song du jour:Fragile, Sting

mood: (sigh)

Postcards from the Blue

In an effort to blog less in my head and more on my keyboard, I've gotten into the habit of putting down the better expressed random thoughts in a blank email (because it will save automatically when my new G5 freezes 2-3 times/day...sigh) to be pasted into dreamweaver later when I have time to write an entry. Lately, though, I haven't had time to finish writing these thoughts, but I thought I'd just put them up as thought postcards, little slices of the moment or almost complete thoughts. Just another glimpse into V's wacky all (too) inclusive world.

09-21-05

I've been sweating over over a hot plate doing kum boo on 3 more pairs of 'fishy' earrings. Yes, I know, a Betty Crocker hot plate from K-Mart doesn't sound very 'Bronze Age,' but this technique involves a eutectic bonding process that works around 600 degrees F. That's too hot for a torch, and I don't have an apprentice keeping a charcoal brick at just the right temperature, so Betty and Georgia Power must serve as my underlings.

09-28-05
I've been feeling rather breathy and anxious all day, and once I was aware of it, I thought "deep breath." When I tried, however, I realized the problem was not so much one of emotion as one brought on by a strapless bra. [Removed once home.] Ahhhhhhhh, yes, oxygen in, anxiety gone. I know I've blogged this before, but really, what idiot thought the underwire was was a good idea worthy of marketing?!? There's some indication that the resulting constricted flow to the lymph nodes under the arms may contribute to breast cancer, and the stupid things just plain hurt. Also, they don't work all that well. Why don't we look to related fields for inspiration and innovation? How about architecture? After all, we're talking about the science of keeping massively heavy extensions up quite high. How about the flying buttress bra?

09-29-05
Ok, so I HAD to look. I mean, somebody starts a site called Spiritually Sexy, hey, how do you not look?!? In order to gain entry, I put the requisite profile, incomplete with no photo and no description, and that little "hide profile" box checked. I'm not sure any amount of hormonal angst could possibly make me that desperate. I mean, seriously, I'm going to email some guy who's looking for a "practice partner???" as almost all of them are? I'm not above occasionally looking for one of those myself. In fact, whole epoques in the history of my love life often seem to qualify under that category in retrospect, but give me a break. Listing it as an actual option along with "Short-term," "Long Term," and "Occasional" is more than mercenary. It's just plain callous (or calloused, depending on how much practice we're talking here).
I gave up looking for the love of my life. - No, really, I did, which is not to say I gave up looking for love, but rather acknowledged that the "of my life" part is probably in my past and admittedly just too damned much pressure. - Still, like I'm going to bother returning the email of a guy who's just looking to practice. Back to KW's famous quote of "and everything but 'get off me you pig' means she wants to sleep with me'," except my version would be, "like, uh, dude, just 'cause I'm into reading Deida, doesn't mean I'd consider surrendering to you!"

09-30-05
Back in my sailing days, there was one song that epitomized the feel of standing at the bow, feeling the wind rush past. It was Fragile by Sting. I don't think I ever listened to that song while on the boat, but when it would come on the CD player while I was driving, it wasn't the asphalt zooming under my car. It was the turquoise water.
I took Skyler to see The Living Sea at the IMAX theater tonight, and what should be the theme to the movie? Yep, Fragile. The whole soundtrack was by Sting. I thought I was going to watch a cool movie about underwater life, and instead I just wanted to get on a plane, head for the Caribbean, and snorkel scantily clad. Damn.
It was harder still to enjoy the movie, since I had my own personal dolphin with me. As I blogged about last year, the only other time I've braved a movie theater with my little one, it was about how different sea animals communicate. As one marine biologist described how female dolphins (or was it porpoises?) talk 60% more than males, probably because they must reel in their young so often, I was whisper-shouting, "If you don't sit still and STOP TALKING, we will LEAVE!" Good grief my son is enthusiastic, which is great. Really, it is! But oh, to be snorkeling scantily clad...just about anywhere but here...