Operation France encore - étage un

My nefarious plot has begun, and a landmark in its progress has been set.

Tonight, my wife responded to the following, pivotal question:

"Would you want to go to France with me again, if money wasn't the issue?"

My heart sang as her answer trod through the shadows of teeth, gum and freckle:

"Yes..."

...

Oh, it's on now... I believe that I can make this happen.

If you want a postcard from France, place your order now, because this new year is all about some "can-do" shit.

I've tried pessimism, and it's got me bupkis. Let try some optimism for a change. I've heard good things...

Things I don't understand - #2

Why bust on MC Hammer they way they do in the media? I don't understand that.

For those of you who don't recall, MC Hammer was a pop/rap star in the 1990's - had some hits, made a ton of money and then went bankrupt, and now lives around Tracy, CA.

Now, he's starting up a YouTube.com-type niche website called DanceJam.com, planning to collect and share dance moves all around the planet. Good idea, bad idea, who knows? Reading in The Record newspaper today (I'd link to the blurb, but I don't see it online, only saw it in print), there's an article reporting this event, but every other sentence is taking a potshot at the once-was Hammer or setting up such a barb. It snarks at how he's 'taking time away from doing nothing' to take up his new endeavor. Ouch!

Why pick on Hammer? He was one of the most positive pop figures of his time, exhorting his audience to use their brains, stay away from dope and make money by earning it. Now that he's back in the papers, they still take every opportunity to swing at the balloon-panted media pinata.

Sure, he made his money and lost it. I don't know how he lost it, I've never done the research. Honestly, I was never a fan. As a teenager, I heard: "...can't touch this..." until I developed a facial tick. But I certainly never saw him convicted, arrested, Hell, even accused of anything deserving such constant derision; but every time his name's in the paper, they take another whack. They whoop on him so bad, I'm pretty sure Ike Turner's last words were: "Damn, take it easy on a brother."

As I recall, one of Hammer's albums was named: "Please Hammer, Don't Hurt 'em." Sounds like fair advice for the other side as well.

Douche bag

I'm so bored with beer. I need a new intoxicant.

It's a little bracing to realize that I require an intoxicant, but once I made peace with it, I can move on to other things. Most things seem so damn dull. Maybe this is why people sky dive, mountain climb or marry ugly girls. They can't afford decent weed.

Come to think of it, I can't afford good weed either.

Maybe I just need to find something to cut through the callous, crack the shell. I would think one would find an interest or activity that is so absorbent that one would fear external intoxicants for their distracting effects. Not me. Love, hate, fear, pain... meh. French, camping, exercise, art... meh.

I probably need therapy of some kind, but even the several stabs at that - attempts to untie my cognitive knots - have availed me so little.

I read/see/hear about poor people - real poor people, like: "West African, can't-find-anything-to-eat" poor, not "can't-afford-a-new-video-game" poor - in the media, people who wish for years to have half the opportunities I have, the belongings I have, the life I have. I feel like a real jerk, whining in my pseudo-private techno-journal about the minuscule angst that rules my thoughts. What a douche bag.

Maybe what I need is the limitations that make these modest achievements and possessions seem so untouchable. Maybe that's what this past year has been about: loss, and the constant prospect of even more loss. It's probably a large part of the lesson I'm supposed to have learned. Instead, the most noble and insightful question I've come up with is a choice between beer and pot.

Yeah. Douche bag, for sure. I need to get my head right.

This post is not at all what I sat down to write, but I feel better having thought this "out loud," so I'm going to post it. It's odd, disjointed and probably not appropriate for public viewing, but it's also personal, and still seems like the right thing to leave "up." I think I'll go find something constructive to do.

Whether life or death, it's too good for them

My God.

I just got around to reading the news story whose headline has been on my screen for days, about a Washington couple who killed 6 people, including two small children. When I got to the part about the three-year old boy trying vainly to put batteries back in the phone to call for help... Jesus.

Terror, pity, shock, revulsion - there just aren't words for this. It's heartbreaking.

Our legal system simply isn't capable of applying a suitable punishment to these heartless dogs in human skin. I don't think we should take a chance on there being a Hell and sending them to it - we should carefully construct one, and condemn them to it to be certain a thorough job is done of it.

Those poor people...

Gym report

I'm happy to note that my discipline towards exercise, measured in visits to the gym we joined, is holding up pretty good overall. I went last night when I really didn't feel like it, had a solid workout, and left feeling satisfied about it.

It being the first workout after a few days' rest/neglect, I always have a little more drive than back-to-back workout days. The off days couldn't be helped. It's been an alternately busy and tiring week, requiring a lenient approach to formal workout days.

