Headless Chicken Lives For 18 months

But what really happened at the Super Eight?.........

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. Sadly, he later choked to death in a motel room. Residents of Fruita remember Mike as "a big fat chicken who didn't know he didn't have a head."

Life, Death & All That Stuff That Happens In Between

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.

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.

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.

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......

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.

Norway Arrests Woman For Carrying Cocaine In Wig

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.
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.
"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."
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.
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.

And Finally Tonight, In Case You Missed This.....

Mom Births Her 12th baby — 17-pound Nadia
Siberian woman unaware of newborn’s weight until Caesarean section

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.
“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.

My Name Is Shadow

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.

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 one 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.

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.

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 is charmed, right? When she comes to the door to meet me, I can't imagine a life without her.

Mind Over Everything Else

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 are 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.

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.

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.

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.

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 person and true to yourself , or how about maybe even a better person? That seems like a very worthwhile endeavor.

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".

Getting A Leg Up vs "Losing My Religion"

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.

Man Charged With Smuggling Iguanas In His Leg

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.

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. 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.

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.

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.

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.

Man Finds Human Leg In Smoker

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.

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.

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.

The mother, Peg Steele, explained her son had his leg amputated after a plane crash and kept the leg following the surgery “for religious reasons” she doesn’t know much about. “The rest of the family was very much against it,” Steele said.

Steele said her son, John Wood, plans to drive to Maiden, about 35 miles northwest of Charlotte, to reclaim his amputated leg, police said.

And I Almost Forgot.........

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 this 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.

The Couch Of Not Caring

That's right. I've been a total slug for six months. Well, not entirely. I have.....
1. a new apartment
2. a new cat
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,
just not as crisp.

Gracie

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.

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.

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.

The Sense Of Humor Is The Last Thing To Go

And I plan on keeping mine for a very long time! (I am, however, starting to worry about our friend, Mr. BEK.... just a bit)

The High Price Of Pets

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.

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?

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.

Woman Awakens For 3 Days After 6 Years

Slips back into vegetative state after speaking with her family

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.

“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.

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.

“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.

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.”

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.

Happy (Belated) New Year!

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 other guy who always goes to the game when he does.

Just One Of The Reasons I Love Sarah Vowell- Make That Two Reasons

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!

"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."

Warning! Writer's Block Ahead

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.

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.

A Site For Sore Eyes

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 Seattle Daily Photo. 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!

Still On The Job

Thank God, at least BEK didn't slack off, and stayed at the helm while I slipped away for awhile.......

Additionally About The Oscars

This actually looks like fun. 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.....

The Oscars As Entertainment; I Remember Sacheen

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 hilarious bit 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 that 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.

I've Been Away......

Well, not really 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.

Merry Christmas, Everybody!

All is well in the land of Fancy Pants. Thanks to everyone for your wonderful comments, correspondence and friendship in 2006.

True Love And A Shove

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. Hopefully. I'd love to know what happened in the next panel, wouldn't you?

We're 'MetroNatural'; Thanks For Asking!

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.

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 "MetroNatural" 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; 'Say WA'". As P would say..."Way to be!"
The Seattle P-I posted a list of alternatives sent in by its readers. Here are some of the best:

Seattle: Wired and Jacked Up
If you're left, you're right for us
econostupid
Welcome to Washington, enjoy your stay, THEN GO HOME!!!
We hate Bush. Come join us
Seattle: Come look at the monorail
Seattle: Because Bremerton is too far away
Come visit. You can't afford the condos
If you love taxes, you'll love Seattle
Seattle: Left of Bellevue
We're green, mean and a tax-collecting machine
Seattle: Irony-free since 1992

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....

As the city launches its campaign full-tilt, vowing to spend another $300,000 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 plenty more 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!"

I've Said It Before.......

A Reminder From The Solid Fuels Administration -

This poster is from 1944. Geez, where were they when I needed this reminder?
I'm already freezing and it's only October! Hope you remembered to order yours.
WARNING! Coal will not work in your gas tank. That sure is one pissed-off looking penguin. He must have tried it, too.

A Match Made In Heaven

2001 - A Blog Odyssey

"Those damn apes!"

(never thought I'd get this far.... Thanks!)

