Technology (week 46)

52 Weeks of Gratitude Challenge

Love it or hate it, it’s not going away.  Technology is embedded in our daily routines almost as sure as breathing.

 

I see it as both good and bad.  The good part is that it has made so many things in our lives easier than they ever have been.  Remember the old days before Google, when you couldn’t remember the same of a movie or a song, and it would drive you nuts for days?  Then, finally, usually at some inopportune moment, you’d remember and triumphantly yell out “it was Busta Rhymes!” in the otherwise quiet grocery store while shopping for melons?  Well, maybe some of you still remember (and some of you are probably Googling who Busta Rhymes is).

So, is it a good thing to have such immediate access to information, or has it made us lazy?

A bad side to this information overload is the fact that there are so many input sources for internet news, that there is almost no filter as to what is accurate.  As evidenced in our recent election, no matter which candidate you wanted, you could no doubt find positive and negative spins on each.  The truth was hidden.  Not meaning to make this a political post, just want to illustrate how an overload of information can complicate things.

I challenge you to turn off all devices at least 4 hours one afternoon this week.  See what you can accomplish the good fashioned way, without technology.  And that means the TV too!

Good luck!

Love and Peace, 

Kay 

Core Values (week 31)

52 Weeks of Gratitude Challenge

Easy…says it all right here:

Love and Peace,

   

Kay 

Your Current Age (week 30)

52 Weeks of Gratitude Challenge

Oh my GOODNESS!  Well, there it is…  my age. 

I’m thankful for the life I’ve lived so far, with all its twists, turns and unexpected surprises and blessings.  I’ve seen not one but two active volcanoes in person, traveled to some amazing destinations, and been picked out of audiences to do crazy things on stage.  I’ve also jumped out a plane, and am looking forward to doing it again whenever I can!

My numerical age is irrelevant.  I feel 26, I haven’t aged a day since.

I’m sticking to that.

Love and Peace,  

Kay 

A Talent You Have (week 14)

52 Weeks of Gratitude Challenge

I love to organize.  It clears my head, and brings a bit of fresh, sparkly magic to the space. My house might not be the cleanest, dirt wise (uh…two dogs and a man child), but I know exactly where everything is.

Sometimes, when I feel overwhelmed or confused, I’ll organize a drawer.  It works.  I feel centered and ready to tackle the world again. Try it…there’s something to it!

Love and Peace,  

Kay 

Your Favorite Personality Trait (week 12)

52 Weeks of Gratitude Challenge

It should be obvious by these photos what my favorite personality trait is...

HUMOR.

Without which, the world would be a drab place.

I love a good comedian, movie or friend that can make me fall down laughing.  Sometimes, I  go immediately to cry-laugh, which is the greatest!

Laughing is good for your health, and your ab muscles!

(Can you name these movies and/or comedians?)

Love and Peace,  

Kay 

5 Things You Like About Yourself (week 10)

52 Weeks of Gratitude Challenge

1.       My creativity.  I have a vivid imagination and am easily able to transport myself elsewhere, once having had to go through a minor surgery with no anesthesia.  Cake walk!

2.       I have thick, healthy hair and long, strong fingernails.  I’ve learned to love this.

3.       My blue eyes.  Sometimes they are dark, other times they are light and stormy gray. They’re my mood identifier.

4.       My tenacity. I know it irritates some people when I won’t let something go, but I don’t care.  I can’t let an unanswered question go until I’m at the bottom of it.

5.       My sense of humor. Without it, I wouldn’t be able to wade through some days. 

Love and Peace,  

Kay 

The City I Live In (week 6)

52 Weeks of Gratitude Challenge

Sin City…. a title that is not entirely accurate.  "Sin" happens in every city and town.

 

But, it so happens my hometown is famous for it. And, sin must not be that bad of a thing if we’re constantly inundated with droves of tourists.

 

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder?  Well, I guess, so is SIN.

