Flower Power

I just got back from California. It was rainy there, go figure. In SoCal, life stops if it rains.

It was also at least 70 degrees, if not warmer, and there were flowers in bloom everywhere. Hibiscus, bougainvillea and roses. Everywhere we walked, there were these three and more.

On campus, the hibiscus (as well as the pansies) were chosen with an eye for color - gold and red, and red and gold. The campus rings with Trojan colors, but to see them in the form of hibiscus - oh, so lovely!! Like individual sunrises and sunsets.

But nothing tops roses. Expo park, just across from campus was still in full bloom. Colors there ranged from the whitest white to creamy yellow, from lavender to the hottest pink, and deep velvety reds, single-faced and long-stemmed. I saw my fave, Peace, and it's cuzzin Chicago Peace. Mr. Lincoln presided over one bed, while Celebration ran rampant in another.

And there in the middle of everything, with my beautiful daughter by my side, a bed labeled Perfect Moment. Indeed.

And then I came home to two dozen of the most lovely roses of all from a lovely, lovely man. Deep reds, white whites, salmon, lavender and the most innocent pinks.

And, in the mail, a card from my oldest daughter - the pic on the front, wisteria. She knows how much I love this plant, she once wrote a story about wisteria and our family which I keep tucked away next to all the amazing, insightful things my girls have written and painted and sculpted over the years.

My birthday was last week, November is my birthmonth, and if there were two words to describe that day, this month, this entire year, they would be Perfect Moment.

Thank you irish, monkey, angels one through four. I am one very lucky person.

Ours is a Shallow Love

Transl: You only love us for our breasts...

Failure is NOT an Option? Since when?

I don't believe in reincarnation, but I was once a green sea turtle; to this day, I love the ocean. I was also once a rabbit eaten by a hawk; even now, if I sense danger, I will retreat down a hole in the ground. But I don't believe in reincarnation.

Not that I have anything against the concept of endlessly returning to life until I overcome some horrible character trait that makes the karmic forces spit me back because I leave a bad after-death taste in their mouth. It's just that reincarnating a well-behaved if somewhat timid rabbity-sort of sea turtle would serve no good purpose to anyone unless you are a hawkish sort of person. Or perhaps a shark.

My issue with reincarnation is this underlying sense that we are returned to life (in a new body of course with its own new set of "issues") because we failed some karmic test in the previous life. And we continue to be returned to life until we pass that and any new karmic tests at which time we then die and cease to exist...but happily so.

No freakin' duh. If you've returned to life a few hundred times, each time with a new body and imperfect soul, and given 80 or so years to figure out your new soul's errant ways and correct them while trying to also remember your old soul's miscreant behavior, all amongst a gazillion other souls returned with similar handicaps, basically enjoying (as Steven King says) SSDD, when you finally do attain perfection and cease to exist, why wouldn't your corpsy grey being do the happy dance?

Who the hell thought of such a stupid idea?! Recycled life, BAH HUMBUG.

HowEVER, IF upon death we really DO go down some conveyor line where workers with expert inner-eyesight stand and pick out the souls that have blemishes and imperfections and toss us by the scruff of our spirit necks into bushels of likekind and then other workers, big brawny guys with muscles like tree trunks come pick UP the bins of imperfect souls and haul them away to a juicing room where we are dumped without ceremony into a great vat of heated rejuvenation liquid and boiled into soft mush then poured into NEW soul-shaped molds and stored in a cooling room until we are firm and ready for worldly consumption again, IF this is even remotely possible, I apologize to the karmic forces for saying hell and calling your idea stupid. It's not really. Recycling life is very green of you, and I support it 100%.

(please don't return me to life as a rabbit again, please please please, can't I be the hawk this time?)

Seriously, though, life is about failure. We start life with no skills whatsoever beyond sucking and pooping, and those even take practice. Why, then, are we not accustomed to failure from early on? Why do we spend our whole lives being devastated by failure?

There are, of course, all sorts of placating one-liners to help mitigate the damage we inflict upon ourselves when we fail. But does it really help when we tell someone who has just failed at something they really, really, really wanted to succeed at that "the only real failure is the failure to try?"

