My list of income-producing activities has expanded: I am now a transcriptionist for Truthdig.com. The site includes written articles as well as telephone interviews and video. Sometimes people want to read only rather than listen and/or watch, so I listen to the audio and type---for your reading pleasure. You'd think a trained monkey could transcribe, but let's just say there are challenges. For me there's also the small matter of ignorance. I don't watch the news and I certainly don't keep up with anything remotely political, but I do lean to the left, the interviewers and interviewees are passionate about what they're doing, and these interviews give me a fabulous intellectual fix. Click here to dig for the truth.
And this isn't just any ol' site; it's been nominated in three major categories for the Webby Award. For past decade, the Webby Award has been the leading international award for excellence on the Internet. So there! Click here to see a list of Webby nominees and winners.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Big Surprise
The fridge, the bed, the TV, a new book . . . All are distractions when I’m not particularly inclined to work. On one such occasion I decided to venture forth and work elsewhere: the library. Before settling down with my laptop computer, I went to the little translators’ room. Rather than put my bag on the floor, I pulled down the baby-changing table to set it there. I noticed that several sheets of paper were trapped between the pull-down table and the wall.
Uh-oh! Did some poor, hard-working mother forget her precious print-out while changing her child’s diaper in the restroom? I pulled out the paper and began to unfold it. The first sheet had a picture of a body builder. Hmmm. Interesting. This guy was older than one would expect. The next sheet also had a body builder. This one was younger, but he had hair on his chest. Uhm, don’t people shave and oil themselves up for competitions and these kinds of photos? Then I fully unfolded the sheets and realized that these guys were naked and, erm, happily erect.
I walked over to the Reference Desk. It was a busy weekday afternoon at the public library, with hordes of teenagers descending on the place, mothers hushing small children, and retirees milling about. I carefully and discreetly unfolded one of the sheets of paper to show the librarian and said, “You might want to check the other restrooms.”
Never a dull moment in my life, people!
Uh-oh! Did some poor, hard-working mother forget her precious print-out while changing her child’s diaper in the restroom? I pulled out the paper and began to unfold it. The first sheet had a picture of a body builder. Hmmm. Interesting. This guy was older than one would expect. The next sheet also had a body builder. This one was younger, but he had hair on his chest. Uhm, don’t people shave and oil themselves up for competitions and these kinds of photos? Then I fully unfolded the sheets and realized that these guys were naked and, erm, happily erect.
I walked over to the Reference Desk. It was a busy weekday afternoon at the public library, with hordes of teenagers descending on the place, mothers hushing small children, and retirees milling about. I carefully and discreetly unfolded one of the sheets of paper to show the librarian and said, “You might want to check the other restrooms.”
Never a dull moment in my life, people!
For a good time, call Z
My phone number was mistakenly printed in the current issue of the local free weekly newspaper as the contact for the City Parks and Recreation Office. I’ve been getting calls about the 2007 Easter Egg Hunt. I made the last two callers laugh when I asked them if they knew any single guys between 30 and 40 and available for a date next week.
This isn’t a first: over the years I’ve been called about meditation classes and Japanese flower arranging, among other things. The problem has finally been corrected, and the woman at the newspaper tried to console me by saying it was a good thing my number wasn’t listed under Dial-A-Prayer or “For a good time, call . . .”
This isn’t a first: over the years I’ve been called about meditation classes and Japanese flower arranging, among other things. The problem has finally been corrected, and the woman at the newspaper tried to console me by saying it was a good thing my number wasn’t listed under Dial-A-Prayer or “For a good time, call . . .”
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Hormonal Betrayal
This, my friends, is the life. You're flexible enough to squat for relatively long periods of time, and all you need are your pacifier and your bear-in-a-bunny-suit, because you're so cute that grown-ups are more than happy to take care of everything else for you.
To take this picture, I squatted and pushed down the shutter as fast as I could from pretty far away and cropped the image at home---I didn't want anyone to think I was planning soemthing, uhm, unsavory.
