Diana Tragedy

When I was 13-or-so and I had my first boyfriend, Dean Herzog, there was a new movie, Guyana Tragedy. Dean's little brothers heard the title and my new name was born. They'd cry, "Trag is on the phooooooooone" when I called. As if we needed help in making this ritual more awkward. We never did drink Kool-aid together.
So, today, on the 30th anniversary of the Real Guyana Tragedy, I think of those who died for what they believed to be True. And how scary the Truths seem in the light. I think, too, at how far we have yet to go on this journey of emotions in the name of the church in the favor of a fickle god. Jim Jones may very well have been reincarnated as a neo-con political zealot, having perfected his skills since last time. I think of the babies, without choice, without articulation of their own Truths. I could easily be sad, though I'm not...

I breathe.

And I ponder how a world might taste if we all honored one another as human BEings...
I'd like to find out.

With me lately...

I'm not sick. Anymore. I'm feeling some serious gratitude for my immune system. It is forced to work inordinately hard when I overload with dairy. I know that. You can see it on my face, literally. Add to that one simple little germ and BAM! I'm sick. For the first time in memory. Sorry immuno-dudes, I'll be nicer to you -& me- from now on.
Lucky for all of us, my germiness did not interfere with the money making roll I am on right now! I got sick just *after* one interpreting assignment (why didn't I think that exposing myself to an entire campus of young adults just might impeach my ability to fight off their germs?? Emergen-C anyone?) and recovered enough to work again last night. There was one word that just plain got stuck in my phlegm-y throat; in my defense it was in Spanish, every time I opened my mouth to say it, I choked, literally. I was forgiven -- Bonus! I've got all of next term to redeem myself ;)
Perfect timing, too! I desperately need to brush up on my skills de Espanol, so I can communicate more freely with my favorite taco making family down the street - Tacos Uruapan. Where I am the favorite Gringa in the world!! I needed tacos Saturday night. From the bottom of my sick & snotty soul, I had to have Carnitas and Mexican Coca-Cola to cure me. I pulled up a full hour before scheduled closing time, only to see mama y papa flipping off the lights... misery abated when she saw my face and turned everything back on, to get me las comidas! I worked hard to express my gratitude in my pidgin ways and they expressed theirs in their reverse pidgin ways ♥
It's easy to communicate my love of carnitas... it was tougher to explain how much I love Coca-Cola de Mexico -- No Corn Syrup!! Yes, that's right, the label reads: SUGAR!
AND I had two kick-ass nights of baking. Corvallis is the luckiest town EVER ;) to have such amazing goodness right in that there bakery case! It helps that Bre's mama made new aprons for us to wear and I'm loving them very mucho!
I've still got pictures to post of the month's beginning's Non-Con, our trip to Grande Ronde & the kids I borrowed from there.... I shall catch that tail of mine! I shall! For now, I will greet Scotty at the door, where he'll be appearing with some KFC (Guitar Hero meals = Hayden's favorite food!) and a new silly redhead for me to meet, any minute now...

Hamburger and Helper

Our boys. Their days are numbered. Halloween's past and Thanksgiving's a-comin'. They'll soon be burgers and birkenstocks. I'm grateful for every day.
Early October, we introduced The Boys to Charlie. They weren't exactly sure what kind of cow he is;
Charlie had no idea what kind of dog they were!So, he went ahead and claimed a bit of the field for his own personal crapper.
We're hard at work on those manners.They're trusting and curious about we humans, too. We've begun feeding them fallen apples from around the neighborhood. I daresay we've become quite popular ♥ That's Helper on the left, Hamburger on the right. They mooed when I came outside and ran to the fence at full speed. Luckily, Scotty and Charlie had brought home apples from an earlier walk. After months of reading Ree, over at Pioneer Woman, I throw myself into photographing (and occasionally filming) my (temporary) bovine neighbors. Like this super special space effect, one of my favorites! A sepia setting just seems to be made for photographing cows. See: They even pose better for portraits, once I tell them I've turned on this filter.
HelperHamburgerIt was bound to happen. I was destined to bear witness to the inevitable. I was unsuspecting, as they rushed the fence for some attention. And BAM! It began...and continued...The Big FinishAnd the nuzzle of gratitudeNow, I am not so proud to present to you the 2008 Bovine Porn wunderfilm: Super Sexy Space Cows from Space. Shot, amazingly and entirely, by my wunderphone.

The right candidate won...

How do I know?
Aha!
Not what you think:
After his acceptance speech, when the families joined them, Barack was coaxing Malia to walk out with him. She didn't want to. He walked to the front of the stage and stood there with an unidentified woman, looking back for his daughter frequently. When Michelle came out, there was a "passing off" and he returned to his daughter's side.
Yessiree! Turned his back on the Jubilant crowd and attended his child. She did then join him at the front of the stage, with the teeny-tiny bit of energy the poor girlie had left to give. It seems to me she feels he's deserving of that last smidgen.
It would be truly AntiAmerican not to love a daddy like him.

Me & My Bike, an anthology

Sharing with my brother was always a struggle. Here, a mere 3 months after his unwelcome arrival, I am made to share my sacred bouncy horse. Oh, the adults thought it was the funniest thing they'd ever seen - a not-yet-two-year-old proclaiming ownership of a possession they'd suddenly deemed "public property." I'm thinking this was the beginning of my resentful ways regarding my siblings.

Years went by and I did not get better about sharing. Lawsey no! I did not want that smelly boy anywhere near my belongings.