I don't think it's so bad.  :-)  

Love and Peace,  

Kay 

My Sexy Saturday

     This week’s sexy snippet (http://www.mysexysaturday.blogspot.com/) comes from my WIP “Mountains and Skyscrapers.”  Elle has gotten stuck somewhat babysitting Michael, the sharp suited businessman from New York, as he has opted to join his future employees on a hike in the beautiful Rocky mountains near Denver.  Elle is not a future employee, she is the sister of the man he is buying the company from (and the silent partner - unbeknownst to him). 


     Michael quickly glanced over at the rest of the group.  Three men, his future employees, lounged on a big flat rock engaged in their own animated discussions.  He followed her through the trees and after about thirty feet, they emerged on another smooth rock face that did, in fact, have a sweeping view of the mountain. 

     “Wow,” he said.

     “Yeah, it’s beautiful.  I come up here a lot.”  She turned, offering him the straw from her hydration pack. “Drink this.”

     The straw rested near her face so he hesitated, feeling a sudden wave of irritating pre-pubescent shyness surge through his body. She rolled her eyes and removed the clip, which stretched it an extra few inches in his direction. “Do you want me to take off the whole pack so you can wear it, since it appears we’re going to be sharing it today?”
    
     Michael was embarrassed about neglecting to bring his own water, but he was thirsty and glad that she hadn’t called attention to his lack of preparation in front of his future employees. He leaned in to drink, and a passing breeze wafted across her skin toward him. Her neck was only a few inches away and she smelled faintly of cinnamon as he suckled the straw from her pack, feeling the cool water wash over his tongue and slide down his parched throat. 

     “Well don’t drink it all. What were you thinking anyway, coming up here with no water?” She asked suddenly, causing him to lean back in surprise

     Michael wasn’t sure how to respond but before he could form any words, she had already disappeared through the trees to rejoin the group, and left him standing alone and still thirsty.  He rushed to keep up, glad to have the view of her figure a few feet in front of him to keep his eyes steady.

Here is the blurb for the story: 

Elle Thompson was raised in Denver.  She gardens.  She paints.  She knows how to avoid cougar attacks. Real ones.

The only cougars that Michael Williams usually worries about are the ones that wear leopard print leggings on 5^th Avenue.

But, when Michael’s acquisition firm sets its sights on her family’s business, his tidy life goes awry.  As his life unravels, so do all of his pre-conceived notions of love, and what a perfect partner should be.

 

 

My First Bra

     I’m not talking about my first “training bra” (who came up with that stupid term anyway?).   I’m talking about the first real bra that I bought with my own money. 

     I was maybe 11 or so, and I carried a purple purse with a unicorn on it that enclosed a purple wallet which held some red hot birthday cash.  So, it was off to the mall! My mom brought me and let me go into Dillard’s by myself (which may have been Diamonds at the time). 

     My birthday money was burning a hole in my wallet! 

     I wandered into the lingerie section of the store.  I hadn’t really been in that part of the store before and had always glanced at it whenever we had walked by in the past.  The pretty, lacey things with soft, shimmery fabric that looked as fragile as flower petals seemed so much more interesting than the kid’s clothes section we usually spent time in.  I felt excited and somewhat out of place browsing through the racks of pretty undergarments.  My underwear to date had been nothing but sturdy, practical cotton underwear that came in multi-packs from Kmart.  And, as far as I knew, that’s what my mom wore as well. 

     But, this underwear was so different.  Who would wear something so pretty, and why?  The notion that a woman would wear pretty undergarments to impress a man was far from my adolescent mind at that time.

     It was then that an older woman approached me.  She was a shopper, like me.  And, I’m going to paraphrase the conversation here…

     “Such pretty things, aren’t they?” She asked while lovingly admiring something from the rack.

     “Um, yeah."

     “You like them, don’t you?” 

     I nodded shyly.

     “I always find that I feel extra confident if I’m wearing something pretty underneath.  It’s like it’s my little secret,” she said, and smiled at me. 

