Whatever...

Crash Bang

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Mon, 08 Sep 2008 20:22:00 +0000

I've been trying to get to my computer. I was going to dazzle you with a two-fer, beginning with my alien encounter...

We had a staring contest but then it occurred to me she might not have eyelids. Plus she has 3 weensy eyes between those two freaky ones. Seriously, why do I know this. Part two involved finding a curious wooden bead in my pants drawer. Only it wasn't a bead. It was a small unripe tomato. The suspected portal to hell in my backyard has apparently moved to Dresser Drawer #3.

Then Sunday happened.

Yesterday was going to be relaxing after weeks of busy crap & the kind of the stress that doesn't kill you but has you thinking things like Happy thoughts, hm...at least I'm not dead, stupid or yeasty. And hey, South American bandidos haven't stolen my spleen for the underground organ market. It's not like I've actually seen my spleen but I'm pretty sure it's there. Well, and certainly not in South America.

Anyway, Rene & I took a drive along the coast. What I like about not going to the beach very often is that when I do, it feels like a revelation. Seventy degrees, hazy like a vintage photograph. Rolling along Pacific Coast Highway, everyone in the distance becomes a part of the narrative of images in my head...the surfers with their longboards, the sailboats littering the horizon, the little girl in her red suit, squatting in the sand like a comma. Endless summer.

We were on a 4-lane stretch of PCH. Lots of cars cruising at 45 mph, plenty of space so it still felt like a day-trip drive, not a commute. Suddenly our lane chokes up & Rene puts on the brakes hard enough to snatch my attention from the beach. Just hard enough for me to note the tail end of the car in front of us and have one of those quick flashes that don't mean anything...loose images of metal crunching, glass breaking, the distant thought I saw a movie yesterday with a slow-motion car crash scene, is that why I'm thinking about this---Rene's hand touches my thigh, we're still stopped, his hand has a nice weight, just resting there. As if we could stay in this fat second forever.

I'm thinking this even as I hear a bang, the accordian crush of metal collapsing, another bang, closer like a train arriving...so fast, and time enough for me to wonder if my imagination has created a more-real-than-real soundtrack, time enough to reject this & wait for the sound of screeching brakes, to remember not to stiffen since brittle things break. A split second later, we were hit.

We're sore but fine. I managed to hang onto my caramel latte. We bounced off the car in front of us but after a quick check, the guy nodded that his rear was fine, scanned the cars behind us with widened eyes, and promptly took off. So officially we're the first car in a 5-car pileup...or the last if you count from the initial collision. A good place to be.

The Ford SUV behind us left a Connecticut license plate impression on our white bumper, which crunched in a bit, but the damage was tame. The Ford's rubber bumpers remained intact, although the entire front end of a brand new Lexus hybrid was impaled on the Ford's rear trailer hitch. The Lexus had it rough, as it was sandwiched between two Ford SUVs. The second Ford SUV received the full brunt of impact from a large Chevy truck. An Asian couple was inside that Ford, fine enough to walk, a bit bloody, a lot bruised.

No skid marks. The driver of the Chevy appears to have been in the throes of loving his Subway sandwich, and didn't look up until he was slamming into another car. He also was fine, but so shaken by what he'd caused he didn't say much during the two hours of clean-up. He was wearing a T-shirt that yelled: Real Men Sing Real Loud. And sandals with tube socks.

That last part is going to really haunt me.

It was a sane group of people, and Santa Monica PD handled it well...they have extremely good-looking cops, which coupled with the beach just steps away & the Porsches & Bentleys rubbernecking past made it all seem surreal. David Hasselhoff was going to jog up at any moment reeking of beer-sweat & indignant mediocrity.

Of course I'm grateful no one was seriously injured. It was scary walking back to those cars, you see the twisted metal & your stomach tightens for what you might find inside. It's a good day when everyone walks away well enough to be agitated by the material damages.

I took a few lackluster pics with my cellphone...

the highway

yay for bumpers

ouchie Lexus

Tubesock's truck

Just another day in paradise.

In Progress

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Tue, 26 Aug 2008 17:00:00 +0000

I took a few days off painting to play with the boys so I haven't finished, but I do have progression photos. I've been teaching Rene how to play volleyball. At first he took issue to partially squatting like he's going to poopy in the woods. I just told him he looked really sexy & when I could finally say it without laughing, he started to believe me. Men are like that.

I warned him the ball would sting at first b/c the delicate underside of our arms just don't get much action. He didn't believe me b/c he thinks he's made of rawhide, bristle, and teflon. His arms turned a pretty shade of hot pink after 10 minutes, then it looked like he had poison ivy. After Day 2 he was swollen from wrist to elbow with matching rainbow bruises. It looks like someone beat him with a fish.

For months I've had this hazy image of a woman in a bathtub kicking around my head. I never envision a whole painting, or even parts in great detail...I catch glimpses, a whiff of perfume, the silence after a gunshot...and fragments of a story start to roam around on their own. I don't build a story with a painting. It's kind of like remembering the whole experience of a torrid love affair you had the summer you were 17, and condensing the essence of it into a single image.

Rene paints forward, he builds from nothing Something. I start with too much & whittle down. It's easier to explain when I think of it in terms of sculpture...the way one sculptor feels he's building a woman from clay, and another feels he's revealing a woman from inside a slab of marble.

Click to enlarge the pics in a pop-up.

I start with a birch panel. This one's 3-1/2 feet wide & 3-3/4 high. I tint water to make a wash & rub it in to stain the wood.

Most of my paintings have strategically placed drips & splooches. The ceramic dish works great for a palette b/c dried paint just peels right off.

This mess is the start of clouds, which happen to be the floor. The blue tape keeps the floor straight.

Finished clouds. The depth will show up when it's varnished. Sketches of the pinwheels, and the tub & woman in the upper right.

Here the tub is finished & the woman needs work.

Babydoll had too many cosmos. She needs a smoothie, a slap, & some lipgloss.

Better.

Painting flesh is my favorite...there's a moment when it takes on life & everything just buzzes.

Thanks for looking! I'll post a photo when it's done. And if Rene's arms swell up any more I'll take a pic of that too...maybe when he's sleeping. Poor monkey, nothing is sacred.

Remember Me?

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 19:23:00 +0000

Sweet Jesus, that took a long time. I feel like Brad Pitt in Legends of the Fall...one minute he's Mr. Sunshine, the next he's running around the woods pretending to be a bear.

Thanks so much to the bloggie friends who sent me Are-you-stuck-under-something-heavy? messages, it means a great deal to me. I'm sorry I've been such an assholey blogger. I've missed you all so much...every day I think I'll be back the next day but things have exceeded me.

