Bravo, Mr. Bush.

Bush sold 220,000 shares of World Com stock from the division he was the boss of.  A month later, that division filed bankruptcy.  5 months later he was our president. 

Bush approved the British used sonar in our super-submarines which kills the plankton of our oceans and other oceanic life neccessary to sustain our world.  The consequences are also a more rapid global warming trend and higher levels of methane ice crystals forming on our ocean's floors. 

Bush is an industrialist in a way, a regular company man.  But where others say Bush is a war monger, I see it different.  I don't much care what you think of me for saying this either; so put it in your own damn blog. 

Bush has stayed focused on this war which kept him from making a lot of fucked up laws that we would be paying for for the rest of my life.  I applaud him.  He is a lousy law maker for America but he did stay on track in regards to this war. 

Let America not become known for doing things half the way. 

This man is Our president.  No man is perfect and I think anyone wanting to represent us is half baked already.  But, against all odds, he has stuck this out.  Bravo Mr. Bush.  

 Now all we have to do is research the truth about the Supreme Court.  They are the real problem.

Michael Moore's opinions

For years, several of my cohorts and I have been discussing world events.  We don't always agree, but we have some powerful scenarios played out within our conversations.  In our conclusions, because much of what we often spoke of would break our hearts or piss us off, we decided that if we couldn't do anything about it, it is best left at the letter writing or discussion forum. 

But no, along comes Michael Moore.  He has this documentary that will make everyone dislike our president.  Pardon me, but isn't that a tad unpatriotic?   So he has the financial backing to spout off his words and manipulate the audience through a "docu-fiction" wrapped in a lot of truth.  Well, my little group covered that stuff over a year ago.  I guess I'm just a tad disgruntled because his little endeavor to piss us off with his brandishing of the truth could put our president in danger.  We are now at the negotiating portion of the war.  This is no intermission, mind you.  Our Nation's leader will soon be heading to the middle east and I could just see him being captured by the hit squads.  They would slaughter their own family, and they would slaughter a nation's leader more dramatically where the entire world would see.  This worries me.

So the dilemna is this: do we celebrate our 1st ammendment rights and go feed Mr. Moore's capatilistic urges or do we shun it entirely and miss out on some opportunites to spend some passion in discussion?  I don't know.

For the love of humans.

In the course of a lifetime, I've been touched by some remarkable souls.  They are busy being themselves, healing from illness, overcoming the devastation of divorce or the loss of a loved one, working through sudden poverty, you know--trials and tribulations.  These people don't know how much they mean to me.  It may not seem like much if I were to say, Tammy(tamamme38)--you are like the fresh morning dew drops on the leaves of the cottonwood trees; or ,Bruce(Justamaleflirt)--the mighty oak doesn't compare with your steadfast holding in life , or... and... or.... 

No, it probably doesn't seem like much to the people who are constantly being thought of because they go through their life unaware how much they bring to the lives of others.  The OldShaggers and Solys of this world are wonderful souls who take time to touch other people.  I wish I would do more than think about them.  But I do see you all in the dew drops, rain drops, sunshine, ripples upon the lakes and some I even see in a horse's ass.  LOL  (that's all of us at any given time--been there, will do that again.)  I ask of people who happen to read this, please don't think you are worthless.  You sure bring a lot more to life than you realize.  I'm proof of that.  You are all so human.  I love you for that. 

Speaking of love,  I sure do miss madpuppy.  Pup, wherever you are, please take care of yourself, and find humor in the day.   I think of you daily and have worn the little bear about my neck in the medicine pouch for a week now.  Heal.  Be.   Be healed and come talk to me.  As I type this, I see that crazy smile you get and the mischievious glimmer in your eyes.  LOL    I miss ya, sir.   I believe there are quite a few of us who do.

A much better time is upon us my love.  I smile when you make mistakes and blunders.  I've always loved you and appreciated the fact that you are such a man.   A manly man.  I have always loved that about you.   My gosh.

Guess what.   I imbibed.  Yup.   I feel sexy too.   <hic cup>      muaaaaahhhh

Teaching a more lasting lesson.

Since May 17th, I've been working on what I've come to define as the "inevitable".  It has been the most gut wrenching heart breaking thing I've done.  This last week, I had begun to come to terms with the ultimate direction I must travel.  I'm going North while the other half of my heart is going South.  It is as it should be. In truth, I was convinced he wanted less of a hassle.  I mean, I'm not there physically for him nor he for me.  We made no plans for our future because we aren't free to do such a thing. I told him the last time he hung up on me that should he ever do it again, that will be our signal that it is time for him to do what must be done. 