And In Case You're REALLY Interested....

And let's face it - how could you NOT be? Ha ha....
You can listen to 'Gorecki' here.

It's easily worth the six minutes.

You've got the time, right?

Weds Sept 27th 6:01 am

"Could we stay right here'til the end of time, 'til the earth stops turning......"
Lamb - 'Gorecki'

How long ago was it when I wrote about peak experiences? I said I knew I'd have more; I didn't expect that one was waiting to grab me this morning. Basically, as I've said before, I'm a fairly private person - guarded when it comes to both my own feelings and those of the people who are close to me. I don't want this site to deteriorate (what? that's a crazy word) into a shrine dedicated to the healing powers of love, but my life is being transformed so rapidly and so profoundly that I'm having a hard time keeping up and the inside and outside of me seem to be constantly changing places. Recently the inside seems to be more commonly on display. I've somehow become porous and very permeable and I find myself existing inside this huge bubble filled with people who love me and I find that I'm loving them all back. There's a fluidity to my daily life that seems to be generating quite a few exceptional moments as I pass from one state into another and back again. You know, at times like these I begin to wonder if these events aren't occuring for us all of the time; we just need to recognize them as they are happening.

I need to begin by saying that if you've never heard one of those Bose radios, by god, you've really missed out. I hadn't until today and now my life is irretrievably changed. P uses one as his alarm clock and when it came on, I swear it sounded as if the entire apartment was one big speaker. He sets it to KEXP, a local station affiliated with Paul (Microsoft) Allen's Experience Music Project; a behemoth of a building whose red roof I can see from my balcony. In the late afternoon the sun illuminates the dome-like structure, turning it into a giant radioactive beetle that looms over the tracks of the Monorail. The station operates from a ramshackle building just down the street; a facility more befitting of its humble origins as a kind of red-haired stepchild of the University Of Washington, whose legitimacy wasn't established until Allen infused hundreds of thousands of dollars into keeping it on the air. But I digress. Just taking an opportunity to tell you a little about Seattle; a topic I curiously write very little about- considering the title of this site. Did I mention it's finally become my home?

The music woke me immediately and I felt completely surrounded by it (Thanks, Bose!). I felt like I was in a movie. It was unreal, but at the same time, perfect. I later identified it as 'Gorecki', by a British group called Lamb. Reading the lyrics, which begin with "If I should die this very moment, I wouldn't fear - for I've never known completeness, like being here", I remembered hearing every word, but wasn't I asleep when it started? Was it creepy, was it transformative; what kind of an experience had it been? - every word resonated within me as something I had said in trying to describe to my friends how I was feeling as this new relationship developed. I'd even written the equivalent on another site; "It's taken almost six years, but it finally feels like home and I have one person and a helluva lot of soul-searching to thank for that. Oh yeah, and a little bit of marching through the jungle. :) If it finally got me to you, I'd do it all again." became "All I've known- all I've done- all I've felt, was leading to this". When I played it for a friend later this afternoon, her comment was; "That's your song - that's everything you've been saying. You have a song".

As I lay there, I felt so many different emotions. I felt exposed. I felt 'found out'. I felt exhilaration and peace at the same time. Bravery, Love, Exhilaration, Fear. There you go. Can you see how from my perspective, I now view everything as part of one incredible, integrated process that finally brought me to that moment? At some point, P either took my hand, or put his arm over me - I confess I can't remember that part exactly - but the physical touch was almost superfluous to the connection that I felt. It was a peak experience. Judging from what he's said since, I think perhaps that he was feeling the same way. Profoundly changed. Am I the type of person who would typically write publicly about things like this? I mean, you get the picture - there's a bed and bodies and music and feelings all over the place. Yeow! I suppose that's the bravery kicking in. The room was actually very still and I couldn't move. "Here is true peace, here my heart knows calm......".

Yes, I've put a lot of myself on this site recently and now to acknowledge to the world that you think you’ve found the person who finally not only gets you, but makes you a better person than you thought you could ever be, is a little scary and for someone like me, as I keep repeating, embarrassing, but it's too great a feeling not to take that risk. I’m also conscious of the fact that it might be hurtful to someone else to see a declaration like this. I don’t want to diminish any of the past; after all it is what led me here and it’s all been important. Along the way I’ve tried to absorb the lessons presented to me; some of them admittedly haven’t made much sense until now.

