Fierce Tramp

You're Damn Right I Got the Blues: Buddy Guy & Me

2012-05-17T10:30:00.001-07:00

I call him "The Mighty Mighty Buddy Guy"

Whenever I've been fortunate enough to be in the presence of the Mighty Mighty Buddy Guy, he's lifted me to a transcendent place -- beyond where we are physically, past what I am experiencing in space and time to a universal experiential moment. That's the blues.

People who don't get it, well, I'm sorry.

The blues are the most uplifting sound I've ever encountered.

And, while I'm not going to be with Mr. Guy in person today, I could use that lift. This Fierce Tramp is going straight to one of my tried and true sources of Fierce Power. The Blues.....oh, and I'm looking good while listening to it.

Ma Rainey

I suspect that is why the Queens of the Blues used to put on their feathers and beads and dress up in their most glorious embodiment of themselves. Particularly at that time in American history and the African-American blues and jazz experience, Ma Rainey, Bessie Smith and more would get their best on to be the queens they knew they were as they doled out musical medicine to those who needed a dose of their healing sound.

So if you will, come with me to a place where whatever you are experiencing melts away into a common moment of human connection courtesy of the blues.

Dear Readers, you are kicked back, sipping whatever it is you like to sip, feelin' good, mellow, down low, sexy or whatever. I am wearing this fierce number just to the left of Bessie Smith, sipping a Scotch on the rocks, barefoot and sitting on my deck with the blues..."making it plain."

Source: shopstyle.com via Jennifer on Pinterest

Bessie Smith

Get ready now. Buddy Guy's magic music is about to wash over you. He might take you to the other side.

Just click play and let Buddy take you there.

Now doesn't that feel better? Aren't you more relaxed? More alive? Ready to rock and be? Ready to know you are not alone in your experience? Ready to imagine the possibilities of life and let the rest wash away. Ready to feel life a little more pungently than the day to day routine asks or constrains you to experience?

Personally, I'm going to follow the words of Albert Einstein below because logic is only part of our experience. Emotion and imagination are equal parts as well. I'm going to feel the breeze, turn up The Mighty Mighty Buddy Guy and imagine the possibilities, Fierce Ones, with Scotch numero dos.

Imagine your joy. Pure. Real. True. Embrace it and pull it into your life with every ounce of strength you've got. You'll feel better, I suspect. I know I do. I'm sending that joy to you...that moment of plugging into the experience to lift you up. What do you use to lift you up? We all need a helping hand, so speak up. And if you can't think of anything at the time, know this gal is willing to sit on the porch, sippin' what makes me happy, feeling, being and sharing the experience for you.

Source: vk.com via Jennifer on Pinterest

Don't Fence Me In

2012-05-16T15:35:00.000-07:00

Hiking in Red Rock Canyon back home near Las Vegas, NV.

As Sir Elton said, The Bitch it Back!

And today will not be a "Shallow and Superficial Post" -- which are the ones I enjoy the most. Put simply, shit went down, and I'm back to do what I do best.

Since last we met, I've redirected my energies in so many channels -- both personally and professionally.

It seems our world is requiring that of so many. Some of it is amazingly exhilarating. Some of it exceptionally painful.

But if you've read this blog, you know one of my strongest of beliefs -- that the reason we experience anything is in order to help others. What I endure in life, I use to prepare myself for teaching my son and helping him on his life's path. And if I can help others along the way, so be it.

The truth is that in helping, one is helped. I realize I'm verging on a Cat Stevens tune, so let me get a little less mystical.

France's new first couple, and my newest Fierce Tramp,
Valerie Trierweiler.

Today I read about the new "First Lady of France", Valérie Trierweiler. I was impressed with both the woman and the country. But mostly the woman. I was especially inspired by her commitment to how she identifies herself and her commitment to being that regardless of external forces.

Let's think about that.

What does the world tell you you are? What does it make you think you should be? Do circumstances incline you to compromise yourself, and by "yourself," I mean what you believe and how you conduct yourself. Are you required to conform to some external need for you fit the storyline being written around you? So many are because of financial dependence. And I am no exception in that category.

But are you willing to let that be how you are who you are? Other's writing your story?

I recently had a profoundly painful parting of ways because I refused to be what was required in order to fit someone else's agenda. And in so doing, I've entered a place of sadness for what was lost and empathy for the consequences of something I love. But I would not allow my truth to be dictated by others...and suddenly I was the puzzle piece that no longer fit.

Shakespeare's Iago, not someone I normally reference when discussing my integrity, states, "I am not what I am," as a warning. France's first lady is not going to allow the role others cast upon her to change who she is. Nor will I allow my identity to be misrepresented on my life's canvas by those who don't know or care about the truth.

"I am not what I am" as defined by others -- to fit their needs.

The world is filled with definitions and categories. Left. Right. The 1%. The 99%. Blue collar. Professional. Successful. A loser. The list is endless.

It is too easy to define people within the lines that actually are blurred, smudged, jagged and deceptive. Often, edges deceive the eye. Whether it is the eye of the beholder or the creator of the lines, those deceptive edges can be dangerous.

And in every life, there is a point when each of us decides whether we are going to stay within the edges of how other's have painted us, or resist and step outside the edges, taking the crayon away from others so that we can choose our colors, our shape and our horizon.

"Roads? Where we're going, we don't
need roads."

So I return to my blog space. Driven by life to tell what I see. I've missed my space. It's good to be back.

And it's great to know, as one of my former bosses, Nancy Keenan, used to say to me, "The strongest metal is forged in the hottest of fires." I feel that. I know it. Having come through the fire, I look to a new horizon with an eager heart and a curious mind. My thankful heart is also certain that what I know is meant to be shared.

Tomorrow may be another Zen moment. But I hope it's at least tempered with some silliness and sassiness. I'll try, I promise. Meanwhile, don't allow people to impose lines on your horizon.

Cue Bono and the Boys!

Fierce Tramp: You've Got a Friend: Another New Fierce One in My ...

2011-12-07T17:51:00.000-08:00

Fierce Tramp: You've Got a Friend: Another New Fierce One in My ...: Watch out! There's a new Fierce Tramp of the Day! Welcome to my newest little cousin, a Fierce One, born today Maryland. You glorious 7 p...

You've Got a Friend: Another New Fierce One in My World

2011-12-07T17:28:00.001-08:00

Watch out! There's a new Fierce Tramp of the Day!

Welcome to my newest little cousin, a Fierce One, born today Maryland. You glorious 7 pound 5 ounce little girl!

Orion Nebula. An example of the beautiful
universe you are now part of and that
your existence makes better.

Your birth brings me joy. And your grandfather is apoplectically proud. And your sister, well, I think you're a very lucky young lady.

And you are born into a tough time for our country. There is so much for you, and your little fierce cousin born last month, to learn. My boy will be a few years ahead of your discoveries and burdens. But you all remind me of why I've spent most of my adult life in nonprofit work. Because you deserve the best possible world we can pass along to you.

The stars shine and the moon rises and the sun shines. The rain and snow falls. I will keep working hard for you all to have the best planet, the best opportunities, and peace.

Welcome, Treasured One! Your family loves you so much already. You don't know it yet, but you are surrounded by love.

In honor of you, tonight, and of your birth, I post the first song I ever learned to sing. I used to sing it at age three in full much to my granny's euphoria. It meant a lot to me, and it always made me feel better to sing it and thing of my loved ones when I needed to feel better.

And I promise its sentiments to you just as I did when I sang it to Son of Fierce Tramp last night at bed time.

Remember always, that "We al shine on!"

Comfortably Numb in the Winter of 2011

2011-12-04T13:04:00.001-08:00

World War I Poster by

James Montgomery Flagg

People are dazed.

People are tired.

People are in a state of disorientation as all that we understand "should be" somehow continues to be turned on its head in the global economy. It permeates all aspects of life leaving those exposed to a strange sensation that nothing makes sense and you may well be the last sane person on the planet.

On this day in history that the term "shell shocked" first appeared during World War 1.

And even as I make comparisons to what I see people experience around me and the term "shell shocked," I recognize the experience of today is in no way comparable to what those in The Great Depression or any war have endured.

But there it is..."shell shocked" nevertheless.

The scene during the Great Depression.

The corporations are busy and the governments are busy positioning themselves in order to sell themselves to people who won't have anything with which to buy them -- monetarily so for sure. But far worse, people don't have any more belief that anyone in a position to make a difference cares to do anything. Nor should anyone feel that way with the way that corporations and governments have behaved.