Have you noticed? There are cute babies and toddlers everywhere. It's a conspiracy. They are adorable, and sometimes I feel like I want to have one of my own. It's hormonal betrayal. No, no, no! There will be no little Zs running around. Whenever mommy feelings ambush me, I lay down until the feelings go away. Napping helps, too, as does ice cream.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Ronan Tynan
I feel like such a slacker! Consider Ronan Tynan. The man was born with a lower limb disability, but that didn’t keep him from riding horses and racing motorcycles as a boy. When he was twenty, his legs had to be amputated below the knee . He was climbing up the steps of his college dorm just weeks after the operation, and within a year he was an athlete winning gold medals in the Paralympics. Between 1981 and 1984 he won eighteen gold medals and fourteen world records of which he still holds nine.
Yikers! There’s more. Ronan became the first disabled person ever admitted to the National College of Physical Education. He later became a medical doctor specializing in orthopedic sports injuries.
Amazing enough, eh? But there’s more still.
At age 33, when he was well into his residency as a doctor, Ronan began serious, formal voice studies. Less than a year later he won both the John McCormack Cup for Tenor Voice and the BBC talent show Go For It less than one year after beginning the study of voice. His operatic kudos go on and on. Then, in 1998, he joined Anthony Kearns and John McDermott, known as the super successful Irish Tenors.
And of course he’s written a book. His autobiography, "Halfway Home," was published in February of 2002.
Wow. Pretty damned amazing. Oh, and apparently he’s a really nice guy, too. Ah well, at least we can be childish and make fun of his ears. Hmmm. Looks like he’s pretty hardcore Christian, but I won’t hold that against him. Thinking about him either makes me feel like a complete failure or is very inspiring and uplifting. Click here and decide for yourself.
Yikers! There’s more. Ronan became the first disabled person ever admitted to the National College of Physical Education. He later became a medical doctor specializing in orthopedic sports injuries.
Amazing enough, eh? But there’s more still.
At age 33, when he was well into his residency as a doctor, Ronan began serious, formal voice studies. Less than a year later he won both the John McCormack Cup for Tenor Voice and the BBC talent show Go For It less than one year after beginning the study of voice. His operatic kudos go on and on. Then, in 1998, he joined Anthony Kearns and John McDermott, known as the super successful Irish Tenors.
And of course he’s written a book. His autobiography, "Halfway Home," was published in February of 2002.
Wow. Pretty damned amazing. Oh, and apparently he’s a really nice guy, too. Ah well, at least we can be childish and make fun of his ears. Hmmm. Looks like he’s pretty hardcore Christian, but I won’t hold that against him. Thinking about him either makes me feel like a complete failure or is very inspiring and uplifting. Click here and decide for yourself.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Gnat on Metamphetamines
“The Know-It-All” by A. J. Jacobs. I love this book. So much that the public library is fining me several dollars for bringing it back several weeks late. Incidentally, I’m nowhere near reading it all, but I love the premise. This non-fiction book lets us into the twisted mind of a man who decides to read the Encyclopedia Britannica, A to Z, cover to cover. Yikers!
I can totally relate to the author.
-He practices what I call buffet-style religion, sampling different religious and spiritual traditions and taking only the parts that resonate with him.
-He likes odd juxtapositions and abrupt changes in subject. “I love seeing the prophet Abraham rub elbows with Karl Abraham, a German shrink who theorized about the anal explusive and phallic stages.”
-He learns fascinating stories and random facts and is dying to slip them into ordinary conversation or just tell people about them, but others really couldn’t care less (that abalones have 5 assholes, that opossums have 13 nipples, or that dwarves have prominent buttocks). That’s me on any given day.
-He’s a big nerd.
Yup. That’s me! Although I would never go for the Britannica. Nope, the Americana is for me! Isn’t it at a 4th-grade reading level? At the end of my second year of college I spent a good part of an afternoon reading the entire entry on France, including history, political system, etc. for a big oral exam on French civilization. So many facts, so little time!
The title of this entry is a reference to how Mr. Jacobs describes his attention span. He’s a hilarious writer. Click here for info on the book.
