My Dog Ate My Homework

Just got home from writing group. We were kicked out of the top floor of the cafe by the square dancing group! How wild is that?!

As I pulled up to my house after the meeting, I saw the usual sight - the silhouette of my dog Ru in the front windows. She's on the couch, guarding the house, barking at passersby and eager for my return for it means a trip outdoors and maybe a treat or two.

Several years ago, when she was 3 and I would be out gallivanting at night after a full day at work, Ru would search the house for things to chomp on. Call it boredom, separation anxiety, or retribution - it was a slightly destructive phase. Apart from the usual (trash can and pantry raiding), she once ate the cordless phone. I found it in pieces. The back flap which covers the battery pack was in the living room, not far from the ledge where the phone base sat. The battery pack, complete with fang marks puncturing the yellow wrapping of the battery, rested in the dining room. And the rest of the phone was in the kitchen.

Luckily any toxins in the battery pack had no effect on her. She's a pretty hardy dog having been a stray with puppies and heartworm before I adopted her. What was amazing to me was how delicately she had removed the phone from the base - almost like she had fingers instead of paws. The phone and its base are booby trapped - surrounded by wires, pens, a notepad, a clock - all of which were intact on the six inch wide ledge, just as I had left them. Amazing wonder dog, she is.

Sometimes I wonder if my dog is actually a little person zipped into a dog costume. Though I haven't noticed any seams. Yet.

From Blog to Book

Just wanted to share an interesting article - particularly with my writers group - on how blogs can lead to books. Perhaps this will rejuvenate our group blog...

Also Geraldine Brooks was recently awarded the Pulitzer for her latest work of fiction, March, about Mr. March from Little Women. I've been wanting to read her non-fiction work, Nine Parts Desire, for a number of years and recently picked it up at the bookstore. When she was interviewed recently about her award and why she switched from non-fiction to fiction, she responded that with fiction you get the best of both worlds. When she writes non-fiction, there are limitations. Sometimes there are gaps where no adequate data exists and you can go no farther. Non-fiction does not allow you to fill in the gaps, to guess. However with fiction, you can take some historical facts and can let your imagination fill voids. So she is able to create and imagine where history drops off. This resonated with me as, like some others in the writing group, I debated whether or not to take the non-fiction writing course over the short story class. Thus Geraldine's response reinforced that you don't have to pick one or the other, they don't have to be mutually exclusive.

Harem Hotel

I came across a press release for this new hotel in Egypt. So much to say about it – I don’t know where to start. So I’ll just drop in this excerpt for now. Feel free to comment (please do comment) as I’m curious !

I have the pleasure in announcing the completion of HAREM HOTEL, the first hotel in the world run solely by ladies. This is a new property, five stars In-style and Fashion, in Sharm el Sheikh, with an oriental theme dedicated to a super trendy clientele.

Walk through the doors and into our different buildings arranged around the desert, few steps away from the astonishing Red Sea. Enjoy the refreshing karkade’ drink and chilled face towel you will receive upon arrival.

Feel the magic and sensuality of Arabian Nights tales in the Sultan's palace harem. Harem embodies a standard of opulence and pampering that far exceeds the expectations of even the world’s most discriminating travelers. With ultra-deluxe touches such as beach valets, white-glove service in our gourmet restaurants, late night buffets, turndown service and so much more— Harem Signature Collection represents the very pinnacle of all-inclusive luxury.

Reading & Writing

I recently finished Elizabeth Kostova's The Historian. I enjoyed it. It's over 600 pages and I read it in less than two weeks. I spent one rainy Sunday afternoon with it which really kick started my interest in the story. The first half really engaged me. The second half had great moments and some lulls (compared to the first half), but the ending really felt rushed - or maybe forced. It was almost like all of the loose ends and what ifs had to be resolved - which isn't how life is. Granted, there is a certain appeal to closure - especially when reading for pleasure. However as I humbly dabble in writing I realize that I tend to give closure - but closure isn't always satisfying or realistic. So I guess it's an unresolved question in my mind - and for whatever reason I didn't totally like the ending of The Historian.

After reading it, however, I read a little about the author and the novel. This was Elizabeth Kostova's first novel. She spent ten years working on it - from researching to writing to rewriting. About 7 years into it she enrolled in a Masters program and also received an award (and funding) for her novel-in-progress. All in all, amazing stuff.

In my writers group we read a published short story by a famous author and discuss it at each meeting. It's funny how some of them, at first glance and sometimes even after re-reading and discussing, retell an oft-told lesson and don't seem to be telling it in a different, clever, original way. Yet others surprise me, more and more, as we read and discuss - all the layers and little things that I didn't notice on my own. I guess that's the benefit of groups - book groups, writing groups, etc. Each participant provides a different insight, a different facet, that we might never have identified on our own. In my writers group we talked about how some of these short stories - if they weren't in the anthology but instead written by Joe Schmo - might be more heavily critiqued. Yet another perspective - one man's trash is another man's treasure.