It's no longer about the people governments are supposed to serve. Its about the party in power.

It's no longer about quality product. It's about brand.

And people are right not to believe.

I haven't written because I've had a six day migraine but more importantly, I've been giving much thought to others, and me, in the context of how to overcome the sense of "shell shock" around us. What difference can we make?

But here's what's fierce about this piece? We must believe in each other.

I can give you my Shallow and Superficial response: watch classic movies (this weekend, I've done Top Hat and White Christmas). Of note, the studded gloves on both Vera Ellen and Rosemary Clooney in White Christmas. Edith Head did well when she envisioned these to die for hand accessories. Both the red and white ones.

Entertainment as Classic Hollywood presented it
during the Great Depression. And it worked.

Also of note, every dance by Fred and Ginger. A little known fact about Fierce Tramp is that I believe I'm walking around in a musical and should break out in a number a la Fred and Ginger about five times a day. Seriously. I've often thought I was either meant to do that or be one of Tina Turner's back up singer/dancers.

I can also give you the Priorities response: embrace what matters. But what matters is threatened these days by the global economy, so it doesn't really help.

But the best I can say to readers is that you must be a Peeps that got Your Back for those around you and vice versa for your friends and family. A Scotch or four can only do it for so long. Step up and be there when someone needs you.

If you don't do it for ethical or religious reasons, then do it because it's what they'd do in the movies!

Perhaps that is one of my obsessions with vintage. There was an attempt to reflect that basic concept throughout most of the movies I treasure. Even the great ones that lack it are usually great because they are depicting the effects of the lack of kindness.

From Chaplain's City Lights, a movie
that perhaps most perfectly reflects
the value of human kindness.

Yes, I love the gowns. Yes, I love the jewelry and the hair and the shoes and the glamor, but I also associate it with the supposedly sappy message that you help someone when they are down.

That's why Charlie Chaplin works every single time and did back then. Kindness matters, and this is what Chaplin's films demonstrated to perfection. Especially City Lights. Watch that, and if you don't cry, you're not human.

Sooner or later, someone has to be there for someone else. I am lucky to have that. It's Fierce to be that for others. It is so desperately needed by so very many. So if you can, step up and be the Broad or Fella that gives a hand of help or appreciation. Or laugh with someone at the absurdity of it all.

I've been trying to extend even more kindness to those I encounter than usual. People really are stretched to the limit physically and mentally right now. So that extra gratitude or extra friendliness can help the person remember they are deserving. Even while the economy continues to make folks feel like they are irrelevant professionally or that their personal losses of home or income are meaningless to governments that refuse to take steps to help people.

Reach out and be there.

To be this for someone...that is Fierce!

It may be a cliche, but it's a cliche for a reason. Make one person happy. There is nothing more fierce than that.

So as we all navigate this strange, crazy time when nothing really makes sense, keep each other in mind. We all seem a little shell shocked right now, so let's not add to the reasons for people to think everyone is crazy. Let's remind people, "You're not alone."

And remember, This too shall pass.

Our two songs today are Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb and Fred Astaire Singing, Pick Yourself Up:

Fierce Tramp: Elinor of Aquitaine, Coco Taylor and the Art of Fi...

2011-11-27T14:52:00.000-08:00

Fierce Tramp: Elinor of Aquitaine, Coco Taylor and the Art of Fi...: Elinor and the House of Anjou is buried and enshrined as one family despite their many battles. So have I ever mentioned that I can trac...

Elinor of Aquitaine, Coco Taylor and the Art of Fierceness

2011-11-27T13:52:00.001-08:00

Elinor and the House of Anjou is
buried and enshrined as
one family despite their many battles.

So have I ever mentioned that I can trace my heritage back to Elinor of Aquitaine? It makes me wonder if attitude can be passed down that many generations.

Yeah. Only one of the most fierce women to walk the face of our resplendent planet. If you don't know her story, you should. In feudal Europe, women quite simply didn't do things the way Elinor did.

Here it is in a nutshell (if you didn't click the link above). She was renowned for her beauty and her fortune. She was the daughter of the first known troubadour (which played a huge role in her life) and the greatest heiress in lands at the time. She married Louis of France. She divorced Louis of France. She married Duke Henry Anjou, future Henry II of England bringing with her all her land (Bordeaux anyone?), lords and accompanying influence.

They lived a long life of hell together and jointly solidified England. Henry II had his friendship with Sir Thomas Becket and then his war with Archbishop Beckett after making him Archbishop of Canterbury --- the spat seems stupid but is a very meaningful battle of the power of the crown vs. the church and a nice precursor to Henry VIII's maneuvers. Elinor apparently hated Beckett. For more on this Fierce couple check out The Lion in Winter and Becket. Both films kick serious ass, and although Elinor doesn't get her due in Becket, her indisputable influence is clear in these films and in history.

All of this is very relevant to the England the world would come to know.

Henry and Elinor have many children, among them Henry, Richard and John -- that's Richard the II and John, signer of the Magna Carta because he was so bad at governing. They also had many daughters that would help shape the face of Western Europe.

Henry en-prisoned her for a suspected plot with her sons to overthrow him. Richard I, he of the "Lion Heart" freed his mother, and she lived her life out in a convent...sadly outliving most of her children. Many at the time blamed her dealings with her children for the failed House of Henry II, but it is also clear it could never have been what it was without her -- not only due to her influence, but her instrumental role in co-ruling before and after Henry died.

Elinor helped contribute to the concept of The Art of Love and the courtly musical tales of love and chivalry. She may have been a strumpet...OK, she almost definitely was (and with her uncle no less), but what we know about romantic love comes partially at the hand of my ancestor.

An author commissioned this image based
upon a bust of Eleanor at Cloisters and
contemporary accounts of her blue eyes.

She was one bad assed Duchess and Queen that refused to be limited by the modes of her time.

It cost her a lot of pain, but it also seems to have been one hell of a life compared to that of other queens of the time.

She is so elusive to me. I want to know much about her, but the records and information just isn't there to satisfy my thirst for knowledge about her. We already know far more about her than most women of that time due to her exceptional behavior.

I'm proud to have such a Fierce Tramp in my line. She was wise and, yet, sometimes a victim of her own machinations. She wielded power well and dangerously. There is great deal for me to learn from her.

That is why, today, I give you the song that most makes me think of Elinor...who lived from 1122 - 1204, a staggeringly long life for that time. Impressive. Most impressive. While a troubadour's tune might be more apropos, I have to honor her with Coco's tour de force, "I'm a Woman."

Fierce Tramp: Small Business Saturday sends us to Penny Lane

2011-11-26T09:47:00.000-08:00

Fierce Tramp: Small Business Saturday sends us to Penny Lane: Frank Phillips Pottery (the vase above is just one of their pieces I have collected) is one of my favorite small businesses, and I've neve...

Small Business Saturday sends us to Penny Lane

2011-11-26T06:43:00.001-08:00

Frank Phillips Pottery (the vase above is just
one of their pieces I have collected) is
one of my favorite small businesses,
and I've never been there.

Fierce shopping doesn't require Bloomingdale's, Sephora, Best Buy, Pottery Barn, Anthropologie (anti-choice roots, boo!), or J. Crew. That's why I'm on board with Small Business Saturday!

In fact, my fierce shopping now is a commitment to purchasing as few new things as possible. Why? Because our world cannot sustain all of us having shiny new stuff if we are going to retain essential forests, oceans, species and lands necessary for the health of our planet. Repurposing is Fierce! And it still helps the economy -- wherever you are on the planet!

Today I will do my part shopping for necessities or trinkets of affection to exchange on the holidays. I will not be spending much, but it does not take much to help small businesses stay alive. They are so much more satisfying than the faceless box stores that lack character, spirit, and relevance to wherever it is that you live.

And shopping local or small business doesn't mean you are stuck in your own community. I will be stopping in Oregon and Pennsylvania today.

Thanks to this thing called the Internet, I can buy vintage anything. I can buy local anything. I can buy thrifted and repurposed goods transformed into newly functional products without adding more waste to our planet. And tomorrow, I'll be shopping in Britain for more vintage goods, and I will offset my carbon foot print (I give to The Wilderness Society as a monthly donor to offset the carbon footprint of shipping and driving).

Shopping local, globally at small businesses with the ability to offset the carbon footprint.

That is fierce!