We've been dealing with a lot of big changes & what seems to be a daily rollout of decisions & complications, the good, the bad, and the WTF. I still haven't achieved a state of normal, but as long as things are going to be kooky for a while, I may as well learn to write from the asylum.

No dream house yet. It's a mixed bag---what's good for our money has us waiting until January, but I had a tantrum about the possibility of losing the house before I was able to see the sense in that. Even with the wait, the sellers want to work something out, so we'll see what happens. I feel good about it, less like a desperado circus monkey jumping through hoops.

Rene's mom gave us a real scare last week. First there was shocking talk about a mini-stroke, then the huge relief that her tests came out fine, and just when our guard was down she was hospitalized & had an emergency surgery. It went very smoothly, she was home in a day, and is bouncing back as though she just had a tooth extraction. She's a firecracker & the biggest issue is whether she'll get enough rest before running about town again.

J survived his football Hell Week. The first day he came home with a lump on his forehead & a lot of bloody scratches. Apparently he attacked the stuffed dummy & the dummy won. But then he got him back real good, that's my boy! Joking aside, he's hanging tough & really loving it.

I'm painting a lot, the new series has me all caught up in a creative inferno. I've been taking progression photos so you can see what a gloppy mess it all looks like in the beginning...those should be up in a week unless a portal to hell opens up in front of my board. Anything's possible.

That's it for me...time to catch up with everyone. XOXOXO

Jiggles

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Tue, 29 Jul 2008 19:06:00 +0000

Dear Mother Nature: What. The. Fuhhhhhh.

We've had an earthquake! It was just before noon, a 5.6 centered in Chino Hills, which I'd guess is about 45 miles from here. Thanks so much for checking in on me, Jay, you're such a love!

All this house business has me dealing with home insurance for the first time. Last night I was researching earthquake insurance & got some quotes--it's actually double the regular home insurance. That's apparently why 80% of Californians don't have it but I went through the Northridge quake & I can tell you any home of mine will be insured to the hilt. Anyhow, I ended up having a dream where I was talking to an elementary school class about earthquake safety.

So Rene & I are out back this morning, and we get to chatting about the earthquake insurance, then earthquakes...we're talking about the apartment house in Northridge that collapsed & killed so many people...then suddenly the ground starts quivering. At first I thought I was imagining it, then I notice the bush next to me is undulating. We get to our feet, things are still in jiggle-jiggle mode & since that's not entirely unusual, we're just standing on the brick patio feeling it out...these minor shocks usually only last a few seconds.

Then it intensifies to a rolling motion. Rene takes off into the house to see to J, while I stay outside...when survival mode kicks in all your senses go on high-alert & I'm still wanting to feel the thing out...it's almost like I was listening for the same sound I heard during the Northridge quake that told me it was going to be a doozy. Never heard this one, at its worst it was like riding a skateboard down a smooth road with closely spaced hills...made me a little motionsick but that's it.

The Northridge quake came on with a roar...I'll never forget that sound, part-train, part-animal...it gave me one long second to snatch up baby J & steel myself in the doorframe before the ground started heaving.

I've finally stopped shaking from the adrenaline. Wild ride! No damage, even our books stayed on the shelves.

For Real This Time

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Fri, 25 Jul 2008 07:18:00 +0000

So it was pretty lame of me to say I was back in my last post, then disappear for even longer...but something completely unexpected happened. Sweet Dianne had this lovely image of me downing daiquiris while male underwear models fan me with palm fronds. Okay, she left out the part about the models but we both know they were in there. Sadly, I didn't run off to Bora Bora. I'm pretty sure if I ever frolic in a tropical paradise I'll either get eaten by a jaguar, attacked by a butt-seeking parasite (Anthony Bourdain told me about them, they're totally real), or some jungle-monkey will try to mate with my big hair.

Rene & I have been hammering out the same dream for 12 years...or maybe they're a bunch of dreams that together make a life, the way rooms make a house. I'm so accustomed to obsessively working on getting where we're going, it never really occurred to me in a real way that our life would change beyond the ways that it's always changing. So I'm sitting here 2 weeks ago when it hits me, quietly, like a brick over the head. Getting There lasts about ten seconds...then you have to live it just like anything else.

Me: Er, is it just me---all of this looks suspiciously like the life we've been wrestling the Devil to get. It's rushing at me & I keep getting the urge to hit it with a baseball bat.
Rene: Wouldn't matter. It's already here.
Me: Erp.
Rene: Are you okay?
Me: I think I just threw up a little.

Other people jump up & down when they reach a far-off milestone. Me, I throw up.

Aside from my dismal reaction to great news, I've been dealing with something rather large. Through a series of weird coincidences while not house-shopping, I ended up standing inside a new construction that has 60 days left before it's complete. Old world craftsmanship wired for the modern age. Big airy porches. A security cam on the front stoop so Bible-thumpers & aggressive girl scouts can't surprise me anymore. It's my dream house, the one I was sort of hoping didn't exist so I could continue my happy house-phobic existence. I can imagine my boys laughing in it. I can't find anything wrong with it.

It's been haunting me for 2 weeks. The first time I viewed it, I rejected it outright in a sort of dazed panic like the house had just proposed marriage. The 2nd time, I felt nauseous. I've been through the house 2 more times. Now I find myself caught up in a whirlwind of accountants, laywers, & Japanese toilets that do peculiar things to your no-see-ums in the interests of hygiene. One scenario has us entering escrow as early as next week. Another scenario has me hopping a freight train & beginning my new life as Hobo Jo.

I'm not sure what will happen, things are rolling out so fast. We cancelled our vacation to deal with this so I'm dimly realizing I must be serious. I keep feeling like I'm having an out-of-body experience, watching myself attack the business end of it in my usual make-it-happen sort of way while another part of me is drifting through a surreal haze, wondering exactly when it was I woke up in someone else's life.

A quick update of other things:

My boys recently had their birthdays...J turned 15! I made him that giant cupcake I posted about a while back. The cupcake kicked my ass in the kitchen but it did turn out yummy, red velvet on top, poundcake on the bottom.

My squirrel has returned so I'm hoping this means the rats are gone...but I haven't seen any corpses.

The other night I woke up just as I was head-butting Rene...I was up on my elbow & my forehead came down smack on the side of his head. Then this morning I woke up with a 2-inch red welt above my eyebrow. I think I'm having ninja-dreams.

That's it for me, now I have a lot of catching up to do. I've finally decided to try the reader thingy so I can keep up with everyone even if I'm too fuddled to post.

