tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225300822024-03-07T00:23:15.372-08:00The Space Needle is My NeighborEIGHT YEARS AND COUNTING
What Have We Learned So Far?
<br>
"A mind stretched by a new idea can never go back to its original dimensions." - Oliver Wendell Holmes
<br>
IMPORTANT NOTE: Click on the captions with dots. They are live links to additional content.FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.comBlogger278125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-84986403171485271572008-08-24T22:41:00.001-07:002008-08-24T22:51:01.293-07:00Headless Chicken Lives For 18 months<div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsAIql0zHp8ebEo9BBcqk3uNtuEXUJ0EGDba5G5ulxzawO1-AQvn5KLnNmYD1NPlNVlCuWHOaK_K7R1TNFpfB_YLzdbxL0R9pKAi8InmttlEh7QhoIBnkrDMTfwcHhBp-x_cJLSw/s1600-h/headless+chicken.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238327100069534178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsAIql0zHp8ebEo9BBcqk3uNtuEXUJ0EGDba5G5ulxzawO1-AQvn5KLnNmYD1NPlNVlCuWHOaK_K7R1TNFpfB_YLzdbxL0R9pKAi8InmttlEh7QhoIBnkrDMTfwcHhBp-x_cJLSw/s320/headless+chicken.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color:#3366ff;"><strong>But what really happened at the Super Eight?.........</strong></span><br /><br />Strange but true. A farmer from Fruita, Colo., thought he was just putting dinner on the table when he picked up an axe and beheaded one of his chickens. What happened next became the stuff of legend: The headless rooster bobbed and weaved back to the henhouse and lived for 18 more months. The animal, later dubbed Mike and celebrated with a festival, Web sites and various magazine articles, survived because the blade missed his jugular vein and a clot prevented him from bleeding to death. The axe blow landed high enough that most of the chicken's brain stem and one ear remained intact. Mike was fed and watered by inserting an eyedropper directly into his gullet.<b> <span style="color:#3366ff;">Sadly, he later choked to death</span> <span style="color:#3366ff;">in a motel room.</span></b> Residents of Fruita remember Mike as "a big fat chicken who didn't know he didn't have a head." </div>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-48562293935623237872008-06-19T21:22:00.000-07:002008-06-19T21:23:04.001-07:00Life, Death & All That Stuff That Happens In Between<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmEckjKsQNoAWQZJ-o-kFfVOIKCMg6tvYB31bYQKWOvs6bEozcthfUFMTv-FeBwjqgRHPuawgzpptNeRH7uRtvMS2aYQpt3ydXJwcpaz539TcOmNZkxxbzw-UY9okhaEURS-XpxA/s1600-h/before+and+after.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213763959221932930" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmEckjKsQNoAWQZJ-o-kFfVOIKCMg6tvYB31bYQKWOvs6bEozcthfUFMTv-FeBwjqgRHPuawgzpptNeRH7uRtvMS2aYQpt3ydXJwcpaz539TcOmNZkxxbzw-UY9okhaEURS-XpxA/s320/before+and+after.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p align="justify">This is a before and after of my apartment, where I lived for the first seven years after I came to Seattle. A year ago I found myself being condo-ized out of my home in a campaign that could best be described as benign neglect. I won't devote any time to what that process looked like- it was excruciatingly difficult enough to just get through it, and it still pisses me off. As the apartments around me were being stripped down to the studs, I was finding myself to be going through a similar process. Finalizing a "divorce-in-waiting", putting my cat to sleep, slowly coming to the realization that my job was crushing my will to live; I was also stripping away the foundation, however illusory, that had supported me for the duration after my move from Chicago.</p><p align="justify">Let me tell you, I have attended more seminars and read more handouts on the subject of change than one person should ever have to endure in a single lifetime. I have gone through my share of "re-orgs" and "re-alignments", and in some cases I've had to play the part of the principal facilitator of a number of unpleasant endeavors. Change sucks. No matter what kind of positive spin you might convince people to believe in regarding the process of changing things up, we are creatures of habit. Bottom line. The one thing I haven't been able to figure out is when exactly this universal characteristic takes hold of us. As children, we crave the new- every single day. Eventually this excitement is replaced by a claw-like grip on every person, place or thing we've accumulated; be it keeping it all around us in the here and now, or hanging on to the memory of all of it-defying time to try and take it away. </p><p align="justify">I find myself waging a war with myself, every single day, to continue to embrace the new- to challenge myself to find the interesting, the fresh, the unknown, all the while watching the memory of family, place, and experience receding into the mist. I know it all resides within me somewhere; these are the flagstones upon which I have trod to get to where I am today, and which allow me to discover for example, how much I love learning about typography and graphic design and how I'm able to study and appreciate it from a much different perspective now; the perspective of having lived on this earth for five decades-plus, which is a pretty amazing context considering all that's happened in my lifetime.</p><p align="justify">One of the very important elements of my life that has fallen by the wayside over the last year is writing. When I started this site I would stay up late every night, faithfully reporting the craziest news of the day, or delving deep into my psyche to try and make sense of how I ended up in Seattle, and what I was going to do about it; how I could best make this an experience that would mark a positive turning point in my life. Things have changed for me; I now share the space where I live with another human being, and these are waters I haven't navigated in many years. The delicate negotiations required to obtain the necessary time and space are still somewhat indistinct to me. I remember being in this situation before, but unlike riding a bike, the skill doesn't come back so automatically or naturally. There's a lot of unlearning that has to be done, especially when you share one big space without rooms, or closets or even a few extra walls. Yes, it's a loft, and let me just say for both of us that even Mother Theresa would have a difficult time staying upbeat and productive 24/7 in this environment, but we're making it work, because we're both considerate to a fault. You, on the other hand, have been warned......</p><p align="justify">I've written before in fits and starts about wanting to get back to consistently tending to this site in the hopes of continuing to discover my literary voice. A very good conversation last night with my best friend convinced me that I do need to keep exploring what's in my head, making those vital connections and presenting the ideas that are summoned up from these internal excursions. The studs and the drywall are once again in place- now it's time to start redecorating.