This vintage Miriam Haskell bracelet was a
local small business find at the
Olney Antique Village. Ring from Etsy.
Nail color is Sparitual's Hypnotic.

My first stop will be at the antique shops down the road for special holiday gifts for friends and family. I will start at the Olney Antique Village. Here, in the past, I've found this fabulous vintage Miriam Haskell bracelet.

When I wear said bracelet, it is a show stopper. And I feel like I am either Ingrid Bergman or Barbara Stanwyck. Either way, "Yes, please." The ring also always gets lots of attention. I happened to get it online on Etsy purchased and made to my size. If you like, click here. Christina Kober, of Decatur, GA made this for me, and I never, ever take it off.

From there, I will likely stop at The Backyard Naturalist as well. I love their fine bird seed that brings the Cardinals, Nut Hatches, Phoebes, Blue Jays, Gold Finches, Tufted Titmouse, and Chickadees to my front yard tree.

I also their garden accessories and the Amish cast iron seasonal door hangers I've gotten there in the past. Simple. Lovely. Hand made. One of a kind.

I will also stop and grab something for my son at the Olney Toy Store. Melissa and Doug puzzles and toys. Stuffed animals, books. Children's music. Paints and wonderful crafting materials.

Small, meaningful items purchased with love for family for Christmas. Purchases from small local businesses.

Which brings me to one of the reasons I love Small Business Saturday so much.

One of my great disappointments when I head to a new town for the first time is the loss of small Main Street USA to the big chain stores. You see small shops shut down, main streets going bust "downtown" while the burbs keep busting with big box stores. Strange how I suspect these big boxes will share a similar demise when the Internet is done with them. Maybe, then, small local shops can reemerge. Newly repurposed themselves for a global audience that can shop them locally.

There are few things better than eating at the place all the locals know about, shopping at a store that has been run by families for generations or one newly opened to serve or fill a need for a much loved community. Small, local. Nothing like it.

But my local small business shopping isn't done. I have at least two more stops to make before I'm through. For these purchases, I need only log onto my laptop or grab my iPad whether at home or at my favorite local hang out.

My hand written invitation to free shipping if
I shop at this small business.

People love this vintage, refinished bracelet from
Hopscotch Couture. I never fail to get raves.

Firstly, I probably will stop by Hopscotch Couture. This designer of repurposed vintage awesomeness was so smart, she sent me (a frequent etsy.com shopper), a hand written "Holiday Open House" card with free shipping on all her items though the rest of the year. Her personal touches in interacting with her clients are so thoughtful. This fierce business owner has fierce marketing skills!

If you are in Kingston, PA, you should stop by her gallery. If you like vintage, you will purchase. I can almost guarantee it. Unless you're a purest who has to have "the unchanged original." She brings a new twist that is respectful to the vintage original but hints at the modern.

If you can't make your way to Pennsylvania today, jump on Etsy and check out her stuff. It's a cut above. I get raves on whatever I purchase from her. The cuff to the left makes me feel like Ava Gardner and is always "oohed" and "ahhed" over wherever I go. Marelle, the designer, has been featured in In Style, but I found her by way of Etsy without the recommendation of a stylist. Check her stuff out.

Like the vase above, this large bowl from
Frank Phillips Pottery has brought me years
of satisfaction in it's lovely design.

And now to my shop way, way, way around the corner for me...back to my west coast days.

From my west coast life, I recommend Frank Phillips Pottery. I have never been to their store in the Ashton,Oregon, but I first saw the pottery at the annual Boulder City Art in the Park back home in Nevada. Rarely do I find pottery that for me, matches the rich hues and the aesthetic quality of this artist. The exception for me would be Meadow Point Studios in Connecticut (also discovered on Etsy). From Meadow Point, I've gotten hand painted ceramic tiles with wild birds around which I am going to design my backsplash in my kitchen. Once I finish that project, I'll be sure to post the loveliness of hand craftsmanship and do-it yourself home projects.

I bought my first coffee mug from Fran Phillips Pottery because its colors reminded me of the variegated blue depths of my beloved Lake Tahoe. Since then, I have picked up vases, large bowls, and more because of the uniquely colored, finely designed, and strong pottery. They ship to me cross country with such care. I love their stuff.

Our local and global giving back to small business has come to a close today. It gives me great pleasure to help shops and local restaurants thrive against the tyranny of faceless corporations. Damn, I may have to on demand The Shop Around the Corner or You've Got Mail now...probably The Shop Around the Corner. I can't resist that gem of a movie. Just thinking of it makes me happy. What also makes me happy is my shopping required thought about the individual. Knowing the little details of their lives that make a purchase from any of these local shops far more meaningful than anything they will get from a wishlist on Amazon.com.

Now to your song of the day. In the spirit of Small Business Saturday, I leave you with one of the most famous local lanes around. Penny Lane. Let's keep our own Penny Lane's intact. Deal?

Ringo Starr, Patron Saint of the Fierce

2011-11-24T12:33:00.001-08:00

On this day in history, Ringo Starr had his first number one solo with "Photograph." The year, 1973.

Bless my house, Saint Ringo, oh he who epitomizes
one whom has much to be thankful for.

Thus, he is Fierce Tramp of the Day. Because no one...not another human that ever walked this earth since we crawled out of the ooze and walked upright, has ever, ever had better timing than Ringo Starr!

Saint Ringo, as he is known in the house of Fierce, means a great deal to us in my family. Paul, George and John always said he was the best drummer they worked with. He was the mellow glue that held them together at times. And he was happily aware of how lucky he was. He went with it and look where it took him!

Mr. Starky, nicknamed Ringo in Liverpool because of all the rings he wore, would be part of that group of four that changed the world forever.

He married Barbara Bach. During an interview with Larry King, I saw King gush about Bach and told him his wife was beautiful. Ringo casually said, "She's very beautiful, Larry." Larry asked how she was doing while he wiped drool off his chin. Ringo replied, "The wife is doing great (emphasis his), Larry." then there is the fact of his normalness. All this happened to him, but he's so normal. Ordinary. Like us.

Barbara Bach, wife of Saint Ringo
and Bond Girl.

Unplanned, he was pulled in to replace Pete Best for the Beattles when they recorded their first record with George Martin. And, like that, Saint Ringo moved into a world only three other gods would know. His Fabness was sealed.

He reminds me to keep dreaming. Believing. Hoping. Any dream is possible. Why? Because Ringo Starr!

No super human, he! He is fierce because he is normal and he got to live one of the most amazing lives ever experienced on planet earth. Unlike the freaks of humanity like Hendrix, Giselle, Ali, Elton, Mozart, or Picasso, Ringo is one of us. Even while he's one of "Them!"

How fitting, then, that his first solo number one would be marked on Thanksgiving. Who has more to be thankful for and to remind us we can fall into goodness at any moment.

So take a moment to be glad. Give thanks for everything in your life today. But also give thanks to Saint Ringo. Ringo reminds us, it could happen to you! And he's living that life for us.

Get By on a Smile: Cat Stephens and the Art of Speaking

2011-11-23T03:37:00.001-08:00

True Story.

Me: "OK, Kiddo, if you can put your coat on, I'm just about ready to go."

I put my coat on as well as I prepare to take my son to school and head off to another day in the office.

About ten minutes later, as I pull my hand bag's strap over my shoulder, I say "Come on, Kiddo, put your back pack on and we can go."

Son of Fierce Tramp: "You already said that. 'Kiddo.'"

I stop. I think. "Do you mean I already said 'Kiddo,'" as I stare at him in confusion.

Son of Fierce Tramp: "Yes."

Me: "So you're saying I'm repetitive. You think I'm using the same word too many times."

Beginning of day and showing my spectacular
vintage Weiss brooch artfully placed.

Son of Fierce Tramp: After a slightly pregnant pause, "Yes, you are repetitive. And it's hurting my brain."

How do I relay to you the amazement I felt as I was called out by my six-year old son for saying one word too many times. Awe. Bemusement. Pride.

And how many of us would love to be able to say that in any host of situations!

Yes, my son was asking me to mix it up when I spoke to him. I was impressed. Nay, I ws schooled! To the word, he was requiring creativity by me. I could not be more proud. No pandering to Son of Fierce Tramp! Already, he's got higher expectations of peoples' interactions with him than most adults. I hate to disappoint him in the future he faces of people and situations that are going to "hurt his brain" based on his criteria, but I also hope he chooses his friends and colleagues such that they don't let him down.

