Wednesday, August 31, 2005


The city is flooded. Levees demolished. Water rising. Homes under water. Businesses washed out. Families split. Looters taking violently. Lives lost.

One of the worst natural disasters to hit our country in this lifetime has just happened in the south. New Orleans, a city of bright color and wild culture, has been washed away entirely. People have lost everything, in some cases their lives. This is a time when our nation should be banding together to pray for and send aid to these people. However, it seems to me that life continues unaffected here. Flags are waving at full-mast. Attitudes and demeanors are normal.

After the Tsunami last December, things changed. Outreach poured from the pockets of the American people. We walked through our days stunned by pictures and video of the devastating damage, glued to news reports. While the death toll from Hurricane Katrina is not even in the same world as that from the Tsunami, the people of the Gulf Coast have lost everything much in the same way as those in the Pacific.

Repairing the levees is an engineering nightmare. It is going to be a huge task to figure out both how to stop the water from coming in, and how to build new structures. The city will be without electricity for a long while. If the flood water rises much more, the entire public water system will be wiped out. The impact on US oil production is going to be dramatic. And, it's possible that hundreds are dead.

This disaster is all I can think about today. I'm hurting for all those people who's lives are destroyed. I'm hurting for those who couldn't (or didn't) evacuate and had to swim for their lives. I know this is another disaster in the list of disasters that have been plaguing our planet over the last 10 years or so. It seems that they're getting bigger, stronger, more destructive. I can't help but wonder if it's mother nature's way of getting rid of the parasite that's ruining her world.

For information on ways you can help go to the Red Cross.

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

intelligent design hoax

I just read a great editorial article by Daniel Dennett called "Show Me the Science". If you have any interest or opinion in the current debate over whether the Intelligent Design theory should be taught in American schools, you need to read this sharp article.

Dennett astutely observes that in the scientific community, the way to stir up controversy or to challenge a widely accepted theory is to come up with a new theory that solves inconsistencies with the old theory. The thing about Intelligent Design theory is that there's no scientific evidence to support it. Studies to find evidence haven't even been attempted. Dennett notes that when a widely accepted theory is publicly challenged, often scientists jump on the bandwagon to research and study the alternative theory pretty quickly. What research scientist doesn't want to be the first one to come up with breakthrough evidence? I'm sure the person who proves the Intelligent Design theory will have a good shot at a Nobel Prize. Why then, is there a void of information or substantive evidence to support this theory?

Currently, Intelligent Design supporters have conveniently avoided the need for scientific evidence claiming, in some cases, that we can't understand or know for sure just who the Designer is. They admit freely that there's no evidence, but with faith in God there's no need for it. Any semi-intelligent person with a college degree should understand that in order for a theory to be proven logically or scientifically there has to be something supporting it. Why aren't the proponents spending their money on research and experiment instead of propaganda and media buzz? If they really wanted their ideas to be accepted by the scientific community, they would invest in some reasearch.

ID supporters obviously feel that scientific evidence is not important to their case. And, if you look at the number of Christian fundamentalists and Adam & Eve believers, you'll see that they don't really need to. It boggles my mind that so many people are willing to put all their belief in a theory that sidesteps science completely. But, fine. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion; believe what you want to.

However, when it comes to the education of American children I do not believe it's appropriate to include the Intelligent Design "theory" in science classrooms. President Bush and Bill Frist purport that it's important to teach our children different schools of thought, to expose them to many theories so that they have a well-rounded education. They believe that it's important to teach the 'controversy' surrounding the theory of evolution. They have to rely on teaching the debate surrounding evolution because there is no supporting evidence to teach the theory itself. If there was some sort of evidence that we could look at or explore, than maybe I'd see it as a valid topic of classroom discussion. The theory of IDoutside of a religious perspecitve (which I might add, is supposed to be separate from the state)is just a vapid hole of nothingness.

It boggles my mind that the American public, and our president for Pete's sake, are so ignorant and literal when it comes to teachings in the Bible. If you've got a theory to prove that the evolution of man did not come from natural selection of millions of years I'd love to hear it. But please, please make sure you've got at least a shred of evidence. I'm not saying that the theory of Intelligent Design is totally wrong. For all I know a creative energy, an omnipotent God, or the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ himself could be behind the evolution of life on this earth. I'm not one to discount any of these theories, but I certainly don't think it's appropriate to tell our kids that they have two choices when it comes to how human beings came to walk the earth.

