Moot Witness

The other day, while absent-mindedly flipping around on the teevee, I came across a favorite cinematic time capsule, "Sixteen Candles." It's been years... years ...since I've actually sat and watched it, and I had housework to avoid, so I did. And it kinda messed me up a bit. In high school, lines from this movie and the rest of the John Hughes canon constantly flew back and forth in the hallway between classes among my handful of close friends. Visions of Duckie Dale filled my daydreams and thrifting for Ringwaldian treasures took up many a Saturday. We were a bunch of little Smiths, OMD and Erasure freaks....high on hairdye fumes and banana popsicles. The world held so many possibilities. Potential romances, interesting careers, wild nights, vague European adventures and happy life journeys stretched out before us beyond the horizon of the Orlando city limits....in our imaginations, that is. Watching films like this again or hearing particular songs instantly rou...

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...