This also was a moment of amusement as I had felt I looked particularly fierce yesterday as I got myself put together to face the world in my chosen persona of the day. And I'm cut down to size before I even leave the door!

But back to my look. Part Ingrid Bergman. Part Elizabeth Taylor. Part Grace Kelley. My ruffle-top grey chiffon top and black crepe-skirted sheath was to perfection.

End of day photo showing my fabu vintage Miriam
Haskell jet clip on earrings. Tired, but still loving my
earrings. I look kind of "worn" no?

My Miriam Haskell vintage jet black dangling clip-ons so very Ingrid. My vintage Weiss brooch perfectly placed and perfectly Liz. My princess black patten heels reeking of Grace. I was good to go.

But hold, on Mom!

Mr. Editor nails me to the wall with laser precise expectations of my dialogue. Kind of took me down a peg in my personal fierceness as a wordsmith, and simultaneously elevated me as a mother of a Fierce Editor! Ah, the joy in my son's cleverness.

As I retold the story to people throughout the day, the cackle my tale elicited was so wonderful. It was a gift. And I clearly was playing it as the stunned but proud mama.

I hope he continues to keep me sharp. Because one's fierceness must be more than just superficial.

It should also be reflective of what is inside and out.

And with that, I give you the song of yesterday...I'm just a bit behind, so you may get another post today.

Howlin' Wolf and the Perfect

2011-11-21T18:05:00.001-08:00

A man who clearly had been to the Crossroads.

Fierce Ones, I am of the mood to think upon what I consider "The Perfect" and it always includes music. And there is a special musician that comes to mind tonight.

The voice. It is from another world and yet it conveys knowledge of this world at its core.

The attitude. He's been where you are. He's done that. He's not judging. He's explaining.

The groan and the wail. Transmogrification for his fellow human beings and to earn cash that will set him up independently unlike so many of his Blues peers.

As a writer, I can say little about what I feel when I listen.

It's just, "Yes!"

It's simply, "Please, keep singing."

It's always, "Thank you."

I would say he sings "The Perfect" and is perhaps the most Fierce of all in my book. "The Perfect" makes my skin stand on its edge and my spine light on fire. It is pure. It is true. It plugs into the universal.

But rather than spend time writing about him, I would like to think, instead that I'm in a blue velvet dress, vintage. I own a black velvet version, but I am still in pursuit of the right blue velvet vintage frock for this mental journey. Old stockings and pumps. The rings on my fingers are real, but my clip on rhinestones are vintage. Cheap. They've been on too long, so I pull them off and leave them on my table while I rub my earlobes and sip my Scotch.

The Scotch is old.

The room is full with listeners, dancers, drinkers. It's late, and my mascara is probably smeared. I'm sitting with Pennsylvania Red's arm loosely, comfortably resting on my shoulder. My perfume mixing with my skin to let off the perfect aroma of artificial me and real me.

And Howlin' Wolf is doing a set.

Then it's time. He plucks the chords, and I'm gone. I hope you're with me. It only takes a Spoonful to be gone once he sings the first note.

Zombie Land is a Happy Place: Sophocles, Bono and Green Day

2011-11-20T07:50:00.001-08:00

Hektor's body is returned to Troy.

Fierce Tramp is very moody today, so I'm a little serious today.

But first, "Hey, Mexico!" Hola! And whoever you are in the Netherlands and Russia, I'm glad you keep visiting.

Now to my thoughts....

When it was revealed that American armed services in Dover, Delaware had disposed of dead soldiers' ashes with them ending up in garbage dumps, my heart was heavy. My stomach queasy.

Was this the way to treat anyone let alone one who died serving her country regardless of the rightness or wrongness of the military action? Most certainly it is not.

Then I was watching Wolfgang Peterson's 2003 Troy on an afternoon when I needed to just remain as listless and superficial as possible. The scene where Hektor's body is dragged by Achilles after their epic battle, and his father, the King of Troy, humbles himself before Achilles to ask that he be permitted to properly bury his son's body. This scene, whether read or viewed, is so profound as to leave me breathless each and every time I am faced with it.

Then, my son, watching Star Wars, Episode IV, saw jawa bodies being burned and asked me what C3-PO and Obi-Wan are doing. And I had to explain why we show respect to the dead. It went over his head, but it recalled for me the first piece of literature I read in my college lit course, Antigone.

Sophacles' Antigone depicted in pottery.

Antigone, if you don't know, is a gripping Greek tragedy in which a sister is imprisoned by her Uncle Ceon, the King, because she disobeyed commands to let her brother's body lay out open, unburied. And she is ultimately killed. The play is about civil disobedience and when it is appropriate or inappropriate. It is about democracy for sure. It revolves around how we treat our ancestors. The clear message for me is that Antigone is a heroine for the western ages.

I write this today because people world-wide are fighting for values they believe in for the good of their family, their country, their world. It is a time of change.

I hear much about whether the Occupy Wall Street Movement is right or wrong.

The answer couldn't be simpler.

They are fighting for the future, but that fight honors the dead. Any civil action made in the attempt to protect, further, or unleash values one holds deeply as core to their beliefs or their country's well-being is standing on the shoulders of past believers that took action for those values. It is just as much an act of respect for those ancestors as building memorials, burying loved ones properly, following rituals of memorial associated with one's faith. There is more to honoring and respecting ancestors than the act of burial or remembrance.

There is action. It is about who one is.

Modern western culture, at least in the U.S., so very badly wants to push death out of our every day gaze. We bury or cremate and move on after a time of respectful mourning. Other parts of our world are far more aware of the traces our ancestors leave in the present. Their cultures embrace these presences in a way that is far more realistic about the ghosts amongst us. And whether one chooses to recognize it or not, they are shaping our future for better or ill.

I know some will find this a morbid post, but I find it comforting. It is a guide star for me to ask myself every morning, as I do, whether my deeds, thoughts, and words honor those who came before me. I also ask myself if they do the same for those who are with me now and those who will follow.

With this in mind, choices in the moment are much simpler than one imagines. And while I am pretty bummed right now about the state of our world, I can look back and know that what lays ahead of us is what has come before (for better and for ill). That is what I will teach my son.

I Feel the Sky Tumbling Down Pennies from Heaven

2011-11-19T07:14:00.001-08:00

The hole in my ceiling is right above my head.
My nails are Sally Hanson Complete Salon Manicure in Calypso Blue with
two coats of
O.P.I. Gone Gonzo over it.

Firstly, Dear Readers, I welcome whomever in France and Italy visited our site. I am thrilled you stopped by.

Today, I share this Fierce Rule: When absurdities pile up, embrace them.

Start singing Dancing Queen with me. Smile. Laugh a lot when it's all you've got.

And dress well. As a dear friend would say, "Stay Fabulous!"

For example, this Wednesday after one of my most difficult professional days ever, I came home after Mr. Fierce had explained very logically how our bath tub had overflowed that afternoon much to his humiliation. He had spent his day with towels, vacs and lots and lots of water. He felt embarrassed.

I was happy to come home to domestic troubles that made perfect sense.

As I went upstairs to inspect and take my vintage jewelry off, it was clear he'd been hard at work triaging the situation. And I was rolling up my sleeves to help.

Still attired in my fabulous work clothes, I came back down and noticed my living room ceiling drooping, donning heretofore never before seen water stains, and paint bubbles the shape of water balloons. In short, the sky was about to start falling and raining in my living room.

Mr. Fierce has a new home project.
He can't wait. And I get a freshly
painted ceiling. Silver lining.

Within minutes, the water started dripping. Mr. Fierce was on the scene, Super Man-cape billowing behind his manly form, buckets and towels in hand. As I watched the bubbling paint get bigger, the line of water get longer and intersect in the middle of my ceiling, I realized we had a "situation" on our hands.

Fierce Son was very intrigued by this scene. Pennsylvania Red and I, standing on furniture with buckets rapidly filling up from water pouring out of the ceiling. Amidst this chaos, I took the opportunity to explain the concept of gravity. It may have gone over his head, but someday I'll reference that moment, and he'll get gravity.

Pennsylvania Red was getting more and more irritated with himself for having created this situation, and I was getting more and more amused. Sure, my home was damaged. Sure, it had been an exhausting day and I didn't exactly have energy for this. Yet, here was a moment that makes a family a family.

I smiled and said, "I love you," as I took one full container of water from him and replaced it with an empty one. We had to cut the ceiling open and let the water rain on down. He said, "Well, it's one more thing we'll have to talk about when we are old and gray."