Monday, August 29, 2005

progressive spacey hard rock jam metal

On Saturday night I went to the DCU Center in Grande Ol' Worcester, MA. The opening band was Bad Acid Trip, yep that's right. These guys were funny. I don't know what genre they'd fall into, death metal maybe? The dude singing had quite the vocal range from high pitched circusesque clown laughter to deep dark Satan summoning roars. It was loud as shit but they seemed to have a sense of humor about themselves and were selling 'fuck Bush' tee-shirts so they're okay in my book.

The Mars Volta was good. Not quite as good as when I saw them at Bonnaroo, but they definitely rocked out. For those of you who might not have heard of The Mars Volta, I would describe them as a progressive spacey experimental hard rock jam metal. Ha! I am amazed again and again by their drummer. Dude has skills. The music is so fluid and ranging, and his arms just pound the drums fast as a badass hummingbird. I was also really happy to see (and hear) the addition of a saxamaphone/flute player. It added a unexpected jazzy element that was off the hook.

Then came System of a Down, the evening's headliner. I've never really listened to System of a Down before. I don't usually get into that type of pop metal stuff. But, Zack loves them and so I knew they couldn't be that bad. Holy fucking shit was I blown out of the water. Their range of song style was all over the place mixing heavy beats with Latin or Indian inspired melodies. Their transitions were absolutely seamless. I was lost in the madness of the percussion, drawn to the raw emotion of the vocals, and I laughed at the guy twirling around with the guitar. They played straight for two hours and I danced my buttocks off. I have to say though that one of the major highlights of the show was the lights. I can say with positivity that System has the best light show I've seen since Phish (and that's saying a lot). The lights totally made the show for me.

All in all I'd have to say that my little jaunt to Worcester was well worth it. I would totally recommend System of a Down to anyone looking for a rock show with a little edge.

Friday, August 26, 2005

acadia pictures

Happy Friday, ya'll! For your viewing pleasure, here are some pictures of our trip to Acadia.

There are quite a few more on my Flickr page if you're interested.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

culture shock

I'm back from four glorious days of vacationing with my sweetheart. We hiked and biked all over Acadia, camped in a too-tiny tent, picniced on the rocks with crashing waves at our feet, swam in fresh water ponds, ate popovers, stayed at a beautiful b&b, and watched the sun set over one of the most breathtaking places I've ever seen. We challenged ourselves physically and supported each other mentally. It was a much needed and much appreciated break. I'll post the kick-ass pictures soon.

Friday, August 19, 2005

full disclosure

Blogging is so weird! I sometimes wonder why I spend a chunk of my time everyday reading about other people's lives and opinions. It seems a bit voyeuristic, reading stories about Dooce's poops and Electrolicious' camping and hooping trips. I wonder how Cibi and her new hubby are doing on their honeymoon, and wait with baited breath for Mrs. Kennedy's side-splitting renovation. It's weird. I don't know any of these bloggers face-to-face, but I feel connected to their lives through their blogs.

This gets me thinking and reflecting about my own blog. Is it that interesting, is it that personal, is it that addictive? I hesitate to write some of my thoughts and share some of my stories because, by nature, I am not a public person. Those of you that know me, know I'm quiet (sometimes) and I'm not keen on disclosing my personal matters and affairs to people I don't know. I rarely let others glimpse the chaos that flutters inside my brain on a daily basis. But somehow, writing about it all on the internet seems okay. I try to draw a line so that I'm not invading or displaying other people's personal matters. I hesitate even to post pictures of my friends. They are such integral and lovely parts of who I am though, I can't help but share bits and pieces.

Maybe all the introspective thought and sharing of feelings is too honest. I'm not even this honest with most people I know. Why do I feel it's okay to spew my innermost reflections for the rest of the world to read?

Perhaps it's because I think that nobody is actually ever going to read my blog.

Blogging has become a tool for validation. I think, by writing my thoughts, I'm exercising and releasing ideas and dreams and ideals that otherwise stay in my private journal, never reaching people. Maybe I subconsciously want people to know me for who I am point-blank, without niceties or nuance. Maybe I'm looking for someone to say--'hey, I think that way too. you're just as lost as I am'. Whatever the reason, I continue to spill my guts to you, oh internerd. You have become my sounding board, my soapbox, my quiet (or not so quiet) listener. For that I thank you.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

llama de doo-da

One of these days, after I have traveled the world and become independently wealthy, I would like to own a lama or two. The Incas of Peru domesticated Llamas over 5,000 years ago. There are four types of lamas--alpaca, guanaco, vicuna and llama (with the ll). I'm either going to have a llama or an alpaca, or maybe one of each.

