I've already deleted one post for today, and am deleting several others in my head. Nothing to say yet, will either come back later, or will just enjoy the sun.

I have lovely friends. Last night I had my final birthday surprise- tickets and very good (albeit tall) seats to the Seattle taping of this week's "Wait, Wait, ...Don't tell me."

The Paramount theater was filled to capacity with NPR geeks- the most elderly and benign group I've ever seen at that venue.

And it was fun. Amazing and fun. I haven't laughed that hard in ages, and eagerly await the broadcast on Saturday to see what they did with the raw material.

I gotta say, I expect that they will cut the 15 minute riff on "Clippy" the evil MS Office Assistant (who has been dispatched in Vista, for those of you who haven't either heard the news or adopted the new software platform- i.e. most of you). Hasta la vista Clippy, you little fucker.

Anyway, gotta run. Bit of a work day ahead, I fear.

Postscript- I realized today that between the lot of us, we four were the ruffians at the Paramount, and could have probably kicked anyone in the place's ass. But being NPR geeks ourselves, wouldn't think of it. Until later.

More on epiphanies.

The big one this weekend is that I have a finite time left. Right. We've discussed that before, I know. But this was a slightly different take on it. Basically I made a decision that really made me feel better about a lot of things.

I have decided that the list of things that I want to learn someday, or read someday, or do someday is going to get whittled down significantly to a more reasonable proportion. For example, I have always wanted to learn the bass. I have one. I have amps. I have not, however, taught myself. I will commit to either getting a teacher or letting this one go. Within a year. And I can live with that. Ditto riding the motorcycle. Either I start learning this weekend- mainly my evaluation of whether or not I even like it- or it goes away. I am tired of unrealistic expectations of what I can still cram into my life.

I am going through the book shelves and purging. If I haven't read it in over 5 years and it is on my to-read list, it goes. Ain't gonna happen. Plenty of other, more interesting or pertinent books are getting in the way. And so it goes.

I will even commit to going through my closet again. And cleaning out clothing that I haven't worn in over a year (with the exception of some sentimental favorites that will probably get stuffed in my coffin with me some day- it will be a very full coffin apparently). Enough already. Time to let a bunch of this go.

Time to have a conversation with the landlord, too. I want to get permission to get my kiln wired in the basement. It would be good to bring that and my wheel out from storage in MT. I would like to do something productive with them for a change. I have my doubts as to whether or not he will allow this- he is pretty careful and almost fearful of things like that. We signed an agreement not to turn the water heater up past 120 degrees. It is in the lease. I think he means it. Funny guy. But we like him a lot, as he leaves us alone and doesn't raise the rent. Oh, and he pays to maintain the place when we alert him to problems. What the hell could be better? Owning our own? Not yet. Wouldn't waste the money buying in this particular market. It doesn't feel right yet.

Anyway, that was a big step for me. The deciding to let things go step. There was more, but it was much more along the lines of interpersonal and very private kinds of letting go. And that is that. It's all good.

Oh, and the sun is still shining.

One of those weekends spent pondering imponderables again. I do that once in a while- just to take stock, I think. If there aren't a fresh and sufficient supply, then it's time to shop for more.

Not much writing getting done- know where I'm going in the immediate future with the project, just haven't applied myself. Am having the sleep issues again, and have no inclination to dig into anything but going to bed when I get home in the evening. Kind of sucks. I blame our cat, Buddy. Because his nickname is Beelzebuddy. And it fits.

Not ready to really dive deeply into the aforementioned imponderables, suffice it to say, the ground shifted under me, and it was good. Like a fresh stream bubbling up from someplace deep inside. Not lava this time. Which is also good. And there was a significant assist provided by the everpresent and amazing Kman. Who now sports big skuff marks on his kneepads on his leathers. Very impressive. We love him.

Perfect pleasantness all weekend. We like that. Yes we do.

Now for a return to the regularly scheduled idiocy that is my work life. Not that the people are stupid. Not at all. It's just the frustrations of being part of a large bureaucracy. Decisions that ought to be fluid and fast are painfully slow. Progress is measured in increments. And pending things take days to sort out, because everyone and their pet dog needs to chime in. Personally, there isn't much that I care that deeply about. Not at work. At home, maybe. But we don't do things by committee like that hereabouts. It's pretty concise.

And yes, I understand the economic necessity of the hesitation (read checks and balances) at work. I really do get it. But it boils down to an awful lot of planning to implement about the same thing as yesterday.