</p>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-53022274137915336462008-06-19T16:57:00.000-07:002008-06-19T17:17:35.377-07:00Norway Arrests Woman For Carrying Cocaine In Wig<div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Wo-_lS2Jnrgn02kz5uIiEHVdG5FtMHj2pgPP3ymrYgWgk2d497D3YJTvwMNQIDlUq3kBIyxE-lbJfq_GtNXZTdwRTcekgxBoJq_q8KNteZ9K4FkzEgy281bgQk0khDS5sYJ4WQ/s1600-h/Marie.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213747686444792402" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Wo-_lS2Jnrgn02kz5uIiEHVdG5FtMHj2pgPP3ymrYgWgk2d497D3YJTvwMNQIDlUq3kBIyxE-lbJfq_GtNXZTdwRTcekgxBoJq_q8KNteZ9K4FkzEgy281bgQk0khDS5sYJ4WQ/s320/Marie.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />OSLO, Norway - A British woman's bulging wig did not fool customs agents in Norway who realized she wasn't just having a bad hair day. The wig was concealing 2.2 pounds of cocaine glued to her head and customs agents detained her on suspicion of cocaine smuggling, authorities said Wednesday.<br />The 32-year-old suspect, whose name was withheld, arrived late Sunday at Vaernes airport near the city of Trondheim on a flight from Copenhagen, Denmark, the customs service said.<br />"The agent thought she had a great deal of hair and suspected that she was wearing a wig," the agency said. "The wig was examined and the agents found a bag of cocaine."<br />Norway's largest newspaper, Verdens Gang, said the cocaine was glued so firmly to the woman's real hair that police brought her to the local hospital to have it removed.<br />Kjetil Mjoesund, of Trondheim police, confirmed that it was glued to her head, but had no information about how it was removed. He said she was taken for a routine medical check.A court ordered the women held until July 15, pending a formal indictment and trial.</div>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-11010900856692553692007-09-26T20:42:00.000-07:002007-09-26T21:31:06.026-07:00And Finally Tonight, In Case You Missed This.....<div align="center">Mom Births Her 12th baby — 17-pound Nadia<br /><em>Siberian woman unaware of newborn’s weight until Caesarean section<br /></em><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq0N425hl8pYbzJXutULhan-MVleCqSef7RVR99sN2ctrMbMHrVOwirS3jdmZtJ7jzSjheRv3HvdfCqcvIDPbzLgsQ4hvKyAmZAS4TLBf4MCfbKflwnezKQRpv9VXvxZc7pr5cwg/s1600-h/Baby+Nadia+3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114736261900821618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq0N425hl8pYbzJXutULhan-MVleCqSef7RVR99sN2ctrMbMHrVOwirS3jdmZtJ7jzSjheRv3HvdfCqcvIDPbzLgsQ4hvKyAmZAS4TLBf4MCfbKflwnezKQRpv9VXvxZc7pr5cwg/s400/Baby+Nadia+3.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">BARNAUL, Russia - A Siberian woman who gave birth to her 12th child — doing more than her fair share to stem Russia’s population decline — was stunned to find that little Nadia weighed in at a massive 17 pounds, 1 ounce. Nadia was delivered by Caesarean section in the local maternity hospital in the Altai region on September 17, joining eight sisters and three brothers, a local reporter said.<br />“I ate everything, we don’t have the money for special foods so I just ate potatoes, noodles and tomatoes,” she told the reporter, adding that all her previous babies had weighed more than 11 pounds.</span></span>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-12710574218298748762007-09-26T17:15:00.000-07:002007-09-26T20:22:01.081-07:00My Name Is Shadow<div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLIDAvNm0FmAUisiTGPyoMpthGOHRRoR708XUH8R4r2oHBqthzsecyQYw-uczweo5BC0krQ4pqEUxamZWwhDRAB7jiBf7EoNPW8aEZ9yvlYjzpP4BCMm1NsjMfDI9mgplmTOEVow/s1600-h/Shadow.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114658140740674562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLIDAvNm0FmAUisiTGPyoMpthGOHRRoR708XUH8R4r2oHBqthzsecyQYw-uczweo5BC0krQ4pqEUxamZWwhDRAB7jiBf7EoNPW8aEZ9yvlYjzpP4BCMm1NsjMfDI9mgplmTOEVow/s200/Shadow.jpg" border="0" /></a> I mentioned previously that I had a new cat, but didn't bother to give you as much as a picture, so here she is. This is Shadow.<br /><br />Shadow is more than enough cat to make up for all of the cat characteristics that poor Gracie lacked. Where Gracie never once meowed in six years, Shadow WILL NOT STOP TALKING. Well, except maybe that <em>one</em> time. She also enjoys jumping up on her hind legs and rubbing against my knee in kind of a bucking bronco movement. You'd have to see it to understand how preposterous it looks.<br /><br />Shadow is very attached to humans, and now I understand where her curious name came from. With a name like that, you expect to see a black cat, or a grey cat. One that isn't quite visible. Shadow was named Shadow because.......wherever you go, there she is. The unspoken rule is, Thou shalt not pick Shadow up, EVER, but she will not let you out of her sight. Needless to say, it's an interesting relationship, very much still in the developmental stages. Five different brands of cat treats later, and we've finally found one we like, thank you very much.<br /><br />After Gracie's death, I was surprised to discover that I even wanted to get another pet, but I found myself looking at the Humane Society website not too long afterwards. When Mina died, I felt that I never wanted to have another pet. This time was different. There was a very palpable void that needed to be filled. When I saw this picture, I was done. Shadow looked like she was full of curiosity and couldn't wait to get off that lap to check things out. When I met her, the deal was sealed. God help me, since I later discovered that I'm the third owner to tackle her " high maintenance personality", as it was described in the adoption papers. Fingers crossed that the third time really <em>is</em> charmed, right? When she comes to the door to meet me, I can't imagine a life without her.</div>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-85327005208573678362007-09-26T15:54:00.000-07:002007-09-26T19:47:19.806-07:00Mind Over Everything Else<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMi6EKQAJ924Aq6KnR8x9Gj9fM9DlPtKzs_seJQd4ztNhZGQcQ0KemHr64Ckbr74OtaldbZZRgRHv6Gfu6FyK1E_OQ0HxMHlV8zwPjCf2pefufhFxo1zhGhHo4g4aqa8QURUfpSg/s1600-h/It"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114653467816256482" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMi6EKQAJ924Aq6KnR8x9Gj9fM9DlPtKzs_seJQd4ztNhZGQcQ0KemHr64Ckbr74OtaldbZZRgRHv6Gfu6FyK1E_OQ0HxMHlV8zwPjCf2pefufhFxo1zhGhHo4g4aqa8QURUfpSg/s200/It's+Go+Time.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify">I've been battling my first real infirmity for the last three months; a herniated disc in my back. Over the years I've had various injuries to my back- a broken tail bone, (twice), ripped muscles, spasms; nothing that's taken an inordinate amount of time to recover from. I've always bounced back as good as new. Until now. Injections, PT, heat, ice, recreational drinking (ok, you <em>are</em> paying attention), I've been willing to try anything to master this major inconvenience. The frustration that I'm dealing with is driving me nuts. I've always been a really active adult, and proud of the fact that I've been able to run circles around people half my age at work. Until now.