     I nodded again and turned my attention to a Christian Dior bra in my size. 

     “Oh, that’s a very pretty one,” she said.  “Well, I’m going to go try these on.”  She left with a small pile of lace draped over one arm.

     I turned my attention back to the bra, and checked the price tag.  It was on sale!  It was going to take all of my birthday money to buy it (meaning I wouldn’t have enough left over to get the new Duran Duran album), but I couldn’t resist.  Confidence, she had said.  The bra was so pretty.  It was all off-white lace with light blue satin cups. 

     And…it became my first real bra.  I wore it to school under my silly purple unicorn shirts, and it gave me confidence.  It really did!  I had a pretty secret below my awkward surface. 

     My mom thought I was silly to spend all my money on a bra.  But, I didn’t care! 

     I still think about the woman who told me of her secret to confidence, especially on the days that I need a little extra…if you know what I mean. 

     Wink!

12 Lessons 2012 Taught Me

Some of the lessons that 2012 taught me were the same old things rehashed.  I guess they keep getting thrown at me because I haven't learned them yet.  But, some of them were new.  Some of them were random.  And some of them were left off this list, not because they are any less important, but because my brain is mac-n-cheese.  I’m sure I’ll think of a hundred more items later.

 

 

1.       The importance of BRAVERY.  Sometimes the lessons we need to learn take our whole lives. That’s why we are still here, even though some days are very, very dark.  We were brave souls to choose to come here to begin with, but sometimes, in these frail bodies, we forget that. 

2.       Life goes on.  I lost my grandfather on October 25.  I hardly ever say anything with certainty because I know that life will inevitably find some way to prove me wrong, but this fact I do know for certain… He was the bravest and best man I will ever know. 

 

3.       Aristotle’s theory of the “Unmoved Mover”, which I find fascinating. 

4.       I look damn sexy in a Chuck E. Cheese blow up crown.

 

5.       Life is unpredictable (I already knew this but it was reaffirmed).  I went on a hike to Mary Jane Falls up at Mt. Charleston and a rockslide occurred, sending pebbles and sand raining down on us from a high cliff.  They stung!  It could have so easily been larger rocks or boulders.  It was over in about 30 seconds and everyone scurried away unharmed, but it was quite scary as we had no idea what was going to come barreling off that cliff at us next.

6.       I have a facet joint problem in my hips which occasionally causes me excruciating pain.  Excellent. 

 

7.       Female desert tortoises hump each other.

 

8.       The power of truth. 

9.        Magic happens.  Anyone that knows me knows that I am a Disneyland nut.  I don’t care what some people might think of it, I love going there!  I was lucky to go there twice this year.  Once alone (which was actually kind of sad at first but ended up being one of the most magical times I’ve ever had there), and the second time with my sister (for her first trip). 

10.       I don’t like cream cheese in my sushi.  No sir, I don’t like it.  Makes me want to hurl.

11.       My limits in putting up with bullshit from people.  This was a fuzzy area before 2012, but I’m thankful that I reached my breaking point.  Now I know where it is, and that information is valuable. 

12.       That people really do like my art, and my writing.  As a creative person, I am extremely critical of my own stuff, as all artists are.  The past couple years I’ve decided to take some big chances, and they have paid off.  It’s scary, really scary, but it is so encouraging to know that people are genuinely interested in my creations.  I’m humbled…and terrified.

I wonder what lessons await me in 2013...

 

Cement (or Cheesecake)?

Cheesecake.  It sounds good enough, two of my favorite things combined into one.  Cheese and cake.  But, there’s nothing good about it! It’s a pale brick, mixed up with some sugar, vanilla, maybe a few eggs, barely baked then flapped on a plate with a cherry on top and called ‘dessert’.  It’s disgusting.  It has the density of a meteorite.   