I can totally relate to the author.
-He practices what I call buffet-style religion, sampling different religious and spiritual traditions and taking only the parts that resonate with him.
-He likes odd juxtapositions and abrupt changes in subject. “I love seeing the prophet Abraham rub elbows with Karl Abraham, a German shrink who theorized about the anal explusive and phallic stages.”
-He learns fascinating stories and random facts and is dying to slip them into ordinary conversation or just tell people about them, but others really couldn’t care less (that abalones have 5 assholes, that opossums have 13 nipples, or that dwarves have prominent buttocks). That’s me on any given day.
-He’s a big nerd.
Yup. That’s me! Although I would never go for the Britannica. Nope, the Americana is for me! Isn’t it at a 4th-grade reading level? At the end of my second year of college I spent a good part of an afternoon reading the entire entry on France, including history, political system, etc. for a big oral exam on French civilization. So many facts, so little time!
The title of this entry is a reference to how Mr. Jacobs describes his attention span. He’s a hilarious writer. Click here for info on the book.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
FBW
If you must know, I gave away the gift certificate for the Brazilian bikini wax, but I couldn’t help myself; I had to do some research. It would appear that this term can refer to removing all one’s pubic hair with the exception of a small line sometimes called a “landing strip.” It can also refer to removal of, well, everything, front to back, also referred to as the Full Brazilian Wax or FBW, or Sphinx. Click here for the relevant article in Wikipedia, including some history. Genital waxing for hygiene and/or religious purposes.
Wikipedia led me to two other riveting facts. 1) There is a term for a preference for hairless genitals: acomoclitism. 2) There is such thing as a pubic wig, known as a “merkin.” Yikers! Apparently, the merkin was used as early as 1617, notably by prostitutes after shaving their genitalia to eliminate lice or to disguise the marks of syphilis. Omigosh. I don’t know if it’s for real, but there’s a British company that sells custom-made, handmade merkins. Curious? By all means, click here.
Naturally, I shared my newfound knowledge with my buddies at Curves. I even took in a book, “The S Factor,” by Sheila Kelley. Pages 120 and 121 give you a plethora of detailed, practical information, including illustrations. The section is called “Pubic Coifing 101.” Besides the “landing strip” I mentioned in my previous blog entry (which she calls “The Brazilian”), other, erm, hairstyles include The Heart, The Tidy Triangle, and the Bermuda Triangle. I think I’ll keep the bit about the merkins to myself, though.
Wikipedia led me to two other riveting facts. 1) There is a term for a preference for hairless genitals: acomoclitism. 2) There is such thing as a pubic wig, known as a “merkin.” Yikers! Apparently, the merkin was used as early as 1617, notably by prostitutes after shaving their genitalia to eliminate lice or to disguise the marks of syphilis. Omigosh. I don’t know if it’s for real, but there’s a British company that sells custom-made, handmade merkins. Curious? By all means, click here.
Naturally, I shared my newfound knowledge with my buddies at Curves. I even took in a book, “The S Factor,” by Sheila Kelley. Pages 120 and 121 give you a plethora of detailed, practical information, including illustrations. The section is called “Pubic Coifing 101.” Besides the “landing strip” I mentioned in my previous blog entry (which she calls “The Brazilian”), other, erm, hairstyles include The Heart, The Tidy Triangle, and the Bermuda Triangle. I think I’ll keep the bit about the merkins to myself, though.
Lucky Z - Part 2
Traffic lights often cramp my style. I’ll be hurtling down the sidewalk and then I’ll have to wait until the red-palm light turns into a green-walking-figure light. Well, on Friday evening I didn’t have to stop or even slow down. “Wow, that’s lucky,” I thought. “I bet I’ll find a penny on the ground, too!” And, sure enough, a short while later a shiny new penny was waiting for me in front of the supermarket.