It's a fact of life that we will fail. Some of us go longer than others between failures. Some of us are blessed enough to not fail for a very long time. And some of us fail so spectacularly that nothing else is talked about for months on end.

But to the one who is accustomed to reaching for the moon and finding it within her reach, to the one who is trying so hard now to grab at the moon and finding she is short of the mark, to that one I say this:

Look where you are standing, honey. No, you didn't reach the moon, you may not feel like you even reached the stars surrounding it. But you ARE standing on a mountaintop, the highest one. And the tip of the mountain is glazed in snow, the alpine meadows are in bloom, and the hills below are a riot of deep rich colors. The mountaintop is not at all a bad place to be.

And the moon is still there.

Failure is what it is - an ongoing part of life. And yes, it takes practice to fail with grace and dignity and without letting it destroy us. But failure is NOT our life, it's just a part of it and a small part at that even if at times it seems to be the rule and not the exception.

Your goal is not going to move out of your reach. And every time you reach for it, you stretch yourself a little bit more and come a little bit closer to that goal.

EVERY DAY, YOU GET CLOSER TO YOUR GOAL.

And you know what, sweetie? I am on the mountaintop with you because when you were born, a little bit of my soul held onto that new life and follows it wherever it goes. A woodnymph's twist on reincarnation and way better, I think, than a turtle or a hawk.

"When we do the best that we can, we never know what miracle is wrought in our life, or in the life of another." Helen Keller

Kiss Me You Fool

Can I just say, lips are sexy. God must have thought so, too, cuz he gave women two pair; men have been fascinated with us ever since :)



Women, care should be taken to keep your lips healthy; this blog is therefore dedicated to the proper care of the upper, more visible pair and the application of color.

When applying lipstick, follow these steps to keep the color where it belongs:

1. Apply color - if you are using a dark shade, do try to stay in the lines :)



2. Hold up your index finger



3. Part your lips



4. Insert your index finger and close your lips tightly around it.



5. Now pull your finger out slowly. Hold the pucker for an extra second just for fun.



Lips should be kept supple and moist. Shiny is not necessary but some consider it a plus.



Get rid of your inhibitions about color; a lower lip can be seductive even when you are in the blackest of moods.



Dark colors convey a sultry worldliness...



Soft shades, on the other hand, hint at virtue that may or may not exist. A well-poised finger doesn't hurt either.



It's always fun to color-coordinate with your surroundings. Anyone for a blue drink?



Eating's a bit tricky and may require reapplication after the meal...unless you open your mouth really wide.



If you must eat with your mouth open, make sure it communicates the intended message.



And always always make sure to remove your lipstick one way or another before falling into a sound sleep.

A Moment is Not Long Enough

Yesterday was Veteran's Day, aka Remembrance Day and Armistice Day. In 1918, on this 11th day of the 11th month, at the 11th hour, the Germans signed the Armistice and World War I was formally over. And so, on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in 2008, people across the globe observed two minutes of silence in honour of veterans of war.

Why does it feel like we haven't gotten anywhere? Maybe because we are still at war and people are still dying.

Take the 3rd Battalion of Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry. On July 4, 2007, four soldiers from this division were killed by a roadside bomb. They were in an armoured vehicle in Afghanistan. On our American Independence Day.

This isn't the first we've heard of the 3rd Battalion. In 2002, an American pilot dropped a bomb during night-time exercises that killed four from this same battalion, and wounded eight others.

When it comes to who lives and dies, war does not observe boundaries. Why then do we?

Things that should be boundless:

Love
Acceptance
Forgiveness
Charity
Hope

When not in use, ALWAYS HAVE THE SAFETY ON

(LOL! He seems a bit frustrated with his inability to rein in their attention. Still, he gets points for remaining on his feet, or at least what's left of them...)

I am going to shoot a gun.

Well, not right now. Actually, not likely any time soon, although it is my birth month; I've been told that means guilt-free selfishness, and I am jonesin' to shoot a gun.