So, now, I have a hole in my ceiling. Water marks extend across my ceiling. It's still drying. And I am so grateful to have it to remind me of my family's many experiences we will weather together.

Fierce Son relishes what matters in life.

Additionally, I have a son who is playing in the leaves as we speak. He happens to have bronchitis, but I believe in sturdy children, so he's playing hard. We've made a memories for him. And I've got his medicine to cure the infection, so back off freakish American moms who raise wimpy kids afraid to live! Remember that Life is a Banquet per Auntie Mame!

Our family endures, transcends and thrives.

All over the world, we're facing economic collapse. Our very way we do things is changing likely forever, and I am reminded of the Great Depression in America and how folks found the silver lining amidst the horror.

So I have two songs today. From two greats.

I give you the ever fierce Carol King with "I Feel the Earth Move" off of her masterpiece, Tapestry. And I give you Louis singing "Pennies from Heaven" because despite the downpour we're all feeling (well, the 99% of us), if we look up, the heavens are raining pennies if we know how to recognize them just like Pops did.

Green Day, Granny and Her Gift to me

2011-11-17T14:32:00.001-08:00

LONG POST WARNING

She inspired me to be a student of writing and beauty. She taught me how to make a mundane moment special. She taught me how to rise to the occasion when absolutely necessary. She taught me how to savor life. She taught me how musicians cured a case of the crabs and how to carry my hips and shoulders to optimize all assets. And she taught me never to stop being curious, loving new things and people. She is a Peep that has my back to this day! She taught me priorities and personal style too!

As Auntie Mame says, "Life is banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death." And she was right.

From left: Grandma Louise, Granny, Great Aunt Neolla
Belle, and Great Great Grandma Bertha.

That's her to the right. Second from the left. She was my grandmother, but despite it being unhip in the 70s she insisted upon and relished being called my "Granny."

But first she was a little girl as seen here.

Born in Kansas City, Missouri, she would tell me about magical walks in the woods where she would loose herself in the beauty of the world. After Grandma's divorce from Granny's dad, she would tell me about the transition from a slightly affluent family to that of a divorced family whose mom ran a boarding house, was a cosmetic sales woman both in stores and as a traveling cosmetic sales gal to make ends meet. Grandma Louise (first on the left) was a tough cookie with sparkling eyes that my mom shares.

Then Granny was an eighteen year old who was pregnant with my mom in 1950. She was a romantic through and through, and for better and for worse, her life acted out the ethos of the Romantic movement in literature and art.

Granny with my mom and my great-grand
father.

By the time she had my mother, she was married to a man in the mob who said he'd raise my mom as his own. She had lost her young first love to a family that saw better for their son than a marriage to a girl from a broken home whose matriarch ran a boarding house. She had chosen not to tell my mom's dad she was pregnant because she didn't want him not to continue pursuing his degree in journalism at Columbia University. So she married the man whose name I carry to this day.

He beat her, abandoned her for months at a time, returned without explanation and departed again after putting another bun in her oven. Then he and his family took her next two children away from her, told her to leave with my mom and never come back. It was the shattering event in her life.

Granny, or Mary Jane Chattin, as she was born, loved love. Loved romance. Loved life. Loved her children. Loved ideas. But her experiences with her first husband left her with what my mom thinks was permanent brain damage she explained away as Minear's Disease. She would go in and out of severe cases of agoraphobia where she disappeared into her books, her music, her paintings and her memories. I think she also disappeared quite often to hide from her first husband for fear of his taking the other child of his she was pregnant with when she had to walk away.

My Granny! The Broad looked this good when I was two!

She married five (twice to one man) times, and I don't know how many lovers she may or may not have had along the way of life. She had seven children. She never stopped trying to reach the two boys she lost -- boys that were told their mother abandoned them and boys who were never given the letters she kept writing to them.

Toward the end of her life, she told me she had found the first man who truly loved her and whom she truly loved. He wrote poetry to her. They visited each other and she would stay at his place for days before returning to her home. He was a standing bass player from the Big Band Era who welcomed my family as they made their way to Las Vegas in the early 60s to work in the bands when the Rat Pack ruled. Her husband at that time was a superlative drummer and singer.

Auntie Co Co, Granny, Mamacita, and me, Fierce Tramp!

The picture to the left is of her last Christmas with us. I had just started graduate school, and I hadn't seen her since I had taken the picture below of her on her birthday. She was in a good place and seemed happier and more active than I'd ever seen her with few agoraphobic symptoms.

This was the same year Green Day's Dookie came out, and she told me how much she liked the song "Basket Case." She loved it! I would listen to it with her and she would yell, "Yes!" Then we'd switch to The Duke's "Willow Weep for Me." She was special.

This Christmas photo makes me exceptionally happy because we Fierce Tramps of this line of the family are all in one place. It also makes me sad because I remember after waving goodbye to her and shutting the door, I turned to my mom, saying,"Granny did not look herself. She was so pale. She needs to go to a doctor." By mid February, she passed away from breast and ovarian cancer...and I was bereft beyond explanation.

Her last birthday and the cake I made her.
I found this film and developed it after her death.
What a special visit from her this picture was
and is.

So the other night, when I came home from a really tough day and felt slightly adrift in the circumstances I needed to negotiate, I pulled out her copy of The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, looking for something to hold on to while I weathered my storm.

This is the volume she had open on her lap when she passed away. I keep it by my bed, and I keep the page marked where she last read words that meant something to her. But on this night, I was thumbing through the book when my eye landed on the unmistakable handwriting I recognized instantly.

The poem she had marked has no relevance to my present circumstances, but it was one of those connections with her after her departure from my physical existence. It was like she sat next to me. In the volume, she had struck through the word "take" in the first line and written above it "hear" instead. My heart pounded. She was with me in an hour of need with just a single written word.

I don't know if her edit was about a husband, a love we don't know anything about, her high school sweetheart, or her son who preceded her in death. It's just a gift of a new conversation and chance to learn more from the Fiercest of Tramps.

So I thought I'd share Emily Dickinson's Poem 293 with you (published in 1861) followed by Green Day's Basket Case, the last song I know she loved:

I got so I could take his name --
Without -- Tremendous gain --
That Stop-sensation -- on my Soul --
And Thunder -- in the Room --

I got so I could walk across
That Angle in the floor,
Where he turned so, and I turned -- how --
And all our Sinew tore --

I got so I could stir the Box --
In which his letters grew
Without that forcing, in my breath --
As Staples -- driven through --

Could dimly recollect a Grace --
I think, they call it "God" --
Renowned to ease Extremity --
When Formula, had failed --

And shape my Hands --
Petition's way,
Tho' ignorant of a word
That Ordination -- utters --

My Business, with the Cloud,
If any Power behind it, be,
Not subject to Despair --
It care, in some remoter way,
For so minute affair
As Misery --
Itself, too vast, for interrupting -- more --

I'm Every Woman -- Chaka Khan for a New Fierce Tramp

2011-11-14T16:41:00.001-08:00

Monday November 14, 2011

1:35 PM

Our wonderful world welcomed a new Fierce Tramp into our numbers.

She is tiny. She is beautiful. She is my niece, and she is loved.

I think to myself about the world she will discover. Like my son, I think about the struggles her generation will grapple with worldwide. I believe it's going to be a tough road ahead.

But she also represents hope for our world as a beautiful Syrian-Irish American that embodies what is best about the United States.

So....

As a symbol of hope for her future and our world's, I want to note for her the great things I noticed on the day she was born.

The autumn leaves were resplendent as they continued their riotous show of transformation.

Roses were in bloom.

A Golden Retriever was walked by its owner in downtown D.C.

Canadian Geese migrated South for the winter.

I sent you and your mommy flowers to honor "Girl Power," and your Grandpa and Grandma, a.k.a. J-Ride, drove all the way from DC to your place of birth to greet you.

Your cousin, Son of Fierce Tramp, got a 100% on his spelling test in first grade.

A squirrel made it safely across the street during rush hour traffic.

The moon was waining at twilight.

The stars were clear from where I stood and wished good things for you.

Your mommy rested comfortably.

And I played Chaka Kahn's I'm Every Woman for you to ring in your Fierce future.

Welcome, Baby Girl! I cant wait to see who you become and celebrate you today and always. You have so many Peeps That Got Your Back, but I assure you, you can include me on that list.