The next day I attended a women’s conference at the Monterey Institute of International Studies. Lunch was included, and the lunch ticket was also the way to enter for the door-prizes. There were 8 or 9 prizes, and just when I was beginning to think my lucky streak was over, my name was called. I was too busy laughing about the bald guy who’d won an appointment with a hairdresser/hair colorist, so I didn’t hear what I’d won. Surprise! It was a gift certificate for a Brazilian bikini wax. I cross my legs and cringe just thinking about it. Think Sandra Bullock in the movie “Miss Congeniality.” Ouch! Yikes!
The next day I attended a women’s conference at the Monterey Institute of International Studies. Lunch was included, and the lunch ticket was also the way to enter for the door-prizes. There were 8 or 9 prizes, and just when I was beginning to think my lucky streak was over, my name was called. I was too busy laughing about the bald guy who’d won an appointment with a hairdresser/hair colorist, so I didn’t hear what I’d won. Surprise! It was a gift certificate for a Brazilian bikini wax. I cross my legs and cringe just thinking about it. Think Sandra Bullock in the movie “Miss Congeniality.” Ouch! Yikes!
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Stinky Meanies
Have you tried your hand at creating poetry with those kits that would have you create your masterpiece using words printed on magnets which you then move around on your refrigerator? The title of this entry is sort of a reference to one of my first attempts: Evil people smell difficult.
Hey, that’s not so bad, is it? How about my next attempt: Happy dogs search and find love-humans.
I think it’s time I mention that my kit was for children. Hence this first line: If I were a bug . . .
Let’s just say that after finishing that verse, I decided to a) donate the kit to Goodwill and b) not quit my day job to become a poet. Are you ready?
If I were a bug
and my body real tiny,
I’d find a cute guy
and move in on his hiney.
Hey, that’s not so bad, is it? How about my next attempt: Happy dogs search and find love-humans.
I think it’s time I mention that my kit was for children. Hence this first line: If I were a bug . . .
Let’s just say that after finishing that verse, I decided to a) donate the kit to Goodwill and b) not quit my day job to become a poet. Are you ready?
If I were a bug
and my body real tiny,
I’d find a cute guy
and move in on his hiney.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Instant Garden
I’m a disgrace to the apartment complex in which I live. One neighbor even hinted that my porch was an eyesore. Every porch has potted plants, flowers, furniture, decorations, satellite dishes . . . Mine has a sad, somewhat-white plastic chair accompanied by lots of weeds in the 12-or-so-inch band of dirt around the concrete. Every so often I pull the weeds, which is quite satisfying 'though not very exciting.
The true event occurs once a year, when I grow an instant garden. I pull my tools out of hibernation, retrieving them from their airtight glass jar in the bowels of a kitchen cabinet and I get to work. Neighbors and passers-by stare in surprise. And it doesn’t take long.
These photos are taken at different angles, but you get the general idea, methinks. My tools: sidewalk chalk!
Before:
The true event occurs once a year, when I grow an instant garden. I pull my tools out of hibernation, retrieving them from their airtight glass jar in the bowels of a kitchen cabinet and I get to work. Neighbors and passers-by stare in surprise. And it doesn’t take long.
These photos are taken at different angles, but you get the general idea, methinks. My tools: sidewalk chalk!
Before:
The first year, I attempted to recreate real flowers, but I had overestimated my skill level . . .
After:
Friday, August 25, 2006
Lucky Z
Today, on my way to my acupuncturist (click here for her website), I spotted what looked suspiciously like a one-dollar bill next to a toothpick on the ground. I was walking through a parking lot, and a teenager was walking towards me. Blonde, lots of makeup, carrying books. Had Blondie seen it? Would I get there first?! Was it obvious that I was fighting the urge to sprint towards the one-dollar bill? Did I need to get a life?
Woohoo! I swooped down and grabbed the money. “You’re lucky!” said Blondie. I smiled a satisfied smile.
One of my favorite books is “Angels and Demons” by Dan Brown. I liked it much more than “The DaVinci Code.” It’s been a while since I read it, so I don’t remember the reference to the one-dollar bill, but I do remember that there’s some interesting trivia, if you will, at the author’s site. Look at the back of a one-dollar bill, then click here and scroll to the bottom of the page for two brief paragraphs about the creepy floating eye, the pyramid (not particularly American, eh?), and the Latin reference to a new secular order—as opposed to “In God we trust.” Interesting stuff.
