Moot Witness

The boy is quite influenced by Slim Whitman, Elton Britt and even Hank Sr. (among others) who all rank among the great early/mid 20th century country yodelers. He floored me immediately with his ability to crack and yodel...though in our band, we don't really do all that much that calls for full yodel runs. But still...that crackability certainly figures in a lot of the Hawaiian/hapa haole stuff we perform....and for fun, we often mess around with 40s/50s country stuff...Marty Robbins tunes, whatever. Any of that is seriously lacking without some crack, if you ask me! And it's kind of been the boy's trademark for a long time, even before I happened along. It certainly figures here and there in Western swing, which was in his past. After we got together, musically and otherwise, I became completely intrigued by this strange mechanism. It's even hard to describe to someone in words and clear concepts how to do it. I mean, really, imagine explaining to someone how to whist...

It's been three weeks since I went from my long, long, longtime standard, dark auburn to full on blonde. And yeah, ho hum...who cares about hair color babbling? But there's something more to it than that. It's all wrapped up in self-image and stereotype and how you see yourself...really. Ladies, am I wrong? Super drastic appearance changes DO get you all discombobulated mentally. It's a headtrip. I just don't know if I can pull this off....I don't think I have what it takes. I feel like an impostor. Not only the look of it, but also the logistical fact that it requires salon visits and money and stuff. I'm not that kind of girl, and I'm not sure I ever will be. If I could get back the $450 total it cost to bleach this out and color it, I would've finished my half-sleeve and started planning the other one. Hindsight. You can bet I will soon end up back in the home dye aisle in Rite-Aid eradicating all my hairdresser's hard work...and perhaps hidin...

Today started the new job for which I'd been waiting nearly two years. It's pretty much my dream job....well, as far as the fact that it will be utilizing my strengths and skills and making a serious difference in the lives of animals in this state. I mean, dream dream jobs would require skills and attributes I do not actually possess. So I will take this! And, being that's it's a branddamnnew non-profit enterprise, all of us there are new. So there's no walking into existing office politics and female cliquery BS. And, it's formed on an existing model....so every detail is figured out. It's going to be good. It seems too good to actually last. (note to self: STOP IT!) I went through dark, dark times to get here...for years saw and did things that I wouldn't wish on anyone. Everyday was an assault on my inner child. I earned this. But now....now.....please let it turn out well! In other good stuff, at least parts of my garden are doing well. Really le...

It's frustrating. It must be a fault, a flaw, in this day and age. But it bothers me that nearly no one talks about anything....to the point where I feel freakish for wanting to. Hihowareyouhow'sworkI'mfineblahblah....is that "normal" and how it's supposed to be? Behave. Don't open cans of worms, don't ask, don't tell. Nothing nothing. Perhaps my preferred methods are dysfunctional...the bloggery...which for a time to me, before myface and spacebook and whatever else, was sort of like the best form of non-physically-committal coffeeshoppery...a way to have those conversations, not about politics and electronics and bands and the media-wankfest-du-jour...I suppose those things have their place...but I still yearn to know what people think about and what it's like to go through things, to compare notes on this gauntlet-of-bullshit we all call "life." To maybe not feel like the only one with troubles and doubts about existence. Does anyo...

Been half-assedly, very periodically and unfocusedly trying to learn this one to perform for a couple years now. I just have become such a slacker as far as goal-setting anymore. But it's such a marvelous song. And because Perez Prado's famous trumpet-driven instrumental version with that drawn-out sliding note(hit Billboard #1 in 1955) has long since become the hands-down most popular version, few people have ever heard the lyrics sung. The melody is really lovely. Many people have done it, from Pat Boone to Xavier Cugat to Liberace to Chet Atkins and lots more. But my favorite version is Georgia Gibbs'. She got to it a few years before before Señor Prado, actually! (1951/52...depending on source) If I could only work out and memorize both a bass part and melodic solo on the cello. I keep getting frustrated and quitting. The vocals are really fun. If I could only just front a band and sing it- that would be much simpler. I've not got the personality for band frontage, ...

The baby girls are so huge now. We acquired 18 chicks of 4 different breeds this year, with the intent to raise them up and give half of them to a coworker of the boy. They were the proverbial peeping (and pooping!) fuzzballs when we got them....a couple days old at most. It's been nearly six weeks and now they are like little pre-teen girls. You can see what they are going to look like as adults, they are eating us out of house and home and they flock and squabble like a Jonas Brothers audience. This weekend, 9 of them are going to their new home. It's been a little hard to decide who we're keeping, though I think I've earned the privlege for caring for them entirely during the Sabbatical. ( It's been amazing to watch this year's little girls grow....so fast. We've raised them up from infancy once before...two springs ago. Here's Dolores (an Ameraucana) at a couple days old...peep peep peep... And here she is yesterday, at 2 years old...bok bok bok... S...