I’ve jokingly said that “soulmates are for sissies”, because I don’t really believe that there’s one person that we’re meant to be with. That’s a little too “rainbows and unicorns” for me. There may be hundreds, thousands, millions of people, within whom, if we only took the time, we might discover the same special qualities that help to form a connection like the one I have with this person. What is it that makes us slow down, open ourselves up and do it? I don't know. That's where the mystery and the beauty of falling in love reside. The one thing that makes this all so absolutely right is that it is about the feeling and not the thinking. At this point there are too many words here. I don't really need them. This is about emotion and one exceptional morning that has definitely changed my life forever. And so, one more time, I'm going to stand by and wait for the next amazing experience, because I know this is just the beginning. Again.

Has This Ever Happened To You?

Two Doors

I know people have been checking in here for the last couple of days, only to find nothing new and I do feel kind of guilty for disappearing for a while. Not that I didn't have good reason; the whole 'face incident' was traumatizing enough to make me want to crawl under the couch, ( if only my head would have fit!).

It's sometimes hard to strike a balance between living a life and writing about having one. A lot of things have happened in the past two weeks- some good, some sad, some itchy. Today was a day when I needed to take some time to think about all of it and decide what to do with what I've learned from everything that's happened. I realize that I've taken a few risks and put quite a bit of myself out there for everybody to see. I experienced some amazing gestures of friendship in my personal life as well as within the professional realm that I inhabit and I can't remember a time in the recent past when I felt more cared about. It felt pretty good and I think it helped me be a better friend to someone else who was having a difficult time. I will always be grateful for that.

A lot of the time when I write about things that are going on in my life, I tend to use a kind of code for what's happening- the people involved can always recognize what I'm talking about; others may have to guess or do a little detective work if they really want to know. Maybe they guess right, maybe they don't. It's not because I want to be mysterious so much as it is because I don't think the people in my life necessarily need to have themselves paraded through these posts for public consumption. Most of them haven't consciously signed on for that gig. I try to be kind and I try to be protective, because that's just the way I am (unless I'm worked up over some indignity....then look out!.... as you well know).

Today I made a decision to change a part of my life that's needed to be changed for a long time. I needed to do it so that I could move on to what feels as if it's going to be the best part of my life so far. A door that's stood part-ways open for a very long time is being closed and a new door has been opened. What exactly has happened? Well, maybe you'll guess right and maybe you won't, but while I am feeling somewhat wistful, I am also happier right now than I can remember being for a very long time. As I've written elsewhere, if I had to go through everything that's happened to me in the last six years to get to where I am now and to find what I've found; I'd gladly do it all again. It's good to finally be home.

I Was The Elephant Man's Stunt Double

"The things we do for love" - 10cc

Geeeeeeeez, what fun I've had in the last 24 hours - plagued by some undiagnosed deal affecting my skin that made my face puff up like one of those fish, I was at the ER until 4:30 this morning and I don't mean 'Ecstasy Rave'.

They said that most likely the culprit was something I'd eaten, worn or looked at in the last day. That shouldn't be too difficult to pinpoint. Around 3, when the doc asked me if I was feeling better, I felt my face and replied weakly, but with conviction, that yes, yes, I thought I was! As soon as the first set of IV's was done, I gathered my dignity around me, along with my hospital gown and made my way to the bathroom. Memo to the Emergency Room- I don't think ya really need those mirrors in there. I can't imagine there are too many people who want that kind of startling visual-regardless of whether they're a patient or a visitor; I just don't think that kind of info needs to be committed to memory. In truth, I looked worse than I had when I walked in. Way to go.

I shuffled back to my room and waited for more treatment. The nurse had very kindly turned the TV on for me, but without a remote I was treated to all night long reruns of 2 infomercials; one for "Those God-awful Songs From The 80's!!!!" featuring Rick Springfield and his face-lift; the other "These Clowns Sold Me A Car Even Though I'm A ...........(fill in the blank with -black lesbian dwarf, genetically-confused hillbilly white guy, or gal who only works in strip clubs 2 weekends a months, but it's to feed her kids"). Holy Crap-which ring of hell WAS this?