And thank you for the joy you symbolize on a day when the gift of joy was so helpful to this Fierce Tramp.

A Day in the Life: Live Updates in the Mundane World

2011-11-13T08:56:00.001-08:00

11:30

Realizing my hairstyle of choice is generally
a hybrid of Hepburn and Hayworth.

Just finished watching Hepburn and Tracy in Woman of the Year. One of my all time favorites. Caught myself commenting on Hepburn's wardrobe three times and longed to go shopping online for vintage clothing. Wanted to do my hair.

TCM is running movies all day that could keep my aging rear on the couch on a lazy Sunday. But I am inspired by my goal to write every day and to actually burn some calories in some way other than turning the volume up or down.

In order to have something to write about, I'm going to get up, live my day and share it with you where relevant to anything fierce. And, yes, I will likely have TCM on in the background.

11:47

Posted Trailer for The Artist on my Facebook page as it looks fantastic and a much see for a devotee of film such as myself.

12:37

Fierce Tramp's man came in from his outing and selected our dance for the day. Etta James' I Want to Ta Ta and Thank You Baby. Tres' fabulous. Tres' romantic. Tres' perfect. I want to dance with him all day.

2:25

After a quick lunch, I dove into one of the more fierce tasks a mother can face...sorting my son's toys into those to be given away, those to be kept, and those to be tossed.

He's not here, of course. Which is why I've chosen this moment to strike.

It's a nostalgic and overwhelming task. In no way I'm through. However, I've gotten through toy box number one. I've gone through one of his old batches and am about to going into the bowels of his toddler years to clear things out.

Wish me luck.

3:32

OK. I'm losing my will to be useful. Lazy Tramp is taking over. However, I have accomplished several things.

Achieved with Revlon Fast Dry Silver
and O.P.I. Black Crackle over the top.

1. Several good boxes of toys for the nearby daycare center.

2. Painted my toenails Oakland Raiders' Silver and Black.

3. Found my awesome faux-Pucci mules by Steve Madden. When I bought them, they had mirror/silver reflective heels. So I spray painted the heels matte black. I may have to wear them this week. (See below)

So now, I'm torn. Trudge on in the clean up, or rest while snuggling up with my next book about Sherman's march.

I know TCM is going to be airing some kick ass afternoon flicks. Anything would be better than the Redskins Dolphins game I have on right now. Poor Rex Grossman.

See, a Fierce Tramp can talk toe-nail polish, Civil War history, Pucci mules, and football all at once.

That's range, Folks.

Pucci on parade.

Oh, and I can't get Paul McCartney's My Brave Face out of my head! Sir Paul, are you flirting with me?

4:16

Now I've finished sorting through things in the basement. Must put them in a toss, give away and keep pile. I've found plenty to give away, plenty to toss...for Aidan and for me. I've also convince Mr. Fierce to mow the lawn tomorrow, so that I don't have to do it.

Actually, he's quite the gentleman. He offered without coaxing.

Which allowed me to play with the things I found...including my wig from a holiday party at my previous job. There was a karaoke contest, and it was Motown themed. Being white, I opted for Motown A-go-go. What resulted was pure fabulousness.

Last time I wore this wig, I was mistaken for a hooker.
Purple Haze is among my favorite possessions.

She is known as Purple Haze.

Today I paired her with my black sequined cocktail tank. Absolutely no reason to be dressed this way, but what the fuck...

4:24 Pennsylvania Red just said, "Eagle lost," and walked downstairs to the basement. I think I'm going to have to try and cheer him up.

5:02 I am definitely done with the treasure hunt phase and must sort, toss and give away. I actually have accomplished a great deal that I've wanted to do for a long time.

I think the reason my cleaning up of old toys of my son's turned into dress up for me is because I watched HBO's coverage of Lady Gaga's Monster's Ball last night.

Wig Numero Dos from my Holiday Party. This color
actually works for me. Thoughts?

I have to say I am amazed any one human has that much inside them. And, although I'm 41, I'm not afraid to put my paw up in support of her positive message and fun. Talk about Fierce and putting good into the universe!

5:06 The sun is beginning to set in the west, and with it, my playtime. I've got to start prepping for a very tough week. But there may yet be a few fun moments before all is said and done. For example, TCM still has My Fair Lady and Gigi in store for me. I can sort and put away while watching these gems.

6:49 PM Hermione Gingold is a highly underrated pleasure in cinema. Both in Gigi and in The Music Man, she is spectacularly fierce. As is the character of Gigi's aunt.

I've nearly finished what I can today in the "Project Simplify" for my house. Mr. Fierce asked me to slow down which gives me the chance to maybe dust and change the linens. But other than that, I am officially in relaxation mode.

Perfect timing since the Shepherd's Pie is ready. Yum!

7:45 My belly is full. My heart happy because I've discovered though modernized, my partnership with Pennsylvania Red, A.K.A. Mr. Fierce, is very much in keeping with those greats Hepburn and Tracy. I'm so very fortunate. He doesn't know it yet, but he's about to dance with me to Mel Torme's arrangement of The Nearness of You as well as Florence and the Machine's Bedroom Hymns.

I'll try to post both for you now.

8:51 Both tunes were perfect for the start of night's end. While we danced to the first song, I saw the full moon out our backdoor. Of course, Mel Torme was singing at that very moment, "It's not the pale moon that excites me, thrills me, delights me. Oh no, it's just the nearness of you." Magic.

And with that, I had a very Hepburn and Tracy vintage moment if I do say so myself. Good night, Dear Readers. Especially out there in the Netherlands and Russia. Thanks for checking in here. I wish you fierce love, fierce joy and fierce peace tonight and always.

The Rolling Stones, The Rum Diaries and a Rooster

2011-11-12T14:40:00.001-08:00

Just got back from finally seeing the Rum Diaries.

I understand if folks don't like or know about Hunter S. Thompson why they wouldn't enjoy this movie. Nevertheless, I found the film evocative, engaging, well acted, beautiful, painfully sad, and inspiring in my quest to do well.

And I got to watch Johnny Depp.

In the movie, Depp's character, based on Thompson, quotes Oscar Wilde as saying, "Nowadays people know the price of everything and the value of nothing." This is from the Picture of Dorian Gray, and I find it amazingly apropos of our world -- not just "nowadays" but as a warning about the the tendencies of human beings.

The value of the color of the sky, so pink the other night at sunset that it almost made my heart burst from beauty. The way the nape of your lover's neck feels when you nestle into it. The laughter of children trilling against the din of life's difficulties. The taste of an orange. The beat of a perfect song.

These are things to note in the moment. Especially when we are globally fixated on debt, assets, jobs, inflation, interest rates and surviving economic collapse.

Things of worth are around us every day. And as The Rum Diaries reminded me, they are why I continue to work for nonprofits -- to protect things and ideas of worth in our world from exploitation and destruction.

And then there was the awesome music in the movie. Which, of course brings me to dancing with Mr. Fierce every day. Tonight, I'm picking It's Only Rock and Roll. Because I want to shake it with my man and appreciate the worth of his love.

Vintage Kramer brooch of a rooster.
My talisman to keep my
Pennsylvania Red nearby.

Sometimes, I call him Pennsylvania Red because he has red hair, is from Pennsylvania (Hey Philly!) and because he loves the blues. I even bought a vintage rooster brooch as a talisman to keep my Pennsylvania Red close to me at all times.

In the arena of partners, he is...well, I'm getting dangerously close to a cock fight metaphor which is also prevalent in The Rum Diaries. Let's just say, I am only wholly me with my Pennsylvania Red by my side in this ride called life.

Which is why I'm going to make my nightly dance worth my while.

Why? Because I like it!

Adios for now, Fierce Ones. Savor it all!

P.S. Hey, Germany! Nice to see you checking in to our little space here. Pull up a seat.

Jive and Give: The Isely Brothers and an Asian Fan-

2011-11-09T13:10:00.000-08:00

In other words...today makes my want to SHOUT!

Let's just say my day was made as soon as I locked my front door and headed to the car for the commute.

Fierce Son was staring down at the sidewalk. He was pointing saying, "Mommy, look!"

It is my habit to listen to him and interact to keep those communications channels open...forget that I was running ten minutes behind.

So he picks up what he sees, and he holds it up for me to see. Of course, me without my glasses on, I can't see it from the distance I was approaching. To me it looked like a rock.

Vintage Miriam Haskell seed-pearl pin.