It's wedding season. The boy has been somewhat well-known in ukulele circles for over 10 years. He's the first to say that he's not a hot-shot player...but quite capable enough to form a sturdy setting for the jewel that is his voice. Back in the mid-90s, before there was a ukulele scene, before message boards, before youtube, before you heard ukulele in every damn commercial on TV for everything from car insurance to wireless telephone to Hamburger Helper to paper towels to 3 different makes of cars (seriously, listen when you next turn on the TV....during the commercials...uke uke uke), he sung and played rhythm guitar in a rockabilly/Western Swing trio. Early on, and after he took up and fell in love with ukulele (and much to their occasional chagrin!) he'd convince them to back off on the musical fireworks and let him do some ballads on the uke. People loved it. It's the voice that kills. One reviewer back then called his "a voice unspoiled by rock n' r...

What would life be without the simple pleasure of beer? It's fascinating to see it marketed in 1954 (McCall's magazine) without the remotest whiff of T & A, slacker schlubs and/or "attractive" young douchebags in a bar/club. Merely amiable, relaxing time spent with loved ones... And I still am trying to construct a flowchart in my mind as to how PBR got from bridge-playing suburban housefraus to smoky blue-collar VFW posts to crass rockabilly scenester dudes to finally, 21st century slaves to irony. . I'm sure tasting like ass didn't help. Cheers!

Scenes from today.... Quality time with sweet Foxy... Afterwards, all by my lonesome and despite scenes from "The Blair Witch Project" running through my head, I parked my car on the side of the road and tromped on foot through a hayfield and into the forest looking for the lost phone. I was actually hopeful and confident at first...then disappointed. Mainly not for not finding it, but because I'd left my camera in the car and thus missed the chance to document the most charming, strange, white, dangly-belled mushrooms popping up in the unseen forest. It was a priveledge to see something so exquisite that will likely grow, die and disappear without any other human laying eyes on it. How infinite- the small things that play out completely independent of any of us oh-so-important human beings! And after that, the boy and I walked to the nearby A&W for the weekly Cruise Night/Car Show. I so love getting photos of design details. Nothing nowadays holds a candle. My favori...

So, I'm supersentimental. When it always feels like the Past is slipping away, moment by moment, sunset by sunset, death by death, it seems reflexive to desperately hold onto mementos. Don't get me wrong...I'm not remotely a hoarder. But...I do have trouble getting rid of meaningful objects. And it's in the attributing of "meaningful" that I sometimes go overboard. Recently, I gave something very meaningful away. And though it stung me with regret just a tiny bit, all in all....it was the right thing. After my grandmother Juju's death, and even while she was still alive, I amassed what I think is the definitive, boiled-down representation of that side of the family. Letters, photos, birth and marriage certs., the family Bible, personal items...most of it fit in a huge old Samsonite, conveniently. One of my favorite things was Granny's dress. Granny was Juju's mother...my great-grandmother...a hardscrabble Illinois farm wife who raised several child...

Anyone looking for pleasantry should move along on this one. I'm only sticking it here so I have it where I want it, as a vivid reminder of Rock Bottom- in stark, stark contrast to the great new upswing I get to start in a week. Shouldn't we all remain as aware as possible of our low points in order to appreciate what we have now? So, apologies. Cheerfulness and frivolity will return after these messages! From my secret anonoblog I was keeping at the time to document the horrors of my time working in animal welfare and to try to deal with the extreme, daily sorrow: December 18, 2008. "I wish there was a way I could saw open my own skull, just like that of the poor little Pom we necropsied yesterday who'd been blunt-traumatized to death by some girl's douchebag boyfriend. It's a great read, that police report. Some Facebook espionage has indicated that he and the dog's owner are still hot'n'heavy and he's placating her with some new, likely ultim...