So Lx is going to this place, eh? And I remembered compulsively watching SCTV back in the day, eh? And I bought this album. And listened to it compulsively, eh? I'm sure my poor long-suffering father who had an office next to my bedroom thought long and hard about stealing it and using it for target practice. There are definitely times when I owe the man, big.

But hey, if you are heading north, don't forget your back bacon and a beer. Take off, eh!

So today is one of my days. I claim them. Every year, I get one. And it reminds me of those add a pearl necklaces my mother used to sell in her jewelry store. One pearl for every year. And since pearl is my birth stone it is an apt comparison. Another piece of lore picked up at the jewelry store. Along with the 5 c's of diamond buying. Seriously, take me along if you need to pick one out. I have one hell of an eye for the good ones.

Also one of the reasons Kman won't buy me jewelry. I have plenty. And he knows it. And he knows that he probably can't afford my tastes if I let loose in that arena. But those kinds of things don't play a role in my life for the most part. Just don't go with Converse slip ons and jeans.

So it's my day, Kman is off on his own adventure, but did leave me with provisions including coffee in a thermos and a really lovely houseplant that I wanted. Because dead flowers don't do it for me- I want the real thing that I can re-bloom. Over and over, like my day returning.

And yes, I take great pride in probably being the first person this year to wish Salman Rushdie a happy mutual birthday. That was a gift.

So is the kitty health- Timmy the diabetic one is getting better. It is lovely to behold. We are pleased. Another gift.

Kman is having a dream adventure. Another gift.

I actually have a job that allowed me to get a new shoulder for free, and pays for me to lose weight (hasn't written the code to do that without effort, but probably working on it in a lab somewhere), both gifts.

Am writing the project that has been bothering me in fits and starts for about 10 years. It's happening, and that's a gift.

I have people who love me, and it's reciprocal. Biggest gifts of all.

So overall, it's really a good life. And that string of days offers me a great time-out to reflect on all of this. So I will get back to Bed Princess day, and go watch the crappy Biographies that I Tivoed for this occasion. Because I gotta slum a little if I'm going to have a truly decadent day!

Again with the busy week crap- just too tired at the moment to really care, though. No time to write. No time to think. And overall just reacting.

But tomorrow holds promise. A general pause in the frenzy. I am taking the day off. Officially. And it has been a beacon (not bacon) of hope for weeks. I will be taking a bed princess day. Officially. And Kman will take my car and enjoy his second track day. We got the pictures back from his first one, and it was magnificent. I am too lazy currently to scan and post. But will consider the idea tomorrow. And if I feel like it, I will try.

So let's all send happy "stay on the motorcycle, stay on the road, keep the tach in the black, sunshine" vibes to Kman tomorrow. I don't want to take a taxi to the hospital.

And now, back to the regularly scheduled nuttiness that is my alleged career.

Been thinking about him this morning. Not an unusual thing, just more intensive than normal.

Here's the trap. I start thinking about his death, and thinking that it was probably a release. But then I start thinking about what utter horseshit that is. Because it wasn't a release, as much as an end. And all hope of change, chance and possibility was just finished. And that is no release for anyone but those of us who were weary.

And I don't think that any of us really felt that way. We just have to justify it in our heads to carry on anyway. To make it ok in a little sense of the word. To make it something that we can live with. It's too hard otherwise. Because it was a waste. And stupid. And ridiculous.

Watching the NASA show on Discovery was too much. They showed the Challenger. That was the day we buried him. We saw the news in the living room, playing over and over. And I just thought, well, everyone is having a shit day then. It mirrored. It reflected just fine. But deeper was a whole different story.

And today, I was thinking about him. And wondering what he would've done with his life if things had been even incrementally different. Would he have succeeded? Would he have beat the demons? I don't know. I kind of doubt it. But that is just resignation talking. Knowing that the opportunity was never really all that bright. Knowing that it was all an abject failure of sorts. And knowing that I played a role there, whether I justify it via age and deny my ownership of bits and pieces or not.

And not to worry, no brutal internal self-abuse going on. Just reflection. The time for the blunt objects upside the head is over. Years and years and years over. Just what remains is the hope that next time if there is a next time, I will have courage. I will have honesty. I will have perseverance and be able to make a difference. Give me a bone there, at least.

Yesterday I had an adventure. I felt like crap- am having allergies, seems like there are these things in the air that like to plug my sinuses and make me unhappy. So after sleeping off the Benedryl, it was time to do something productive.