Today, five weeks later, he decides to phone me.  I don't get it.  Truly where the heart matters all logic must depart.  Thats all I can make of it.  I know I'll never see this soul again and I do miss him.  In time, that will lessen, I'm told.

He, like my husband, has different rules for himself than he does for me.  He can spit and spat and say insensitive things, but he has always appeared to expect me to have a more patient nurturing demeanor.  Well, I am not like that in the least.  I choose when I'll be patient and who is the recipient of my patience.  I lost patience with his double standard and he says that I called him my enemy.  I'll take his word for it because the enemy thing is sooo online and I was once steeped in that crap; but note, because of his absence in my life, I don't play online in the manner I once did and all the antics have changed for me.  

To love as I have loved him and to be loved as he loved me, that was by far the thing most worth living for.  I'll die a much richer woman having known him.  

Thank you my love for touching me along the way.

Tuesday

It is morning.  I've been up for 2 and a half hours now.  It is 4:37 pst.  Soon, I'll go to work, mop the floors, get all the videos categorized, do my sister's hair and take a snooze. 

Have I said that I wish Ralph Nader would withdraw?   I'd rather have Pat Paulsen and in retrospect, the country would have been in good hands.   I mean, is anyone really qualified to run this country?  A good person is what it takes.  What kind of good person?   The kind that loves the country as Reagan and Carter did.  They didn't look so good on paper and the emotional take on those men falls flat.  But they were both, non-judgmental individuals of strong and practiced faith.  They were tendered by their love for us, our ideals, our constitution, and due process pissed them off as much as it does us.  Grin and bear it, was the way of their days.  I think the next few elections could better all the previous if we choose the candidates by their supporters.  Supporters sometimes have unethical practices.    BBL   gonna go watch the news.

Borrowed Time

Out from behind a boulder came the warm winds and his essence danced before me.  I was awestruck and surrendered my breath unto the force.  Timeless expression and time again, in a gust it carried his emotion with words.   Those words? "I LOVE YOU!" Then out he blew.  But on the more gentler breeze he drifted back in and the breeze whispered, "I love you.  I have always loved you and I will always love you.  You know that."   I smiled, I cried, and gasped to catch my breath.  Today I got to dance with the wind.

The Journey inward is Deep.

The ordinarily still and quieted voice goes on unheard as a rule, it's influence subtle. But every once in awhile, and I'm not exactly sure why, the inner voice is all I hear.  It's words are sound, full of confession, forgiveness, love and even understanding. 

None the less, I can't stop thinking about a person who used to be in my life.  I was in a chatroom where a fellow was complaining about his last relationship.  He said, " and you know what?  Ever since I got rid of her, that pain in my neck has gone away."  It was said during one of my more well adjusted moments and I laughed in my family room.  I thought, how funny.  Get an effective hands free device you dumb shit or lose the phone.  Then it occured to me that for the person in my life, it was easier for him to lose me.  It makes better sense every day. 

I had some business to do earlier and the woman behind the glass looked to be from the homeland of Ireland.  She was reading Via, about Greece, how they aren't ready for the Olympics just a month away and how a lot of the folks of this world were not too happy about it.  I immediately felt upset and said, "My son would say there is a war going on for all of us, not just the Americans."  I'd say he was right of course but you know, if the world weren't such a coveting place,  Greece would be spectacular as it is naturally.  Imagine, going to Greece.   The petite red headed woman with brick colored flecks in her blackish eyes looked over the rim of her glasses and pulled them off, smiled and motioned for me to come closer.  She then put her hand to her ear to mean, "come again."   So I walked closer and without muttering began to philosophize.  She did too.  Another walked up and a client also joined.  We spoke.  It was utterly old world for those few moments and I felt connected to the people.  How much deeper do we go?  Let's see....

That's all she wrote.

I'm getting really good at squeezing extra hours into my dreams.  Most who know me know that the ideas for my writing come via dreams, so sleep is crucial for me.  I sleep in 4 to 12 hour stretches, waking after 9 hours no matter what.  Today, I did stretch a few extra hours in though.  I couldn't help it.  A love story was unfolding and I wanted to be sure it played out all the way.   Of course it never does.  My dreams always end with a woman and man finding each other through the crowded celestials.  They kiss, they fuck, they love.  It is always that way, in my dreams.   Now if only I can make a good story that isn't neccessarily a romance, that goes exactly like my dreams.  I'm a sucker for the kiss.

Early the next day :  3:54

Opened my eyes a little before one.  I woke--different.  Little by little, the light is breaking through and its not even close to dawn.  Am I becoming what I dream or am I dreaming that I am?  Either way, is life really a dream?  or a rich soul's concept?

Pondering Sex and other such things.