<br /><br />Unlike a lot of people my age, I've never complained about the process of getting older, or denied that it was happening to me, like some of my friends. I absolutely hate the phrase, "It is what it is", as overused as it's been, but in this case, I guess I have to view it as an appropriate assessment of my situation. Damn. I know this isn't life-threatening, and I want to keep the proper perspective, but it sucks to get old. There it "is". The perception of self is what's taken the brunt of the injury. That, and the realization that when strangers look at me, they don't see the vibrant, glossy-haired, fashion-forward person I was when I was my favorite age- 39, by the way. That was a great time in my life; enough interesting travel, diverse jobs and creative endeavors under my belt to usually be viewed as the life of the party and someone you'd want to get to know. I had opinions. Now I have aches.<br /><br />Boo Hoo. Don't get me wrong. I don't think I'm "over the hill", or finished. Please don't view this as a self-indulgent pity piece. I want to make it through this transition with as much grace and humor as I can gather up. Today is the first time I've attempted to really face these feelings and come up with my game plan. As you can tell, I haven't written anything here in a very long time and have justified it with various excuses, but now I'm beginning to know the real reason.<br /><br />For a brief period of time, I had finally gotten to the point where my public writing became very personal. When I started this site, it was typically filled with humorous and entertaining observations, but very little about me. When I stripped away a lot of my need to amuse and got down to the real feelings and experiences, it was amazingly satisfying. I just couldn't sustain it, even with all of the catharsis that accompanied the process. I discovered that for me, it's very difficult to consistently write from that personal place, but without it, there's something lacking in my life. Perhaps if I'd kept writing through this particular experience I'd have a clearer perspective about it and wouldn't be feeling quite as lost.<br /><br />I have a magnet with a picture of a woman looking in a mirror as she straightens her hat. The reflected image is of her as a young girl. The caption is, "We are always the same age inside". I've had this magnet for a very long time and I've always tried to be mindful of this phrase as I've gone through the world, meeting women in their 70's and 80's who are writers, artists, musicians, or just 'strong personalities' by profession. I've searched their faces for confirmation of this notion, because it seemed important to me. Now as I turn it over in my mind while writing this piece, it becomes somehow superfluous. My sense now is that it's not about always being the same age inside, but about being the same <em>person</em> and true to yourself , or how about maybe even a <em>better</em> person? That seems like a very worthwhile endeavor.<br /><br />OK, about the picture that accompanies this post. About a month ago, when I was feeling my worst, and right before I took a disability leave from work, I saw a teenage boy walk past my store in the mall, wearing a t-shirt with this image. Please forgive me, but I couldn't stop laughing. I recreated the image myself, because I was determined to appropriate it for my recovery garb. Is it wildly un-P.C.? Of course it is, but if I'm gonna walk through this world again as myself, in whatever way I can manage, then it is indeed "Go Time".</div>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-54715974232082946532007-09-26T12:32:00.000-07:002007-09-27T11:45:07.517-07:00Getting A Leg Up vs "Losing My Religion"<div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJRhgOSMeb_ouN_4BZ2kG8My8xYdK8QKzBATGirkgNM3H0cg0y53XQx3J5oX3EntUDAEyJkmQdAUA75UmZdNlYHtBfyHEFLG0KJGt50hoYaABrUi4of0D-YHdmnussmBRjP3sfiw/s1600-h/red+leg.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114609010609775554" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJRhgOSMeb_ouN_4BZ2kG8My8xYdK8QKzBATGirkgNM3H0cg0y53XQx3J5oX3EntUDAEyJkmQdAUA75UmZdNlYHtBfyHEFLG0KJGt50hoYaABrUi4of0D-YHdmnussmBRjP3sfiw/s200/red+leg.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Here are two unsettling and rather gruesome news stories that I found hovering just below the radar this morning. Is there a punchline lurking somewhere? I leave it to you.<br /><br /><em><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span></em> </div><div align="left"><em><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span></em> </div><div align="left"><em><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Man Charged With Smuggling Iguanas In His Leg</span><br /></span></em><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">LOS ANGELES - A man has been charged with stealing three endangered iguanas from a nature preserve in Fiji and smuggling them into the United States in his prosthetic leg. </span><br /></div></span><div align="justify"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-size:85%;">Jereme James, 33, faces a single count of smuggling, according to a federal indictment returned in Los Angeles. The charge carries a maximum penalty of five years in prison. </span><span style="font-size:85%;">Prosecutors say he stole the Fiji Island banded iguanas while visiting the South Pacific island in September 2002. He then brought the reptiles to the U.S. by hiding them in a special compartment he had constructed in his prosthetic leg, prosecutors said.<br /><br /></div></span><div align="justify"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-size:85%;">James came under scrutiny several years ago when someone informed U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service officials that he had several of the neon green iguanas, which are protected under an international treaty regulating trade in endangered species.<br /><br /></div></span><div align="justify"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-size:85%;">During an undercover probe, James told investigators he sold three of the iguanas for $32,000, prosecutors said. When a search warrant was served at his house on April 26, Fish and Wildlife agents seized four iguanas. Authorities suspect James may have bred the creatures to sell them.<br /><br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-size:85%;">James, who was not taken into custody, could not be located for comment. Authorities believe he had not yet retained a lawyer, and a call to a J. James in Long Beach was not immediately returned.</span></div><br /><em><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">Man Finds Human Leg In Smoker</span></em><br /><em></em><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">MAIDEN, N.C. - A man who bought a smoker Tuesday at an auction of abandoned items might have thought twice had he looked inside first.</span><br /><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-size:85%;">Maiden police said the man opened up the smoker and saw what he thought was a piece of driftwood wrapped in paper. When he unwrapped it, he found a human leg, cut off 2 to 3 inches above the knee.</span></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">The smoker had been sold at an auction of items left behind at a storage facility, so investigators contacted the mother and son who had rented the space where the smoker was found.