Nooooooo, NOT at anyone in particular, not even at a person at all!! For crying out loud, people; if you know me, then you know I will likely apologize to the paper target if perchance I should hit the thing.

"Why not right away, then?" you ask. Because it will take me awhile to mentally prepare myself for this endeavor. It does, of course, make a

VERY LOUD NOISE

and I can be a tad bit jumpy at times.

So...first I must assimilate. I must visualize a gun in my hand. A number of logistical questions come to mind.

1. What color should my nails be?

Should they be their usual glossy red? Or is this too morbid for a sport that involves a weapon with deadly potential? Perhaps a taupe color is more appropriate? Looking sensible rather than lavish, level- rather than hot-headed? Taupe is definitely the way to go.

2. What sort of gun should it be?

A 357 magnum? That's a whole lotta gun for someone with scrawny arms. I could, of course, beef up, but that's, like, exercise.

What about a Colt 38? Now there's a thought. This bad boy's long snout would look très élégant in the hands of a lady.

Smith & Wesson makes a revolver as well. Imagine if I was a deadly assassin and I was at some gala affair and my cover was blown and bad guys started to converge upon me and I had to slip out into the garden where I popped off my not-sensible high heels and reached to the slit in my floor-length, skin-tight fully-beaded silver-lined dress and, lifting the hem, pulled out a long-nosed Smith & Wesson with a buffalo horn butt from my white lace garter-belt holster. That would be soooooooooooo freakin' cool!

Then again, a pearl-handled derringer sounds more my size. Seriously, though, it would have to be pearl-handled to make up for its pea-shooter size. That is one girlie gun which, to me, is like having women's tees on the golf course - deMEEEEANing. "Nice shot, Alice!" Go fuck yourself.

A Walther PPK - that's very James-Bondish. And well, his new movie's coming out this month! Oooooh, I should paint my nails dark red for that!!

Glock? I don't think so, too gutteral. Browning - booooooooring! Luger? What is this, Where Eagles Dare? Guns of Navarone?

And, of course, there is a whole class of guns that aren't even worth considering during this initial visualization process. I'm no Bonnie & Clyde, so anything with rapid-fire capability is likely not a good choice. And the words "armor piercing" just make me want to cry.

Come to think of it, perhaps the pea-shooter isn't such a bad idea. Now that we are sorted on the hardware...

3. What is appropriate attire for a virgin gun run?

I'm thinking pants, definitely. The skank skirt is lovely and all, and I'm not averse to showing leg in a male-dominated environment. But some of the pups listed above have kick. Which means there's a good chance I will end up flat on my ass. And, having learned from Irish Eyes, falling even from a short distance can result in nethern exposure. Which brings me to the next question.

4. Panties or no?

Panties it is - when there is potential for wetting one's knickers, two layers are better than one...

Not to worry, folks, I have placed myself in the capable hands of one peace-loving canadian citizen who is nothing if not repetitive on the topic of guns. "We were taught safety, then safety, then after that, safety, then, how to shoot, then safety safety safety and, for good measure... safety." I don't know about you, but I feel safe.

There are no divorces in November

Thank GOD the election is over! Perhaps people will stop tiranting about the other party now -- geez frikkin' louise!! Is it so hard to believe there is good ideology on both sides?

November 2008 - an election month in the USofA and, specifically, the month and year in which we elected our first black president. Yes, I voted. Yes, that is highly unusual for me. Yes, I did it at the last minute (7:58 p.m., to be exact). And yes, I voted for Obama.

Yes, I am republican. No, I don't care what you think of my jumping party lines; even if it is praiseworthy, keep it to yourself. My belief system is just as conservative and liberal as ever and remains intact regardless of your thoughts. I don't need your praise, as though I've just come to my senses. Sheesh!

NO MORE POLITICS! I declare the remainder of this glorious month to be solely dedicated to celebration!

November is a VERY SPECIAL MONTH full of bonhomous events. For starters, in the US, November is the month in which we give thanks for early Americans who taught us how to grow scary corn mazes.

November is also my birth-month. I can say that because someone already spilled the beans. I was born on T-Day, and I was indeed a butterball. I was born in Denver, Colorado, with a bleeding ulcer, and that's about all that's interesting there.