Tonight, they discussed hookers and I got to think about doing something I truly loved, but in this case, to do it for a living would be awful.  The mere dirtiness of holding back the souls right to express itself through sexual communication.   There is only one way I know how to do that and it is to really love someone.  So, hookin it isn't an option or a choice I'd consider, but I may revisit the subject from time to time.

Dear Friends ( you too, Groove)

The writers have come up with a new screen name for me but it has been taken.  So I did a knock off of that name and am not sure I like it.  I may try again, but, I am going to go slow on Goddess as I have picked a few weirdos up on my tail, and no, I don't mean you folks.   LOL  Some of you are probably going, big fuckin deal, so the hell what, or omg another name.  Well, there is a reason I am telling you like this. 

I won't be pulling any fast ones on you people, that goes for those I like and those I don't care for.  If you don't get an email from me with my phone number in it to verify it is me,  it isn't me.  I don't go to the playfuls under any name but northcalwoman or goddessof7worlds.  I won't be "spying" on you and I won't come to "blackmail" you.   If I want to bite you, I want you to be sure you know its me doing the biting.  I'll do that only under Goddess.  It is only fair. 

What I want you folks to do, is to enjoy yourselves.  Please.  Go online to visit and have fun and relax knowing that at least one of us won't be fucking with your minds.  I give you my word.                                         Chelle

... and then?

You know women in their forties, how they, we, I get.  I want to walk along the water and feel the cool air going up my skirt.  I want to feel my hair tickle my neck then my back.  I would if I could, but its a work day for me.  While all you get to play, I'll work and dream of walking along the water front all by myself, the wind and I that is.  There is something splendid about being a horny woman.  It is kind of like knowing that at times like this, you can have anything you want.  Of course, I'll have to wait till I am horny and not working to know that for sure.  Until then.... you all have yourselves a really nice moment or two.  :)

I've been awake and online since 4 am.  I slept a whopping 9 plus hours.  My body made me do it.   I'm sleeping so much and waking at odd hours, but I suppose that is what the beginning of menopause is all about.

I spoke to Jen Jen yesterday and we had a lovely chat.  We began our woman strategy for aging gracefully.   Now if only this zit will go away.  I swear, its an obstruction to my view.

Here at work, I sit. I'm way early.

Did you wake with a sinking feeling this morning?   Did you wake with a knot in your stomach or a headache?  Did you wake thinking about all the tasks you might not get to today?  I'm sorry if you answered yes to any of those questions.

Today I woke, did a few simple chores, went back to bed so I could finish dreaming, then woke again.  The sun was barred from my window by the morning's thick blanket of clouds.  Who knew something so poofy and soft could make for such an effective restraint?  I had no emotion about the day, but put one foot in front of each other and here I sit typing to whoever it is that might read today.  Why?  Habit, I suppose.

The only blemish that has had time to form in this morning is the one I spotted between my left eye and the left side of my nose. Boy does that sucker hurt and its so damn shiny.   The makeup around it almost makes it look pretty, but everyone will know its a zit.  Suddenly I feel fourteen again.   Wish the skin around my body looked it.  Yesterday I decided that in order to age gracefully as is expected of us today,  I'll wage war against the sagging flesh, the broken ugly veins, the gray hair ( thats way easy for me), by taking a more pro-active approach.  I'll go shopping for clothes that don't announce, "Here comes Chelle and her aging body!"  So one day my thongs will be briefs.  That doesn't mean I won't be able to wrap my flesh around yours.  Keep that in mind.

Checking out profiles in the playfuls'chat.

No honey, absence makes the heart go yonder.

Unchain the Song

Women carry a song deep within them that is so beautiful, no other beauty comes close.  The song goes unheard by most around them because to hear such beauty requires that you pay attention.  It is hushed bit by bit as each day passes, the cause?  Chores, bills, traffic, the phone, expectations, lack of attention from those around her.  When she is heard, its not that which is buried that is heard, its her reaction you hear.  Instead of nurturing her ( that takes too much time and is too much trouble), you grump, moan, complain about the fuckers in traffic, the dumb bitches that park too close, the insignificant are what you give to her, to which she clings to your every word.  So by the time you hear from her, its either repetitive stuff you think you already heard ( same old shit, you would say) or its "bitching". And man thinks they deserve better?  Really?   Try massaging her heart, stroke her spirit, and love her body.  Maybe she will finally have something of worth to respond to and her song will be set free.  Unchain her, let her loose and see what happens.  She is magnificent.  She is beauty second only to God. 

I want to be like her--someday.