I'm Baaaaack

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Wed, 09 Jul 2008 07:21:00 +0000

I've been running around like a lunatic getting us ready for a vacation that's been worked & reworked 4 times now. Our life used to be mellow, I'm not sure what happened since last summer but it's been a bit like chasing down rockstars for a tour.

J can only miss certain days of football practice, his friend that's coming along has multiple vacations & summer school, and then there's Rene's schedule, which has been crazier than any previous summer. We found the only 2-week stretch that seemed to work & spent the last few weeks trying to get to it...we were supposed to be on a plane today--hahahahahaha. I rescheduled again...10 one-way flights, 6 ground transportations...unpacking more luggage than I've ever seen. But as strange as it is, the moment I scheduled the new dates, the sense of simple that's been so elusive the past month finally appeared. I guess some things really do have a right time.

It feels so good to have breathing room again. Here I am containing my wild enthusiasm.

We're shopping for a new puppy next month. After 2 years of exploring breeds, we've decided on an English bulldog. I love their fugliness & personality...all brutish & grumpy on the outside, funny & cuddly on the inside. This one looks just like Rene when he's sleeping.

The rat saga from my last post continues. I thought it was an isolated incident, but we all know nature enjoys provoking me. I saw a rat scamper down our tree, then he changed his mind when he spotted me & took off running. Maybe it was my blood-curdling scream. I can't believe I'm saying this, but he was kinda cute...white with a kittenish-gray spot & fluffy as though he'd just taken a bath & been towel-dried. The dreaded thought occurred to me, That doesn't look like the rat I saw in the neighbor's yard. Two evenings later, I spot a rat running along the wire from my other neighbor's place...a few seconds later I see he has a friend. That's right peeps, TWO verminous minions of the Devil. They can BREED.

Emergency call to the exterminator, who still hasn't laid out the poison. He can't get here for a few days, so he suggests a type of trap...it's a big black plastic box with a little rat-sized hole, you bait it with rat-crack...they enter, eat their last supper, & presumably croak in the box. The exterminator promises he'll be the one to check the trap.

So Rene sets it up at the base of our tree today, we leave for a couple hours. When we get back, the trap has spun around 180 degrees & rat-devil has chewed a corner off of it! The chewed hole isn't large enough for him to fit through, so now I don't know if there's a corpse in there or if he ate the crack & got out to go die somewhere else. Or what if he's not dead at all & comes back with friends to party?

Part of me wants to run & the other part wants to go outside with a stick & poke at the box. Maybe if I wear tall boots, a helmet & dishwashing gloves, I won't get the plague?

I'll catch up on everyone's blogs after I check the box. I've missed you all so much!

WWC #42

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Tue, 01 Jul 2008 19:38:00 +0000

It was late, dark...suddenly hissing, growling sounds break out from 10 feet overhead. Two furry animals have their jaws locked in a deathmatch, spinning around & around the neighbor's cable wire the way little girls spin on playground bars. I catch a glimpse of a squirrel tail. Abruptly one critter falls...THUD, like a beanbag hitting concrete. The victorious squirrel scampers back along the wire.

I peer over the wall into the neighbor's mostly-paved yard, expecting to see a broken squirrel. Nothing. Minutes pass. Rene brings a flashlight. Finally some rustling near a small bush...hooray, the little guy is okay! He steps into the beam of light--it's a big FAT RAT, his worm-like tail all twitchy. EW EWW EWWWWW!

The exterminator is going to lay out some poison. Apparently squirrels don't like the stuff...but I'm a little worried this means I'm going to find a dead rat in my yard. My luck, I'll step on it barefoot.

I played football with the boys on Saturday. Have I mentioned I'm practically bionic? Inevitably, after being schooled a few times, beefy boys tend to forget I'm still a small person behind all this awesomeness. I ended up with 3 bruised ribs & a red-purple pinky that won't bend. And grass in my underpants. Good times.

I'm on time with my WWC! This week's words were: Raw & Finished...brought to us by my sister in odd addictions, Tink.

I like espresso like I like my men--raw, strong, with a bit of a bite :P

finished espresso--an iced latte, yummy

carrots are best raw

as raw as it gets

Bonus shot: these blossoms will be kumquats

H.A.G.S.

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Thu, 26 Jun 2008 09:26:00 +0000

I've been missing my blog friends. I doubt I've been busier than anyone else, but it's been a challenge keeping up with blogging lately. I'm able to pop on & off my computer for emails but for blogging I like a chunk of time to meander around, ponder things, read the comments.

I think I fall in love with L.A. all over again every summer. You see interesting things on our freeways.

I've never been able to wear aviator sunglasses until these.

They're the most comfortable pair of sunglasses on the planet. Plus they make me feel like...like...someone from 1979 who was really cool. Not me though--in '79 my favorite pair of pants were grass-green with bright yellow & red apple trees all over them.

I was going through J's school yearbook with him the other day. He didn't mind me reading some of the notes his friends scribbled...I was telling him what was the same or different from the things kids used to write in my yearbook. Boys leave messy little notes & girls generally write long gushy-chatty notes in bubbly handwriting. The boys of my era used to say Have a bitchin' summer while the girls said Have a totally rad summer. These days it's a unisex H.A.G.S....which means Have a great summer. Kids still say, Don't change...which is funny b/c most of us at age 15 desperately want change.

And then there's always one or two who in a moment of wild abandon will confess a crush they've had on you, almost like an exorcism...because there's safety in the long oblivion of summer.

So I skipped the long notes presumably left by girls, except for T, who's J's closest female friend. T took up most of one page in his yearbook chattering in one breathless streak with little hearts & many many exclamations everywhere. At one point she outed a girl that likes J, and said this girl calls him a HOT white piece [of ass]. That's pretty much when I stopped reading b/c I had a sudden urge to bleach my eyeballs. But then I recovered b/c I can't miss an opportunity to torment my boy.

Me: I just read what T wrote. A HOT white piece. Of what?
J: What? (dawning look of horror) Oh.
Me: A hot piece of what? *blinks innocently*
J: Er...(turns red, considers running from the room)...uhhh...

Yeah, that was fun.

I'm off to catch up on blogs. Here are some recent flower pics...

Bun Huggers

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Sat, 21 Jun 2008 20:18:00 +0000

Yesterday was 111 F, today it's a cool 107. There actually isn't a smog problem, which is strange for a heatwave. So I sit outside under the gazebo with several liters of water, trying to acclimate. Yesterday I nearly threw up, but today I'm almost comfortable in it.

I've been doing some shopping. The boys have outgrown all their summer clothes...Rene's packed on a lot of muscle since last year, and J just hit 5'8" with size 11 shoes.