In the past 24 hours, I have: 1.) Taken a lovely, otherwise mostly uneventful trail ride aboard a new and increasingly trustworthy horse friend, during which my cell phone apparently fell out of my hoodie pocket. It was a cheap, super-basic prepaid phone...but still. The boy was NOT happy with me. Thoughts of going to look for it were quickly quashed by common sense. How could I ever find it again with my eyes 10 feet above the ground on a horse? And to have a practical lower vantage point, how could I ever get past the muck and brush not on a horse? Fail. It's gone. Part of me wants to call it and just enjoy the idea of a crappy ringtone going off in the mud in middle of the woods, heard by no one but the birds and deer. 2.) Marveled repeatedly at the turbo-powered growth of the baby girls. They are only 5 weeks old. But, dang. They sure go from peeping fuzzballs to fully-feathered, still peeping mini-chickens SO fast! And they also move so fast...they get harder and harder to ph...

There is something so wonderfully amusing about vintage ads for self-care products that insinuate that all a woman's social, romantic and marital problems might be, quite simply, by-products of her foul breath....or, foul nether-breath. In this case, Listerine will fix it all- like a magic wand! Abracadabra! ~PING!~ If only. A couple swishes before a date, and soon you'll have that lovely pastel ranch in the suburbs. From McCall's, July 1954. I rarely have big bucks for big ticket items at antique stores....the greatest pleasure to me is spending 20 or 30 dollars on a stack of Life, Good Housekeeping, McCall's, etc. It's a wonderfully immersive, influential, yet inexpensive experience. As for those kinds of ads, this is an spectacular little collection, also.

Not having been a paticularly anxious child, but rather of the generally phlegmatic, often stubborn, sensible temperment, there were few fears or phobias that plagued me. Spiders and snakes (even still!) were fascinating, not scary. Animals of all sorts were respected but certainly not feared...I always had pets of several kinds and was a confident and sometimes foolhardy horseback rider (until I gained some common sense and exposure to statistics as an adult!)so anything anemable to hugging and petting and feeding got just that. Thankfully though, I've always had a focused sense of their individual boundaries and knew when to back off, too, which serves me well in my work even now. The dark? Hm...not so scary. Water? Growing up in Central Florida, we almost literally lived in water from dawn til dusk when the weather warranted. Storms? Thunder and lightning? Relish them, even now. There was a time, being graced with a metalhead brother six years my senior who loved horror films an...

So, recently I inflicted a change upon myself that in some ways embarrasses the hell out of me to talk about. It's something, as a generally self-respecting, moodybroody, sarcastic, pensive, reclusive sort of gal, that I am still a little surprised I went through with. Still not entirely sure what possessed me, and still not entirely sure what the ramifications are. This was no easy change. It was costly, took several hours and caused lots of mild physical pain. No, not tattoos...I have plenty of those. In fact, having arms nearly entirely covered with them may serve as an incongruous WTF element combined with this new trait. But this Sabbatical, when I am about to start a new chapter in my life, was the perfect time, really. I went from brunette/dark red to serious blonde. Yikes. It seems unsavory to even mention...so Anti-How-I-Am, really. And no offense to any blondes who may come across this. It's just, I always believed that blonde was for pretty, normal girls. And I'v...

The amount of money I've blown on perfume oils and sprays in the past several years is a frightening figure that I don't care to know. Though, were I wealthy, "real" high-end perfumes would be all over the bathroom and vanity instead of BPAL vials, B&I bottles and myriad other heres and theres....and the tally would be much, much worse. I don't know what it is. Is it like anything else, such as music...food items...makeup...books...etc....in that there is some greased-pig-like notion that if I only looked enough and tried enough options, I would open a magickal door into life-altering experience? Lame, I guess. Always looking for the next mindblowing sensory experience, though in my quiet and otherwise unadventurous way. Thank heavens I never latched onto thrill-seeking behaviors, extreme sports, shocking displays. Trying to find the perfect, sublime beer is a much safer pursuit, no? And perfume is the same. I like the old feminine archetype of the "s...

Two weeks left on the Sabbatical, and actually looking forward to getting back to work. A relatively spur-of-the-moment houseguest over the Memorial Day weekend served as an impetus to get some house projects done before her arrival. That's all over. There are a few more painting odds and ends that have been hanging over my head for years....but without a reason to complete them now, they still hang. It's been great, yes....but also not so. This one, Holy Grail thing that I've been longing for for years (a chunk of time off) has happened, and yet I have not become a better Me for it. Instead, it seems as though too much time alone and undistracted from your thoughts may not be the best thing for personal growth, ironically. In fact, as life progresses, I find that getting the things you've always wanted is not always the best thing...because, then what? Is it a mindset, an innate pessimism? Been thinking a lot about it....why the lingering ennui even in the best o...