There goes another Butterfly

If butterflies and caterpillars were human, the caterpillar would be jealous of the butterfly's beautiful form and grace; and, if that were so, could it also be said that a butterfly would look back upon the caterpillar and in jealousy cry because the caterpillar has its whole life ahead of it?

Back to the Bone?

The margerine substitutes are now available with Calcium ( isn't margerine a butter substitute?).  I made the conscious decision to not buy Margerine or it's substitutes, most especially if they contain calcium.  If margerines and the substitutes are clogging our arteries, we can look forward to new plaques, heavier plaques like those containing calcium.   Imagine...we could be a pillar of salt someday as we look back upon our diets and say, "I wish I would have known then what I know now."

Weary Haze

As I crested the horizon of Oakwood, the haze below was telling.  In times of war, our fuel isn't as clean.  There is a more noteable sign of pollution.  Take a look at your surroundings and know that when its all said and done, we will all have to chip in and help clean our environment.  If we slowly work together it will help to curtail the blame which has no worthy purpose.  Let's see what we can do about this when it's our turn.  Okay?

9:00 pm.  just woke a half hour ago

I got an email from the chat room I used to go to.  With an exception of going in twice under a new name one of those times getting my feelings terribly hurt by Larry, let's see, that was 3 weeks ago, yeah.  The anniversary celebration has been exactly a month today since he hung up on me-his pride is larger than it has a right to be.  Well anyway,  I get my email and my heart is racing, imagine, its been an entire month.  I gulp, my heart is racing and I begin to sweat.  Okay so its hot outside, but the sweating now had a more surreal purpose.  What did the bafoon send me???  Some bullshit quote from a Lance wannabe, Lance is his best online friend<cough>.  To think, I once believed there was such a thing as excellence about Larry.  I wanted to tell him off so damn bad.  I've got some yelling to do to that "boy".  He can't take it.  The dude yellows when someone raises their voice.

I deserve so much better, Larry.  I really hope you read this and see how foolish you are.  To think I put Janiva back on and listened to the cd with her and her hubby, your least favorite one.  (guys dislike the husbands).  I felt a little better adjusted today, Larry and after one month, you have some nerve to send me your first words and they aren't even yours!  They are the words of a jackass wannabe! Your pride still means more to you than I ever did.  Larry, don't you see the woman pretending to be this lance does not have your best interests at heart?  (wondering when you will ever learn who really loves you).  Would you believe that I did i.m. that person?  Would you believe that I was in ims with Vickie when I did so and that we laughed?  Would you believe that those words weren't even close to what I said?  No, your pride won't allow it.  I'm angry with you, Mister and you have never seen me this angry--not even close. Your pride is so huge that if it could fuck me, I'd be smiling instead of crying.

The Toes Know

Well, today folks, we are supposed to be in the mood to talk.  Some of us will divulge too much personal information (like I'd know anything about that), some of us will become combative and should watch what we say, because the plutonian  influence for permanent damage hasn't been made clear to us, so you folks who love to argue, watch out--your words could truly hurt.  Just in case I'll be careful, too.

There are so many ways to communicate, and it doesn't always involve words.  Where the rivers of response require that you do two things, or at least one, focus on what you wish to respond to, and listen.  Listening isn't enough.  Some listen faster, not everyone listens at the speed of sound and this creates trouble for us when trying to communicate.  Those wanting to be heard think their audience isn't listening and therefore does not hear.  But my favorite audience is the audience of "one".  No words are needed.  Even my toes concur.

Go Home

143       143 forever you married man you.  Go home to your wife. Go quick.  Don't look back, just go.  Be quick about it will you.  You are killing me.  Leave, be quick -go and go forever.  Go.  Get the hell out of my heart.  Get the hell out of my mind.          p.s.  enjoy Janiva, wish i were going instead

Work

Below are some pictures from work last week.  It is a little slide show.  Feel free to take a peek. 

Some say our work defines who we are and I've often said work is just something we do, but today, I'm actually thankful for the work because it does occupy me and keep me from thinking about disappearing. 

I've got much to be thankful for and no, the man I married will never adore me, but I'm going to start asking him to at least try.  I really need to be loved.  I've got a lot of love to give, and I need to pass it on.  I know somewhere, someone out there is waiting to be loved by someone like me, but I am going to inflict my husband with my love now and he can just gripe his way through the rest of our life, that's the way its going to be. 

See???  Work really does take my mind off things--NOT!  But it helps.

Chores?...mundane?..., say it isn't so.

Here today at work, I'm separated from all else.  The door keeps the world locked out and me locked in.  Inside it is so quiet I can hear the birds beckoning each other and people in the distance as well as cars racing by.  If I were to really meditate on the sounds themselves, I could hear noise a mile away.   That is how quiet it is in this salon I call Image Quest.  It's Monday again.  What else can be said, it is Monday.