I went to the bikini shop. It starts out fun & gets old really quickly. Rene's always been a good sport about shopping with me b/c we fool around the whole time, but bikini shopping is actually something he looks forward to more than I do. He plunks in a chair & settles into a soft-porn daydream while on my end I'm wrestling with the equivalent of tangled yarnballs. I put on a few tops upside-down.

I always go for Brazilian swimwear. It's true they're smaller, but they just seem to understand the female form better, including curves. Most of their bikinis don't budge when you're jumping in the water & even the fuller coverage bottoms are wedgie-proof. Young Brazilian women have these incredible bodies, but as they age, they get very curvy---and still 60-year-old women with lots of junk in the trunk are wearing bikinis on the beaches of Rio & Ipanema. Some people don't like to see that, but I think it's marvelous...I see joy in it. America doesn't need to start running around in g-strings or anything, but I think we'd be happier taking a page from Brazil & celebrating our bodies without misgivings.

I still tried on 35. Thirty five. I had misgivings. Rene got it into his head to start handing me suits & as the day progressed, they got smaller & smaller until finally I stopped coming out in them & all you could hear through the curtain was my delirious hahahahahaha.

I bought a few but this is the one I could find a photo of...

I love the seahorsies...it has little seahorse charms dangling from the strings too. Giddy-up buckaroo.

Recent Observations

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 11:34:00 +0000

Wow...you really can eat too many cherries.

Me: Monkeyyy...Monkeyyy........Monkey!
Rene: Wha--?
Me: Are you awake?
R: Yesss.
Me: My belly hurts. I ate too many cherries.
R: Aw, I told you not to eat the whole bag.
Me: I didn't! I left some.
R: Three?
Me: No-ooo. Twelve. (burp) Sorry.

Listening to neighbors arguing from several houses away can be entertaining. I was outside & it sounded like they were in my yard. Every time the woman was speaking/yelling, the man would make these sustained grunting sounds...almost exactly like a moose mating call.

My mom has had the same little red sportscar since 1987. Finally she's wanting something new, and she's stuck on BMWs...only she keeps calling them BM's.

We ate at Senor Fred's the other night & a ballet studio was having a session across the street. I was surprised to see women of all sizes in there instead of the traditional 85-pound gazelles...and they were incredible. They were taking turns leaping & flitting across the room---suddenly a 60-ish man with a Santa belly, in tights, entered the scene. I love it! I'm thinking of taking some lessons.

Late again with my WWC but I did take the photos yesterday, just couldn't get to the computer. This week's words were: Mystery & Chaos...brought to us by boba-bubble-lover Tink.

Mystery: someone whacked Colonel Mustard with the candlestick in the study.

ordered chaos

this is how the gorilla controls his chaos

my chaos-maker has crazy hair

chaos...the kind I like

WWC #39

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 21:06:00 +0000

My blogging is suffering, painting always throws my world out of whack until I acclimate. I had a spooky dream last night. I was wandering around an old colonial house with endless hallways and doors...a young girl was with me, we both needed to go to the bathroom & she was scared. There's this staircase and on every step is an old-fashioned porcelain bedpan. She decides to use one of those & I'm telling her there's another staircase around the corner with more bedpans, which happen to flush. She shakes her head and whispers that you can't go down that corridor.

Of course I go. It was so quiet I could hear the hem of my nightgown brushing along the floorboards, everything was cast in this faintly blue halflight. I was alert, tense, short of scared...suddenly I feel this rushing in my belly and know I have to get the girl back to the safety of our bedroom. I run back to her & she's laying on the floor in a deep sleep, inevitably she weighs a ton so I end up dragging her by the arm. Rush rush tug tug, it occurs to me I'm multitasking b/c the little girl makes a half-way decent broom.

We're in the bedroom & I'm passing by the half-open door from the hinge side to close it...through the sliver between the door & the frame, I catch a glimpse of this person coming rapidly up the corridor, moving in a completely unnatural way. Pure terror, I slam the door. I'm expecting the thing to pound on the door or jangle the knob, but there's just silence. I'm waiting, nothing.

Then I get mad, b/c I don't want to be trapped in a room wondering if the thing is standing right there or skulking off to hide just so I can creep down the hall with the girl waiting to be ambushed. I fling open the door. A zombie girl is standing there, about 12 years old, she looks almost normal except her eyes are entirely black & she moves in a spastic way. Well, and she smells like wet cheese from 1820. She's about to lunge at me & then I say, Aw, are you lost, honey? Who are you looking for? Let me help you. This totally throws Zombietard off, she just stands there blinking & drooling. I reach out & pat her, it feels like she's crawling with beetles under her orange shirt. Gag gag pat pat.

Next thing I know, I'm leading the real girl, who's fist is stuffed in her mouth so she won't scream, and Zombietard through the house, trying to find Zombietard's living-dead MOTHER.

I'm a day late with my WWC, but here they are anyway. This week's words were: Peekaboo & Dirty...brought to us by the queen of quirk, Tink.

peekaboo

dirty meat & above that, cheap dirty deeds
Fat Jack's had this great slogan before the Decency Police cracked down on them:
Best meat in town...if you can't eat it, beat it

where dirty cars go for, um, handjobs :O

Hazy

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Mon, 09 Jun 2008 07:49:00 +0000

Have you ever had a full bladder & suddenly sneezed really hard? I'm just wondering.

I've been in a bit of a blur this past week. My brain won't cut back on what it decides to think about, but nothing sticks. Normally I tend to lean towards obsessive focus, that's actually why I'm so accident-prone...I'll be walking along thinking about supermassive black holes when I happen to trip over a stupid-plain-ol' hole. Anyway, so when I realized I must've recently acquired ADHD from a public restroom (despite holding my breath when I flush the toilet so the microscopic shit-mist doesn't get me), I had serious concerns for my survival.

I've been avoiding: operating heavy machinery, making major decisions, and talking to people who scare easily. After removing a hot pan from the oven with my bare hands & continuing to hold it with mounting curiosity, I decided to cut back on cooking. By Saturday I was feeling guilty so I grilled up a ton of meat...bison-beef burgers, BBQ chicken, seafood. Let's just say I now have a red right hand.

I finally started my new painting series. I figure I can't really hurt myself with a paintbrush as long as I don't run with the pointy end facing up. I'm not sure why I can still paint when I'm so loopy I almost put on two bras this morning.

I rigged a light-diffuser out of some scraps of white linen to keep the sun off my board while I worked, it gave me this shot.

It makes me think of...white linen hanging in the sun. Yeah, the lights are on & I am home, but I've fallen asleep on the potty.

Ninja On Duty

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 13:19:00 +0000

So I'm thinking of becoming a vigilante. Something like The Neighborhood Watch meets Crouching-Tiger-Hidden-Dragon. Little-known talents of mine: accurate knife-throwing, high-kicks, voice that can make eardrums bleed, able to hide behind very skinny trees/poles.