Several hours later, I was pronounced well enough to leave the hospital- meaning it was safely the very middle of the darkest part of the night and the chances of me frightening a small child or an animal were minimal. Doped as I was, of course I got lost (yeah- AGAIN, and I'm starting to enoy it, OK?....) and found myself downtown, very close to my old job. I even turned onto a one way street the wrong way -didn't share THAT part before, did I? Wheeee.

Well, my face is getting back to what the world laughingly accepts as 'normal' for me and it'll be back to the workaday world tomorrow. Business as usual, with one exception; I won't be smelling like a bakery again, anytime soon. I spent the afternoon reviewing anything different that I might have come into contact with and I'm pretty sure that's what did it. Hope you like lavender. At least it's calming and non-toxic. I'm probably irresistable enough without it, but "If it's not too late, I'd like to apologize" anyway..........

Guilty of DWC — Driving While Canine

BEIJING - Trying to teach an old dog a new trick fails miserably

A woman in Hohhot, the capital of north China's Inner Mongolia region, crashed her car while giving her dog a driving lesson, the official Xinhua News Agency said Monday. No injuries were reported, although the vehicles involved were slightly damaged, it said. The woman, identified only by her surname, Li, said her dog "was fond of crouching on the steering wheel and often watched her drive," according to Xinhua. "She thought she would let the dog 'have a try' while she operated the accelerator and brake," the report said. "They did not make it far before crashing into an oncoming car." Xinhua did not say what kind of dog or vehicles were involved, but Li paid for repairs.

(Not the actual dog-but how crazy is it that I found this pic on the first search?)

Back To "Business As Usual"

September 14, 1989

A long time ago, this was the happiest day of my life; surrounded by friends and family, bathed in good wishes and facing the prospects of a bright future. I only just remembered it a little while ago-funny how our priorities change; I thought I'd never forget- or be able to get over it, either. What a great thing that today is again a really happy one for me and I'm remembering the other one fondly now, too. One big circle, finally closing. It's all good, J. On to the new future.........already in progress for both of us.

xo

My Secret Life

In the last few days I've had the opportunity to correspond at length with a friend I've never met; a man who from time to time will check to read my posts and occasionally leave a comment. He happened to see my post about my desire to really connect with my readers.
In the last couple of days, a friend of mine received some very sad news which has caused him to question a lot of what his life is about. He's a really wonderful, decent person, and I wish that I could do something to lessen his pain, but all I can do is stand by and wait. I feel somewhat helpless, but I feel that he will be OK at some point. I think he does, too. Time has the ability to do that for us. In the meantime, I have been hearing from people who want to help me as I wait and this new-found friend has offered much wisdom as he's shared the experience of losing his wife in the last year. I wrote this to him this evening and then decided-"This is what I've been trying to put out there all along-why not publish it and see what happens." And so I am.

Hi Again~

What an incredible story of love, forgiveness and redemption. You've taken an amazing journey, my friend, and how wonderful that there is more to come. For both of us. I've had a couple of emails from **** which would indicate that he may be processing things a bit at this point, and that the shock of the news has subsided a little. Perhaps.

When I first moved to Seattle to join my husband; a move made to take a last-ditch effort at saving our marriage, I was pretty much alone all of the time. Work filled my hours for the most part, but I would walk around my neighborhood, The Capital Hill district, which is a mile and a half away from downtown Seattle, on my days off, just to be surrounded by people. In my solitude, as I grieved for everything I was likely to lose, I began to realize that what I took as scores of people all happier than myself, were actually people who more than likely had some difficulty that they were dealing with, too. We carry these things deep inside and there is no outward manifestation of pain for the most part, as folks make their way through the day. I guess I was connecting with humanity on a deeper level-choosing to feel connected to the suffering, rather than making myself feel more miserable and isolated by mistakenly cultivating this illusion that everyone in the world was happier than I. And so, to circle back; to look at us, few would probably recognize the pain of the losses that we've both endured. At least I hope not! :)