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">The mother, Peg Steele, explained her son had his leg amputated after a plane crash and kept the leg following the surgery <span style="color:#ff0000;">“for religious reasons” she doesn’t know much about</span>. “The rest of the family was very much against it,” Steele said.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">Steele said her son, John Wood, plans to drive to Maiden, about 35 miles northwest of Charlotte, to reclaim his amputated leg, police said.</span></div>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-58845017818854513602007-09-14T17:39:00.000-07:002007-09-26T13:34:36.302-07:00And I Almost Forgot.........<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnyDM1VwOrG84IdyX_t8CjNpCjVl23-_nHJRji7ECf3XTyj86vI8cWsfteXGtKCH7Qy2x626WFyFl5H0S3_I-4aoq9S5Sf-K5OzZu58IcnkPnH5KVY5UdMYVgYVC2zMrv4NO383w/s1600-h/fake+seattle+skyline.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110225488140111778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnyDM1VwOrG84IdyX_t8CjNpCjVl23-_nHJRji7ECf3XTyj86vI8cWsfteXGtKCH7Qy2x626WFyFl5H0S3_I-4aoq9S5Sf-K5OzZu58IcnkPnH5KVY5UdMYVgYVC2zMrv4NO383w/s320/fake+seattle+skyline.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify">The Space Needle is no longer my neighbor! Reason being, my apartment was just sold for $450,000. (cough) I left in April, after watching the units around me being stripped down to the sheetrock. No more beautiful sunsets... but I do have access to <em>this</em> view if I can find the will to walk three blocks....... I may actually be closer, now that I think about it. Still, I miss seeing those incomparable sunsets right outside my living room window. Good luck suckers....you just paid almost a half a mil for a water heater so tiny you can barely get through one shower. (I know they didn't replace it, 'cause I went through the unit as a prospective "buyer".) Insert the Nelson "ha ha" here.</div><br /><div></div>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-20646382992539008552007-09-14T17:28:00.000-07:002007-09-14T18:23:53.226-07:00The Couch Of Not Caring<div align="justify">That's right. I've been a total slug for six months. Well, not entirely. I have.....<br />1. a new apartment<br />2. a new cat<br />3. something that henceforth will be referred to as the "couch of not caring", where my behind has been residing for said six months. I'll be back. In the meantime, please enjoy this BEK cartoon which is in the first New Yorker I've picked up since April. My brain is like a cabbage,<br />just not as crisp.<br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhADsP3gFg-dVJKtJU4JhWXZ12SK-RJ009hv_Lw8KHPd9Dd8TDvSZX5dhJTWSRH8ajfVh_ibfnAHND0XuQTRoz0p_5hQS3tYPgCXuKAjwvFDJbAI5dadgefrhacHv1Vu7YCop_ALw/s1600-h/Kaplan+victimizer.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110222009216602002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhADsP3gFg-dVJKtJU4JhWXZ12SK-RJ009hv_Lw8KHPd9Dd8TDvSZX5dhJTWSRH8ajfVh_ibfnAHND0XuQTRoz0p_5hQS3tYPgCXuKAjwvFDJbAI5dadgefrhacHv1Vu7YCop_ALw/s320/Kaplan+victimizer.jpg" border="0" /></a>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-35137219975225846282007-03-09T15:23:00.000-08:002007-03-09T16:32:00.593-08:00Gracie<div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJqToXveYu9v0xiAahOgFBILjgoob8xIVumiYtIy1wZt7GfLWINEOao4SVqXDSrqGVLZuuqAUvjChFskPzhSoYKq5vKaK8ydqrJwFcNUtnR_jRaLY5kjpDXY1ZY6ncWDt5gvaETg/s1600-h/gracie+cathead.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5040070039618218370" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJqToXveYu9v0xiAahOgFBILjgoob8xIVumiYtIy1wZt7GfLWINEOao4SVqXDSrqGVLZuuqAUvjChFskPzhSoYKq5vKaK8ydqrJwFcNUtnR_jRaLY5kjpDXY1ZY6ncWDt5gvaETg/s400/gracie+cathead.jpg" border="0" /></a> She's gone. Gracie went to sleep very peacefully this afternoon at 2 pm. Her x-rays showed a very large mass that had pushed her esophagus down almost into a v-shape and her lungs were full of what we can only assume was a very aggressive cancer that had metastasized throughout her respiratory system. Her eyes remained open right through to the end, which I felt was so characteristic of how she had lived her life- on the alert in an attempt to be ready for anything that might want to cause us harm. Slowly her forehead slumped down onto her paws and she was done.<br /><br />One thing I had forgotten about was how once I started writing on this site, I would sit cross-legged as I am now, in front of my coffee table with the lap top at eye level and Gracie would get on the sofa behind me and stare over my shoulder at the screen for hours at a time as I tried to craft a sentence or two. Sometimes I would lean back and touch my head to hers so she would know I wasn't completely oblivious to her presence. She wasn't crazy about this move, but she always tolerated it. I would think of the Cone Heads on Saturday Night Live when I did it and it gave me a laugh. Of course it's hard to accept the fact that she's not sitting here behind me, especially since I've only now been finally able to start writing again, but it is because of her, in part, that I have found my voice again. It's strange to feel that there's no life other than mine in this apartment. It makes the quiet that much quieter. In the six years that she lived here, I never heard Gracie meow once. She was the original Stealth Kitty. Now that she's no longer here, this ocean of silence is so vast and so overwhelming that I could almost drown in it. It is so very still in this room.<br /><br />As my friend David said, this hard part is how we take care of our pets, too, and just as important as what we do for them in life. She'll never have to struggle to take another breath. I won't have to force another pill into her. Her pain is over and now mine is just beginning. I'm going to promise myself that I will temper it with thoughts of all that I had, and not just dwell on what I am missing. Thank you all for being so supportive; my old friends as well as my new ones. You've helped. You truly have.<br /><br /></div>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-10482183247743614822007-03-08T12:20:00.000-08:002007-03-08T12:39:35.724-08:00The Sense Of Humor Is The Last Thing To GoAnd I plan on keeping mine for a very long time! (I am, however, starting to worry about our friend, Mr. BEK.... just a bit)<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo8ZpZOjoClhESr6F8oPCKqz6GEF02uskLsJZyoRT2pTIIKlSeeyg2WFj_j4mNS_-KSy_ewNwA92cBdiQN0KmMd9qWq71EgmDsUOZOsPquXqoHdZeVDMJ76Zk7Jn3WKc6iaqZ5vA/s1600-h/Kaplan+mildly+depressed.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039651512288465778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo8ZpZOjoClhESr6F8oPCKqz6GEF02uskLsJZyoRT2pTIIKlSeeyg2WFj_j4mNS_-KSy_ewNwA92cBdiQN0KmMd9qWq71EgmDsUOZOsPquXqoHdZeVDMJ76Zk7Jn3WKc6iaqZ5vA/s320/Kaplan+mildly+depressed.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-4851156211256071232007-03-08T11:24:00.000-08:002007-03-08T13:17:25.361-08:00The High Price Of Pets<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijj3gLKt37TkqUUrWvN-OnAonMDjU4V3ePTsFVQW5wmdS7Y9gVnQlxt8wOpUWWa_Iu0WnZUD0MMDwqIlRzJs3OVHpCe3IDPvxNLPDo_hfc9vUZoqdckcRSROj5Ma4SdaQSe4PgnA/s1600-h/False+Hope+vers+3.0.