However, as I drew near, I saw the vintage Miriam Haskell pin I thought I had lost. It is an Asian fan motif with seed pearls hand-beaded onto the pin. I got it for a steal on Ebay. A crown jewel for a modestly furnished Fierce Princess. I had worn it in my hair to brunch Sunday during my Louise Brooks mood, but when I returned home, I couldn't find it anywhere.

I looked in the car, in every space I could think in the house, and I called the restaurant. This bad boy was nowhere to be found. I was rather despondent about it as this piece is particularly understated yet eye-catching...and Miriam Haskell.

Anyway, there it was. On the sidewalk outside our house.

As I took it from Fierce Son's fingers, I was stunned that it should pop up nearly four days after having gone missing. I do not know if it was in the road and someone picked it up and left it on the sidewalk. I do not know if it was there all along. It seems to be slightly scratched but not really worse for the wear. More valuable for the lesson it held for me.

All I know is the universe returned it to me via my son's precious hand.

My point is that while I have been making Herculean efforts to put good into the universe amidst some pretty challenging events around me, here was a bit of good cast on my shore by the universe.

As I post this, I think of breakfast this morning. I was helping Fierce Son practice his spelling words and he was struggling with the difference between "J" and "G" because pronouncing "g" requires the "j" sound phonetically. So I said the different between them was that "g" in his spelling word made the word "give" and "j" made it "jive."

To demonstrate the difference, I pulled up The Isley Brothers singing "Shout" and Cab Calloway doing "Minnie the Moocher" with the latter being more a true jive song, but "Shout" being one I could dance with him to before I sent him off to school and the weekend with his father.

Happy in my office with Madame Secretary
watching over me and me Elsa Schiaparellis
earrings dangling from my very
happy ears.

So we jumped and jived and laughed and danced to the Isely Brothers and I tried to teach him how "g" and "j" are different while selfishly tricking him into a dance with him mum.
So I think he knows that "jive" is the music and "give" is the inner light his smile provides me. And it is also the fan that he found...returned to me from the heavens.

Thank you, Heavens. For so many things.

P.S. the rockin' awesome vintage earrings in the picture to the left are

Schiaparelli.

They are f-ing awesome and one must be fierce to wear them.

Love yourself and the world today. It is filled with joy and you are fierce. Don't forget to say you will!

The Art of Fierceness with a Dash of Cole Porter

2011-11-09T03:39:00.000-08:00

So, yesterday and today have been pretty good so far.

I am utilizing "The Art of Fierceness" to ensure I am exactly as exceptional as I need to be in any given moment right now despite the things that are out of my control.

For example. Nail polish. I have slathered on "Gettin' Miss Piggy with It" to make me smile and remind myself about fun.

And it has worked.

Taking moments for oneself is not selfish -- duh, I know this, but I rarely practice it when the going gets stressful and hellishishly freak out crazy. I always rise to the occasion, but I often forget to remember taking care of myself is part of The Art of Fierceness.

I work in an office where very few folks would wear glitter polish. And I don't recommend it if you're not in an environment that recognizes creativity as part of your profession. But if you are, layer it on, Baby!

Another example of said taking the moment to focus on myself is getting up a half hour early to give myself time to read in absolute quiet. To think. To be. To center myself on who I am and how to bring more good into the world. This time involves good coffee in a mug that makes me happy, my dog Milo on my lap under a throw while I sit on my couch, and either a book, or just my mind focusing on good thooughts I wish for people.

A far less zen thing is my inclusion in my wardrobe of pieces that have personal significance. They remind me of someone or something. Again, it's about not letting external circumstances shake your knowledge of who you are in the moment.

Case in point number two:

This is my vintage Boucher Phoenix pin.

He makes me happy.

And as you know, I believe in rising up from the ashes. So he is a perfect reminder of who I am.

I couldn't get a good shot of him for you as things have been hectic, but he's gorgeous.

A side benefit is that people ask about him, and I get to share the myth of the Phoenix. Then they feel better and more optimistic as well.

I also happen to come from a line of Bouchers in my family tree, so there's also that. Nice tidy circle of Fierce glee.

Another example: I took two minutes and forty seconds yesterday morning to dance with Mr. Fierce to Begin the Beguine. It is amazing how less than three minutes can ground you about what matters. I strongly recommend taking them.

And last night, I added a bunch of apps to my iPad to simplify things that are part of my life. Believe it or not, technology doesn't just make it a busier life. It actually can help simplify and connect one with information that means something of value. Mr. Fierce always says "Time is money" because his father was an accountant. And he is right. But time is also moments better spent doing what you want to do instead of whta you have to do.

For me, that means more reading, more snuggling with the dogs and the boys at home, and more gardening.

Last but certainly not least, I purposely stopped yesterday before my regularly dreadful commute to listen to the birds singing in the morning. I greeted the sky, the birds, the air, the Earth. My granny called these her morning salutations. I highly recommend them.

So there you have it. Let the shit fly to your left. Let the shit fly to your right. It need not come nigh thee!

And even if it does, you're feeling good enough about it to not only be fiercely triumphant but happy about who you are -- even if you are driping in feces.

Probably another post is coming later today. Love and goodness and fierceness sent your way!

No smile, but I am totally focused on
who I am, what I can bring, and the
good that surrounds us all.
Those are vintage Weiss earrings.

Fierce Tramp, Phoenix and My Inner Larry David

2011-11-07T17:25:00.000-08:00

OK, Kids. I'm of an age when I know the best thing to do is do nothing at all.

Many consider The Dark Phoenix
storyline of Jean Grey to be
one of the best of comic book lore.

So I am keeping the reigns firmly in hand and keeping my inner Larry David from a serious error in posting judgement. There is a reason Phoenix is my favorite Super Hero...and it's not a good reason. If unleashed, I also would burn up in some sort of tragic end as well.

I only post tonight to demonstrate to younger Fierce Ones that you can, in fact, connect in the cyber world without doing something you will regret...even when you feel like unleashing the wrath to demonstrate how wonderfully brilliant you are.

The fact is, you usually aren't as brilliant as you think you are.

Cause guess what...

You're gonna get yourself in the end. Just ask Jean Grey.

Besides, any Larry David episode will tell you this.

Which is why I wish I could live in the Larry David TV show once in a while -- OK...always.

I decline unleashing my own Susie Green (Susie Essman).

It's called maturity. It's called wisdom. It's called sparing the world your future embarrassment. And it is most certainly called not putting bad juju out there because there really is enough of it out there already, right?

So I've got nothing to turn this around and end it on a high note. I'm just taking a pass tonight. But like the Phoenix, I will rise from my ashes in triumph. Just watch me.

And to indulge the part of me that is still juvenile, I give you the best of Larry vs. Susie (clip NSFW):

OK....so I found my way toward a positive thought to share with you after putting my son to bed. So here is the lullaby that brought me back from the brink tonight.

People Say I'm Crazy...so said John Lennon

2011-11-06T18:21:00.000-08:00

To wrap the weekend, I've opted to bookend it with another tune recalling Mr. Lennon.

And I will tell you why.

I just finished reading an article on Jezebel about moms in America disproportionately needing sleep aids to help us sleep.

The article talks about the multiple stresses women face as wage earners and primary caregivers. I can relate to that, but wait...I remember not being able to sleep as early as four years old.

What was I afraid of when I was four? My mom not being there.

Monsters. Being alone. Who knows? But this problem has been part of my life forever. I'm talking serious no sleep issues. I'm talking no dreams because you don't hit the deep sleep state in which to dream.

Skip to today. I'm with my loved ones, Mamacita, Coco, Son of Fierce Tramp for brunch and shopping for winter clothes for the boy.

We had a lovely brunch at the Cheesecake Factory...way suburban and wonderful.

I took the liberty of having a frozen Peach Bellini with my Greek salad. The drink was particularly yummy and I found myself telling Auntie Coco I regretted that Maryland didn't have the same open container laws as New Orleans, as I would gladly order another yummy drink to sip on as we shopped.

It was not to be. No such luck.

So, we shopped for shoes for the fast growing child.

And his grandma and his aunt indulged him and made sure he has the kind of pants and pajamas and hoodies he likes to wear.

He is lucky to have them. The three adults noted how awesome the kids clothes were and how we'd been shafted as kids because our folks couldn't afford the cool clothes back then. Not even the cool clothes. We're talking shoes that fit in my mom's case. We grew up in the upper tier of the lower class in America, and we had a hand to mouth life.

