Stairway to Heaven

Transportation by boat is common in northern Minnesota.  When the boat docks all I know is that I have my own personal version of Stairway to Heaven.  At the top of the steps is the coven cabin where the seven of us gather and laugh our butts off.  What happens at TYD's cabin STAYS at TYD's cabin.  I'm so lucky to have a tight circle of friends since before kindergarten. 

Mud Slide Surfin'

This is exactly why 60 year-old guys should NOT drop acid and smoke pot. 

Heart, Heart, Give Me Your Heart

Only those who truly know me have any real clue what the above two items are.  The items may seem to hold no monetary value, but that's not how I roll.  The two items belong together, much like those "best friend" necklaces you've seen people wear.  You know, when you put them together it says something like "I love you" or "best friends forever."

My personal version is way more private and subtle than that.  The red heart represents my own heart.  The keeper of the arrowhead is to protect my heart.  In essence, they belong together. 

The arrowhead doesn't go to just anybody..... it's sacred. 

Facebook Hospital Posts

Now that I'm pretty much off of Facebook due to gross negligence on providing any real privacy policy, or even thinking they really have any legitimate privacy policy at all, I still go on there from time to time to see what the clueless attention whores are freely feeding corporate and government data mines. 

I'm still bewildered at what people post.  The ones of late feature pictures of their kids in hospital beds.  Why would a parent post something so private and personal?  Tonight there was a Facebook post of a kid who was banged up from jet skiing lying half conscious in a hospital bed.  Mom decides to take a picture and post it on Facebook. 


We all fought so hard for HIPAA about 10 years ago (Health Insurance Privacy Accountability Act) which abolished the marketing and sales of our personal health information for profit purposes.  It was basically the anti-blabbermouth-mind-your-own-business legislation protecting our health information and personal dignity. 

Now all it takes is mom with an iPhone and a Facebook/Instagram account to blast information to all.  Do you even have your kid's permission to post this stuff?  Oh, due to the concussion and mummy-medical wrapping he is unable to speak for himself.

Talk about a privacy violation.......

Karma's Assistant

The other evening I was hanging out at a friend's house chatting and drinking wine.  This friend knows me for better and for worse.  Our conversation meandered around our usual topics.  I had just finished my story of the week when my friend set down her wine glass, looked me squarely in the eye and said, "Do you think your role in this incarnation is being Karma's assistant?"

I never thought about that.

She went onto say that for some unexplained reason I end up in situations where I'm involved in somebody elses MAJOR f**** ups and they have nobody to blame but themselves as much as they try otherwise.  I'm usually around for the aftermath as well to serve as a reminder of the lesson the universe presented. 

Now, just how to I put Karma's assistant on my resume? 

My Brothers

I grew up in a family of four kids.  It went:  oldest sister, brother, me, baby brother.  I grew up between two brothers.  My sister was naturally ordained queen babysitter and basically could not be bothered with us younger siblings.  We were nothing but a source of annoyance. 

I was pitted against the god-almighty-son all parents pine for and the baby of the family who is naturally coddled.  My birth order sucked.  So what. 

Vivid childhood memories include being held down and having the brothers fart in my face.  I was told I was ugly and that I was adopted.  Hurtz Donuts (hurts, don't it) were frequently bruises on my arms and thighs.  I was ruthlessly teased and pushed around.  Crying to mom did no good.  I was told, "Of course they tease you... it's because they love you."

Really? 

I can't remember one instance where anybody stuck up for me and said that what was going on was over the line.  Whatever.  It made me a strong person. 

Paying for College

Paying for college is the buzz topic as I fall into that parent category.  My social circle is economically diverse.  I have friends with tons of money, and I also have friends watching every dime. 

Interestingly enough, I have one friend who happens to be quite comfortable financially.  Sure, her finances are strong, but she's no hot-shot, flashy ka-bilionaire.  She does not pretend to be.  She's worked her butt off for what she has.  Nobody handed her anything.

Her son now wants to attend Money University.  Her son has no clue what he wants to major in, nor has any clear career goals. 

This is where my friend cuts to the chase.  She tells her son, "Why should I keep working until I'm 95 and sacrifice retirement so YOU can have fun and party?"

Heart of Gold

It's so nice to hear a man sing about something other than ass and tits.  I've been a miner for a heart of gold.  Neil Young nails it.  Searchin' for a heart of gold....and I'm gettin' old. 

(bleep) Facebook

South Park is one of the best animated series in history.  Facebook ALWAYS gets people into trouble whether they deserve it or not.  Genius. 