I am even more proud of my wife, who has historically taken a, shall-we-say lackadaisical approach to fitness. She noted that although her weight was on the fast track to Slimville, she wasn't feeling as strong and healthy as she wanted. She took it upon herself to do something about it, and then stuck with it. Not necessarily a holiday miracle, but given my own disjointed handling of problems vs. solutions, watching someone close to me take responsibility and control over a circumstance and see it through is really something noteworthy.

So there; I noted it...

But back to the important topic at hand: me.

As much as I'd like the abs of Adonis and pectorals of, well, anybody with better pecs than me, I think my overall goals are going to have to shift. I've never thought much of conditioning my lower body, largely because my body-image and idea of strength always assumed an upper-body stacked with beef, letting the lower half look after itself. Considering my medium- and long-term goals, though, I am rethinking this. Those goals:

1. I'd like to get out and hike/camp/fish next year. A lot.
2. I'd like to look not so much like the Michelin Man's pregnant mistress.
3. I'd like to have buttcheeks that didn't flap in a stiff breeze like two hairy windsocks.
4. I'd like to have both knees not hurt and threaten to give out so often; one of them is clearly defective from the factory, and I've just got to make do with what I have.

You add all that up, and it all points to legs. Aerobic workouts to lose weight, strength training to develop strength, muscle tone, bone density and joint health. By spring, I would dearly love to have legs like a mountain goat (hey, hooves and all, I don't care). I'd like to have gams like a mountain troll marathoner. I'd like to have strength, agility and endurance. I'd like to have an ass that my wife can slap without spreading ripples through my backfat up into my forehead.

It's tough, because I've always felt I wasn't built for speed. Or motion in general, for that matter. I've always felt deep in my brittle, flaky bones that running was a torture visited upon man by a cruel, pitiless creator, and that I should have as little part in it as humanly possible, to avenge the moral wrongness of it, if nothing else. Now it looks as though I'll be spending lots of time on treadmills, lunging, squatting (hideous in name and deed, if you ask me). Yechh.

Deep down (maybe not all that deep) inside me there is a pessimist, who has seen many efforts bear puny fruit. He truly doubts in his pathetic, cynical heart that all the effort in the world will bring me closer to the above goals. That little bastard needs a kick in the nuts, and it would do me a world of good.

But, I am encouraged by my wife. She took it upon herself to declare a goal and work fastidiously towards it. If she can do it, maybe I can, too. Ain't she great?

Things I don't understand - #1

Why is it that:

• the faucet in my shower has a six-inch span, from left to right, for hot-to-cold water, but
• the span that produces water that won't either blister your skin or induce hypothermia is at best three-quarters of an inch wide?

Merry Christmas, almost everyone

My family and I had a great Christmas - lots of gifts and love, no bad news. I'll take that any day.

My son got overstimulated by too many great gifts and a blood-sugar spike that would give a hummingbird heart palpitations (he had no breakfast and then >WHAM< a big chocolate Santa, straight to the bloodstream). This caused a condition that lasted several hours and inspired visions of belt-whippin's to dance in his Daddy's head.

Grandma stepped up and invited the little... DARLING... over to her house for much of the remainder of the day, and I got a closer look at all the wonderful things Wifey Claus brought me. One of them was a nifty telescope - as soon as I put it together, a thick layer of cloud cover moved in, and all attempts to ogle the moon were over before they started. I'm still looking forward to it.

I fought the law, and the law won

It's been over three years since I have been in a formalized education system. Living where I do (among other logistical considerations), it's tough to get my butt to a physical location at which I may absorb knowledge.

"Aha," I thought to myself: "I'll just sign up for one o' them-there Innernet courses, and study from afar, saving gas, travel time and other logistical considerations. I went so far as to sign up for an online course for introduction to the American Legal System. Having already taken the field trip portion of the class, I figured I'd back it up with the less-expensive, classroom version.

The cost of the course itself is $60; pretty reasonable, I think. Then, I went to buy the book. Ninety bucks minimum, for the used, scribbled-in, dilapidated version, and a few bucks more for the new one! I must be cheap (scratch that, I know I am), but that's a tad pricey for a single book! I even tried to cheat and get it at Amazon, but even the used versions there are $70+plus.

Fuuuuuck that! I'm gonna slither my way through a few used bookstores, and see what I can come up with. Textbooks are just too much!

Major score

A few weeks ago, a 1977 Terry travel trailer was bequeathed to me by someone who had moved on to bigger and better. The only catch: I had to arrange to remove it from its lot. My boss did me a big solid by getting his Jeep into a pretty hairy spot and dragged the thing to where my wife's "Brick Shithouse 250" could hook up and drag it away.