Llamas are gentle, loving creatures. They're pretty easy to care for compared to other livestock and they're happy to roam around a pasture all day. Llama fur can be spun into yarn or felted. How sweet would it be to spin your own yarn! Then, I could get a loom and spend my golden days weaving rugs that are totally handmade.

If I were to have a herd of goats, I could train my llama to be a protector. Believe it or not, Llamas act as watch dogs for livestock herds. It's crazy, but they will totally kick ass when their herd is in danger. If I were a fox or a coyote I definitely wouldn't want to come hoof to face with a llama.

Llamas are also totally great pack animals. You can strap a few saddle-bags on one of these fine creatures and they'll tote your stuff all the way to the top of a mountain. If I had some apple trees I could just take my llama out with me, fill-up a couple of bags full of apples and have my friendly beast bring them back for me. I would then press the apples to make applebutter.

Perhaps I should have been born a pilgrim.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

check my fro, yo. peep the way i wear it

Following are pictures from this year's annual Trap and Poach Lobster Freedom Festival brought to you by the ever charming boys of Union Street.

NB: the winners of this year's competition were the Sparkle Sisters (first ever all-female team to win it)!

Jaclyn and Dan

Food, glorious food.

Reigning champions.

The Durbinator

Jesse and Dylan

Big finish at the Red Door.

Tuesday, August 16, 2005


I really wish I'd had a camera with me yesterday evening as I feel I can't do this post justice without some visuals. I took plenty of mental pictures though so I'll try to convey those. I have to admit, when the suggestion to go watch the sunset in Newington was presented, I was a little taken aback. My thoughts immediately turned to the mall, TGI Friday's, and the Bowling Alley--not, in my opinion, a scenic place to hang out.

Touche'. Newington is so much more than the mall. I think they know this and so have posted numerous signs 'Newington Residents Only', 'No firearms or firecrackers'. I think they probably just want to keep the toasts out, and I can't blame them. We sat on the shore of the bay to watch the sunset listening to the sand fleas jumping around. The clouds streamed across the sky in lines like swirling incense smoke. Through whirlpools of the condensation the bright orange sun cast purple and pink rays across the bright blue sky. It was spectacular.

We drove a ways down a well posted road and came to some old buildings on a little peninsula of sorts. There was a very large, abandoned looking, grayish green building with lots of windows sitting on a well manicured lawn. All the houses overlooked the bay with sweeping views. Down by the water a flock of egrets sat on tree branches over the water. I counted 13 egrets, their intensely elegant silhouettes framed against the sky.

We drove slowly through Old Newington, a little two lane road dotted with historic buildings. I couldn't tell what was what, but there appeared to be an old stone library and a brick town hall. The weathered church stands on a little bluff with the water below. I could totally imagine myself living in little Newington back in the early 1900's, driving my buggy past farm land and flowers surrounded by water on all sides. As we were leaving town we saw two hearty wild turkeys crossing the street. Gobble-gobble!

If you're a toast, I wouldn't recommend going there. Your Massachusetts plates will give you away (no offense to anyone from MA). But, if you know your way around exit 4S it's totally worth a detour.

Monday, August 15, 2005


There are days when the leathery skin surrounding my memories is worn thin; days when I can sit for hours in front of a blank journal page too lost in my own thoughts to write anything down. Those days are usually rainy, sometimes cold. I listen to Otis Redding and Al Green with candles lit and wine in hand. I chain smoke cigarettes and with squinty eyes stare at the lamp rays bouncing angular along the floor. I relive hasty decisions, faltering over my poor word choices and even poorer actions. I let lonesome regrets wash over my chest cavity, drowning all the good things around me. In the rain, alone, I exude cliche wondering what could have been.

There are some connections in life that are deep down and soulful on a level where words are unnecessary. They are few and, as far as I can tell, rare in living and breathing relationships. Perhaps it's because a connection that strong is too overwhelming for the soul to fathom. In order to be a soulmate, you have to know your own soul and be willing to share it. In my experience people are too selfish to let go, are so absorbed in their own struggle they don't see the answer right in front of them. It's a breeding ground for insecurity and rejection.