Last month our neighbor saw a man standing in front of her place around 10 am. He just struck her as odd, so instead of going inside, she dilly-dallied around her mailbox watching him. About a minute later, another man comes running out her sideyard & they hop in a car & speed off. Jerk #2 had been in her backyard trying to pry open her door with a crowbar.

We have gardeners servicing the homes on our street practically every day, and a lot of people work in the entertainment industry so they keep odd hours...these guys were either very lucky or they'd been watching the area for the right time to attempt a burglary.

A few weeks ago a different neighbor's car was broken into first thing in the morning. Two days ago it was our car. Rene had parked it on the street mid-morning, and went back to it a half hour later to find the window smashed. They only took the navigational device. Of course I'm glad they didn't take the whole car, but my first thought was, Crap, did they get my sunglasses?

Yeah, you try finding sunglasses that fit my big melon. It ain't easy.

Crime is so irritating. It makes you feel badly about people.

I found something to make me feel really good though. It's The Great Cupcake. You have to say it with awe & mystery, like The Great Pumpkin from The Peanuts cartoon.

It looks like a normal cupcake. No, indeed it is not. You see, this cupcake is a half-foot high & 7 inches across. And the pink part at the top isn't frosting, it's the top layer of this double-layer cake of fabulosity. Think about it, a cupcake as big as a child's head.

I'm having big thoughts about this. I could have a shop called Jo's Big-Ass Cupcakes. There's a yoga/pilates studio on every block here, I'd just set up next-door. This makes perfect sense b/c whenever I'm trying to achieve equilibrium with the universe, I end up thinking about cupcakes instead. I could be responsible for bringing big asses back to Hollywood. If you want one--the cupcake pan--you can get them at Williams Sonoma.

WWC #38

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Tue, 03 Jun 2008 19:37:00 +0000

You guys are so great, thanks for watching my animation. I won't be seeing Nick Cave until mid-September when he's here at the Bowl---another Bowl concert, yippee! Rene's industry-guy is my new BFF, I should probably make him a pie. We lucked out b/c normally this client gets tickets through his industry contacts, but the Cave concert happens to be under his label so we get all-access passes...I get to hang out backstage all day & eat their food!

Rene had Nick Cave music playing in the background on our first date. He was the soundtrack to our entire courtship...he was playing when I first picked up a paintbrush & has been growling & booming in our studio ever since. We take him on roadtrips, long drives...I had a surreal moment in Bloomingdales when I heard him playing instead of muzak & listening to him while in close proximity to couture nearly made me weep with joy.

Nick Cave's music is like great writing & great paintings...you hear his indelible, distinctive sound in all of it, and yet it's constantly changing...each album is an entirely new experience.

But enough of that, I'm sure I'll be carrying on about it when September rolls around.

Time for the WWC, I totally forgot today was Tuesday. I thought yesterday was Friday? This week's words were: Light & Heavy...brought to us by sun-shiny Tink.

heavy

I'm heavy into Durant's histories

light drink

light on leaves

bottled light, my paint

lightness, pinwheels make me happy

light, these hydrangeas survived the raccoon-mauling

Rene's silly portraits...he tends to either sketch me all cutie-pie or porny, there's really no in-between.

My Life in LooneyToons

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 16:26:00 +0000

So I made an animated short-film yesterday. It's pretty certain I'm a nerd, but it began innocently enough. I heard some great news & asked Rene to sketch a quick drawing to accompany the post about it. Somewhere along the way I decided I'd just make a cartoon in Photoshop...then I'm making my cartoon blink...and well, the crazies took over from there.

Yeah, it went the same way for Tom Cruise but at least I only take short trips to Assland.

It looks pretty awesome on my computer, slightly worse on a flash-player, and frankly crappy on YouTube. Things got lossy along the conversion route & the format shrunk & blurred everything. But I think it's sufferable?

Hope you get a laugh...

At the Bowl

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Fri, 30 May 2008 12:09:00 +0000

Wheee, my first concert review. If you missed yesterday's post, we scored REM tickets & took our son to his first rock concert. It was also mine & J's first time at the Hollywood Bowl.

The place is fabulous! It normally hosts the L.A. Philharmonic Orchestra, so there were some great perks to the outdoor venue...clean bathrooms, comfy seats, awesome food. So I'm sitting there with buttermilk fried chicken, champagne, my boys, and by pure coincidence they're playing my favorite singer Nick Cave the whole time the roadies are setting up for the gig. Yum.

They didn't allow cameras, so these are the lame pics taken by my phone. They had colored lights & stuff. That blue-green blob is Michael Stipe's head. It looks a little like an ultrasound...but he does kind of look like a baby in real life.

The National opened. I've never heard of them but that doesn't really mean anything b/c I can't keep track of names. They were pretty good. Then Modest Mouse played 5 or 6 songs. I didn't think I knew them either, but it turns out I happen to already like 2 of their songs. J really loved them...I think he would've liked for them to have played the whole night.

This was REM's third concert of their tour. I had their setlist from the last show at Berkeley, an almost perfect split between their new & old songs. That would've been an awesome concert, but they changed things up for L.A. I think most of the peeps there, including the teens, were expecting to hear their big hits...whenever they played those, everyone was on their feet screaming & dancing. The rest of the time people stayed in their seats listening with low-key enthusiasm. J almost fell asleep a few times.

It's the only concert I've ever been to where I've left without a sore throat & buzzing ears. No trouble hearing the music, but it wasn't nearly loud enough. It was REM being REM, they sounded solid, so I'm not sure if we were underwhelmed b/c their music just isn't geared for a high-energy concert or if the performance fell short of dazzling. Michael Stipe sang his heart out on Let Me In...that one gave us chills. The rest was fun, a good time, no regrets. We scored these tees...and I got this free hat that makes no sense to me, in part b/c it doesn't fit my head by a good 2 inches.

Only one yucky incident. We're walking across the parking lot, propelled by the mob, & this lady in a car is stopped on our right. J's on my right, so I look at the lady's face to see what she's thinking before we step out. She's looking straight at him with a scowl, meanwhile people are pushing past us on the left, I had this weird feeling as he was stepping out so at the last second I pull him back just as the witch drives past us suddenly, so close if we had bent our knees they would've smacked into her car door. Mother Bear took over.