I'm out of sorts.  A month ago, something happened to forever change my life. I wanted to believe it was for the better.  I wanted to lay out a new plan, but it just isn't within me to do so.  I was afforded no closure because the person I have depended on for joy has locked me out and scurried off to hang out with friends who really mean something to him.  I called him, he didn't return the call.  I emailed him, several days later he opened it then deleted it.  I wonder if this is how the others felt when he closed the door to them. So I'm out and I wonder if he is out begging for pics looking for the next to fill his screen for his more intimate viewing. Well of course he is, that's how I met him.  So here I sit as I wait for his permanent departure.  Maybe then, and I doubt it, I'll be able to push him out of my heart, and I doubt that, too.

I have my good days, but none are without a sense of great loss.  I've got nobody to laugh with and shout with, all my reasoning is vacant and there isn't anyone else who can fill that spot, though my friends are always somewhere if I wish to whine, but, why would I do that to them?  So I figure that I'll write it all here where I won't be bothering any humans with my pain.  It is like I told the women of the playfuls, you open your legs, you are done for.  What I didn't tell them, is I knew it first hand.

But, good news!  I still have my chores, yes the hair on the floor how it gets stuck in all the creases, the magazines need to be culled, do the garbage, clean the tint bottles, dust, wash the sinks and dryers, clean the bathroom, fight with At and T about owing them money I already paid them(I think but they are usually right, right?), go to the library for research, call the forestry deptment and agricultural department to get some answers for some citizens in town, then what....home, to dust my house, vaccum the bedroom, clean two bathrooms, fix dinner, log on and stare at nothing, talk to Mary ( always a hilight in my dreary existence) and fall asleep til I do it all over again.  Tomorrow is on it's way, oh joy.

Finding my voice.

Lately, my healing and laughter have been tended to by a host of mockingbirds.   They seem to know that I need the company and that now isn't the time for me to be alone.

I envy them, those master linguists of the feathered fowl. They seem to be trying to tell me something; like, your words have meaning. Speak them.  Sing them. Perform them.  They tenderly encourage me to use my voice by singing to me in the light of their grand talent.

Bent over the computer like a woman with a humped back, I dodged the morning sun.   I know, I should be ashamed but here I sit with my sunglasses on at the kitchen table wishing I had gone to bed before midnight. 

The laughter of the ravens tickles me now as we observe the mocking birds out policing what territory they intend to claim for the day.  What amazes me is how the hummingbirds can fly so high above all the other birds as they patiently wait for the others to depart.  Afterall, the larger birds aren't interested in the buds at the tips of the branches; those belong to the hummingbirds.

I'll choose humor over irony today, thankyou.

Life is a serious event with serious consequences, but today it is packaged in humour.  I'm so in love with life today and my laughter is contagious to those around me.  Likewise, just a feather of their laughter ignites in me some belly driven guffaws.  Irony is serious in that it pokes fun at the shortcomings of ourself or others around us but humour does require a loving nature.  Its the difference in mocking or laughing at others and warming inside while you express love through the melody of laughter with others.  I love, therefore I laugh. 

 Disclaimer: at least for today.  Irony could return any moment.

Today, I forgave the sun.

The orb of gold flirts with me through the crevace of two breasted hills.  Such a sneaky smile it has as its light shines forth my favorite peek-a-boo-I-see-you chant.  Hills to the right are asleep under the cool periwinkle blanket but the hills north, towards Chardonnay, well they are jealous.  I can tell by the way they stretch my direction where Mr.Apricot Glow is now stealing the show.  It is how it should be.  The birds have quieted in chorus to witness this lyrical symphony and my face is bathed in glowing flaxen awe.  The ferns have exploded in their dance of praise along side some potted tomatoes while the starburst angel mums are donned with patience.  I feel all the other flowers whispering excitedly between themselves beneath the cottonwood tree, "It's here, our day is coming and hasn't held back its grace upon us.  Today is our day! We are blessed once again."

I observe as the mist is drawn toward the shout of magnificent light (as if it stands a chance at extinguishing it today).  The silvery plate rimmed in gold is like a stop sign in the highways of the sky.  "Stop! Today, I am go.  Today, its my way and you can sit at my feet or move out of my way!"  That is the sun I know.  I forgive you, sun, for yesterday.  We have all been there where you were.  All of us have been sapped, tapped out, and diluted.  I just thank God that you were not extinguished.