Last meeting we reviewed NJ's second story. It was very cool how CoE picked up on some patterns. From NJ's expression, I got the impression that some of the theming/patterns were unconscious, subconscious or something not completely deliberate. I like what that says about writing - that not everything in your story is or will be painstakingly deliberate, labored and belabored and crafted until you're sick and tired of the story that you had wanted to tell.

Driving While Stupid Ups Risk

Had to share this article on Wired News about multitasking while driving. The anecdote about the flute playing driver indubitably trumps the tooth brusher I witnessed, and posted about in February - titled "Two Minutes Worth?"

My Political Home

I just took the World's Smallest Political Quiz and found out that I am a centrist with a slant towards libertarian and liberal. Always thought I was liberal leaning, but not sure of my label. So it's nice to have a different answer to the typical "are you a democrat or a republican?" question.

Goat Rodeo

Today my boss used the term "goat rodeo" - I quite liked it and will be using it. Nice way of saying clusterf@#$ without censoring. The image it evokes reminds me of visits to Grant's Farm. For ten cents you'd get a baby bottle of milk and be let into the goat pen. As a kid, not much taller than the goats, it was slightly unsettling as the goats chomped on your clothes when the milk ran out.

So goat rodeo is my new non-curse expression. My newest profane version is "If assholes could fly this place would be an airport." You can totally run with this expression - use it as an inside joke and refer to annoying others as pilots, traffic control, flight attendants, passengers, etc. I love it.

Paper-free in '93

I remember the old rhyme "paper free in '93" - maybe it was even 2003. Either way it's far from happening. I came across this online petition on CNET to request that those huge hulking phone books that arrive automatically on my front porch each year change to an on-demand production/delivery or at least give us the opportunity to opt out.

I thought it was a good idea - I don't think I've used my phone book more than twice in the past few years at the most.

So, if you agree or simply want more details, click here.

Confessions of Single Girl Homeowner

I often feel like I'm muddling through life, particularly home ownership life, and that there are probably much better, smarter ways to do things than how I go about them. But of course, that's the adventure, right? Shhhyeah!

Today's adventure in home ownership 101 involved removing a hornet nest. Actually, I'm not sure if it was a hornet or a wasp, but I really didn't care. Either way the creature was building a honeycomb shaped nest in my front door which is unacceptable. I noticed it, by some fluke, as I was closing my front door. It was trying to create a home in between my screen door and front door. Not ideal, to say the least.

Which brought me back to childhood and how my dad would wig out when he saw a hornet or wasp flying near him. And yet he had no trouble stepping barefooted on a non-flying insect and picking it up - with his bare hands - to throw it away. Somehow those stingers really struck a chord with him. I personally make no distinction - I don't want the landlubbers or the flying bugaboos darkening my doorway or in my house. And I don't touch them with bare hands, feet - anything!

Tonight I knew I had to act fast to stop the nest builder. Otherwise tomorrow morning I'd probably open the front door and be greeted with a full size nest and a hostile family of wasps/hornets.

I chose my weapon carefully - a very old, trusty yardstick (advertising an old, neighborhood hardware store that's long gone since the big box Home Depots & Lowe's came to town) - and exited the house via the back door to launch my surprise attack. I quickly opened the screen door on the front porch and whacked at the nest. It fell and the wasp-hornet flew away.

I didn't run, waving my hands in the air and screaming like a fool, mainly because the stingered insect flew away in the opposite direction. Now, however, I do need to be careful tomorrow morning when leaving via the front door to make sure that the nest is not in my path, right outside on my front porch (nice that I think of it now, in bed in my pjs at 10pm rather than at 6pm when I was out there with the yardstick) with a few angry baby insects ready to sting me as I head to work. Note to self: leave tomorrow for work via the back door, bring yardstick, borrow fencing helmet from neighbor.

Ah well, at least I stopped the nest-building process before it was huge and intimidating and required an exterminator. And also firmly shut the screen door so that no other creatures can nest between the two doors. Next time they'll probably build on the awning directly above the front door. But at least it won't be happening today!

Which reminds me of another stupid, single girl home ownership tale. When I first moved in, money was tight so I borrowed an old mower from my parents. It was a reconditioned Lawn Boy that my step-brother used for his lawn care business before he upgraded to a new one. Of course I had problems with it. Not only did my guy friend tell me I was cutting the grass "the wrong way" (who knew?) but the damn machine would inevitably die in the middle of the yard. I'd have half of the yard cut when for no apparent reason it would stall and stop. So I'd yank the cord while pushing the mower forward a bit for momentum - over and over - and pump the button several times - and yet it wouldn't start up again. I'm pretty sure I argued with the mower, mumbling insults laced with profanity, trying to shame it into starting up - while I circled it, as if it was my prey.