I kicked the car as hard as I could. I was wearing these big cushy Sasquatch boots, my toes felt nothing. Cruella Deville slams to a stop, chicken-necking in a frenzy as the other women in her car are clucking at her. I had one of those slow-motion experiences where I'm about to march over to her door & scare the rush-rush right out of her, but I realize I'm still holding J's hand, he's fine, & she's scared enough apparently b/c she isn't getting out of her car. Point taken. After that she inched her car forward like you're supposed to when throngs of people are passing in front of it.

Shiny Happy People

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Wed, 28 May 2008 22:02:00 +0000

My son J has an ear for music. When he was just a tot, barely walking, he'd insist I play these converted-to-CD vintage opera videos, then he'd stand in front of the telly for hours "conducting" the orchestra. At first it was just cute, but something about his passion actually borderline-alarmed me...seeing his little baby arms shaking during the crescendo of Tosca was just--bizarre. Sometimes we'd be in a store or an elevator when muzak was playing & he'd announce Stravinsky! or Brahms! Most people smiled, occasionally I'd get that You must be one of those mothers...you know the kind that push high-brow on their embryos hoping for genius. Whatever. Or more to the point, bite me.

Some kids, you have to fan the fire...other kids, you help them control it. J's been shining with this crazy-glow since he came into the world & most of my focus as his mom has been ensuring he feels normal, that he gets scraped knees like everybody else, tries & fails & gets over it, and discovers the world before the world discovers him & tries to make his choices.

I didn't put him in music classes. We surrounded him with instruments & music, and I would've supported it if he had really wanted lessons, but I was leery of initiating anything that would have adults swarming around him dropping words like "prodigy"...those things have a way of deciding a child's future for him.

It wasn't until a few years ago that J found his instrument--the guitar. He came home from school & announced that he was going to play that Johnny Cash song When the Man Comes Around in front of his class for a project. I asked him how long he had to prepare, 2 weeks...then I reminded him he didn't know how to play guitar. He shrugged, Yeah, I'm gonna have to learn that. He'd also never sang before an audience.

We brought in Rene's oldest friend Thomas, who happens to be an awesome guitarist. J not only learned guitar, but he brought his own Woody Guthrie-style twist to the song. And like it was nothing, he rocked out in front of his class.

He doesn't want to be a musician. He wants to fly jets & be an ambassador. But in the meantime, he's having a great time with music. He's into Zeppelin, Hendrix...the Killers, Metallica...and still Johnny Cash. None of that emo-nonsense. Through Rockband he recently discovered REM, and loves their sound. I remember listening to REM over & over again on my walkman when I was J's age, it fascinates me the way things come full-circle. Over the weekend he told us he wants some of their albums.

We just found out REM is going to be in concert here tomorrow at the Hollywood Bowl, so Rene called one of his music-industry clients. Seemed like a long-shot to me...but he scored us 3 tickets, dead-center in the 14th row! Yippee! J's going to be over-the-moon when he finds out after school today...this is going to be his first rock concert.

WWC #37

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Tue, 27 May 2008 10:18:00 +0000

I don't work a 9-to-5 but long weekends still screw me up. Wait, do I even work? (Slaps self) Of course I do, I just get paid in ephemeral things like endless adoration, appreciation & pride in the fact that my men don't drool or pooter in public. Not at the same time anyway. You laugh now, my son could be the President one day...and I'll be out watering the White House lawn in my pink spongerollers & matching rainboots.

Hub & I had this conversation after what will forever be known as the BeanPot Incident.

Me: I've really appreciated that for 40 years you've been immune to the side effect of beans.
Rene: Yeah. (puffs out chest)
Me: I guess your iron stomach decided it had given enough...
R: (look of confusion)
Me: That's right, Monkeyman. You were going off like the Tet Offensive in your sleep.

See how I worked a little history in there? I do that whenever I can. It's all true too, for 11 of the 12 years I've known Rene, the man only farted around me once, during an argument when he started coughing---I totally won that argument. Then out of nowhere, he starts rat-a-tat-tatting in his sleep. It actually began around the time he started to really bulk up at the gym. Poor hunky monkey.

The weather has been so crappy, I keep mistaking it for November. Instead of going to the gym I've been cooking. Yesterday I cooked a legless turkey & a pie. Well, I'm sure the turkey had legs at some point, otherwise he'd look weird.

Benjamin Franklin originally suggested the turkey as our national mascot. This is confusing to many people. Wild turkeys are actually intrepid creatures, very smart & badass when the need arises. Domestication turned them into complete asshats. I've seen this happen to men too, but they seem to fare better than their turkey-counterparts.

I made apple-rhubarb pie. You don't like rhubarb? Well this comes out tasting just like tart-cherry pie. Besides, I bake hugs into it. If you'd like the recipes, click away: You're-Such-a-Flake Crust & WTF-Pie.

Time for the WWC. This week's words were: Penultimate (next to last) & Entrance...brought to us by Tink, who scored some sandals from that wee feisty lady on Golden Girls. Click to enlarge images in a pop-up.

the penultimate bite is dainty, then you stuff the rest in your mouth

penultimate Goya

entrance...click to see who's house this is

the entrance from the inside

clogged birdhouse entrance, these tweets are pack-rats

this nutter guards the entrance to our yard

entrance knob...looks like I've been clawing to get out

our secret entrance...click to see where it leads

Little House on the Stupid Prairie

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Sun, 25 May 2008 01:10:00 +0000

Blech. I've been having internet connection problems. My wireless router can see every freakin person's connection on the block except my own. I run back & forth between my laptop & the router, the router & the bathroom, pretty soon I'm going to get confused & piddle next to my computer.

But that hasn't stopped me from starting another blog, hahahahaha I THRIVE under pressure. It's strictly a utility blog for this one since Blogger doesn't offer secondary pages. I don't want to numb your brains or clutter up my blog, instead I'd like to be able to link to info occasionally...like a recipe or my Nobel Prize acceptance speech or all the funny shapes I can twist my face into during 10 seconds of PMS.

It was pretty easy, I just copied the HTML template for this blog into another document & pasted what I wanted into the new blog. It's barebones, no comments and no feed since I'll always link to it from here when there's something of use.

It's been storming for days. The other day we had lightning strike right over our heads, then it hailed. Several tornadoes in the inland. Rene saved my squirrel-boyfriend from a bluejay mauling, the little guy was hanging from the fence like he was doing chin-ups while 2 jays dive-bombed him. Raccoons have been digging up my flowers & overturning them to get at worms underneath. I keep hearing the banjos from Deliverance b/c I just don't understand why this is happening in So. CA.

It must be getting to me b/c I've been feeling rustic. I made the best batch of fat breadsticks yet...baked beans...minestrone soup from scratch. Click the photos if you'd like the recipes.

Hope everyone is having fun in the sunshine (sob, hairpull).