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039637446270571362" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijj3gLKt37TkqUUrWvN-OnAonMDjU4V3ePTsFVQW5wmdS7Y9gVnQlxt8wOpUWWa_Iu0WnZUD0MMDwqIlRzJs3OVHpCe3IDPvxNLPDo_hfc9vUZoqdckcRSROj5Ma4SdaQSe4PgnA/s200/False+Hope+vers+3.0.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="justify">I've spent the last week or so watching my cat, Gracie, becoming weaker and weaker as she's battled some unknown illness that's aggressively robbing her of her strength and taking away her ability to do the simple, funny things that I've grown to love about her so much in the six years that have passed since we rescued her from her life of living on the street. Gracie came into my life a few months after we put our other cat, Mina to sleep. After having a cat for 15 years and spending the last three tending to her various ailments as they developed, I was heartbroken when Mina died. I had only been in Seattle for two weeks and the day after the movers left, it became apparent that she was going into severe congestive heart failure and nothing could save her. The discomfort she was feeling was palpable. She crouched in a corner, unable to move and just stared at me. After she was gone, I was crushed. Here I was in this new city; displaced and feeling very much alone. Mina had been a very resilient character. When I brought her home from the shelter at the age of two, I had been advised that she'd probably hide under the bed for a few days until she got acclimated to her new surroundings. I opened the carrier and Mina hopped out and got right on the sofa and stayed there, defying their predictions. This was a time when I could have used some of her bravado.<br /><br />Knowing the tender state I was in, Jeff hesitated at first to tell me about Gracie. He saw her every day, sleeping under a car in front of his apartment and occasionally coming up on the porch to eat some of the food that belonged to the kitties that lived in his building. Her days were numbered. She had to be rescued, and so she was. I put aside the sadness I felt and took her back to the same vet I had found to take care of Mina when we arrived in Seattle. Gracie had a punctured ear drum and all sorts of other problems. I cried in the waiting room as I felt all of the sadness at losing Mina welling up inside of me. After countless surgeries and procedures, Gracie recovered. The fur grew back on her previously naked and bat-like ears. She learned to trust me, somewhat grudgingly and finally began to sleep on my head, like a sentinel always on the look out for trouble. She'd sneak up behind me while I was talking on the phone. I'd turn around, look down, and there she was, because of course I was talking to her, wasn't I?<br /><br />After spending thousands of dollars to prolong Mina's life; after all of the extraordinary measures I had taken- including giving her subcutaneous fluids while I held her on the bathroom vanity in the hotel room where I stayed until the movers came- I'm struggling with the decision to fight this battle once again. Hope is the thing that lives inside of all of us; after making the decision to put Gracie to sleep on Sunday night, and then finding myself unable to do it, I took her to the vet to see if anything within reason could be done. They gave her fluids, she ate a little food; hence the road sign- "You are now entering the land of false hope", I told myself as I left the doctor's office. Amazingly, her blood work and her vital signs are practically normal. The illness remains undiagnosed. Whatever is wrong with her must reside deep inside, just like my hope. She's on some medication and will probably be getting re-hydration therapy to see if we can jump start some kind of recovery. Her personality is returning, little by little. She jumped up on the bed. She watched me talking on the phone. I want to do the right thing. I hope I'll know it when I find it. These road signs are so confusing. </div>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-23796377397664482732007-03-08T08:27:00.000-08:002007-03-08T09:19:46.677-08:00Woman Awakens For 3 Days After 6 Years<div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXocDsTxESHUpxejFerc0N_vVeRILeNZlbY61KXvx6sUg0kafRmNioC1TXTZV63_PBFXDPDeC3ZOAhTwuqvGpH51seRNVGWa270eJz1n1rgpuRfLU4_w7ZiJchFNI10St-vjrxRw/s1600-h/sleeping+woman.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039591979746775874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXocDsTxESHUpxejFerc0N_vVeRILeNZlbY61KXvx6sUg0kafRmNioC1TXTZV63_PBFXDPDeC3ZOAhTwuqvGpH51seRNVGWa270eJz1n1rgpuRfLU4_w7ZiJchFNI10St-vjrxRw/s200/sleeping+woman.jpg" border="0" /></a> <em>Slips back into vegetative state after speaking with her family</em><br /><br />COLORADO SPRINGS, Colo. - A woman who went into a vegetative state more than six years ago awoke this week for three days and spoke with her family and a local television station before slipping back.<br /><br />“I’m fine,” Christa Lilly told her mother on Sunday — her first words in eight months. She has awakened four other times for briefer periods since suffering a heart attack and stroke in November of 2000. “I think it’s wonderful. It makes me so happy,” Lilly told television station KKTV-TV. She also got to see youngest daughter, Chelcey, now 12 years old, and three grandchildren.<br /><br />Before her relapse on Wednesday, Lilly told the station her biggest frustration was learning how to talk again. After years of being fed from a tube, eating was no problem. “I’ve been eating cake,” she said. Her neurologist, Dr. Randall Bjork, said he couldn’t explain how or why she awoke.<br /><br />“I’m just not able to explain this on the basis of what we know about persistent vegetative states,” he said. A vegetative state is much like a coma except Lilly’s eyes remain open. Bjork said that he’s never seen a similar quality of awakening.<br /><br />Bjork said that unlike the much publicized case of Terri Schiavo, Lilly is minimally conscious. He said she could awake again. After Lilly relapsed her mother and caregiver Minnie Smith said: “The good Lord let me know she’s alright, he brings her back to visit every so often and I’m thankful for that.”<br /><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#993399;">When I saw this article today, of course I knew that I had to post it. It's kind of ironic, considering how it echoes my current difficulties with being able to communicate, albeit in a much more profound manifestation. For her, it's a very real and very serious situation, unlike my mere inability to assemble my thoughts into a coherent piece for this site as often as I once did. Whatever would it feel like to exist in her world? I do love the fact that she got to have cake and I hope she was able to savor every bite. It kind of reminds me of Warren Zevon's philosophy at the end of his life: "Enjoy every sandwich". Perhaps some day soon she can come back to her family and stay for a very long time and have a sandwich AND cake, and feel the love that surely surrounds her.</span></div>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-73951776288359575152007-02-25T13:08:00.000-08:002007-02-25T14:16:58.874-08:00Happy (Belated) New Year!