During the frequent stalling out and failing to restart scenario, I often imagined my neighbors across the street taking interest in my predicament. The husband would say "Honey, she's out there again." Then the wife would listen for the mower to sputter and stop. One it stalled, they'd dim their lights, grab their bowl of popcorn and freezer beers and sit in their front window watching the single girl make an ass of herself with the old beater of a mower. "Heck, it was better than Seinfeld," they'd say to their friends at work the next day, "Say, why don't you come over next Thursday to see her in action for yourself? We'll barbeque."

Yup, it was pitiful. Luckily on occasion a nice neighbor a few doors down would see my pitiful predicament and assist. Of course it started the first time they tried, but perhaps it was just because I'd primed it enough by then and the engine had had time to unflood. Since that awful first summer I have a newer lawn mower (which of course stopped working a year or two later). So I've given up on the do it yourself mowing and have employed a few neighborhood kids. Always good to have resources - and I like that kids in my neighborhood still cut grass for spending money. So it's a win-win situation all around.

Getting back to insects & animals who have nested in/on my house, the other stupid thing that I lived to regret was the mourning dove who nested in my kitchen window frame. At first I thought it was neat - a little bit of wildlife right outside the window. She sat on her eggs, her partner came by to check on her, she had babies who grew feathers and eventually flew away - along with the mom. It was very cool.

What was not cool was when they abandoned the nest. It was then that I saw just exactly what was left behind. In the grooves where my storm window pane (or least the screen window) should have been - was where the damn things nested. So the cleaning up was nothing short of disgusting - bird poop, dead beetles, mud, grass/leaves mixed with mud and poop to create the nest, feathers, etc. Yuck. Although the experience of having the birds outside my window was great ... I just cannot forget the clean up. It still icks me out - the mere thought of what I had to do to clean out the window grooves/sill is an enduring reminder to always keep both panes down - at all times. Bleeech.

Tubes & Tuning

These days we're always connected. Email, voice mail, cell phones. Hands free headsets, even wireless headsets, wireless internet access, wireless printer connections.

I remember - probably about 8 years ago now - how I would stare at people talking animatedly to themselves while driving or in the airport. They appeared to be talking to themselves, lunatics in public. That's when headsets for cell phones were new, and a double take was required to look for that small wire trailing from their pocket into one ear. Nowadays I don't even blink when loud talkers are engrossed in a one-side conversation in public; I assume they're on their cell rather than potentially bonkers.

Living in STL where public transit is not used by the average person, when riding the tube in London I couldn't help but notice how text messaging and listening to iPods/MP3s has replaced the past methods of avoiding eye contact. Still there, but less common, are the newspaper/magazine/book readers and the cell phone talkers. Text messaging via cell is much more discreet. Of course, the vacant looks are still there, they're just even further tuned out to their fellow travelers - communicating silently with friends via text messaging or listening to music through small headphones/ear buds. Tuned out and distanced - "don't talk to strangers" - has been further advanced by technology. I even did the same - listening to my iPod as I changed terminals at O'Hare, waited at baggage claim, took a bus then the tube to my friend's flat in London.

In addition to my observations on the London underground, I found that my friends had changed with the accessibility of technology as well. When they lived in San Francisco their one television was stored in a closet. It had broken and rather than repairing or replacing it, it was relegated to a closet, the bathroom closet at that. So for the past few years when I visited, there was never a tv. I found that I didn't miss it, and actually appreciated the boob tube's absence from their home. Now, living in a fully furnished flat in London, they have a tv again. J, who was anti-tv in San Francisco, has once again found a soft spot for the boob tube, the square headed babysitter. On Sunday night we picked up Chinese take out to be home in time to watch the next episode of the BBC series, Planet Earth. It was a fascinating, National Geographic-esque show. It just struck me as rather amusing - and how very human - it is to fall into watching the tube. After that show, we flipped channels and landed on a J-Lo movie. Former anti-tv J planned to work on his laptop while watching the movie. His laptop remained on his lap, the document open and on the computer screen, but the only activity was to move the mouse every time the screen saver popped on. Not a lick of work was done as he seemed captivated by the flick. He stayed up an hour later to finish his work project after the formulaic flick ended.

I myself, many a time, have been sucked into bad tv shows, movies, etc. as a way to tune out. I admit I can be a tv junkie and I'm not always proud of it. I was just amused to see J fall into the habit as well. It's very human. It just was a little surprising to see J get tuned into tvland so completely at times.

Granted J & R's tv watching is much less than the average person, which I admire. Nighttime was the only time the tv was on. In the morning a cd played and often in the afternoons and some evenings if we ate at home it was music, not the tv, that was on.