 

Cake is a wonderful thing, when it is baked thoroughly.  It is pure happiness on a fork; fluffy and sweet, evoking memories of happy celebrations.  Cake should be light and fun, with sugary icing and sprinkles, not scraped on a plate like a trowel full of mortar.  A proper cake is a party.  A proper cake marks a special occasion and brings a smile to everyone’s faces.  A proper cake is happy.  Cheesecake is not happy.  

 

I imagine that people who consume cheesecake do so in private occasionally, eating it slowly while in their pajamas, as if it were some unspeakable secret indulgence.  When a friend orders cheesecake from a menu, they usually get a gleam in their eye as if they are just about to commit a sin.  When they place their order, the waiter or waitress will repeat their choice “Ah, the cheesecake, excellent choice” while nodding their head approvingly.  It's as if “I’ll have the cheesecake,” was the password to some secret club.  If I decide to order an ice cream, my choice is never repeated to me nor met with such excited approval from the wait staff.

 

Cheesecake is obnoxious; it is the offensive joke of dessert. 

Dinosaurs at the Library

 

My library was full of dinosaurs!  Big, scary, multi-colored dinosaurs of all shapes and sizes complete with razor sharp teeth and big shiny, watchful eyes.  A few of them actually moved thanks to what I now know were small motorized parts.  The dinosaurs were made of paper mache, that’s also what I know now. 

 

But, when I was young, the resident be-scaled giants were made of bones, muscles, skin and teeth.  And, they watched me with their big eyes, shiny as glass.  I tried to stay out of their view, but it seemed as if one was poised at the end of every aisle, especially the children’s book aisles, which is where I spent my time.  Nonetheless, their watchful gazes didn’t keep me from spending an hour or so every other week browsing the new releases.  I was always looking for something new, having read almost every kids' book my library had in stock.  I even checked out an encyclopedia occasionally.

Dinosaurs.  That is what my library held for me; a land where dinosaurs ran free! 

Even Old Dogs...

My most recent Flash Fiction entry:

#ThursThreads - www.siobhanmuir.blogspot.com 

I was given a prompt to use the line “She was pregnant” in the piece, and a limit of 250 words.  This is what I came up with (249 words):

Cassie bent over to pick up the deposit her old, black Schnauzer, Jake, had left on the sidewalk.  She let out a small murmur of disgust when she felt the heat reach her fingertips through the thin plastic. 

Jake perked his ears as if he were noticing something interesting behind her. 

“Cassie?” 

She whirled around, doggie bag dangling in hand to see Thomas Shea’s magnificence striding toward her in even step with his miniature Yorkie, Jezebel, who had belonged to his late mother.    

“Hi Tom,” Cassie managed after swallowing hard. 

The dogs greeted each other affectionately, and Jake immediately set to sniffing Jezebel’s backside.

“Jake, stop it,” Cassie urged him away, not wanting a repeat performance of the mounting demonstration that he had somehow managed the last time she was lost in conversation with Thomas.  “It’s ok; I think he’s too old for anything to work anymore.”  

“Well, Cassie, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.  It appears that you and I are going to be spending some time together soon.”

“Oh?” She inquired.

“It seems, well, the vet told me she was pregnant.”  He nodded down at Jezebel who seemed to be smiling, if dogs could smile.

Cassie stared at him wide eyed.  “I don’t understand.  How could this have happened?  Jake was only on her for a minute!”

“Do you need me to give you a personal demonstration?”  He laughed, his blue eyes twinkling.  “Apparently you can, in fact, teach an old dog new tricks.”

I got positive feedback from the contest host in the form of a comment: 

“Bwahahahaha! I love it, Kay! :D”  -  Siobhan Muir

And, that made my day!  ;-)

Mass Hysteria

My Psychology instructor teeters on the edge of reason, as any good Psychology instructor should. On one hand, he’s a genius; on the other he is a plodding older man who doesn’t know how to use Windows. Each week into this semester has proved more interesting than the last, but I’m hoping that this past Tuesday will be as far as he will push the envelope. I can take it, but I’m not so sure the majority of my classmates, all wide-eyed in wonder and younger than me by at least 15 years, would be able to.

