Monthly Archives: May 2007

Thanks, Everyone

Pretty good time last night at B’s Beantown bash.  I got to meet quite a few people, I drank a little, danced a  little, sang a little.  I learned Slarti is a born performer.  I learned Kat is not.  (Actually, the crazy woman got up on stage and paid homage to Warren Zevon, howls and all, and I was truly impressed.)  Mightly Plimco showed up, entourage in tow, and owned the place.  She does a better Cyndi Lauper than, well, Cyndi Lauper.  That whole family is good looking.  I got to meet Karsten, (Kateo’s old man) and he and I traded barbs outside for a good hour.  He’s funny, but nowhere near as smart as me.  John Lamb showed up, dropped a bombshell on me, (which I cannot share at this moment) then left.  I always enjoy seeing John.  Jon from Mushin No Shin patiently listened to my scattered thoughts and never once made me feel stupid.  He’s easy to hang with, and laughs easily.  Of course, Kate O was her usual funny, beautiful self.

Ginger can sing, wow.  Ivy can dance, again, wow. NM came and hung out, and set me straight on a few things.  The Professor glided in with a man toy, stuck her fingers into my tequila and dotted her boobs with Patron.

Jag, Big Orange Michael, and some others I hope will forgive me for not mentioning them, I clearly do not possess the power of recall that I used to have.

Aunt B, you have many friends, you should be proud of that.  Everyone kicked in, and though I don’t know the exact total, I think she more than covered her costs. (some people donated via PayPal) Aunt B was such a good sport, she sang with whoever asked her,  which is more than I can say, though I got dragged onstage to ruin Love Shack.

I hope everyone had a good time, I know I did, and I’m just proud of this group of people.  Big shout out to Ginger for doing most of the legwork on this, she is generous with her time and loves to hang out with her peeps.  Thanks.

Oh, shit, I accidentally called Brittney, Bridget.  I remember that. She was classy about it.  Why do I think it will somehow come back to haunt me?

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To Recovering Baptist

Boy, did you ask the million dollar question.  Yes, I think the act of ringing up every friend you have and asking them to share your outrage is completely appropriate if it helps you deal with this horrific murder.  And thats exactly what it is.  There is no honor in any of it.  I frequently ask myself if there is a price to pay for our privileged existence here in the U.S.  I mean, sure, its wonderful to know that this type of thing doesn’t happen here, or, that if it did, 99.9% of Americans would recoil in horror.  But it is a little unnerving how quickly we move on.  Shit, the V.T. shootings were like, last week, and it doesn’t come up in conversations anymore, outside of those using it to advance an agenda. (Not singling out any one particular cause)

I may be a tad more sensitive about “garden variety domestic violence” because I grew up hiding from it.  Though it was seldom directed at me, the sight of my mother or sister being beaten terrified me and that stayed with me my entire life.  Even then, the relatives “knew”, but there wasn’t any intervention happening.  I know that it was a far cry from what occurred that day in Iraq, still, I wonder if there is a slippery slope argument to be made.

Anyway, you may be well served to avoid the idiot box, I’m a news junkie, and trust me, there is precious little news to be had amid the scrutinizing of  B-list celebs.  I’m sorry this happened, (and even typing that made me feel somewhat, hell, impotent, I think,) and I am sorry that you had to know about it.

Go ahead, call some friends. Perhaps you’ll feel better.

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Randomness Makes Me Happy Today

“Memories, once fixed in words, are soon erased.”

Yes.  God yes.  I loved it when Kublai was goading Polo into describing Venice, and each time, no matter how hard the Emperor tried, Polo avoided losing his memories of his beloved city.  Gutsy.

I’ve now been to TennTucky, and I somehow managed to go to a strawberry-less Strawberry Festival.  Aunt B wouldn’t let me buy myself a hat to wear to The Party.

I am impressed by Ginger’s organizational skills.  She keeps that office full of scruffy hippie lawyers nice and tidy.  She must have Republican roots, you should have seen her operate the office shredder.  A real pro.

I’m in possession of the world’s best pick-up line.  I swear, it is the Mother of All Pick Up Lines.  The bitch is, I’m too old to use it.

My kids like to blog.  Kinda bittersweet for me.

Did anyone else out there know that there are no longer two spaces after a period?  I’ll do it anyway, I’ve earned the right.

John Lamb is a hero of mine.  Go read Hispanic Nashville today and see why.