A true soulmate knows your body, your heart, your spirit to the core. They understand your deepest fears and wrap them protected in their golden energy. You stargaze and build your wildest dreams together. You reach for the unattainable because with the power of your honesty and support you can attain it. And you bare it all with joy and work with all your heart because you know that the connection is unwavering. It has to be. If it were to crack, you would die. If it falls and breaks, your deep roots get ripped out of the earth and lay exposed in shreds to be shriveled by the sun. It doesn't break though, ever. That's why I believe a soulmate is a once in a lifetime mate.

I don't have any proof for this theory though. I can't tell you why some people recognize their lifemates from day one and why some people live their entire lives without knowing the joy that comes from giving yourself completely to one person. My guess is that love is like life, there are no guarantees.

Thursday, August 11, 2005

chai guy

It's official, I have fallen madly in love...with chai. Chai, for those of you who don't know, is a heavenly Indian Spiced Milk tea. It's made from a blend of black tea, cinnamon, cardamom, ginger, pepper, and who knows what else. Since the weather is scorching around here these days, I've been prone to indulging in an iced chai at least once a day, sometimes twice if I'm lucky.

The chai at Breaking New Grounds (local coffee shop) is really the best there is. Trust me. Last night I sampled a chai from a coffee shop in Ogunquit and was sadly disappointed. The thing that really makes the chai at BNG so good is the delicate balance between the creamy milk (usually soy for me) and the dark spicy tea. Served over gently melting ice cubes it quenches a thirst that resides deep down where my love of coffee used to live.

I quit coffee back around the time I first started this blog. It was a tough transition and since then I've always felt like something was missing from life. I didn't look forward to English Breakfast or Earl Grey the way I used to spring out of bed for Rainforest Nut. I feel something changing though in my addictive personality. I've embarked upon a new phase, there's a new muse to be courted. She treats me better than coffee ever did, preserving the integrity of my bowels and gently nudging my energy level to alert though never wired.

Since my new lovely friend Chai entered my life, my pocketbook is straining. She's pricey at $5.00 (with tip) for a choy (my pet name for a soy chai). If I'm going to remain in this relationship, I've got to start making it myself. I bought some herbal chai from the Mustard Seed but it didn't do it for me. It's got to be black tea based for me. I think I might try to combine the herbal tea with some darjeeling when I get home. I'll chill her out for a while and spike her with a little soy. Cross your fingers ladies and gentlefolk, this could change my life.

Here's a recipe for chai if you want to try it out yourself:).

Masala Chai

1-1/2 cups water
1 inch stick of cinnamon
8 cardamom pods
8 whole cloves
2/3 cup milk
6 tsp. sugar (or to taste)
3 teaspoons any unperfumed loose black tea

Put 1-1/2 cups water in saucepan. Add the cinnamon, cardamom, and cloves and bring to a boil. Cover, turn heat to low and simmer for 10 minutes. Add the milk and sugar and bring to a simmer again. Throw in the tea leaves, cover, and turn ff the heat. After 2 minutes, strain the tea into two cups and serve immediately.

From Madhur Jaffrey's Indian Cooking, Barron's, New York, p. 196 (1983).


PS: I find it rather odd that the Blogger spell check recognizes 'cardamom' but not 'blog'.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005


There's something special to me about stealing away from the world and escaping, if only for a few hours. Zack and I went up to Ogunquit for a couple of hours the other day and I felt as though we were a million miles away. We drove up the coast along winding beach roads, passing golf courses and beautiful houses. I would love to own a house one day on the beach. A modern cape with clean lines and alternative building materials. I'd have long grassy plants and flowers in the yard. I'd have floor to ceiling windows overlooking a very private section of white sandy beach.

I'd never been to Ogunquit before and I was pleasantly surprised. The first thing I noticed (and it could have been because it was mid-afternoon on Tuesday) was the astounding number of elderly people flocking to the water. They formed a parade of cameras, canes, socks hiked up to knees, wide brimmed hats, and fanny packs. We went down to the water ourselves, and once past the cluster of sandy kids rampaging their tired tired parents the beach was rather lovely. The water was crystal clear greenish blue, unlike water I've ever seen at a New England Beach. I didn't bring proper attire for the beach and so had donned Z's swimming trunks with my light pink tank top. We walked in the water following the coastline for quite a while until we came to a secluded section of beach. So relaxing and beautiful.

This little trip up North got my traveling bug itching again. It's been itching for some time now, but these little jaunts to close-by adventures make me yearn to travel the globe. I want to see Italy and New Zealand. I want to spend some real time in Africa and Alaska. One day, I hope, we'll take the afternoon off and won't be seen again for at least 6 months maybe a year if we're lucky.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

kristin marie

Overwhelming angst boils spoiled
onto the parched linoleum.
Without income the outcome for her son
is stunned victim.
The numb cracks in the foil floor recoil poor
and squirm lackadaisical like a languid worm
Proclaiming the poignant decent of this pregnant parent,
indifferent to her infant.