Certainly not on my 4th birthday present: a dark green bicycle, complete with fenders and training wheels. My heart still swells with the joy of receiving this gift.And still the adults chuckled and moved us wherever they pleased. And laughed while I cried. I still remember the heartbreak of taking this photo. I knew not to complain; that would result in a spanking and separation from the bike. I sulked and waited. Thankfully, someone eventually gifted The Boy with his own riding appliance, so I could cruise in peace (generally away from him & our house of depressed mama and newer baby)

I look so much like Hannah in the above picture, perhaps only in attitude ♥

I rode my bike in my Easter's FinestAND in my Urchin GarbThe precedence set by sitting Tom on my first bike, meant he was free to use and abuse any and all belongings I may covet as my own. Mostly I stopped caring. Except for the small, green 10-speed. It was the first time in my growing-up years that a bike actually *fit* me. He ruined it. After ruining his own bike, my dad's bike and the spare bike. He was on to mine and there were no consequences. Worse, there was no money to fix it or replace it.

Yesterday's disappearance of my cruisin' bike has brought all of this to the forefront of my memory... I waited a long time to get a bike for ME. The Perfect Bike. I even shared it with Hayden -JOYFULLY! And while I try to deny the sadness, it's real. No, I don't wish for the thief to be hit by a car; the thought of it happening, however, fills me with sick glee. Yet another challenge in the Process of Non-attachment.

What helps is this bike. Scotty found it while walking the dog, ditched in a field of weeds. I've had it advertised on Craig'sList for over a month. Every day I've thought of who might be missing this bike. This could very well be someone's sacred ride. And I know all-too-well what that means. Today I think it may be a universal trade. This one is smaller, after all, a much better fit for my body. And it's got adorable whitewalled tires. The ding-ding bell, ooga horn and baskets can all come as Holiday Gifts. Along with grips and Rain Gear.
Meanwhile, we shall find a local place to get an inner tube & share with Hayden the joys of bike maintenance. He, too, now wants a cruiser bike. For now, neither of us mind sharing. Eventually, we will want to ride together. Even Scotty's mentioned a hankerin' for a bike. I can't wait! ♥

An official Interpreter

Yep, that's me. At least I will be at 6:01 on Wednesday (I figger it'll be a whole minute before I'm actually back into the Interpreter part of my brain!). Yesterday I completed the paperwork (left off a signature, 25 just weren't enough for OSU!), got an assignment and asked about the pay. "$26/hour. Is that alright?" Um, Yeah! Granted, an hour a week isn't gonna add up to much, it's still more than I had to begin with AND I get myself out there, available for more work, appreciating the work I have, and we all know those paths lead to immense rewards ♥
So I shall prove myself.
To myself.
And the rest of the world will see this incredible light that's been hiding under this crazy bushel for far too long.

Are YOU a REAL American?

I'd point to the exact moment in The Daily Show that most infotained me, if there was only one of them. Jon totally outdid himself last night, 20 October 2008. Well, I guess it's the idiots he quotes we really have to thank; I'm grateful he's got a team to root out these gems, so I don't have to!
Watch the whole episode.
After you pee.
And maybe some of you should still sit on a plastic chair, at least put a towel under you on the sofa.
Then vote.
Vote because it's your hard earned right as an American to do so.
Whatever America means to you, voting makes you a GOOD American.
Period.

I'm a Bette

for a two question quiz, this one nailed it!! ~d

You Are a Bette!

You are a Bette -- "I must be strong"

Bettes are direct, self-reliant, self-confident, and protective.

How to Get Along with Me

• * Stand up for yourself... and me.


• * Be confident, strong, and direct.


• * Don't gossip about me or betray my trust.


• * Be vulnerable and share your feelings. See and acknowledge my tender, vulnerable side.


• * Give me space to be alone.


• * Acknowledge the contributions I make, but don't flatter me.


• * I often speak in an assertive way. Don't automatically assume it's a personal attack.


• * When I scream, curse, and stomp around, try to remember that's just the way I am.

What I Like About Being a Bette

• * getting all the enjoyment I can out of life


• * supporting, empowering, and protecting those close to me


• * upholding just causes

What's Hard About Being a Bette

• * overwhelming people with my bluntness; scaring them away when I don't intend to


• * being restless and impatient with others' incompetence


• * sticking my neck out for people and receiving no appreciation for it


• * never forgetting injuries or injustices


• * putting too much pressure on myself


• * getting high blood pressure when people don't obey the rules or when things don't go right

Bettes as Children Often

• * are independent; have an inner strength and a fighting spirit


• * are sometimes loners


• * seize control so they won't be controlled


• * figure out others' weaknesses


• * attack verbally or physically when provoked


• * take charge in the family because they perceive themselves as the strongest, or grow up in difficult or abusive surroundings

Bettes as Parents

• * are often loyal, caring, involved, and devoted


• * are sometimes overprotective


• * can be demanding, controlling, and rigid

Take Are You a Jackie or a Marilyn? Or Someone Else? Mad Men-era Female Icon Quiz

I wana vote for a REAL Maverick

One more reason I love Corvallis! ♥

The Post Turtle, Sarah Palin

from a posting at Sunnyside Up:

While suturing a cut on the hand of a 75-year-old Texas rancher whose hand was caught in a gate while working cattle, the doctor struck up a conversation with the old man. Eventually the topic came around to Sarah Palin and her bid to be a heartbeat away from being President.

The old rancher said, "Well ya know, Palin is a post turtle."

Not being familiar with the term, the doctor asked what a post turtle was.

The old rancher said, "When you're driving down a country road and you see a fence post with a turtle balanced on top, that's a post turtle."

The old rancher saw the puzzled look on the doctor's face, so he continued to explain, "You know she didn't get up there by herself, she doesn't belong up there, she doesn't know what to do while she's up there, and you just wonder what kind of dumbass put her up there to begin with."