November is the cross-over month for autumn and winter, a glitzy golden mashup with crisp skies one day, and inclement weather the next. The ground is carpeted with hoar-covered leaves, and there is a bite in the air that sears your lungs unlike any other time of the year.

November is also the month before PRESSIES! Excitement for Christmas begins November 1st and mounts to fever pitch through month's end. Malls are crowded and the Post Office has lines out the door and around the block. November is a cash cow for the retail industry.

But these are NOT what make November special. What makes November such a glorious month is one tiny little bundle that arrived twenty-four years ago today. My beautiful, beautiful daughter, Jody.

On November 6, 1984, my life changed forever. I became instantly tired and ceaselessly young; my world expanded to include strength that would see me through the darkest nights, and a perpetual source of energy to power my heart and mind and soul through a second half of century living. November is, indeed, a very special month.

Happy Birthday, Jody. I love you with all my .

"There Will Be No Survivors..."

Although the evidence I use may be controversial, my kids are brilliant. Have I mentioned that before?

Ex., last Halloween, my smallest and my palest dressed up as sister chromatids. This made me laugh no end. The two outdid themselves this year - Le Petite Pain dressed as the Bubonic Plague (above); the Pale Ail dressed as Reverse Cowgirl. I could not be more proud of their ingenuity.

Reverse Cowgirl is, of course, a position. Done properly, it has extremely gratifying results. The "cowgirl" straddles the "horse" but facing the opposite direction than would seem conducive to riding forward; in this position, the rider (and certainly the horse!), may experience quite a bit more upward movement.

It can be hard to control a bucking animal while facing backwards, but not to worry - such out-of-control behavior generally results in a more deeply satisfying ride. Until the rider finds her stride, she may have some difficulty not being pitched either sideways or forward (that is, forward for the cowgirl, towards the horse's knees or feet). This is absolutely fine, it allows the horse a pleasant view and gives the rider an opportunity to caress these oft-ignored but highly erotic extremeties.

Care should be taken, though; if the "corral" is a bit small, a good bucking could end up pitching the cowgirl off completely, resulting in a bump on the noggin and possible delay in finishing the ride. A large bed or a wide expanse of floorspace should suffice; a couch can result in one or the other hitting their head on a coffee table, should horse and rider take an unexpected tumble. Trust me on this one.

Western wear is highly encouraged for both horse and rider. A hat may seem superfluous, but horses respond well to visual stimulation and the sight of a cowboy hat atop a bare back will only serve to heighten the horse's excitement over this ride. Bare-ass chaps are a guaranteed hit as well. Spurs, even fur-lined, are pointless in this position, so save them for a time when you can dig them softly into a flank. With Reverse Cowgirl, bits and bridles won't do much for either participant if used in a conventional fashion; it might be fun, though, to try them in unconventional ways on either the horse or rider.

The horse's comfort is paramount to a good ride, especially in this reverse position, so proper cinching and/or clenching is critical. Horses that suspect they may be cinched too tightly may employ a technique of over-inflating only to deflate themselves at a crucial moment during the ride. Clenching, on the other hand, helps a cowgirl secure her position and generally results in a horse eagerly rising to the occasion.

A hard ride should be followed by a relaxing rub-down, and a good night's rest will increase the likelihood that both horse and rider are amenable to a morning ride. This is an excellent opportunity to slip in a little role-reversal. Horses and/or riders that are put away wet may sleep a bit uncomfortable; a bath before bedtime can alleviate a sticky situation.

Equestrian skills don't happen overnight, and neither the rider nor horse should be too distraught if the first backwards ride is a bit rough; taking two or three nights to perfect the technique is certainly adviseable, and the horse likely won't mind the extra workout. Practice will lead to perfecting a most pleasurable side-to-side gait, even when sitting backwards.

Above all, one should remember that cowgirl and horse alike respond well to touch - before, during and after a ride and regardless of position. At the very least, nuzzling muzzles will prolong the bonding experience and leave both horse and rider willingly coming back for more.