Skin Diaries

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Thu, 22 May 2008 06:47:00 +0000

I went to an import market yesterday to look for treasures amidst the junk. I was really shopping for props...because I'm not theatrical enough. Why mime hitting the gorilla with a wooden spoon when I can get a real wooden spoon made of mango bark from Vietnam? I found these things...

The cute pink bottle holds sake (Japanese rice wine). This little scene inspired me to write a Japanese poem:

fortune cookie truth
you're such a kabookie queen
little. pink. big-mouth

I totally could've been a poet. Just not in Japan.

The other day one of my top blog-crushes Dianne suggested I post Rene's tattoo b/c a little teaser of it was peeping out of his shirt sleeve in an earlier photo. Yay, blog fodder! My other blog-crush Knight recently did a tattoo post--hers are awesome.

I'll start with mine b/c my last one explains Rene's. This was my first, it's on my hip & I got it at age 23...an idea given to me by a Mikhail Baryshnikov film. The falling petal represents loss but with the positive spin of growth. Big Mike from Sunset Tattoo did it, I went with two friends who moaned & covered their eyes the whole time so that most of my fear was lost in the effort to comfort them. All these pics will enlarge in a pop-up if you click.

It's faded quite a bit & needs to be touched up. My second tat is in a no-see-um place so I can't post it. This is my third & last, on the back of my shoulder, my own handwriting...

...my reminder to be the change I want to see in the world & in my own life. I'm happy to say that since getting this tat, I've made a difference where I've intended to...but I'm not finished. I expect I'll always need this reminder.

For years Rene said he would never get a tattoo. He said life is always changing & his own mind with it, and he couldn't imagine something so permanent continuing to have for him the same meaning he originally intended. For our 4th anniversary, he got this tattoo, also in my writing...

I love it. I didn't know there would be any more...Rene went years without wanting another one.

Last year when we were vacationing, he suddenly announced he was going to Hart & Huntington in Oahu for a tattoo. So we went, H&H is in a sort of dive area of ickum tourist shops...lots of postcards & sweat & the sickly-sweet smell of sausages & pineapple...but the shop itself is clean & snazzy. I talked him out of getting it there b/c as cool as it is to have an exotic location as part of your tat-lore, his tattoo was going to be a big open sore that he couldn't get wet for the remainder of our trip. He had it done first thing when we returned, at the Body & Soul parlor.

He drew it. The initials are mine & our son's. Seulement means only (also 'simply') in French. Rene isn't French, nor does he speak it...but I was breathing French authors & artists around the time we got married & had seulement inscribed on his wedding band.

Two weeks later Rene added another tat...it really isn't a joke that I married my stalker.

Those of you who have been blogging with me a while will recognize this as the cartoon-portrait I drew of myself, a.k.a. Angry Little Asian Girl. People comment on this one the most b/c they keep mistaking it for something they've seen somewhere--probably Japanese anime...and Rene totally misses that part & always says, No, that's my wife. This gets him weird looks b/c cartoon-girl looks about 5 years old. But he really is a dirty old buzzard so there you go, life mimicking art.

If you've never had a tattoo & have thought about getting one, the hardest part is deciding what you want & where to put it. It hurts, but in a different way than you tend to expect...despite the needle, it's not a pokey-hurt like getting a shot or a piercing. I've had papercuts that cry out more urgently. It's more of a hurt that toes the line between good-hurt & not-too-keen-on-this, so that you're pleasantly surprised at how tolerable it is while remaining paranoid that it might intensify into something more snarly--the tattoo artist pauses frequently so the pain never quite crests that boundary. And if you happen to be in L.A...I'll go with & hold your hand!

WWC #36

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Tue, 20 May 2008 11:47:00 +0000

In my last post I had that photo of me on skates with Jorge in the background, proving I am indeed bigger than a gnome. Or so I thought. G-man, who applies his engineering skills to debunking Sasquatch & Unicorn theories, clued me in to the illusion that objects in the distance appear smaller than they really are. He enlightened me with this photo of Jorge at my side...

Yeah. I was surprised too. I think in Kindergarten when we were learning Near & Far I must've been daydreaming about how I was going to look so rad in an afro. Don't laugh, I actually got one...I was in 4th grade by then & it didn't go over too well. Stupid valley kids, Grandmaster Flash would've thought I was the shit boogie-skating down the sidewalk. My hair grew out & then I decided to get braids & beads like Peaches from Peaches & Herb.

That didn't go over well either, but mainly b/c my hair kept whipping around & the beads would whack me in the face. I remember one of the neighborhood boys thought he was really shaking up my world by telling me I wasn't black. Mind you, he was wearing a Dukes of Hazzard get-up at the time. Different strokes...he wanted to be a hillbilly & I wanted to go to Funkytown.

Time for the Weekly Words Challenge. This weeks's words were: Pure & Regret...brought to us by au natural Tink.

pure, my favorite flower (gardenia)

pure luck*

pure sunlight

regret

sometimes I regret eating these, but I won't stop

so much to regret here...
that's me in the plaid

*clover confession: okay, so it wasn't "pure" luck...sometimes you gotta make your own!

Rolling Along

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Sun, 18 May 2008 01:32:00 +0000

My life is so exciting. The other day I sat in the car...

This photo made the cut b/c I don't look like I'm eating something icky, being peppersprayed, blowing bubbles without gum, or falling asleep on only half of my face while the other half is ecstatic. Rene says those two wrinkles on my neck are what allow my head to bend, but I personally think it's from all the chicken-necking I do when I'm upset. At least my nose is clean. I've been preoccupied with nose-holes lately...

Me: Let me see your nostrils.
Rene: Whyyy?
Me: Just let me see them!
(I proceed to violate his personal space)
Me: Damn, they're all matchy-matchy. Very nice.
Rene: Do you mean my nostrils match your nostrils?
Me: (WTF.) Noooo, your nostrils match each other.

I recently examined my nose b/c Matt-Man has a turbo nose trimmer & this made me wonder if I need one. I don't...yet...but that's when I discovered my nostrils don't match. Cool. I should sign my checks with nose-prints.

Mr. Perfect-Nostrils smoking a cigar...

Saturday we went rollerblading. I took a few laps around the house first so I wouldn't kill myself on the streets...that's Jorge the gnome in the corner. See, I really am bigger than a gnome.

I'm good enough on skates to make use of all that healthcare insurance we pay for instead of the Bentley we could finance for the same amount. Mr. Fantastic is an ex-hockey player so he gets going really fast & like an idiot I keep up with him, forgetting that I have no idea how to stop or turn quickly. Usually Rene just does his fancy-stop & I run smack into him.