<div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg47YegZ3glOUu8Cj1ACVOIOHyYEx5Dnh2Z4D7Nk7E9ci8qKYO1-K5RlruJhbbG50Knkb0xblukFMZrKSumoGso1IO8BZqCLeZfm0bHKkyLCALmUUTg_DteTp181Ti08vQQQqPQeg/s1600-h/space+needle+new+years+07.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5035581829253565058" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg47YegZ3glOUu8Cj1ACVOIOHyYEx5Dnh2Z4D7Nk7E9ci8qKYO1-K5RlruJhbbG50Knkb0xblukFMZrKSumoGso1IO8BZqCLeZfm0bHKkyLCALmUUTg_DteTp181Ti08vQQQqPQeg/s200/space+needle+new+years+07.jpg" border="0" /></a> I realized that I posted absolutely nothing for the month of January, so although it's a little late, here's a photo of the Space Needle on New Year's Eve, taken by P. shortly after we had watched the Sonics actually win a game for a change. (the pointy object at the top is the Christmas tree made of lights that adorns the top of the Needle every year during the holiday season.). I don't know where they stand currently-apparently they just suffered their worst defeat of the season in Las Vegas (102-71), and they've lost a good majority of the games they've played this year, but the funny thing is; every time that P. goes to a game, they win. That's a lot of pressure to put on one person, so I've come up with the theory that it isn't really him, it's that <i>other</i> guy who always goes to the game when he does. </div>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-29497305579222766122007-02-24T23:05:00.000-08:002007-02-25T14:17:30.916-08:00Just One Of The Reasons I Love Sarah Vowell- Make That Two Reasons<div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWtv2KEahJEwpkcCIwxeuvNQiDH5YdgCZ-PtGpvPqPFVYqtp4UH1463Y0mGYBJxMGXZNXx2AWj8GTSg6w3eNF0UCTmlNaDq1171zRqGcJ7WH4WpC-giivIjuc7kdlIw3ZKqZo85A/s1600-h/sarah+vowell+and+Violet.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5035367123838437986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWtv2KEahJEwpkcCIwxeuvNQiDH5YdgCZ-PtGpvPqPFVYqtp4UH1463Y0mGYBJxMGXZNXx2AWj8GTSg6w3eNF0UCTmlNaDq1171zRqGcJ7WH4WpC-giivIjuc7kdlIw3ZKqZo85A/s200/sarah+vowell+and+Violet.jpg" border="0" /></a> I was thinking I'd like to write something about how much I love the way that Sarah Vowell writes, and tomorrow I hope I will. In the meantime, this was too good to leave lying around this evening. I can't tell you when or where she said it, but it's attributed to her on some website, and darn it, that's good enough for me. Besides- she was also the voice of Violet, in the movie 'The Incredibles'. She has her very own action figure!<br /></div><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;">"My simmering rage against the current president scares me. I am a more or less peaceful, happy person whose lone act of violence as an adult was shoving a guy who spilled beer on me at a Sleater-Kinney concert. Not that I want the current president killed. I will, for the record and for the FBI agent assigned to read this and make sure I mean no harm, clearly state that while I am obsessed with death, I am against it."</span></em>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-36528594935916825482007-02-24T21:12:00.000-08:002007-02-25T14:18:14.012-08:00Warning! Writer's Block Ahead<div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvHFrtUq21F_ep_HD-grGmd1gn_CNhMHMMisHgIj6_DvWeZ_j2IYJNEpX7og0Rqfm0uojuiZF02xO6yuqyxIEtoeSTFs9h-pUiA4auM6lqlpn_oLC3jXXFN557ANxWaiU_JfiWdA/s1600-h/warning+field+vers+2.0.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5035336590915930706" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvHFrtUq21F_ep_HD-grGmd1gn_CNhMHMMisHgIj6_DvWeZ_j2IYJNEpX7og0Rqfm0uojuiZF02xO6yuqyxIEtoeSTFs9h-pUiA4auM6lqlpn_oLC3jXXFN557ANxWaiU_JfiWdA/s200/warning+field+vers+2.0.jpg" border="0" /></a> I have been stuck for a very long time. Stuck behind this huge obstacle which has silenced my writing voice for months now. The connections between myself and the world around me that I've always attempted to create, simply would not reveal themselves to me in any form. Trying to make art of any kind was an excruciatingly unfulfilling experience and the process continually led me to the same dead end where I would stand, surrounded by either my books and papers, or my pieces of wood and plaster until it was time to gather everything up and return it to its home; unchanged, untransformed and almost completely untouched, for that matter.<br /><br /></div><div align="justify">When you are used to living within the creative process, when everything around you only serves as more and more inspiration to keep going- finding yourself without a voice, without any inspiration, feeling as if you have nothing to say- it all comes as a shock at first. Gradually the shock subsides, and a feeling of uneasiness and guilt begin to set in. For the last few months I have been floating aimlessly around in this tepid, flavorless broth of ennui. I would usually tell myself each morning that when I came home that night, things would be different. Something would surely happen during the day; I would hear a song or meet a person and my slumbering creativity would be inspired to wake up and get going again! Didn't happen. Through it all, I would have several different types of internal monologues going simultaneously and they would typically fall into one of two categories; both equally self-delusional and based on nothing more than 1. sheer denial or 2. an elaborately constructed rationale for why it was perfectly ok that I was going through this dry spell. Now that I think of it- at least if I had tried writing them down, it would have probably felt more productive than did the act of force-feeding myself the repetitive diet of b.s. I was using to sustain myself. At least at the end of the day I'd have had something tangible, albeit unreadable, to hold in my hands. I'll remember that for the future.......hmmm. And so now, for whatever reason, my voice seems to have returned today, and I am actually thinking about what subject I'd like to tackle tomorrow. So far, so good, I guess.</div>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-21218209622463387232007-02-24T19:29:00.000-08:002007-02-25T14:18:39.431-08:00A Site For Sore Eyes<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjug-3f_eJxeZR1WhhprQ9q_OQ5lHkN6mubZUJozxRZ1vC-xUtS5zsXijg2Qaevg7jzhEhDSDNR4Kmc99RUszHJe6QpI9bSufYWvj8Yo2qAg-fVRX80vt_QwYEcpo1hX0YVRjGLRQ/s1600-h/Seattle+Daily+Photo.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5035316557402578658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjug-3f_eJxeZR1WhhprQ9q_OQ5lHkN6mubZUJozxRZ1vC-xUtS5zsXijg2Qaevg7jzhEhDSDNR4Kmc99RUszHJe6QpI9bSufYWvj8Yo2qAg-fVRX80vt_QwYEcpo1hX0YVRjGLRQ/s400/Seattle+Daily+Photo.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify">I'm really shocked to see how much traffic I've had on my site, in spite of the fact that it's been sitting here in this dormant state for so long. I decided to do a little digging around through my site meter statistics to see where these hundreds of hits originated and I'm thrilled to discover they're mostly from a site that I feel is one of the best around. It's the work of another 'unknown' friend here in Seattle who I met when she happened upon my page, left a really nice compliment about my writing and put a link to my site on her much-visited page. Her name is Kim and her site is called <a href="http://seattle-daily-photo.blogspot.com/"><span style="color:#33cc00;"><strong>Seattle Daily Photo</strong></span></a>. It's part of a web ring from around the world, all comprised of pages which feature images exclusively from one city or region. If you go to Kim's page, you will get an exhilarating 'visual whiff' of what makes Seattle such a great place to live. Her choice of images, as well as her composition, evoke such a beautifully considered, painterly aesthetic, that I insist you visit her site right now. So scoot on over there and see for yourself!