And yet, despite it all, here we are ready to take a chance again. I have a very dear friend who works in social services, with a background of working in sheltered workshops and the like. Now he's a benefits coordinator for the State of New York's mental health system. He's been my touchstone for years and I love him like a brother, mother and sister all rolled into one. At my lowest point, he provided me with a metaphor that has proved to be more helpful than five years of therapy. Emotions are like the weather; we are always passing through, they are transitory and ever-changing, and therefore when we feel at our lowest we need to remind ourselves that "this too, shall pass". We may move on to something better or something worse-but we can always expect them to change. Nothing endures forever- for better or worse. While to some this may be a depressing notion-especially when existing at some level of peak experience which we wish would never end-but I've come to realize the inherent thrill of the concept; because something even better may be coming. This is the hope that I've come to embrace and I hold onto it like the dearest friend in the world. I share this notion with you, although I sense that perhaps you already feel this way too. I hope so-and I wish you an ocean of weather for many years to come. Thanks for your wonderful correspondence.
This is the connection I hoped for in my earlier post. As I write these words, the thought strikes me that I may post this on my site-it's probably one of the truest and most honest thing I've ever written. Thanks for pulling it out of me!

Warm regards~

Loss

"What the heart once owned and had, it shall never lose."

~Henry Ward Beecher

Finally, There Are Pancakes

I really love carbohydrates. Finding a place where I can get them in the middle of the night is pretty cool. I think my bout of homesickness has finally found a cure at The Hurricane Cafe. No arugula or complicated sauces, (although there's definitely a place in the world for them, too). Just pancakes. And a lot of coffee. Just like back home. If you can live to 112 on a diet of waffles, then maybe with a late start in life I can make it to at least 90 if I keep going back for more. Thanks, P.

Bravery - Love - Exhilaration - Fear

Well, I seem to have gotten through the better part of the day without any mishaps, despite the dire horoscopic warnings. I don't know how much I believe in that stuff, anyway-but it's always entertaining. On the drive home tonight I was thinking about what I'd like to write next. Something serious, I thought, since lately my stuff has been mostly all throwaway and kind of lightweight. Four words popped into my head; bravery, love, exhilaration and fear. As I slowly inched my way home for the most part, suddenly a clearing appeared, and then I was able to race across the bridge into the early darkening evening, thinking about what each one meant to me. I wondered "Why those four?"

When I was about twelve, my best friend and I would do pretend radio broadcasts. I had a small reel to reel tape recorder and we would tape shows and then play them back for our own amusement. Sometimes at night I would leave my transistor radio on, underneath my pillow. It was always tuned to WBEZ in Boston. Their on-air personalities were known from coast to coast. A nation of restless teens listened every night, as the midnight hour buzzed with the combined static and chatter of people reaching out for music and conversation. We were connected.

I haven't listened to any kind of talk radio in years....it's become so, so, well you know. "Insane" is the word that comes to mind. Where am I going with this? Well, I've been thinking- I really love to write, and this site has been my proving ground to discover whether or not I had anything worthwhile to say. It's a nice format-somewhat interactive, but limited. There is no dialogue, there is no back-and-forth. It's mostly just me, throwing words against the wall to see what sticks. Sometimes I capture someone's mind for a moment and get a reaction. I love it when there's a comment from someone I've never even met. Connections are really important. Connections are what get us through, every time. Are we connected?

Anyway, all this has gotten me remembering about the radio and how I wished when I was a teenage girl that I could have my own radio show when I grew up. I suppose this site is the obvious substitute for that unfulfilled desire. What's missing is your part. I really wish I could know what these words mean to you; what they remind you of, what your reaction is to seeing them together and whether you feel they belong together, or not. There's a lot of emotion in these words. They are powerful words. Put them together in any order you wish - since they came from my own thought process, the order that they're in obviously makes sense to me on some level. My mind summoned them up that way. Two very complimentary emotions bracketed by two others that are the flip side of each other and cannot exist without each other, for you cannot know what it is to be brave, until you have known what it feels like to be very afraid. Have you had a chance in your lifetime to experience each one of these feelings? Have you lived a life with at least some sense of love and the way that it can make you believe that anything is possible? I hope so, and many times over. And when you have been afraid, I hope you have looked into the deepest part of yourself and found that bravery did exist within your heart and that you used it well, to either save yourself or to save someone else in the world.