Woohoo! I swooped down and grabbed the money. “You’re lucky!” said Blondie. I smiled a satisfied smile.
One of my favorite books is “Angels and Demons” by Dan Brown. I liked it much more than “The DaVinci Code.” It’s been a while since I read it, so I don’t remember the reference to the one-dollar bill, but I do remember that there’s some interesting trivia, if you will, at the author’s site. Look at the back of a one-dollar bill, then click here and scroll to the bottom of the page for two brief paragraphs about the creepy floating eye, the pyramid (not particularly American, eh?), and the Latin reference to a new secular order—as opposed to “In God we trust.” Interesting stuff.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Water Up My Nose
Twenty-four hours before I had to get on an airplane I was sneezing, and sneezing, and sneezing, and I was producing more than my share of mucus. I was a human faucet. Silly me. Instead of taking antihistamines for relief, I tried pouring water up my nose from what looked like a small teapot. I ventured forth, in search of a neti pot. The cashier at Whole Foods was a surfer dude with dreadlocks. He asked, “Are you going to water your ear plants?” What?! “Isn’t the woman in the picture on that box pouring water into her ear?” I explained that, no, she was pouring the water into her nose. Maybe someday I’ll scan the picture for you to see. For now, click here to see the other side of the box.
I had images of sitting cross-legged in a beautiful, open field, listening to soothing, yoga-inspired music, smiling like the woman in the picture on the box, feeling serene. Well, I was in fact leaning over the kitchen sink, my neighbor was blasting oohm-pa-pa Mexican music, and I kept pouring and pouring water up my nose. Where was it going? Why wasn’t it coming out?! Then it ended up in my throat. Yikers! I eventually calmed my breathing and found the correct angle for pouring, and the water came out the other nostril like it was supposed to. My nose felt violated. Perhaps because I had heated tap water in a kettle rather than using distilled water with non-iodized salt.
Of course I did some research on Jala Neti, also known as nasal irrigation. Click here for the yoga perspective or click here for the Western medicine perspective. It’s an ancient Yoga technique. Plus, for many in India and Southeast Asia it’s part of a daily routine like brushing teeth. Benefits of nasal irrigation include all kinds of relief for allergy-sufferers, deeper and more relaxed breathing, improved vision, and avoiding the common cold. Pretty cool, actually. It also improves your blood pressure and your sex life. Okay, I lied. I made up the blood pressure part, and I wish it improved one’s sex life. In any case, I'll try neti for a while and see what happens.
I had images of sitting cross-legged in a beautiful, open field, listening to soothing, yoga-inspired music, smiling like the woman in the picture on the box, feeling serene. Well, I was in fact leaning over the kitchen sink, my neighbor was blasting oohm-pa-pa Mexican music, and I kept pouring and pouring water up my nose. Where was it going? Why wasn’t it coming out?! Then it ended up in my throat. Yikers! I eventually calmed my breathing and found the correct angle for pouring, and the water came out the other nostril like it was supposed to. My nose felt violated. Perhaps because I had heated tap water in a kettle rather than using distilled water with non-iodized salt.
Of course I did some research on Jala Neti, also known as nasal irrigation. Click here for the yoga perspective or click here for the Western medicine perspective. It’s an ancient Yoga technique. Plus, for many in India and Southeast Asia it’s part of a daily routine like brushing teeth. Benefits of nasal irrigation include all kinds of relief for allergy-sufferers, deeper and more relaxed breathing, improved vision, and avoiding the common cold. Pretty cool, actually. It also improves your blood pressure and your sex life. Okay, I lied. I made up the blood pressure part, and I wish it improved one’s sex life. In any case, I'll try neti for a while and see what happens.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
How many butt-cheeks?
Come with me on a trip down Memory Lane. Our destination? Another RAS: Random Act of Stupidity.