WTF is Happening to Sonoma County?

Casino - check
WalMart - check
Hooters - check
Soul-less strip malls that can't be differentiated from any other uncultured suburb in America - check.
Freeway - check

This is progress?  It's retail-white-trash-chain-restaurant overload.  Don't fool yourselves thinking all of this will better society.  The jobs will only provide $8.75 per hour (assuming employment laws are even followed, which many times they are not and go unreported by scared, naive employees).  

Is No Place Sacred?

I've been kind of in a funk lately.  What do I do when I'm feeling blue?  I go to dance class.  I'm so at peace there and I'm developing another social circle.  Just like any class, there are the regulars and the ones who show up.  For myself, dancing is therapeutic.  Granted, I'll never dance professionally as I'm way past my prime for that, but I do it for sheer enjoyment as does just about everybody else in the class.

Yes, Quiet Rage has a happy place.....  believe it or not.

Lately, there has been a guy in class.  I would guess him to be in his mid to late 60's.  This guy has about as much coordination as someone experiencing an epileptic seizure.  He looks totally lost and out of place.  It's not that we're all such awesome dancers.  We're not.  However, we can put one foot in front of the other without tripping and falling.  At first, I thought this guy had a crush on the one of the other women in the class.  hmmmmmmmm

Again, my intuition started talking to me.  My inner gut told me that this guy had some sort of agenda.  It finally came out.

After making acquaintance with the flock of females in class, he hijacked the instructor's microphone to make an "announcement"  at the end of class.  He was hocking his books.  He stood in front of the door to discourage escape.  I listened long enough to realize his plugs were bullshit.  He referenced famous people who supposedly cherish his book(s).  He was careful enough to invent scenarios about the famous people that could not be verified one way or the other.  What is so sad to me is that the subject matter was based in spirituality.  His whole agenda was to worm his was into this group of women, who are more open to spirituality, to sell his books. 

Can't I at least go to dance class without something commercial being crammed down my throat?  I'm so sad that spirituality has turned into nothing more than used car sales. 

Time: My Best Ally

I don't understand why people want to rush time.  This world is operating at warp speed.  Everything must be done -- yesterday. 

I have to confess that time has been my best ally.  Granted, it's not exactly wonderful to see a new wrinkle when I look in the mirror, but going beyond the ego and the shallow physical self has proven time and time again (no pun intended) that time reveals all.  Nobody can wear a mask indefinitely. 

I'm on a roll.

The latest episode involves Mr. Bohemian Club.  This guy shows up to meetings in a new Jaguar, new Land Rover with personalized plates, and constantly brags about his business skills and how much his shirts cost.  He also brags about his education at Stanford for "gifted" people.  He tried to pass himself off as being so ethical and pure, and reiterated scenarios where his impeccable ethics saved the day. 

I could never connect the dots with this guy.  On the surface it all looked perfect.  However, my intuition started talking to me flashing big, red lights.  My bullshit detector radar went up.  I knew if I waited long enough and sit back, I'd get my opportunity to call him on his crap.  Tick tock, tick tock.   Several months pass.  Tick tock, tick tock.

I finally got my opportunity yesterday.  After a string of what I knew was pure bullshit, I called him on it.  Of course, he went through all the classic reactions liars do when caught.  He made an even bigger ass of himself the more he kept going and digging himself deeper and deeper.  I was ready.  It was awesome.  I guess his Stanford education for the "gifted" didn't help him much.  He's not as smart as he thinks he is.

NEXT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Career as Little Ceasar Pizza Sign Waver

A pleasant encounter happened this past weekend while I was in Orange County.  My friend since first grade, TYD, and her sister also happened to be in Orange County visiting from Minnesota.  TYD and her sister were in Orange County for much different reasons than I, but one theme always arises when I'm with my homies:  laughter. 

TYD's parents died recently.  That in itself is a suck story that I will not go into.  However, TYD's story as to why she was here borders upon the sad/hilarious variety.  TYD's oldest sister has had a tragic life of alcohol abuse.  I remember the oldest sister being idolized by the parents like she was a goddess.  The parents put her through vet school and she was supposed to live the perfect life thereafter.  Brainy.  Pretty.  She had the world by the balls.  Not.

Fast forward..... tragic events have led the oldest sister to a 12' x 12' living quarters near downtown LA with her new husband, who is in show business.  He is a comedian working as a Little Ceasar Pizza sign waver waiting to be discovered. 

I can't make this shit up, people.

The kicker is that he's been fired as a sign waver because there is a conspiracy out to get him.