I don't have a way to speak with you so I can hear you talk about how you feel. I don't have a radio program; I don't have a number for you to call in and say what's on your mind. All I have is this site and the hope that you'll think about this post for awhile and then maybe talk to the next person you see about what these words mean to you. You don't even really need to talk that much. Just connect. Just feel. And live.

Uh Oh.......

My horoscope has been telling me for days says this is going to be a really awful day for me, so please consider this an apology and a warning for all of the bad things I'm apparently going to do:

"I'm sorry -but wow, was that fun!"

Ryewire 'On The Rise'? - Done & Done!

66,625 votes
#1 in Seattle
#6 in the country
What did it all mean?
We're still waiting to find out.......

and we may be waiting for a long time.

MySpace Has Taken My Soul - But My Brain's On Music

The last thing my friend Steven said before I left work yesterday was: "Look out for MySpace - it'll take your soul!" Guess he knew what he was talking about, because last night I spent all evening over there. While I listened to 'Soon' by My Bloody Valentine on P's site about a million times, I was busy trying to format my own site. (He'd better leave that song up for awhile, because I really like it, but hey, it's his site.....). Little by little, people began to appear. Emails were sent. Oh dear. MySpace was beginning to take away brain cells, too. Earlier in the day I had gotten a notice about what looked to be a really interesting book, 'This Is Your Brain On Music'. I had planned on writing a little something about it over here, because you like that kind of thing. Me, too. Now it seems I'm taking the slacker's way out by merely giving you the link to the Amazon review, because I just can't get enough of listening to 'Calm' by Maritime, which is the song I put on my site (an example of my brain on music). If you've got any questions after you read the review, c'mon over. I'm the one with a 'cat head on a stick' for a profile. Ping!

Got Any Plans For Labor Day?

Oh my................

Man Lived To 112 On Diet of Sausage And Waffles

LOS ANGELES - George Johnson, considered California’s oldest living person at 112 and the state’s last surviving World War I veteran, had experts shaking their heads over his junk food diet. “He had terrible bad habits. He had a diet largely of sausages and waffles,” Dr. L. Stephen Coles, founder of the Gerontology Research Group at the University of California, Los Angeles, said Friday. The 5-foot-7, 140-pound Johnson died of pneumonia Wednesday at his Richmond home in Northern California.

Johnson, who was blind and living alone until his 110th birthday when a caregiver began helping him, built the Richmond house by hand in 1935. He got around using a walker in recent years. Johnson was the only living Californian considered a “supercentenarian,” a designation for those ages 110 or older, Coles said. His group is now in the process of validating a Los Angeles candidate who claims to be 112 years old. Coles participated in an autopsy Thursday that was designed to study Johnson’s health.

“All of his organs were extremely youthful. They could have been the organs of someone who was 50 or 60, not 112. Clearly his genes had some secrets,” Coles said. “Everything in his body that we looked at was clean as a whistle, except for his lungs with the pneumonia,” Coles said. “He had no heart disease, he had no cancer, no diabetes and no Alzheimer’s. “This is a mysterious case that someone could be so healthy from a pathology point of view and that there is no obvious cause of death.”

Sweet!

So this is how things stand on a Friday night. Number 7 in the whole country.
Just a couple more days to go.................

No Salesman Will Call - Vote For My Friends On MTV2

OK, so I've never asked you guys to do anything except read my little posts, but that's about to change. MTV2 is hosting a national competition on their site for the best bands in cities across the country. The top 2 per state (100 bands total) will put together an audio clip (song + interview) for college campuses around the U.S. to be narrowed down to 12 bands. Those 12 will compete at the MTV2 studios in NY to reduce the field to the finalists (2-3 bands voted on MTV.com) who will perform a live show. The winner gets $50,000, an MTV.com web page, and possible appearances on MTV Rock for a week. RYEWIRE, pictured above, is currently the #1 band in the Seattle area and they rank somewhere around #10 nationally (the other "#1" band on the site didn't register in time and so they're not actually in the running ). Could you take a minute to throw some votes their way?

I promise I'll never bother ya for anything else, and that includes the pony that I ask for every Christmas! The contest runs through Sept. 4th.

XOXO - FP