Kman had gone to a beer fest with our friends. I was not up to the crowds, so just played it solo. Went to a couple of flower/plant places. I can see some of my male friends whimpering as their eyes start to glaze over. Just consider yourselves lucky that I didn't parade my new cactus (with pretty pink needles), the miniature african violets and the orchid in front of you. Kman is a lucky man. But I know him well enough that he doesn't feign interest in my plant thing anymore. Just like I really don't listen to him extolling the virtues of one motorcycle over the other. Blah, blah, blah...I love him anyway, and he reciprocates.

Reminds me of the Gene Simmons bio that I mindlessly watched the other night. The man is a pig. Let's establish that right the fuck now. An absolute pig. Can NOT stand him. If he spit on me whilst in costume like he did the interviewer, I would have to be physically restrained from ripping his face apart. It would just be. So what is my point? Ah, yes. He has been in this relationship with Shannon Tweed (who has aged amazingly gracefully, and who I like a lot), for something like 20 years and won't marry her. That is not the part I find remarkable. What I thought was actually one redeeming quality for the man is that she said (and I paraphrase because I was not taking notes), "he may go out and play, but he always comes home to me." And she doesn't waste a lot of time worrying about other women. That is remarkable that he has done something right enough that she feels secure in their relationship like that. Cudos on that point to him. Otherwise, he is a pig.

Now that is kind of how I would sum up my relationship with Kman- not that he is a pig, but that we feel that kind of security, and it makes me thrive. I hope that it does the same for him, and since I haven't heard any complaints am assuming so. We do check in from time to time on that subject, and all is copacetic.

And I think that the kitties will forget Father's Day again. It happens. They are kind of dumb.

Some call him Tim...

I didn't know him. Never had that opportunity, and given that I don't fly in those circles, never would.
But I watched. And I enjoyed. And I have to think that it wasn't from a purely entertainment valuation that I appreciated the man.
Because I believe that he followed the news from the passionate standpoint of watching history as it was made. Within context and all. Thus making his analysis relevant.
I hated seeing all of their stoic, tired faces on the news last night. I didn't want them to weep and wail, but I didn't want them to remain so apparently indifferent, either. But that is their profession, and that is the elegy that they can offer. It is their job.
I hated to think of the person who, with shaking fingers and teary eyes, had to write the copy that went out to the world first. Who had to program the headline that he had died onto the website. Who had to put aside the feelings and just state the facts.
Sometimes it must really suck to do that for a living.

Been silent all week. I know. It was busy. Busy good and busy bad. Work and life.

So, upshot- things are just fine.

Yesterday, the big event that made it more than fine- I attended a Salman Rushdie reading. It was at Elliot Bay Books in downtown Seattle- which made it logistically not so fun, but there wasn't much traffic at lunch so it wasn't as painful as it could've been. I got there very early, as I suspected that there might be plenty. And there were. I got an amazing seat within the sea of white hairs (appears that the retiree demo was fully represented), and waited.

Now for the upshot. I have attended lots of readings. Gobs and gobs of them. And discussed a few here. But this one was special. It was one of the literary gods speaking. And it was really obvious. Not that he was pretentious. Not at all. But it was a level that I am not normally sitting 5 feet away from. And not in the basement of a book store. And not on creaky wooden chairs. Usually I am exposed to people like that in large venues or in my living room on the tv (where HD is unkind). He read with a voice that I hope I continue to hear in my head when I read the book. He then answered questions with more grace and finesse than I thought possible. Several of the people present were obviously star-struck (yes, I kept my mouth firmly shut, as would've made an ass of myself, fur sure), and not horribly eloquent. He was kind to them, and answered what was most likely their question. And he was funny. And interesting. If you ever want a few pithy and amusing anecdotes about having a fatwah on your ass, ask him. He will tell you.

Then we had the signing. I was third in line, because I can cut through a crowd like a warm knife through butter. It is one of my super hero talents. The girl in line behind me commented that she followed me to the line because I walked with such authority. Ah, smoke and mirrors are my friends!

I wished the man a happy birthday next week (I am creepy like that, but we do share a birthday), and got my book signed and went back to work.

All good. The sun was shining when I left the bookstore. The first time in days. It was appropriate as I crossed the water and headed towards job. Rolled down the window, cranked the stereo and felt all nice.

And there you have it. The highlight. No need to discuss the lowlight- that was Monday, and it has been resolved. Might post about it later, but don't want to dilute my happy item.

Yesterday I attended a design forum at work. It was part of "training", if you will. I used the term loosely to describe what I was doing whilst on the company dime. But it was. It was interesting as hell. I saw the light and I saw the darkness.

For those of you in the know, design plays a large role in my life. Not directly- that was art, and it has effectively been abandoned- more for sanity's sake than anything else. I can go into that saga and the decisions related to it later. But this was design. And whether or not it exists in my world. Not really in my immediate world- those are a whole different cadre of people.

