite cats of the past few weeks has been Alexander. A beautiful black short hair who is incredibly affectionate. I was going to make him a cat of the week but he didn't have an online photo. Well two wonderful gentlemen came in and we started chatting about cats and I suggested they meet Alexander (who they hadn't noticed before). A few minutes later I walked by the GAR and saw them all bonded. One man had Alexander on his lap with both arms wrapped around him and their heads together. When I saw them later they gave me a thumbs up and invited me in...and they said they were taking him. Can I tell you how happy I am?!?!? Alexander is a wonderful kitty who just could not get enough attention. Whenever I had him out he'd sit in my lap and rub his face against mine, lean into my body and purr. And now he has that full-time. Plus I helped another family find what Husband and I have found in Cipher. I feel like today I actually did something good for the world. OK, I didn't end famine or war. I didn't find a cure for AIDS. But I did help make some people's life better, helped a cat find a forever home, and generally didn't do anything to fuck up anyone. So today was a good day.

Photo of the day: Fastest Paw in the West
I accidentally brought a pipe cleaner home from the PHS last week and Cipher (TWMAC,SYIYDA tm) thinks it's the greatest thing since licking my hair to wake me up at 3:30 in the morning. The kitties at the shelter love these things and Cipher is returning to her roots by loving it as well. We had a bit of a play this morning and her paw was batting at it so fast that she's just a blur.

Photo of the day: Coming Attractions
I'm going to attempt to do one photo a day on the blog so that I'll get back into the photography habit. Of course I made this resolve at 12:30 am so my photo ops were limited. This is a stocking stuffer I bought for Husband. It's a glass slide from when they used to advertise movies and products in-between feature films back in the golden age of Hollywood. I've never heard ot the movie, but I thought it was rather cool anyway.

Top ten
In keeping with every other blogger, newspaper columnist, and boring pundit on the planet, I give you my top ten of 2008 list. No, I'm not going to tell you what it's a list of...

1. Finding out it was an ulcer
2. Volunteering at the kitten nursery and becoming a full volunteer at the Humane Society
3. Shake Away by Lila Downs
4. The new California Academy of Sciences
5. Walking across the Golden Gate Bridge with my sweetie
6. Curling up with aforementioned sweetie and Cipher (the World's Most Amazing Cat, Screw You if You Don't Agree tm) on a rainy day in the world's comfiest bed
7. Pot stickers from Lai Lai
8. Ballykissangel on DVD
9. Barack Obama
10. My monthly book group, full of great people, good reads, and wonderful conversation

and a bonus,

11. Cute Overload