While studying translation and interpretation in Belgium, I audited a class called “Introduction to the Arab World.” I was surprised to see two Arab ladies, maybe in their early thirties, in class. They didn’t know each other and were talking one morning. I was not used to their accents when they spoke French. After wondering for a short while what one of them had said, I couldn’t take it any more. And there’s no such thing as a stupid question, right? I asked, “Did you just ask that lady if she had two butt-cheeks?” Horrified, the lady said, “Shhhh!! No, I asked her if she was from Fez!” Fez. Besides being a cone-shaped, flat-topped hat made of felt (click here for photo), it’s also a city in Morocco (click here for photos)!
In my defense, Es-tu de Fez? (Are you from Fez?) sounds very similar to As-tu deux fesses? (Do you have two butt-cheeks?) Also, I had been forced to read and discuss François Voltaire’s “Candide” as part of an undergraduate course on the Age of Enlightenment, and one of the characters from that, erm, 1759 literary masterpiece, has only one butt cheek. So there!
While studying translation and interpretation in Belgium, I audited a class called “Introduction to the Arab World.” I was surprised to see two Arab ladies, maybe in their early thirties, in class. They didn’t know each other and were talking one morning. I was not used to their accents when they spoke French. After wondering for a short while what one of them had said, I couldn’t take it any more. And there’s no such thing as a stupid question, right? I asked, “Did you just ask that lady if she had two butt-cheeks?” Horrified, the lady said, “Shhhh!! No, I asked her if she was from Fez!” Fez. Besides being a cone-shaped, flat-topped hat made of felt (click here for photo), it’s also a city in Morocco (click here for photos)!
In my defense, Es-tu de Fez? (Are you from Fez?) sounds very similar to As-tu deux fesses? (Do you have two butt-cheeks?) Also, I had been forced to read and discuss François Voltaire’s “Candide” as part of an undergraduate course on the Age of Enlightenment, and one of the characters from that, erm, 1759 literary masterpiece, has only one butt cheek. So there!
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Juicy
Mysterious bits of dark material cling to my kitchen cabinet, wall, refrigerator, and floor. One or two tiny insects delight in flying loop-the-loops in that corner. And one’s nostrils are assaulted by the smell of fermenting fruit. Yes, I was too lazy to clean my Jack LaLanne Power Juicer this fine morning. See the somewhat cheezoid website with video for this juice extractor by clicking here.
When I found out that the mineral levels and mineral ratios in my body were---and this is a technical term---all screwed up, and it was recommended that I eliminate sugar and carbohydrates from my diet, no matter how unnatural that may seem, I decided to first increase my vegetable intake. I found Jason Vale’s book, “The Juice Master's Ultimate Fast Food: Discover the Power of Raw Juice” at the public library and was amazed. I wanted to be able to jump like he does on the cover of his book. Click here for a look.
A few things I’ve learned:
-Inevitably, things will fly out the top of your juicer and stick to the wall.
-Don’t open the juicer until it has stopped spinning completely, otherwise a chunk of pineapple can and will fly half-way across your kitchen. Fascinating, really.
-Zucchini juice is disgusting, but kale, orange bell pepper, and spinach juices are tolerable.
-You feel slightly ill the first few days you drink this juice because your body is detoxing.
-Grape juice is really yummy, but you have to be careful because that’s just too much sugar straight into your system too fast. My head felt funny.
-Little things make me happy, like dropping a whole, furry kiwi into the chute and having juice come out the other end, like magic. P’rhaps I need to get out more.
When I found out that the mineral levels and mineral ratios in my body were---and this is a technical term---all screwed up, and it was recommended that I eliminate sugar and carbohydrates from my diet, no matter how unnatural that may seem, I decided to first increase my vegetable intake. I found Jason Vale’s book, “The Juice Master's Ultimate Fast Food: Discover the Power of Raw Juice” at the public library and was amazed. I wanted to be able to jump like he does on the cover of his book. Click here for a look.
A few things I’ve learned:
-Inevitably, things will fly out the top of your juicer and stick to the wall.
-Don’t open the juicer until it has stopped spinning completely, otherwise a chunk of pineapple can and will fly half-way across your kitchen. Fascinating, really.