When I became an eclipse

As the bog held me hostage I was beckoned to follow the lifting mist out of my binding dreams.  Reluctant to meet this day, I yawned then stretched and put one foot out of the cover while at very nearly the same time, I thought about pulling it back in.  Before I could change my mind, I rose from the bed, turned on the computer in the kitchen and made myself some coffee.

The sky out my window, a typical Napa Valley morning of marine layer and canyon fog, suggested the kind of warmth the more coastal dwelling folks won't be blessed with, the kind that sweetens and plumps the grapes.  I was hoping for a more magenta or scarlet splashing in the act of rising, like the beating of our life source within us, but only brushstrokes of blushed and bruised pomegranite could be seen.  Not even the birds paused, as they usually do, to shed hope in the promise of this new day, no; for they had not yet wakened, that or their hope was diluted, evident only by their apparent lack of interest.

The one thing unchanged by this bleak beginning which is the whistling of the tea kettle is also my anchor of normalcy.  I poured myself a cup of Folgers, mmm, perfect cup every time, and sat down to type the lack of imagery within this morning that I so grudgingly woke for.  Then in a whisper, my breath grew slower, yes; slower and more deep.  It has happened before, kind of like the ahhhh the flowers have at most every sunrise, except for the rising on this day.  Have you ever noticed that phenomena?  I continued to type the almost dreary words when I felt the golden warmth wash over me.  Why it was so bright I couldn't even look at it from behind me, but my back seemed to straighten without pain under its commanding caress.  Instead I looked straight ahead to my otherwise white and toffee colored walls which had turned a regal  gold separated only by the most perfect silhouette of myself. 

Ah, dammit.  Once again, I feel the coldness and over my shoulder is that impish fog attempting to steal what does not belong to it.  Even the sun doesn't seem strong enough for this day.  For a moment, the birds did wake, then hushed and once again their lack of song is much like the silent triumph of the binding mist wrapping itself over the land; but for a brief splashing of kindled morning grace,  Ieclipsed the sun.

Kristin Hannah's On Mystic Lake

Ms. Hannah is the greatest spinner of human interest style fiction that I've ever read.  Her characters are utterly human.  In the book, On Mystic Lake, there is a lawyer you can't wait to hate, but by the end, you can't hate him.  He is merely human and in character of what a good lawyer should be. 

I'm going to read The Things We Do For Love next.  Its on order now at my favorite independent book store, Bookshop Benecia.  Kristan Hannah will be there Monday the 21st to speak of her latest creation.  I'm going to see her.  Im so excited.

After reading her works, I must rewrite everything I've ever written.  I'll pay attention to details the next time around.  I figure it will take me a year or more to complete this.  It will be well worth my journey.  Screw getting published at this point.  In reality, that's not the important part of what I do, writing is. Guess you won't be seeing  me in the near future, folks. 

From A Box to Botched

By Lana Wolfe

 

            As I walked down the aisle of hair coloring products in the local supermarket, I scoped in on a spotted head of hair of a young woman. She and a friend were scanning the shelves and I could hear her complain that the boxed color she held in her hands had gone up in price and that it had been on sale, 2 boxes for 10 bucks at the drug store just a week earlier.  I almost felt bad for her because the poor thing had straw like hair down to the middle of her back with orange, near-white, and banana-yellow blotches, layered with stripes of violet hues and shadowed with greenish gray tinges, dotted with what must have been her own warm brown color.  They were going to tint her hair back to brown.   What they didn’t know, this was a job for a professional.   Eventually, this young woman will either cut her hair off, what hasn’t broken off already, or pay close to two hundred dollars at a salon to correct it.  Still, hoards of people scurry off to the grocery store to buy a new image in a box.

            This has always bothered me, because color is my first love and I happen to specialize in it.  Every stylist I know, and I know close to a thousand of them, feels the same as I do about our profession.  We are proud of our work, our craft and we go to great lengths to make sure the public has a choice when they come to see us.  But more and more, people are coming to us with horrible hair that can barely be corrected, hair that is so fried that one stylist I worked with called it “Fried, dried, laid to the side.” 

            Why am I going on like this about color from drug and grocery stores?  I’ll tell you why.  KRON recently did a story on Pretty Looks Salon on Springs Rd in Vallejo.  Times Herald did a few stories too, titling the owner as a beautician.  She wasn’t licensed; therefore, she wasn’t a beautician.  She was anyone U.S.A

 doing anything she wanted without respect for the governing boards of our state, such as the California State Board of Cosmetology.  But mind you, though she was referred to as a beautician, she took out advertising for permanent makeup.  That is a field that requires no licensing, just like hair weavers and braiders (and to think that to be a shampoo girl in a salon today you must be licensed.)  See anything wrong with this picture yet?  How about this...breast augmentation from a non-certified unprofessional tattoo artist who parades as a beautician?