Class started normally enough until he suddenly said “Shit!” and spit his upper dentures into his hand. “Well, they broke,” he concluded upon examining them briefly, then shoved them into his back pocket and continued the lecture. This elicited a few blinks from the audience, and a few bodies shifted in their chairs. Well, it’s not every day that your instructor spits his teeth out.

Thus, he spoke with a lisp the rest of the night as he lectured about Freud and the Victorian times. He started to delve into the phenomena called “Hysteria” that many women were diagnosed with at that time. Students sat close to the edge of their seats, intrigued.

I turned to my partner, one of three of us in that class who are older than the majority of the students and said “Oh my God, is he going there?”

He told us how women with hysteria would make appointments with Dr.’s who would have them sit in modified dental exam chairs with stirrups attached to them and suggested that the female members of the class would know what he meant. Again, I turned to my partner and said “My God, he IS going there.” At this point I had to lay my head sideways on my desk to muffle the giggles I knew would come (pardon the expression).

He continued to explain to his wide-eyed audience how the Dr.’s would reach up under their patient’s skirts and use an apparatus with a rubber tip (of many different designs), stimulating their clitoris and bringing them to orgasm, thus curing them of Hysteria. A pin could drop in the room. My body silently convulsed from giggles and a tear slid down my face. Mind you, his dentures are in his pocket and he is talking with a lisp. He proceeded to explain in detail the differences between a clitoral orgasm and a vaginal one.

After regaining my composure, I wiped my eyes and sat upright to listen again. It’s a good thing I sit in the back row.

That night I learned there are several words that induce severe giggles from me when spoken in a public forum by an older man missing half of his denture palette: Vagina, Clitoris, Dildo, and Orgasm. Heck, these words induce giggles from me anytime I hear them, but hearing them from a toothless teacher is special.

I’m certain that my posting here has failed to accurately depict what occurred in the classroom that night, but I’m pretty sure some of the students were traumatized based upon their lightning fast exits and red faces. And, I learned that after all, I am still a 13 year old girl in Health class who can’t help but giggle like a loon whenever she hears certain words.

And what do dildos have to do with Freud? Well, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

I really, really REALLY like lists...

Top 10 signs the horror movie you just rented is going to be stupid (in no particular order):

1. It has a washed up actor/actress in it.  (Christian Slater should be a red flag!)
2. It has an overly fancy cover, sometimes with metallic accents.
3. It came out of Hollywood in the past 5 years.
4. You’ve never heard of it.
5. It has a pentagram on the cover.
6. The title is in a digital font.
7. There are no review quotes or “star ratings” on the cover.
8. The blood is bright, bright red, and there is a buttload of it.
9. There is a car chase, slow motion fist fight or machine gun firing frenzy in the first 5 minutes (or all three!), with accompanying techno music. 
10. You rented it from the library because it was free.

How to Deal with People that Drive You Insane

S – Seek shelter.  Shelter in the form of a friend, family member or colleague that doesn’t eat your soul.

U – “Unlearn What You Have Learned.” – Yoda.  Who says you have to be nice to everyone?

R – Resist.  Resist the urge to play their game right back at them.  Although temporarily fun, this tactic will always backfire on you.  Always.

R – Respect your intuition.  Listen to your heart when it is telling you that someone is not quite right in the noggin.

E – Establish firm boundaries.  Moats, tar pits, flypaper, whatever is near and handy.

N – Never back down.  Don’t let them take your soul.  Fight.

D – Don’t try sarcasm.  They won’t get it.  Ever.

E – Eat your cake, Damnit!  Who says you can’t eat the piece of cake in front of you?  And, don’t let them make you feel guilty about it.

R – Remember.  The best weapon you have against soul eaters is a good memory.  That way, when they pull out their bag of tricks, you already know what’s in it and can shut it down before the rabbit even sticks one ear out!