There were some other significant hitches along the way, but we finally got the thing home today. It's nearly as old as I am, and not nearly as broken down and worn.

I look forward to putting some miles and fun onto this thing next year. Just another reason I am a lucky guy.

Shoot the elephant

Since I haven't had more than two customers in the past year for LiberatedPachyderm.com's Virtual Tour service, I'm going to pull the plug. If you haven't seen it yet, look quick, because the host has its orders to yank that limping behemoth off the server soon.

I'm no longer troubled at the failure of this service to take off. I learned a few things, and I'm in a different place now (as is the Real Estate market) than I was when this got started. It helps that I have steady income again, and a new rainbow on the horizon to chase.

It's like they say: "when God closes a door, kick out a window or you're fucked." More about the window sometime soon.

Gym Rats

My wife and I are Valley Springs' newest Gym Rats. We joined the "fitness center" yesterday, and I had my first workout this morning. It was nearly deserted, which is fine with me. I did some light activity and scuttled off to work.

Knowing myself as I do, my biggest fear is sloughing off the workouts, and paying for a service I don't use, not to mention not getting healthier. My goal then is to go at least 3 times a week for the first several weeks, and adopt it as a habit, even if the workouts aren't strenuous.

I'm sick of being shaped like a pear - I want to be a banana, at least.

Having trouble today

Ech, I'm having trouble today. I can't get it in gear. I took on one ambition, and it failed miserably. That always slows me down.

Having trouble finding the next failure - I mean, project...

Thanksgaving

At the last minute, my wife and I decided to shuttle across town and enjoy a Thanksgiving dinner with her Mom. As always, she kicks ass in the kitchen, and many bellies were stretched to their breaking point.

Back at home, we enjoyed a quiet, relaxing evening. A great day.

John Bizarre is sick of your shit

John Bizarre is many things, but I posit that crazy isn't one of them.

Read his current and recent posts and you may disagree with me, but that's up to you. I suspect the truth is that he's convinced that the unthinkable is slowly but certainly unfolding before his eyes, and he can't keep quiet about it any longer. And it's amazing to watch.

I don't know if what he's pointing out is what is truly happening, but I know his advice (turn off the TV and start truly giving a shit) smacks of good advice. He has to understand the undeniable power of skeptical apathy and the lifelong stream of lies that cause it, but he rails against it just the same.

Everybody is full of shit, and we don't even twitch when candidate after candidate lies to our faces with a smile. It is now the natural order of things, and to suggest otherwise is now enough to label you a crackpot.

Well, get your crack outta my pot. Maybe he just makes enough sense. His rant against voting the same raggedy, binary, lesser-of-two-evils choices is convincing enough on its own to get me to shave my head and join the circus. If he makes much more sense, I'm voting for whatever rutabaga he tells me to. Even Ron Paul.

Nokia 6126 phone sucks ass

"Beep beep," gone.

That's the sound of the latest frustration with our new Nokia 6126 flip phones - codenamed: "Shitbag."

We signed up with AT&T for less-costly phone service, because we didn't need the services (nor the cost) we were enjoying with our old service. Shame on them for not allowing us to gracefully downgrade without chaining ourselves to a new, 2-year "agreement." As was necessary, we picked up two new phones because our old ones couldn't work under the new service. The Nokia flipphones were free in the bargain, and I still think we got boned.

Between the clunky Menu system, unintuitive interface all-'round, and sudden joys like aborted calls during apparent full-on coverage with all bars lit, the only thing I can count on this piece of excrement to do is make a satisfying noise when I throw it against the wall.

I waited to bitch about this because each new device has its own quirks, and some frustration is natural while the user gets up to speed. This thing continues to enrage though, even after a few weeks.

My wife is even contemplating (gasp!) no service at all, rather than endure this subtle and mild form of torture. I don't blame her - this thing sucks. Bleah.

...And it's all for me blog

It's with full awareness of the interim between my last blog entry and my current one that I sit in peace enter this latest post. Subjects upon which to blog swirl around in my head like wraiths, distinct but impossible to grasp and put in a bottle. I know it's been a while, and the main reason I'm jotting something down is so that I don't fall out of the habit completely.

In other words, this is likely to be among the least interesting blog entries I've ever written, but I need to stretch my fingers, so just give me a break.

The blissful mood with which I've blogged recently have eroded somewhat lately - nothing lasts forever - but I'm confident that this is a phase, and nothing more. I'm still very fortunate and have a lot going for me. Unfortunately, I've allowed fear and worry to rent out a one-bedroom apartment and single car garage in my head, and I have yet to evict these lousy tenants with their noisy parties in the wee hours of the night, and I just KNOW I'm going to regret not getting a deposit.