</div>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-19201159567738944772007-02-24T19:15:00.000-08:002007-02-24T19:21:59.792-08:00Still On The Job<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoMvdqQZi9rDR9rsvDMkfBBj7deCdkBR0NSRosxIfajjRLemBse1Th58czN4iU_4Rrvaf8OIQpUIdTcw5y1pA1gP9dmDthkhAWjIT9NvMwLCexV1OGaJ-yZ1QISdnNgmgmgbYehA/s1600-h/Kaplan+medication.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5035305476386954946" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoMvdqQZi9rDR9rsvDMkfBBj7deCdkBR0NSRosxIfajjRLemBse1Th58czN4iU_4Rrvaf8OIQpUIdTcw5y1pA1gP9dmDthkhAWjIT9NvMwLCexV1OGaJ-yZ1QISdnNgmgmgbYehA/s320/Kaplan+medication.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>Thank God, at least BEK didn't slack off, and stayed at the helm while I slipped away for awhile.......</div><br /><div></div>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-25324533477854085992007-02-24T19:02:00.000-08:002007-02-25T14:19:29.052-08:00Additionally About The Oscars<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4OxEn7ddeOx_Q2u6CQnRoYCYI4z0jNm8GaSQREzFNyNzEVTQPLOzs8q4Y4UpNUBGQePLWpc7rdZyjmIo5h9Mk-eZkrwPFIb7ZUyHwRkKIRz7zLHS_jJSXqFlWjxoIISPEfC5hGg/s1600-h/oscar+poster.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5035303406212718258" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4OxEn7ddeOx_Q2u6CQnRoYCYI4z0jNm8GaSQREzFNyNzEVTQPLOzs8q4Y4UpNUBGQePLWpc7rdZyjmIo5h9Mk-eZkrwPFIb7ZUyHwRkKIRz7zLHS_jJSXqFlWjxoIISPEfC5hGg/s200/oscar+poster.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="justify">This actually <a href="http://www.deadlinehollywooddaily.com/7-spoilers-for-sundays-oscar-telecast-dont-read-further-to-stay-surprised/">looks like fun</a>. Warning- don't click the link if you believe the show still has the potential to surprise. Another bit of good news- Carrie Fisher has returned as one of the principal writers for the show. All may not be lost, after all. Except for the part about Tom Cruise.....</div>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-28555116577756029072007-02-24T16:11:00.000-08:002007-02-25T14:22:04.919-08:00The Oscars As Entertainment; I Remember Sacheen<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVgY942gv5YJAbIXu5cafaFcwz6BSxUc6vm9XnVAV0dJj251v4VTJE1T72VF2sypQwuZuw_6SHCQA7IEUqM-NUcbiIhBbUaPgymQq5cr9AK-z0K5aj5yKCRQjqJptU1rqsfk2M4w/s1600-h/stiller+and+wilson.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5035293347399311010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVgY942gv5YJAbIXu5cafaFcwz6BSxUc6vm9XnVAV0dJj251v4VTJE1T72VF2sypQwuZuw_6SHCQA7IEUqM-NUcbiIhBbUaPgymQq5cr9AK-z0K5aj5yKCRQjqJptU1rqsfk2M4w/s200/stiller+and+wilson.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjj99ooP075BGX14QZSQNkygbLX0BwdVk1S5VrMeH4T30rKfyL2TIBtSIvA8TnLGu096x2AqVI3LBNUom1IxA8ibLdoN6vXnlt_KgF8g_gzwPLT7Ch5szUlIGv3U0J5D4sJSxgCw/s1600-h/sacheen.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5035266752961814162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjj99ooP075BGX14QZSQNkygbLX0BwdVk1S5VrMeH4T30rKfyL2TIBtSIvA8TnLGu096x2AqVI3LBNUom1IxA8ibLdoN6vXnlt_KgF8g_gzwPLT7Ch5szUlIGv3U0J5D4sJSxgCw/s200/sacheen.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="justify">A quick review of this site shows that quite a bit has gone on over the last few months that I've completely failed to make mention of. (See, I said you'd need to bear with me- I'm already ending my sentences with prepositions). Groundhog's Day, Valentine's Day, even Mardi Gras, and yes, I did check and the Bourbon Street cam is still fully functional....but what about the Oscars! We haven't missed those and they're happening a bit earlier this year, I see. To tell you the truth, my film-awareness has diminished over the past few months, but I do have to feel it is through no particular fault of my own. To paraphrase; "It's the movies that got smaller- not us!". Directly in front of me is the annual Hollywood issue of Vanity Fair and I confess, it's been sitting here unopened for a couple of weeks. There's Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson on the cover. Did they even make any movies in the past year? (Don't get me wrong- I love 'em both). Ever since they did that <a href="http://grouper.com/video/MediaDetails.aspx?id=509768&ml=o%3d7%26fr%3d509768%26fx%3d">hilarious bit</a> a few years back, with Wilson dressed as Harry Potter and Stiller as a Hobbity-looking creature, I think they've come to represent the finest entertainment we can expect to see at the Academy Awards; the endearing, self-effacing behavior of those actors who realize that it IS all about entertainment and not the advancement of some very worthy, albeit tedious cause. Think Susan Sarandon, Tim Robbins and, let us not forget Sacheen Littlefeather! A word about Sacheen, for those of you who might not remember the 1973 ceremony as clearly as I still do. Sacheen's real name was Maria Cruz, and until she stood in for Marlon Brando who won for The Godfather that year, her biggest claim to fame was as holder of the title of Miss American Vampire 1970. In a speech which ran to 15 pages in it's entirety, and of which only 45 seconds worth was allowed on the broadcast, Marlon, through Sacheen, declined to accept his Oscar in the name of the siege at Wounded Knee and the denigration of all Indians through their mostly unfavorable portrayal in films. The event provided a stunning moment when the majority of the audience (Hollywood Royalty! As Joan Crawford had always called them) booed Sacheen-Maria off the stage. Wow. Now <strong>that</strong> was some entertainment, and like Ben and Owen's performance, a moment certainly enhanced by the donning of a "costume", for Sacheen was no Indian, truly. In the insuing years, we've been treated to similar heartfelt speeches on behalf of various causes and there are certain 'issue-laden' performers who by the very mention of their name as possible attendees at the awards ceremony, increase the wince factor ten times over. I have read various reports that a show of protest against the war is planned for this year's Oscar event, including the likes of Dustin Hoffman, Michael Moore and Kirsten Dunst (???) While I definitely applaud their willingness to state their position publicly, don't we all occasionally deserve something as mindless as the Oscar event potentially can, and usually is shown to be, to ever-so-briefly get our minds off the troubling mess that our government has gotten us into? On Monday we can all go back to being the conscientious, upright citizens we know ourselves to be. OK? Granted, at this point it might take the resurrection of Ann Miller, with that mind-boggling creepy black pompadour of hers, in some gawd-awful, bombastic tribute to Busby Berekley, to even begin to temporarily, if only for a few seconds, eradicate the images of the destruction and destitution that have befallen Iraq since our arrival. In order to continue our efforts against this travesty, we need to unburden ourselves every once-in-awhile, in order to come back stronger and more dedicated to the purpose at hand. I hope you're with me on this one. Let the Oscars be a celebration of the craft that does bring all humanity to a greater level of understanding through the magic of storytelling on film. </div>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-75285930143227752462007-02-24T15:43:00.000-08:002007-02-25T14:20:02.513-08:00I've Been Away......