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Immigration Compromise

Key word:  Compromise.  Whatever the agreement consists of, there will be many unhappy people.  Perhaps the most important thing is that the inertia is broken.  Both sides had to give, and thats supposed to be part and parcel of a democracy.  For now, we have something that does not look like Reconquista, nor does it look like a “shoot em on sight” policy favored by our local radio blowhards.  The stalemate kept this issue at too high a temperature, and presented lazy, pandering politicians too many opportunities for grandstanding.  We’re moving forward, we can alter our course down the road.

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I Got Yer Full Feed Right Here

Random, I know, but I have to get outside and work:

The Evite thingie is up for the Send B to Boston Party, please go RSVP if you haven’t already, it will help the planners to, well, plan.

I have to finish re-writing an article today at lunch.  In Spanish.  It may consist entirely of swear words.

I am planning a long, complicated post on why I am scaring the people close to me.

I will email that post to Slarti, who needs to read it the most.

Help me talk Aunt B into trading that horrible Dodge p.o.s.

I swear to God I just figured out that we planned this Party over the Memorial Day weekend.  Duh.

According to my eye doctor, my eyesight has somehow gotten better over the last year or two.

I think I need to have the Mother of All Yard Sales.

My daughter will no longer be sleeping under her Power Puff Bedspread, she now slumbers in a new queen sized bed, with a tasteful and colorful Southwestern style comforter.

I’m eating more garlic and onion these days.

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No, They Didn’t

If you haven’t already heard, some “teachers” in Murphreesboro thought it might be a good idea to stage a mock “gun attack” on some 6th grade students.  One of these geniuses donned a hood, while the other teachers convinced the students that a gunman was in their school, hunting people to kill.  Naturally, the children were terrified.  Most of them hid under their desks or tables, and many were in tears, thinking they were about to die.  All of this comes just weeks after the worst school shooting ever at VT.

This is so completely outrageous I just HAD to stop and post about it.  If my son or daughter had been in that class, I’d be kickin someone’s ass today, furreal.

Fire those morons now.  Apologize to the students, and parents.  Then apologize to every Tennessean, for this embarrassment.  Good Lord, Bill Maher is going to have a field day with this……sigh.

If we can’t find something to do for these kids after the TCAPS, how bout we just let them outside to play?

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Lucille

Taking a brief break from my sabbatical to jot down a few thoughts about my mother.  I think I’ll just write them randomly.  My mother arrived in this country in a shoe box, crossing over from Mexicali with her parents and older siblings.  She grew up poor, worked as a migrant fruit picker, until she met and married my father, and started a small taco stand in East Los Angeles, after working in the factories during WW2.  She had an 8th grade education, yet read voraciously.  Eventually, she returned to school and became a vocational counselor to our growing Vietnamese community.  She raised four children, lost one as a newborn.  After my father’s death, she retired to San Juan Capistrano and lived there until Alzeimers robbed her of her independence.  She died shortly after entering an assisted living center.  I am comforted by the fact that she ate a favorite chocolate candy, then went to nap and passed peacefully in her sleep.  She deserved that.

While the above may contain the particulars of her 80 yr life, it would be impossible to understand what a remarkable woman she was.  Lucille was the type of woman that, if you showed up at her door at 3:00 a.m., she would make you feel that your visit was the highlight of her day, because it was.  My mother loved unconditionally, I think this fact alone made her the most Christian person I ever knew, yet I can’t recall her ever setting foot in a church.  She loved everyone like family.  I mean everyone.  Our house was always full of people, friends, family, and strangers, even, though I believe no one ever felt like a stranger for long in my mother’s home.  She would happily cook for 1 or 100, it really didn’t matter to her.  When I came home from school, or later, when I would just drop by to visit, she would head to the stove, and warm tortillas with butter magically appeared on a plate.

My mom taught me to drive, and to cook.  She taught me to welcome people into my home, and to make visitors feel special.  She was a hard worker, and she loved parties, especially when she could dance.  She and my father were cha cha champions, and even as a young child it was clear to me that my mother was a great dancer.  She had a beautiful voice, though she didn’t care to be caught singing.

I miss you, Mom.  If I could choose any set of parents for another go-around on this Earth, I would pick you and Dad every time.  I miss you both, but today is dedicated to you.  You can rest now, secure in knowing that your grandchildren will know as much about you as I do.  I love you, Mom.

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