Unkempt visions of safety and success
drip under this nasty nation’s foundation,
where partisan puddles of damp delusion
water the dormant roots of ivy and hope.
They wearily wait for the savior sun to nourish this nameless neighborhood.

They understood, she’d come home if she could.
The black bars and topaz glass window panes
reflected the neglected future of her seeds.
Collected and injected she drew the shades,
left them emptied to bleed
on the dismal pedestal from which she slipped and fell.
Leaving her babies heartsick
for her caustic lipstick kisses.

Big brother has no intention to question ambition or mention tuition
He’s been slingin’ now to bring in a livin’, soverign.
Solid without her squalid skin and despondent demeanor
--they haven’t seen her.

And so depressed and stressed mama’s grace
is replaced by mace to save face.
Retribution for pragmatic misdemeanors lends cause to
hurtle rocks against locks and soap boxes.
Once buried and bruised,
she leaned on booze as an excuse for abuse.

Broken butterfly wings now litter the sidewalk,
obstructing the direction of her daydreams for moonbeams
and the resurrection of dampered daddies.
Snuffed by soot and cigarette ashes,
splashes of guilt are smeared on street corners
by her childrens’ broken curiosity of a world
which once to them seemed bigger than her criminal culpability.

bmm 10/04

what the fug?

As some of you may know, we've been cat sitting for the cutest cat in the world. Fuggles is a grey and white tabby with a round face and a little pink nose. She really is the cutest cat IN THE WORLD. It took her a long time to warm up to us. She didn't like the other cats at first and definitely didn't want to be messed with by imploring humans. She's a very naughty girl. There's a streak of irresistible mischief in her that compels her little paws to knock over every glass of water she finds. With one roll over her bunny belly in the air and bubble gum tongue sticking out her mouth, all is forgiven. She's come around now and has endeared herself to us more than iced chai with soy, which is saying a lot. She has a small squeaky mew that often sounds like a rickety door but which she uses like butter to grease the wheels of my heart. I'm telling you, it's irresistable.

Since the arrival and endearment of Fug, Obi has become a different man. He's an outside prowler now. He's lost all of his baby fat and now wears a more solemn expression of an serious bachelor. He has a secret life among the gardens and brush that I can only imagine. I've been wishing that Fuggles and Obi would fall in love, but I don't think it's going to happen. While they are definitely friendly, I'm not sure the chemistry is quite there. Perhaps it all went out the window the day Fuggles drew blood from Obi's nose. Maybe he feels inferior to her brave stance in the face of dogs. Whatever the case, I'm not holding out for grand-kittens (not that it's possible anatomically anyway). My little boy is all grown though, making his own decisions wandering the town. It's risky and I'm scared, but he seems to have come into his own.

And then, we've got the mystery that is Isabella still lingering in the humid fog of optical illusions. Nobody's seen her days, possibly weeks. Is she still living under the couch, hiding in the basement? Or, has she escaped to freedom without the persecution of humans? The enigma remains mysterious.

I guess I've rounded the corner and headed straight into the land of crazy cat lady.

Friday, August 05, 2005


The cats have acquired a nasty case of the fleas which grosses me out to no end. I thought I was being all responsible and I bought this super expensive 'earth friendly' flea killer to put on their necks, but the fleas have persisted. Nasty buggers. I want to bomb the place, but we've got a feral cat who is uncatchable and would probably be poisoned to death if we let one off. Damn cats.

This weekend is my lovely friend Britt's bachelorette party. Whoop! I'm psyched to run around Boston for a night. It's been way too long since I've been in the city.

Since I've paid off much of my computer, I thought it was a good idea to increase my debt just a smidge more and buy an mp3 player. Dudes, this thing is so cool. I've got a shit-ton of music uploaded into this baby already. This is revolutionizing my life as we speak. All music, all the time. I got one of those fm adapters so I can tune my player to a radio station. Whoa. Technology is so weird! I love it!

My orchid is dying. For Christmas last year Zack gave me a beautiful white and pink orchid that stretched to infinity, so graceful and light. I think I've just about killed it and I'm sad. I tried to give it sunlight, but I think it lived in darkness for too long and it's loosing it's precious leaves. Maybe I'll take it over to the flower shop to see if they can save her.