<div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5b9XN4AeQSHLquUwJg0yvAU_iUrEfta5i3FCDTeKZMvGdnbI7o6Nb7vcoaALa1bOzy5LThTfukylWtTMzR2zMSNZ6ZzIHq2JWhyyVG28a6YLztL7MuMRy7OASoUsiLz3Gb47LdA/s1600-h/1000+versions+5.0.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5035254920326913666" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5b9XN4AeQSHLquUwJg0yvAU_iUrEfta5i3FCDTeKZMvGdnbI7o6Nb7vcoaALa1bOzy5LThTfukylWtTMzR2zMSNZ6ZzIHq2JWhyyVG28a6YLztL7MuMRy7OASoUsiLz3Gb47LdA/s200/1000+versions+5.0.jpg" border="0" /></a> Well, not <i>really</i> away; Actually, I've been here all the time, but my life seems to keep getting in the way of my writing. Or so I keep telling myself. I want to come back, have been trying to come back, I NEED to come back; because the writing is the one thing I require above all else in order to be me. And so, here I am. Did ya miss me? I did. Just bear with me as I find my way to you again.</div>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-1166947688803705912006-12-24T00:04:00.000-08:002006-12-24T00:10:03.336-08:00Merry Christmas, Everybody!All is well in the land of Fancy Pants. Thanks to everyone for your wonderful comments, correspondence and friendship in 2006.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2586/2292/1600/954029/Kaplan%20Santa.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2586/2292/320/139796/Kaplan%20Santa.jpg" border="0" /></a>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-1165209134975133622006-12-03T21:12:00.000-08:002006-12-03T22:31:46.170-08:00True Love And A Shove<img alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i96.photobucket.com/albums/l182/franciebc/shove.jpg" /><br /><br />There's something that's so very endearing about having a loved one playfully shove you out of the way for the sake of a joke, isn't there? And hopefully you were able to share the joke and even a good laugh with that loved one. <em>Hopefully</em>. I'd love to know what happened in the next panel, wouldn't you?FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-1164854595987330462006-11-29T18:00:00.000-08:002006-11-29T22:19:52.076-08:00We're 'MetroNatural'; Thanks For Asking!<br></br><div align="justify"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2586/2292/1600/5626/Pete"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2586/2292/320/427146/Pete%27s%20bumper%20sticker.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2586/2292/1600/537733/Kaplan%20bumper%20sticker.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2586/2292/320/594597/Kaplan%20bumper%20sticker.jpg" border="0" /></a> OK, so I've been sitting on the idea for this post for about a month, but when I saw this BEK cartoon this afternoon, I knew the time had come to crawl out from under my "block" and make an appearance.<br /><br />Last month the Seattle Convention and Visitor's Bureau announced that after spending 16 months and $200,000, their new tagline to promote tourism in the Emerald City was ready to be revealed. Imagine everyone's surprise when they awoke on October 22nd to find the word <a href="http://www.metronatural.com/">"MetroNatural"</a> spray-painted atop the dome of the Space Needle. I learned about it while getting ready for work and watching everyone on CNN- even the weatherman, who opined that it might go over better if delivered while waving 'jazz hands' (!!!) make fun of the campaign. On national TV. On the 'most-trusted network'. The shame. Predictably, the reaction of the local citizenry was mixed. One proponent, apparently from the 'glass-half-full' camp, stated that "at least it (was) better than the new Washington State Bureau of Tourism's slogan; <a href="http://www.komotv.com/news/archive/4179901.html">'Say WA'</a>". As P would say..."Way to be!"<br />The Seattle P-I posted a list of alternatives sent in by its readers. Here are some of the best:<br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><em></em></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Seattle: Wired and Jacked Up<br />If you're left, you're right for us<br />econostupid<br />Welcome to Washington, enjoy your stay, THEN GO HOME!!!<br />We hate Bush. Come join us<br />Seattle: Come look at the monorail<br />Seattle: Because Bremerton is too far away<br />Come visit. You can't afford the condos<br />If you love taxes, you'll love Seattle<br />Seattle: Left of Bellevue<br />We're green, mean and a tax-collecting machine<br />Seattle: Irony-free since 1992 </em></span><br /><br /><p>Feeling the need to weigh in with his own take on the idiocy of the concept, P decided to craft his response in the form of a bumper sticker. I recreated it above so you could see it, and both of our vehicles are now sporting them. He also sent them around to people in town whom he thought would appreciate his point of view. No 'jazz hands' needed to convey this message. Like it says in the cartoon, it may not be 'the answer', but it's a damn fine retort. $200,000? Meanwhile, we've got people sleeping in doorways. But wait, it gets better....</p><p>As the city launches its campaign full-tilt, vowing to spend <strong>another $300,000</strong> in the service of promoting this completely baffling and embarrassing slogan, our cars will slowly, yet defiantly crawl in silent protest as we make our hours-long commutes each way and each day, along the pitifully inadequate and massively under-funded freeways. One hour...10 miles! We will be mindful at all times, while sitting in our cars, that one (and oh yes, there are<em> plenty more</em> where this one came from; just check out the website) of the definitions of a true 'metronatural' is 'one who respects the environment and lives a balanced lifestyle of urban and natural experiences'. Personally, I'm not looking forward to spending an equal amount of time (6 years) roughing it in the rainforest to offset the amount of time I've spent enjoying Seattle's 'urban experience' while seated in my Ford Contour, in order to be considered an authentic 'metronatural'. Grrrrr. Oh well, "Way to be!" </p></span></span></div>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22530082.post-1162006615022383612006-10-27T20:35:00.000-07:002006-10-27T21:01:58.766-07:00I've Said It Before.......<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2586/2292/1600/Kaplan%20growth.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2586/2292/320/Kaplan%20growth.jpg" border="0" /></a>FancyPantshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06143130768675984084noreply@blogger.com7