I'm looking at two days off with absolutely no plan at all as to what to do with them. This is not an ideal situation, as I usually give in to boredom and hoist some beer. This little bargain has been wearing out for years, but I have yet to find a suitable and satisfying replacement for this often-regrettable but by now ingrained behavior. Still looking, and once I find it, I'm incredibly ready to embrace that change. Bleah.

Mama's got a brand new bag

My wife has entered undiscovered territory this past week, starting a new job closer to home. I am very proud of her for applying, interviewing and taking a job, especially knowing how harrowing the whole miserable process can be. Luckily, they know quality when they see it, and snatched her up as quickly as they could.

It's closer to home and so far, low stress. Also, it's a reliable schedule, obliterating much of the guesswork involved in the last gig. It isn't all perfect, but a lot of it's good. I sure hated to see her worn to the bone with long shifts, brutal weather and marathon commutes. I really like seeing her fresher and with more time on her hands.

She may like it too, but I don't know - all that matters is that *I* feel better, right? Heh.

Dumbledore isn't a queer

So author J.K. Rowling announced that her wise wizard character, Dumbledore, is gay. Or, was gay - he's been dead a while, you know.

I have to say, I think she's mistaken.

I know, she's the author, she created the characters, and some (including Rowling herself) think that gives her the right to rewrite history, now that the money's been made and blatantly provocative statements have no chance of impacting the many millions she's raked in. That's all fine, but there's one problem:

It never happened. In all the Potter books (not one of which I've read, and I don't think that leaves me in the slim minority everyone else seems to identify), never once did Dumbledore open-mouth kiss another guy, roger one of the gargoyles or so much as visit a Pier 1 Imports browsing for faux-antique coffee tables. If it didn't happen in the books (or the movies, for that matter), it didn't happen.

I mean, why not declare: "Oh by the way, he was black. Three feet tall. A master at water polo"? Because it would be ridiculous, that's why. All that Harry, Dumbledore, The Dukes of Hazzard and Rocky and Bullwinkle ever will be is what they were during their respective runs in their chosen media. To go back after the fact, kick this old goat out of the casket, just to push him out of the closet, strikes me as an opportunistic stunt, not a brave step to legitimize homosexuality.

If she wanted old Dumbie to experience a gay life, she should have written that into the books that gave him said life. It reminds me of the Family Guy episode where Peter Griffin dreams up his own TV show where he has a black son. The imagined intro of "My Black Son" runs for 40 seconds or so, and tacks on the very end this afterthought: "Also he's a ninja."

Hey... a ninja. Yeah! "also, Dumbledore was a ninja!" Why not?

For two other views on this "Dumbledore is a homosexual" theme, see these links:

EW.com - Dumbledore: A Lovely Outing

Put Dumbledore Back in the Closet

Life is good

Yesterday was an awesome day off, just about perfect. Today is shaping up pretty goddamn fabulous as well.

I have so many things in my life to be thankful for. I started making a list today, and it never ended. I only stopped to go accomplish a few things, or else I'd still be writing.

I know this sounds blissed-out and kinda fruity, but it's true, and worth noting. The more I look for ways to achieve happiness, the more I see and hear that it starts with gratitude, being thankful for all the shitty shit you have now. Appreciate, don't take for granted.

It's such a small thing, it seems impossible that it can help you get your head right, but I believe that it's integral. Such a small thing, which makes sense that it would be the mote that snowballs, gathering mass and inertia, and before you know it, you're posting dreamily to your blog about how great you've got it.

More good things on the horizon. They will be much appreciated.

Life in the interims

Life is busy here lately, and I suppose it's a good thing. It's different from the recent, long term pattern, that's for sure. While it's possible to schedule the basic necessities, I find it's also possible to fit in just a little bit more of the things that need doing into the cracks of my life.

For example, my morning includes distinct time periods for feeding myself and the animals, preparing myself for work, and dropping my son off at his Grandma's. By my days off, the place looks a wreck, because housekeeping is of a secondary nature.

However, if I keep an eye out for the things that deserve my attention, I can often slip in a little good deed, useful effort or rewarding pursuit into the times in between the items on the agenda. I've washed dishes, called a friend and gotten a quick workout during times when I'd otherwise be taking the odd breath and daydreaming. I've certainly got nothing against a relaxed breath or the odd daydream, but I appreciate the amount of good an unscheduled endeavor can do.

Hell, I hadn't planned time for this blog entry, but here it is. Gotta go get my son...