            So most of you wouldn’t dare do this and I’m so grateful for your good sense.  But, God help them, some did.  The products used weren’t what they were supposed to be and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because most consumers don’t really know what the products are supposed to be composed of in most cases.  I wouldn’t know the difference from some exotic collagen as opposed to illegal silicones.

            Because this is no funny matter, I’ll suggest some things for you to remember. 

1)      When it comes to hair, go to a professional who is licensed and working in a licensed establishment.

2)      When it comes to vitamins, don’t purchase them at a salon.  Your stylists aren’t licensed nutritionists and the salons aren’t insured if something should happen to you.

3)      When it comes to physical enhancements such as botox injections, collagen injections, lifts, tucks, etc; get a physical from your doctor and learn about the side effects, then get recommendations for board certified doctors.  Spare no expense when it comes to your health.  At least hair grows back. (in most cases)

4)      Don’t go to manicurist to have your lips and eyes waxed.  They are not licensed for this and can lose their manicuring license if caught.

5)      Shop around if you aren’t sure who is best for you and check their licensing.

 

Remember, you don’t buy your groceries at a hair salon, so try not to get your hair done at the grocery store, unless of course, you want to fit in with the produce.

           

Who is Lana Wolfe?

From the far reaches of a hairstylist's journey and out of her dreams, Lana Wolfe was born.  She is only 9 years old in real life but also note, that she is me.  She is loving, trusting, and the innocent side of my inner soul.  Over all, she has a lot of growing up to do, but this world is huge to her and unless she stayed 9 years old for the next one hundred, there isn't enough lifetime for her to complete her work.

Looking for an Agent

 

This isn’t a book for the faint of heart, no. Beyond the Mattress will unnerve and anger the audience with its gruesome reality, captivate them with its sensual imagery and it will entertain them with its multilayered messages that the readers of different levels will catch through the story itself.

In a world where profits and lust too often dominate the powerless, Lachelle Marie Samuels, a journalist and the main character of the story, discovers the healing power of human sexuality.

Part One will anger the audience. Part Two will leave them breathless. Part Three, the true political body of the journalist’s experience, will ring all too true for those who keep up on current events. Part Four is the light hearted conclusion, which allows the reader to calm down in the sanctuary of family love.

The characters in this book all have their own stories, including Lana Wolfe. I’ve written three out of five parts in her series which is titled, The Dreams of Lana Wolfe. Two things I ask of you; Enjoy and consider representing me.

Procrastination, again?

One foot in front of the other.  I said to myself this morning, "Self, you can do it methodically or not at all.  Today you have a choice." 

Off to begin this week's chores.    (sometimes i've got nothing to say)

Fibromyalgia

This past week hasn't been good for the arthritis or the fibromyalgia and it hurts to sleep and  I've been sleeping a lot. In my dreams I was diagnosed as having this physical pain because my spirit is seeking to be free from my body.  The body is too heavy without the bouyancy of the spirit, therefore I have pain.  So that diagnosis came out of a dream and when you weigh it against what the medical professionals have told me, it makes better sense.

Today, I heard through the grapevine that my love is going home.  The hole to my soul just got wider as I typed this.  There are two types of breath, one belonging to the body, one to the spirit.  My spirit is leaking.  It's leaking.  I wonder if a year from now there will be anything left to me or will I merely be a slab of flesh.

Texas found their propane Tankers

I got the news that the tankers were found and they were full.  The idea of two trucks missing  then being found is most bizarre.  I wonder if the terrorists did take them then got nervous enough to abandon them.   I'd check the composition of the propane and... I'd look for devices of a suspicious nature.   Perhaps the trucks can be set off via remote by a phone call.    At any rate, I'm glad they were found.  I still don't trust the whole ordeal.  

Talk Around Town

Our town is in shock.  The old salon I worked at on Redwood St. was finally opened again under the name of Totally Tan.  Well, I knew the folks at their previous location and this story is one that I'm having trouble dealing with.  The owner was a pretty little thing about 34ish, spoiled little catholic type, but she was giddy in love with her hubby, or so I thought.  Yes, she is quite materialistic, like a movie star type might be, but her hubby was down to earth; a nicer guy you would never meet.  He is dead.  Yes.  Shot in the head while he slept in bed.  No robbery, no forced entry in their custom home in the gated community of Green Valley, and get this; she was downstairs in her kitchen when it happened.  Nothing odd about that but it happened just after 4 am in the morning.  She says she heard footsteps and hid out in a closet until she was sure they were gone.  Keep in mind, there was no sign of a struggle. 