-Zucchini juice is disgusting, but kale, orange bell pepper, and spinach juices are tolerable.
-You feel slightly ill the first few days you drink this juice because your body is detoxing.
-Grape juice is really yummy, but you have to be careful because that’s just too much sugar straight into your system too fast. My head felt funny.
-Little things make me happy, like dropping a whole, furry kiwi into the chute and having juice come out the other end, like magic. P’rhaps I need to get out more.
Monday, August 07, 2006
Don’t squat with your spurs on
After spending eight days in Dallas, I was griping as if I were going to be hung with a brand new rope, because I had seen only one man wearing a cowboy hat, tight jeans, and boots. To add insult to injury, his belt buckle was not bigger than my fist.
On my first day back in foggy Monterey and away from the extreme Texas heat, I was as happy as a gopher in soft dirt. I went for a walk and hadn't gone far when I spotted a man with a cowboy hat! About 15 minutes later, I spotted a pair of ornate cowboy boots in the back seat of a car. As I turned a corner, I spotted 5 people wearing cowboy hats and jeans. The men wore boots and the woman wore open-toed shoes with furry black and white cow on the top. If you’re confused and you don’t know whether to scratch your watch or wind your butt, it’s okay. This is just a reminder that California is quite diverse.
As it turns out, I knew 2 of the 5 people who, incidentally, form the band called Cow Bop. Pamela is my Christmas-caroling-gig buddy, and Bruce is her husband. Pamela asked me to sing along, but I don’t know their music and would’ve felt like a one-legged man at a butt-kicking contest. Cow Bop is currently on the road to raise funds for music-mentoring programs, and you can follow their progress by clicking here. As you read their blog, look at their photos, listen to their podcasts, and give them some money, don’t be surprised if the whole thing strikes you as being as handy as hip pockets on a hog (pretty neat).
Okay, I confess. The whole point of this entry was to use expressions I got out of a cool little book called “Speak Texan in 30 Minutes or Less.” I’m disappointed that I couldn’t fit in “cute as a possum” or “quick as a hiccup.”
On my first day back in foggy Monterey and away from the extreme Texas heat, I was as happy as a gopher in soft dirt. I went for a walk and hadn't gone far when I spotted a man with a cowboy hat! About 15 minutes later, I spotted a pair of ornate cowboy boots in the back seat of a car. As I turned a corner, I spotted 5 people wearing cowboy hats and jeans. The men wore boots and the woman wore open-toed shoes with furry black and white cow on the top. If you’re confused and you don’t know whether to scratch your watch or wind your butt, it’s okay. This is just a reminder that California is quite diverse.
As it turns out, I knew 2 of the 5 people who, incidentally, form the band called Cow Bop. Pamela is my Christmas-caroling-gig buddy, and Bruce is her husband. Pamela asked me to sing along, but I don’t know their music and would’ve felt like a one-legged man at a butt-kicking contest. Cow Bop is currently on the road to raise funds for music-mentoring programs, and you can follow their progress by clicking here. As you read their blog, look at their photos, listen to their podcasts, and give them some money, don’t be surprised if the whole thing strikes you as being as handy as hip pockets on a hog (pretty neat).
Okay, I confess. The whole point of this entry was to use expressions I got out of a cool little book called “Speak Texan in 30 Minutes or Less.” I’m disappointed that I couldn’t fit in “cute as a possum” or “quick as a hiccup.”
Friday, July 21, 2006
Feel Rich
I’ve been playing the coolest game. Every day I log on and there’s a check waiting for me. Granted, it’s virtual money, but still. Today there was a beautiful check, with my name spelled correctly (Yay!) for $5,000. Then I clicked on a button that said “Spend your check now!” which took me to a screen with a blank space for me to write in what I wanted to “buy.” No need to save or invest, or spend on practical things, because tomorrow there’ll be a bigger one. Woohoo!