I feel badly for TYD as she wants to ensure her oldest sister has a stable living environment.  But then again.  This is L.A. 

I apologized for laughing and crying simultaneously at TYD's story.  But that is EXACTLY why we have been friends for 40 years.  

Prune Packers

Yes... for real.... Sonoma County has a semi-professional baseball team called the Prune Packers.  I realize the name goes back to our agricultural roots when prunes, apples, and the like were the economic backbone. 

The 7th grader inside me snickers, "Are they a shitty team?"

....and also... "How did the game come out?" 

It only goes downhill from there.  I know, I know.... I need to grow up. 

Takers and Scammers

Hardening my heart has been a huge lesson as of late.  I had to.  It's disgusting how people will prey on your generosity and kind heart.

The latest lesson involves a youth athletic team.  There's one particular kid who is notorious for traveling with other families on their dime while the mom sits home crying poor mouth.  Long story short, this kid (and the mother) has now burned bridges with the entire team.  Nobody will take the kid because nobody wants to subsidize hotel, flights, meals, etc., all the while being responsible for a kid that isn't theirs.   Funny, but the mom has all the money in the world for:  booze, cigarettes, tattoos, the latest iPhone, going out to dinner, blah, blah, blah.......  interestingly enough, there is never any money to pay for her own kid's traveling expenses. 

Now there is a mad rush for fundraising by the team.  I'm opting out.  Why?  Because while some kids on the team are deserving of the efforts of fundraising, the Takers will be a beneficiary.  I don't expect anybody to pay for my kid, and I'm not paying for anybody else -- especially when the "poor mouth" is manufactured manipulation.   I'm also smart enough to know  the disbursements of the fundraising will turn ugly.  I can hear it now.  "Why did so-and-so get X amount?  They did not work as hard as I did."

I'm putting nothing in, but I'm not taking anything out.  I'm totally clean. 

National Dance Day: Professional Participants

I will dance just to dance.  I've learned the basic, advanced, and now here is the professional level for National Dance Day on July 27.  Personally,  I LOVED being on a danceline.  Truth be told, my dance team could go toe-to-toe with this one and probably win.  It's the jazz mixed with ballet that I love in this particular number. And yes...,. I still have dreams at night about finding my ballet shoes, dippety doo, and my costume trying while finding my way to the stage....and not knowing the choreography...

National Dance Day: Advanced Participants

National Dance Day is July 27th.  I have the simple flash mob dance routine down pat -- as do my dance friends.  We also encourage everybody to try the next level.  Here we go.....

National Dance Day: July 27

Learn it....and take it to the streets.  I'll be there with bells on.

Bird Song

Ahhhhhh..  the dust is beginning to settle and there is a certain calm taking form now that summer is in full swing.  In retrospect, I probably should have been a farmer's wife.  I'm completely content canning, making jams and jellies, cooking, shoveling pig shit, etc.  I should not have strayed so far from my roots.  The way things are going, my daughter will end up where I started but that is a story for another day.

The silence and solitude of early mornings as of late has me lying alone in bed listening to the birds.  Believe it or not, I'm getting to know their songs and their favorite tree branches.  My favorite is the pair of owls that nest in a nearby palm tree.  One owl stays near the nest.  The other owl flies off a bit.  This morning the one owl was in my backyard.  They call and answer each other like lovers across the canyon. 

Same As It Ever Was

Ever take a look around you and wonder how in the hell you ended up where you're at and with whom you're spending time?  If you would have told me 30 years ago I'd be living in Sonoma County working in the industry I'm working in, I would have never believed you.  However, I'm so used to being lied to that I don't believe anything anybody says anyway......whatever. 

Perhaps this will solve my life's mystery.

Airport Entertainment

Just as I thought it nearly impossible to cram any more external stimulation into our overloaded brain circuitry, I've noticed a trend at airports.  Street musicians, complete with tip jar and $10 CD's spread out on display for purchase, are proliferating and becoming borderline annoying. 

I love music.  Please don't get me wrong.  Good music can move me to tears....so can bad music.  Unfortunately, that's what we're getting at the airport.  Gilbert's one-man-band of synthesized percussion, auto chords, and the like is worse than the MuZAK version of Stairway to Heaven. 

Adding to the anti-ambiance is that Gilbert uses amplifiers to increase the decibels to make certain we are aware of his presence.....

IMHO instruments should never be amplified.  Amplifiers steal the richness and authenticity of the music.  Believe me, if you're that good of a musician an amplifier is not necessary as a crowd will naturally gather around you.  The intrusive use of amplifiers just cheapens the effect.