What I saw was one group of designers with an actual philosophy and call to action. I want Kman to be part of this. Funny- I had contacted the lead of this group several months ago to get a meeting with Kman on the calendar- but the position had been filled. Now I am more intent on being Lady Macbeth and getting the man in to see the other man. I suspect that there will be a colossal bang, as the minds meet and they get their design philosophy groove on. And that would make me rejoice. That was the light. The dark was another presentation that I suffered through. It was the worst that design has to offer. Sheer style over substance. It was all about creating objects just because they look nice. Not because they can change the world for the better, or they can change the paradigm, or they can do something amazing. All about the pretty factor. Design as fashion, so to speak. Which always pisses me off. What a fucking waste of energy and effort. Just like dealing with those shallow souls who really think that it's important to focus on handbags. They are nice. I am a girl. I get it. But seriously, would you want that to be the definition of your life's work? A fucking handbag? Seriously???

Ah, this is the first time, I have just realized, that I have exposed the design snob in me. Enjoy, all of you. And argue with me if you want. But it's just such a deeply held feeling. Art is one thing, and that is where I lump fashion. Design is something else, entirely. In the absence of true religion in my life, I think that my philosophy of design/art/history kind of stands in. I don't know what that makes me, besides borderline batshit, no doubt.

But it was a good day. Light and darkness combined. Oh, and I took notes. Copious notes.

My other writing project...
While this one knows no ends or really any beginning, the other one is shaping up nicely, thank you.

Last night I read Kman the first thing that I have shared. And he was impressed (or faked it well). He said that it was good for being so rough, and he wanted to know more. That made me happy. And now I have to figure out where it goes next.

This might not make sense- but the other project is just freeforming itself all over the place. It's scary as shit, because I start writing with intent, and it goes somewhere else entirely. And I know enough about this process to stay out of the way. If it winds up being a silly mess, so be it. At least it will be done. And I will have it out of my system.

But so far, the portents are good. I want to know where it is going, and that is always a good sign, no?

So that's what I've been doing. That and watching the fucking rain. For the record, it is a very wet year. But still.....

guess that there wasn't really a plan. I just expected to wake up and the world to be a different place. I didn't take into consideration that I would be different too. That would be necessary, no?

It's not what I was after, and it wasn't what I envisioned. Not that it's bad, or anything, but not what I had in mind at all. But then again, we have already established that I didn't have much in mind, besides a broad overview, or a gross generalization.

I suppose now is where I make peace with the whole thing, and decide that it was all for the best. But really, that doesn't take into account regrets. It doesn't account in the least for bruised feelings and disappointments. It doesn't take into account the scars both physical and metaphorical that I have acquired along the way. Oh, and the grey hairs that I so adeptly hide most of the time, unless I get lazy.

I don't want to be peaceful about it. I really don't feel like the platitudes hold up. Again with the platitudes. And what is "it's all for the best" if not one of the most pervasive ones? Who the hell knows if it was and is all for the best? Have you never read the story of Job? If not, I would recommend it. Never say a man or woman is happy until they are dead and buried. There is always room for Eris. She can show up and ruin any party. It's her favorite blood sport.

What I didn't do last night:

Kman went to a birthday party at a roller rink/bowling alley. I used to skate my ass off as a kid. But have never been much of a bowler. I didn't go. I stayed home and did other stuff. Main reason- I didn't want to fall down and split my shoulder in half again. And bowling- not quite ready for that action yet, if ever. I seriously suck at it. Seriously.

So I stayed home and organized the music on my Zune. Yes, I did. So saith geek girl. And I wrote. A ton. It is coming out in the most interesting ways- not what I predicted at all. And I like it like that.

And I stayed up way too late waiting for Kman to call and let me know if he needed a driver. But he forgot. And he didn't. So when he came home after the bar closed, I was up. And sleepy. But not too crabby, mainly because he had gone out all roller-disco Stu, including a sweet Joe Namath vintage disco shirt (sunset seascape), mustard yellow pants, vintage white Adidas shoes (actually retro, spanking new thanks to a friend who designs the things- gotta brag), and a vintage brown suede jacket. True stylee. And what is cool is that the shirt glows all shiny and cool under black light. I would expect no less from Joe. Seems he was the coolest 70's era throwback in the place. We rule. (though next time I might send him in my vintage Playboy pinups disco shirt- it totally trumps Joe. There are naked ladies on it.)

Now I need more coffee. And lunch. Adios.