You start out with $100. Even if Law of Attraction and/or New-Age stuff doesn’t float your boat, it’s worth playing the game. I’ve “bought” clothes and shoes, an MP3 player, high-quality courses, ukuleles, a land tour and cruise package to Greece and the Aegean, and more. Check out www.choosingprosperity.com and go to the prosperity game.
You start out with $100. Even if Law of Attraction and/or New-Age stuff doesn’t float your boat, it’s worth playing the game. I’ve “bought” clothes and shoes, an MP3 player, high-quality courses, ukuleles, a land tour and cruise package to Greece and the Aegean, and more. Check out www.choosingprosperity.com and go to the prosperity game.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Ukuleles for Sanity
The website for Ukuleles for Sanity is sooooo well done. Great images, easy to navigate, humorous song parodies, free downloads . . . It’s just ingenious, even if you don’t agree with the point of view presented. This is funny stuff! Intelligence and creativity for a cause. I love that.
Click here to see what is now one of my favorite images, and/or read on for some quotes I've copied from the site. As a musician, I get a kick out of quote about expectations being low.
“And to those activist organizations that wish to create their own Ukuleles for Sanity group within their organization but don’t actually know any ukulele players, we say: 5 minutes. That’s how long it takes to learn a basic three-chord protest song on a ukulele. It doesn’t even matter how well you play it. It’s a ukulele. Expectations will be low. Novelty interest will be high. We think having your strings in tune helps, but it’s your call.”
“Weird times call for weird symbols, and we believe that the ukulele is the perfect symbol of empowerment in these times. We believe that this four-stringed underdog can be used to deliver a political statement that extends the artistic statement we already make when we perform on a uke. It’s a statement of hope and defiance and humor. Of unapologetic pride in being who we are. Of the belief that the smallest voice has its own special strength.”
“Ukuleles for Sanity. Providing all of your left-leaning ukulele political action needs!”
Click here to see what is now one of my favorite images, and/or read on for some quotes I've copied from the site. As a musician, I get a kick out of quote about expectations being low.
“And to those activist organizations that wish to create their own Ukuleles for Sanity group within their organization but don’t actually know any ukulele players, we say: 5 minutes. That’s how long it takes to learn a basic three-chord protest song on a ukulele. It doesn’t even matter how well you play it. It’s a ukulele. Expectations will be low. Novelty interest will be high. We think having your strings in tune helps, but it’s your call.”
“Weird times call for weird symbols, and we believe that the ukulele is the perfect symbol of empowerment in these times. We believe that this four-stringed underdog can be used to deliver a political statement that extends the artistic statement we already make when we perform on a uke. It’s a statement of hope and defiance and humor. Of unapologetic pride in being who we are. Of the belief that the smallest voice has its own special strength.”
“Ukuleles for Sanity. Providing all of your left-leaning ukulele political action needs!”
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Bite the Wax Tadpole
What’s the difference between an interpreter and a translator? Both work with language, but the interpreter works with the spoken word (think Nicole Kidman in “The Interpreter”) and the translator works with the written word. I am a full-time, self-employed translator, and over the past 9 years I’ve learned to say that I translate documents into English from Dutch and French, otherwise people will assume that I interpret spoken Spanish and English. It’s a pet peeve of mine.
I’m a trained professional, and it usually grieves me to see stupid translation mistakes, but today I was translating a challenging legal text and needed to see other people’s mistakes to make myself feel competent. I’m not ashamed to admit it. Heehee!
Are you wondering about the wax tadpole? Rumor has it that when Coca Cola had its name translated into Chinese, the result was a mistranslation that meant "Bite the Wax Tadpole." Actually, that's an urban myth you can read about by clicking here. Then click here to see a list of crazy translations.
I’m a trained professional, and it usually grieves me to see stupid translation mistakes, but today I was translating a challenging legal text and needed to see other people’s mistakes to make myself feel competent. I’m not ashamed to admit it. Heehee!
Are you wondering about the wax tadpole? Rumor has it that when Coca Cola had its name translated into Chinese, the result was a mistranslation that meant "Bite the Wax Tadpole." Actually, that's an urban myth you can read about by clicking here. Then click here to see a list of crazy translations.
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