But wait, isn't that where so many of us are again? I'd say that my family has clawed our way to the lower middle class via our brains, will and absolute insistence that we weren't going to put our kids through what we went through.

But wait, isn't that where so many of our kids are again?

I watched my son who is only beginning to have an inkling that my work relates to his having a home, food, clothes, etc. I've succeeded thus far in trying to strike the balance of letting him be a kid even while I want him to understand and value work, earning things, his good fortune being born into his circumstances.

I want to tell him all that, but right now, in this economy, I worry about those circumstances.

I worry about what his future will be. And I work very hard to protect his present from the catastrophe of joblessness that has affected so many lives.

In fact, he handed me a penny to wish on and toss into the mall's fountain. I closed my eyes, wished that my job wouldn't be eliminated in this economy, and I chucked that bad boy into the fountain. But now it won't come true because I just told you all what I wished for.

How does this all bookend with John Lennon?

Well, let me tell you. At heart, I just want to garden, read books, raise my son, dance with Mr. Fierce and help the planet be filled with goodness (yeah, I was spawned by hippies).

Just prior to having drafted this post to the world, I spent my Sunday night doing work I needed to send to my boss, so I wouldn't be viewed in a bad light. I've spent many moments checking email for work this weekend in case my boss needed something from me. I will head into work in the morning and pray my work is good and hope my office thrives so that I may care for my child.

Yes, I still don't sleep well because of monsters. No more do I fear being alone. Instead, I fear failing my son. Failing myself. Failing Mr. Fierce. At work and at home. Yeah, I still don't sleep so well without a little help.

But in my heart, John Lennon said it all.

Good night or good morning to you wherever you may be.

I send this out to you and wish you a fierce week and well being. I hope you find a moment just to watch the wheels go round and round. And I remind you, that we all shine on!

Gonzo, Kermit, Miss Piggy, Santana, Aerosmith and Louise Brooks.

2011-11-05T10:59:00.000-07:00

I was just given an early holiday gift!

Not only am I desperate for the opening of the newest Muppet movie, but last night, as I was turning the pages of my hastily and rashly purchased In Style magazine, I stopped dead, mid page turn, and said to Mr. Fierce during bedtime reading, "Oh yes! Oh I am the happiest person e-VER!"

He looked at me as if something was about to get interesting, and I showed him the page of magnificent nail colors O.P.I. has created for its holiday collection. Mr. Fierce's disappointed expression aside, I stared gleefully at what I saw on the page. O.P.I's collection in honor of the Muppets does not disappoint on paper.

I easily saw eight that were a must. Gone Gonzo!, Excuse Moi, Fresh Frog of Bel Air, The Rainbow Connection, Divine Swine, Gettin Miss Piggy with It, Desinger the Better, Warm and Fozzie. Adding that up, it's pretty pricey at over $8 a pop. So I have to narrow down my lust. My "want," as my dear friend over at My Life in Cardigans, says, must be tempered.

It's gonna be tough, but one thing is sure. The green and the blue are coming home with me as soon as I can get my grubby mitts on them.

Giving my best Louise Brooks. I know,
I need the bangs and bob and black hair.
I'm saving that for my dotage.

Sadly, I'm not breaking news for you, Dear Reader. And for this, I apologize.

You see, as I began the blog post today, I thought I was going to break some great news. But I had to stop mid post to prepare for a family brunch in little old Olney, MD. And as I was dressing, my mind said, "Louise Brooks" today. Why not? Do the look with the eyes. That was all I could do a la Louise Brooks since I have longish blondish hair rather than the fierce black bob with bangs.

You can judge the results for yourself although the eyes don't photograph well. But I digress...

So I set out in my desired persona. Son of Fierce Tramp and I rocked to Black Magic Woman on our way over. Thank you, Mr. Santana,...and to your ferociously awesome bassist for that gift to the world. We pulled into the strip mall to meet up with Mamacita, her husband and my step-sister, her husband and their wonderful toddler daughter at the new Panera. A good time was had by all.

During brunch, we discussed children's and family entertainment. Hey, it's the glamorous life around here. And while I told them about my giddy anticipation of the new Muppet movie, my sister in law says to me, "Oh my god, O.P.I. is releasing this awesome Muppet color collection," as she knows my lust for the lacquer.

She went on. "You know I don't do much with mine, but <daughter of step-sister>'s favorite color is green, so of course you know she's begging me for it." And there I was, deflated that my awesome scoop was already old news to this toddler. I'm behind in my research apparently. Note to self to ramp up my staying ahead of the toddlers on fashion. Definitely my unfierce moment of the week.

Be the demoralization as it may, I still anxiously look for the moment when I can collect these colors two by two and try them out. As we left brunch, Son of Fierce Tramp and I headed home in a direction that just happened to have several salons along the way. As Aerosmith blasted, "Dude Looks Like A Lady," I made my son laugh with my enthusiastic vocal stylings and my front-seat animated dancing while the boys from Boston cranked.

And I decided I would not subject my son to the search for these nail polishes. Maybe it was Stephen Tyler screaming at me, "Oh, he was a lady!" I don't know...but I suddenly was set back where my mind should have been...on my son. It wasn't that I fear his liking nail polish. I could care less about that. It was that he should be living life instead of chasing nail colors with me.

Today, he shared the last bight of his chocolate-chip
cookie with me at brunch.
That is love.

It was the choice of a Fierce Mom. There were games to be played outside. Imaginary dragons to slay. Imaginary pirates to capture. Footballs to be tossed and mud to be rolled in to the fullest. I had to get the boy to this long list of "To Dos" if I had my priorities straight.

And as you know, this Fierce Son, is my priority. This Black Magic Woman is doing the best to make a devil out of him. All in the best sense of the word, of course.

John Lennon tells them "Rattle Yer Jewelry"

2011-11-04T16:36:00.000-07:00

On this day in history, John Lennon and the three other Fab fellas performed for Queen Elizabeth the II.

One of my all time heroes, warts and all.

It was just before Twist & Shout. It was the Royal Variety Performance in London.

And he said, "For our last number, I'd like to ask your help. Would the people in the cheaper seats clap your hands. And the rest of you, if you'll, just rattle your jewelry."

According to the biography A Day in the Life: The Music and Artistry of the Beatles, Brian Epstein was just relieved he didn't follow through with his threat to ask them to "rattle their fuckin' jewelry."

And they charmed the Queen, the Queen Mum, Princess Margaret and the folks in the cheap seats with their music and their general Fabness.

On November 22, eighteen days later, John F. Kennedy would be killed by an assassin.

John Lennon would be assassinated on December 8, 1980. Yes, I remember the moment I heard during Monday night football. Yes, I feel it was one of the biggest crimes of robbing our world of art, goodness and fun ever.

But on this night in 1963, he was in top form and demonstrating one of the reasons he is one of the great ones. Fiercer than shit. Telling the royals to rattle their jewelry. How fucking cheeky. And you just didn't get cheeky with the Queen back then. You didn't!

You can read every book. You can listen to all the music. You can read the poetry or look at the art. You will never figure him out and you will still only get the essence of his magic. Because he was magic.

At times, horrendously confident -- or covering his insecurities with feigned confidence -- he would transform the world with his vision, his joining with Paul, George and Ringo to become "THEM" forever.

I still suspect their "THEMNESS" is something no other celebrities can comprehend except for those four gentlemen.

Not Gaga.

Not Michael.

Not Elvis.

Not Madonna.

Not The Beiber.

I'm happy for any comments arguing otherwise.

Their love of rock, language play, counter culture, money, and each other (initially and probably in the end) allowed us to have some of the best sounds, best turns of a phrase and best pop culture experiences that we will ever have in our history. I adore each of them for different reasons and I'm sure will write about each at appropriate times.

But tonight would have to belong to John. For having the balls to be himself in that moment in time.

Thanks Mr. Lennon. You will always be one of my heroes. And tonight, I am rattling more than just my jewelry. I'm shakin' it, Baby, now!

I hope the images and the video post are viewable by you as I found them all in public domain searches. Wish us luck!

Carole Tanenbaum Vintage Collection Blog: Grace Kelly: From Movie Star to Princess

2011-11-04T06:18:00.000-07:00

Carole Tanenbaum Vintage Collection Blog: Grace Kelly: From Movie Star to Princess

I can only say this post simply whetted my appetite for more.

Vintage. Fierceness. Commoner to Royalty.

Yes. Yes. And Yes.

More later.