Colors of Spring

I'm so happy it's springtime. More hours of daylight, more green grass and warmer temps. But the biggest announcement that it's officially spring, for me, is when my favorite neighborhood nursery reopens and trays of flowers begin to line the building. Each day I drive by it to/from work and enjoy the expanding collection of flowers.

I'll go in May to buy flowers for my window boxes and maybe a few other plants. I'm also hoping my hydrangeas made it through the winter - so far one of them doesn't look so great. It was already the second hydrangea - I killed the first one there by not planting it at the right level. So, fingers crossed. If not, I'll buy my third one from the nursery. Wouldn't mind buying some other bulbs or plants for my planter in the backyard too.

I visited my Dad yesterday. His backyard landscaping and so-called 'great walls' are expanding with bushes, shrubs and flowers. He also showed me the section of their iron fence that was bent back by the storm last week by falling branches. It was amazing to realize that tree limbs could bend back iron so easily, so quickly. I also beat him at backgammon - which is always a small feat as he's quite competitive! So, I'll just have to savor this victory for a little while!

Now off to enjoy a walk w/the dog outdoors.

Cherokee Nation

This weekend I went to a Pow Wow. A sentence I never thought I'd utter, till now. Never thought about attending one and had my doubts about it beforehand, but I did enjoy it. The costumes, dances, and drumming were all fascinating. And I didn't feel like I was in St. Louis - the feeling of being transported to another place or time, albeit temporarily, is always magical.

There was more variety in costumes and dances than I anticipated. The coolest costumes were the Aztecs with their 2-3 foot long colorful plumes sprouting from their headdress. It was impressive. My other favorites were the circular shaped attachment on one tribe's costumes. It was made of brown and light blue feathers. If I could've bought it I would now have it hanging in my home as decor. Probably somewhat sacrilegious to them, but I couldn't help imagining it hanging on my wall.

Emoticons are Scary

You know those animated, hyper smiley faces that people add to their emails? There are a plethora of different ones - ones with hats, ones with hearts, ones with God only knows what ... and they all bounce at a rapid, freakishly unnatural speed. They creep me out.

Shakalaka Baby

Last night saw Bombay Dreams at the Fox Theatre with MJ. She had comp tickets which was an extra bonus. And, yes, it might have been a little predictable, melodramatic and cheesy. So much the better!

The song that's stuck in my head - in a good way - is Shakalaka Baby. It was the best scene. Very catchy tune, very Bollywood-esque, and best of all - there was a water feature. Think of it as India's (and Andrew Lloyd Weber's) tribute to Flashdance - or maybe Singin in the Rain.

It was a circular fountain, with water spiking up 5 feet and splashing an area of at least 10 feet in diameter. The dancers got wet, and afterwards backstage crew had to mop up the floor. The backstage crew was a handful of middle aged, white men in black shirts & black slacks. They stuck out like sore thumbs on a stage in which all performers were dressed and wigged up to look Indian (or at least closer to it than these dudes). M, who works with the Fox, told me she knew some of the mop-ley crew - which made it even more entertaining. I wonder how many of them were cursing this production and the fact that for two weeks, at least once a day, they'd be using mops and towels - with the curtain up, as the show went on - to dry off the floor.

It was amusing. And the sweet, 80-year old man sitting next to us, dressed in his Sunday best, slept through it.

What Were You Doing Ten Years Ago?

I came across this question recently, somewhere, and it got me thinking - just what was I doing ten years ago, today?

I was 24, living in an apartment, third year of full time work, post-college. I'd just met SAB at work and MJ was just graduating from HS (I think). In one month's time I would be heading to Switzerland for work (yodel-lay-hee-hoo).

At the time, happy hours were common practice. I was hanging out with some friends from college and a pal from high school. Dancing till dawn and sleeping till noon on the weekends were also fairly common. I spent my fair share of weekends in a basement bar (reminiscent of a frat house basement) dancing like a fool to a cover band. When I first started working, my hours were 9-5:30. I remember once staying out till like 3 or 4am (of course breakfast at Uncle Bill's was involved) on a weeknight and dozing off in traffic on the way to work. Yup, early 20s. Good times. Good memories. Can't do all of that so much anymore, don't want to do it all that often anymore either.

At one point in the mid 90s I was even in a bocce ball league. It was pretty fun - we played after the old Italian men played. We were more serious about the drinking and talking rather than the competition. I remember crushing on one of the guys in the league. He'd ride his bike from his house to the bar on the Hill, which I thought was pretty cool. He owned his own house, was totally into music, and had a rather wise-ass demeanor. Anyway, after the buildup, when we finally kissed - it just wasn't there. It was like biting into a rice cake when you're expecting dark chocolate. Funny thing, chemistry.