Well, I'm sure this post has pretty much bored everyone. I'll try to think of something more creative for next time.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

the detrimental effects of rageahol

Back in February, I was driving down Rte 1 and I put my directional on to turn into a gas station. I realized at the last minute that it was the wrong turn and I hopped back into traffic, cutting off a white mini-van. At the moment I was totally stressed out after having returned from a business trip exhausted to visit my boyfriend in the hospital. I was having a hard time dealing with life and while I can't say my actions were safe or smart, they were certainly unintentional.

Anyway, I drove down the road a bit and then turned into another gas station. The mini-van came barreling around the corner and skidded into the deserted parking lot. This fat, half-bald man got out of his jesus fish and yellow ribbon stickered van and started screaming at me. I mean screaming, at the top of his lungs. At me--a distraught twenty-something unaccompanied female.

I stood there with hands in the 'don't shoot' position, repeating "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry". He called me an asshole and told me that if I ever did anything like that to him again he was going to "kick my ass". Meanwhile his teenaged daughter had slid open the side door and was apologizing for the mortifying behavior of her psychotic father. The jelly-bellied jerkoff waddled back into his van and drove to the Market Basket across the way.

I remember getting back into my car and breaking down sobbing. I cried and cried feeling scared and frustrated and angry. There was nothing I could do about it. There have been a few other times in my life when I've been confronted with really angry people. I usually have the same reaction--freeze and/or start crying. It always astounds me that these seemingly heartless bastards have the audacity to project their unhappiness at someone else in such a threatening way. What turns that switch that makes people fly off the handle? What makes them think that just because they aren't using physical force, it's okay?

I don't think that this guy (and many of the other anger freaks I've known) is an awful man. I'm sure he loves and cares for his family. He might do all kinds of wonderful things for people. And, he certainly supported our soldiers. He was totally the type of person who goes to church each week touting the virtues of abstinence and loving thy neighbor, but supports war and unleashes verbal fury at fragile young women.

As hard as I've tried, I can't forget that day. Today someone called the Inn screaming about the $20.00 cancellation fee. She yelled at me over the phone like I had just accosted a member of her family. I really feel sorry for people who harbor such anger inside them, and even sorrier for people who have no discretion in choosing those on whom they release their fury. I'm trying to forget that pitiful lady named Phyllis and her berating New York accent in my ear drum. I guess if I soak up her bad energy and let it ruin my day, then she wins. I know I'm supposed to try to let her pathetic, immature outburst roll off my back and chalk it up to a lesson learned in 'how I never, ever want to act'. It just totally rocked my whole sense of security and comfort leaving me feeling depleted and sorry for myself.

help a cracka out

I think, in some ways, I'm an Internet cracka. I don't really know too much about the technological or developmental side of things. It's totally something I love learning about, but I don't always know where to start. For instance, I started out on a mission this morning to figure out how to register a domain name and find a hosting service, but I ended up signing up for some wealth enhancing e-newsletter and being bombarded with spam and pop-ups. This is not what I want!

See, I'm thinking about starting up my own freelancing business. I'll be focusing on rights and permissions services, perhaps dabbling in editorial if it comes my way. One part of my master plan to actually make some money at this is to establish a web presence. I have no idea where to start, what to search, or how much money this 'should' cost me. If anyone out there reads this and has any ideas, please don't be shy. I just need a basic web site and somewhere to put it. I've figured out some design stuff after piddling around with my blog, so I think I can handle that part. It's just the getting started part that's blocking my brain right now.

Send me an email or a comment if you've got any ideas.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

dreaming about those dreamy eyes

today was a day full of paper piles, phone calls, research, and the continuing prayer to figure out what it is I'm doing with my life. things were bored and bleak until my afternoon was surprisingly punctuated with flowers, googely eyes, and reassurance that this is just the beginning.

orchids carried into my office by a tall, long-haired prince charming make me smile all the livelong day (as does my camera phone).

Monday, August 01, 2005

baby I've got your money

I'm so happy to report to you, dear reader, that my site meter busted the 1,000 original hits mark. Sweet ass!

Now that I'm all high on life about the possibility someone will actually read this, I want to make it clear that this blog is not just about me. It about you, too. You lovely, lovely reader, are what makes this blog go round. Please don't be shy. If there is something you want to see here, want to know about me, want to discuss just speak up!

Thanks for reading my thoughts, rambles, and nuggets of opionion. I know it ain't all that smart or insightful, but daggumit it's me.