Everyone has her guilty already.  No such thing as a fair trial for her.  What struck me as odd was that he was shot with mulitple gunshots and she reported hearing only one while the neigbors heard nothing.  Thats not so odd at that hour but for her to hear only one, that is odd.  You could muffle it through a pillow but that would make it a "hit". And its looking like it was a hit, except hits generally don't waste time and ammunition.  It could be that they thought they were killing a couple and not one person alone in bed, which means she is in danger. Or, it would have to be a crime of passion- multiple gunshots are overkill-no pun meant.

I'm worried about this case.  I always joke about doing in my husband but I never would.  I'm up at any given time, especially 3 and 4am.  I go to the kitchen and play online so I won't be inconsiderate of his sleeping pattern.  If something like that were to happen in my house, and it could<shudder> I might not hear it either.  One thing, I'd probably be dead too because it would be hard to come into our house and not see me awake online and I can't call 911 while online, nor log off fast enough to do so in that kind of emergency.  Yep, I'd be dead too and if I weren't, I'd be the number one suspect given my history.  I feel bad for them, for our town.  I'm worried.

The Shock consequences

When i figured out i didn't have a life raft anymore, I learned to walk on water. (Not really.)

I've depended on someone being there for me and these past two weeks have taught me  that it is a sink or swim deal when the support system goes.  It's like death; first the shock, then the sadness, the anger, more shock and anger followed by sadness.  By the time I got to that point, I realized I was drowning in depression.  I spoke to a few about this but ultimately, even drowning is an act of will.  The waters of fate didn't suddenly jump my bones, no.  I've been taking on water for a very long time.  I was half submerged when my love did the inevitable.  So for me there remained only one choice that made sense.  Walk on.  Walk on by, walk on clouds, walk on water, just walk.   I've been in a Forrest Gump kind of way but I don't run.  I walk. 

Its 8 30 am here in California and I should sleep.  I didn't get home till 2 30 this morning.  Who'd a thunk it.  I was up all night hanging with some friends.  Guess what, for a few hours, I got to sit, no drowning, no walking.   Ahhhhhh.

Blessings!

Back on May 2nd, I wrote about the missing tankers and seems we have two more out of San Antonio that were conviscated by unknowns just last night.  Do I think it is terrorism?  Hell, yes.  Once again, I wrote the FBI.  I doubt if they read what I sent.   How much does anyone really listen to us ? 

Today is a very important day for me.  Besides being a full moon, oops forgot to light the candle, its a day a contract was forged that forever changed my life. 

I'll go to the downtown celebration we have on Wednesdays.  Its my favorite thing about Vallejo.  Tomorrow of course, will be open mic night--poetry!  woohoo.

Alma is back, too, safe and sound.  She was gone, and now knows we had not forgot about her.  How can you ever forget those you love?

Be blessed this day all you people.

Divorce?

 

If a man ever threatened divorce and you saw that it would be counter-productive for you both, remember that for men, one's word means everything.  Show them the escape clause in your marriage contract--the death do ya part line.  Then say:

"See?  Divorce isn't allowed.  Marriage is a contract not made to be broken. Yet we cry foul and forget to read the bottom line.  Its a death do you part thing.  One of us has to die, and I'm not ready to die yet, so carefully consider your next move."   <smile> 

(No hypocrisy here honey.) 

some thoughts

The vineyards are lovely

against this backdrop.

Misted fog rolls

through the canyons up ahead

Sure to kiss the vineyards and

Warm the gilded hills as

they blush under the setting sun.

Used to watch every sunrise

now its the sunsets.

Metaphors follow us

as we do the sad song.

 

Broken to Lost-Journey to Treasure

I've got some errands to run, its nearly 10 here on Tuesday.  Okay, so I've got a ton of errands to run and I don't wish to, but unless I wake from this nervous breakdown real soon, I'll die under the burden of things left undone. 
I lost my heart you know.  Unless you are a brave soul, do not contact me.  I'm ruthless and unforgiving right now, way beyond bitter. ( can i get some bitters with that sour?)  So, instead of doing all my chores, I'm going out to buy some sneakers, sweat some, and walk walk walk.  Yes, I'll be looking for my heart.  Last time I remember having had it, it was broken.  When I find my heart, I'll contact you who aren't my friends.  I only have patience with those who love me back right now.  I want to love the rest of you as I once did, I want to.  I want that spring time innocence back, so I don't begrudge you of what little pleasures we can find in this life.  I hope when I do come back, I hope you will find it in your hearts to forgive me of my anger and lack of respect towards you.  I wasn't born to be this way.  I've allowed life's circumstances to rot me out is all.  See you all real soon, I hope and until then, have fun, enjoy life, and please take good care of yourself.