On the way back home I sliced a fast turn & it surprised me so much I plowed into two big guys on the sidewalk...and well, I'm a friendly person so I just grabbed hold of the nearest guy to right myself. He foolishly was trying to get away from me so I ended up with one hand on his back & the other clutching his man-boob. Woopsie!

I went to Matt-Man's clambake recently & scored a COW award! Matt's unique humor frequently makes me blush & poke out one eye but it's all very magical so I keep going back for more. I'm trying to think of a word to describe his comedic genius--gelatinous? sloopy? musky? That's it: musky. Plus he's very clever, sweet, & takes time to respond to everyone despite being insanely popular. Thanks, Matt!

When a Post-It Just Isn't Big Enough

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Thu, 15 May 2008 09:54:00 +0000

In yesterday's post I mentioned our old garage studio with the grafitti walls. We were so busy making art it never occurred to us to take photos of the studio, but I do have one photo to share.

I think we'd been married 2 years. That day I'd discovered my husband had told me a big fat lie about a financial matter. I should say he is one of the most trustworthy people I know, but when it comes to freaking out the wife over an art deal gone wrong, he is Ignoramus Stupendicus. I took the news like he'd told me he has a secret wife & kids in another country & his name is really Humperdink & he moonlights as a black-tar heroin dealer.

So I'm sitting in the studio & it occurs to me:

1. I love him too much to run him over with the car.
2. I could drive him out to the desert & leave him there...I mean, all that thinking worked for Jesus. But how much water & beef jerky would he need? Too complicated.
3. Boycotting sex doesn't really work. Why should I suffer? I'm pretty sure he's working some voodoo on me. I become convinced of it.
4. I could stop cooking for him, that would hit hard. But then I'd feel sorry for him & probably end up roasting him a pig. This annoys me. Plus it fits the voodoo theory.
5. I could shave off his eyebrows. Then he'd look as surprised as I feel...how's that for empathy. But then I'd keep saying, Why are you looking at me like that? And he'd keep saying, Like what? That would get old.

So I decided to express myself in a spontaneous, free-verse poem. In carmine red, letters 1-foot high. It was delightful. We ended up keeping it there as our not-so-little inside joke...I think the people who saw it shrugged it off as one of those weird artist things.

I miss the walls of that stupid garage. I think it would be fun to have a large wood panel put on the wall of our next studio for grafitti, maybe swap it out every 5 years...a living documentary of creative randomness.

Despite how wonky it is in my head, it comes out in paint well enough. Here's a woman from my last series. The angle of her body is a little weird, she's facing away with her arms crossed over her chest, almost looking over her shoulder.

WWC #35

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Tue, 13 May 2008 20:19:00 +0000

I spent months designing our home studio. It has built-ins so I wouldn't need an easel, drawers & shelves for all my supplies, a desk for my computer, everything streamlined for how I work. I bought that Saarinen tulip chair knock-off that Knight & Maggie were going to mud-wrestle for, thinking it was perfect b/c I can sit in it Indian-style.

Shortly after the studio was finished, I discovered I couldn't work in it. I kept sliding off the chair, the lighting wasn't right, I felt claustrophobic at the desk. Our last studio was a converted garage & our walls looked like a New York subway, smeared with paint drips, test images, scribbled notes to myself...it was sweltering in the summer & freezing in the winter, I painted wearing gloves & a parka. I hated it but strangely we thrived in that misery.

These days I do my computer work in front of the fireplace. I sit on the hearth, my laptop stacked on 3 coffee-table books & a large shoebox. I paint outdoors.

Van Gogh used to paint outdoors. At night he wore a broad-rimmed hat with candles stuck all around the brim so he could see.

I'm finally putting to bed a series I worked on for 3 years. The process has been a bit like moving to a new city. In the next few weeks I'll be photographing my test images, playing supermodel to get the poses I need--I'm the cheapest live-model I can find.

Tomorrow is the Picture Fiction Challenge, created by the ingenious REH. I'm sorry I won't be participating, my head is in work-&-play hard mode. The PFC stories are great fun to read, so I hope you'll go to his site tomorrow through Friday to link to the stories.

Time for the WWC! This week's words were: Seven & Earth...brought to us by my favorite hottie vigilante Tink. Click to enlarge images in a pop-up.

clouds at seven p.m.

seven fence posts, the 7th shows up if you click :P

seven shoes

a scoop of earth

from the earth, madeira daisies

earthy goodness, my mom's flower (as big as a plate!)

high above the earth, this plane is a speck in the 1st photo for seven

Golden

noreply@blogger.com (Jo) — Mon, 12 May 2008 09:00:00 +0000

I had one of those perfect weekends when you catch yourself in moments so fat you wonder if your heart might break from the feeling. I breathe it in & feel it out, and though most of it is inexpressible, I think it comes down to--This is why. Why humans strain & sweat & persevere...why we bear tragedy & keep going...why laughter, perhaps the lightest, most fleeting--will always be a superpower.

In the privilege of my life, there is something in these private moments of awe & heightened understanding that I recognize as belonging to everyone. This is one of the reasons why I will never give up on People.

The 3 of us went to the gym Saturday. It was the first time I was leading my son through a systemized workout on the machines. He's all arms & legs & ginormous feet like an oversized puppy. I laugh very hard on the inside...and sometimes into my towel.

Me: Good, your breathing is just right. You can relax it a bit though.
J: (pausing between reps) What do you mean?
Me: Well, you're puckering & puffing up like a blowfish.
J: Okay. (he does 2 more reps) How's that?
Me: You look like an angry robot.
J: (dead serious) Yeah, that's what I was going for.

On the drive to see my parents on Sunday, we listened to the Beatles the whole way. Funny how when my boys are in the car, I don't mind traffic at all. It's just a different state of mind, like a roadtrip.

We went to a seafood restaurant with my parents. We've been there many times before & the same waiter takes our table once he spots us. After he teases me a bit & leaves, I tell my mom how much I like him. She whispers, Oh, he's so crazy. He has the same problems with women as your uncle. He got his girlfriend a job & a car & then she dropped him for another man!

How my mom knows this about the 30-something waiter, I have no idea.

I left their house with 7 enormous photo albums weighing 50 lbs. Many of these are filled with polaroids from the 70's...I'm going to digitize & repair all of them. It'll probably take me months to get though it all, but it'll be a fun journey. I found these...

My first best friend Meagan and me. She always wanted to look like a boy, but was otherwise very girly. I was the opposite. We got on famously. Our first Halloween trick-or-treating together she was a baby-blue bunny & I was Spiderman.

I grew this monster cucumber from a seed. It won ribbons in the State Fair! And I'm wearing a Shaun Cassidy t-shirt. He was so rad.