H-A-P-P-Y?

It happened like this:

Enthusiastic Teacher: "Good morning class! Are you happy?"

Some of us nodded, a few might have even mumbled a quiet "yeah". I don't recall all of the details; just the important ones.

She gave us all a stark look of disapproval and said, "When I ask if you are happy, it is polite to answer back! First, I will say 'Good Morning class! Are you happy?', and then you will say, 'Yes teacher Jane! We are happy! H-A-P-P-Y!'".

She actually spelled out "happy", like it was important to savor each and every letter; to stick it into the vaults of your brain so that you remembered it forever. She pronounced the "H" like the British do - you know, like "heche". We giggled. It was nice to see that the kids had a mentor of this caliber. Watching her animated way of relaying a message was hilarious - that enthusiasm had to translate to the students.

So she placed her hands on her hips, and said again, "Good morning class!"

"Good morning teacher Jane!", we chanted in unison.

"Are you happy?"

"YES! WE ARE HAPPY! H-A-P-P-Y!"

I've mentioned my infatuation with Africa before here, mostly to tell you about the first time I was there. Two years later, however, I got to go back - and wow. Talk about an extreme makeover. There were cinder block classrooms with desks and chalkboards, kids in matching uniforms sharpening their little stubby pencils with straight edged razors, and books! They had a whole library of books donated by people here in the states. It was true - they were SO happy! Like they were the luckiest kids in the world to get to GO TO SCHOOL! WITH OTHER KIDS! AND LEARN! So exciting. It was like there were built-in cheerleaders in every kid.

I love remembering that. I love that those kids have a chance at an education. I sound like a broken record, but Africa seems to have seeped into my soul.

Sometimes, I get melancholy...for reasons that are hardly worth mentioning, and I waste countless hours mulling over my lame-ass melancholy in my brain. That happened to me today, and then somewhere, in the deep recesses of my mind, a memory surfaced - I thought about Teacher Jane. And I totally smiled.

I love that story.

Are you H-A-P-P-Y?

Mailing Lists and "Magick"

Have you ever wondered who decided it would be ok to sell your address information to direct-mail marketers - thus resulting in some of the worst mail you have ever received? Most likely, you don't even give such things a second thought - not until you open your mailbox to find enough junk mail to account for the demise of rainforest foliage everywhere.

Oh have I got a treat for you, my friends.

But first, thanks must be given to the man who put me on the mailing list for the worst catalog in the world - whoever he is. Thank you, kind sir, for ensuring - NAY - guaranteeing that I would receive access to the highest quality products for "...fantasy, magick, and themed apparel..." ANYWHERE. Because my supplies of fantasy, magick, and themed apparel were getting dangerously, dangerously low. I bet your's were too.

Thankfully, there is a group out there who has made it possible for you to get your hands on such supplies with the "catalog for personal growth and exploration". Ahem. Remind me again how I got on this mailing list? I have to say, my naiveté gets in the way here - I am surprised there is a market for most of this stuff! I guess they do have some cool Celtic jewelry, but for the most part, I am embarrassed that they would actually take the time to compile such a menagerie of crap and then MAIL IT OUT TO THE PUBLIC. For public consumption. That the public reads. In public.

So - for your reading pleasure, I present a sampling from the worst catalog in the world, complete with textual descriptions of each item. Drum roll please...

The Wings of Isis Cape

Imagine making your entrance in this. Shimmering like cloth-of-gold, this spectacular, full-length pleated cape opens into the Wings of Egyptian goddess Isis! Held in place by its Velcro-secured collar, the golden pleats unfold and extend on concealed, hand-held wood wands sewn into the edges: They don't just twirl-they swirl like an eagle! 100% polyester. Hand washable or dry clean. Handmade in Egypt. Color: Gold. One size fits most adults; 55" long. Price: $129.

That's hot, um, if you are planning your next Halloween costume. I am not sure, but the last time I spent $129 bucks on a Halloween cosume was...never! Oh, Isis would be proud, to be sure, but even that get-up is not as hot as this:

Crochet Cut Out Dress

Hello, Doily. This isn't your grandma's needlework! Alluring, formfitting crocheted-cotton accentuates the figure in clingy openwork mesh and flirty fringe trimmed with tiny wood beads. A guaranteed eye-catcher, by itself or worn over jeans, shorts, and leggings. (Thong not included.) 100% cotton. Hand washable. Imported. Color: White. Sizes: S/M (2-5), M/L (6-10); 29" long (including fringe). Price: $39.95

Woohoo! I mean, why not take the degradation of women to even lower levels? Because if there is one thing this catalog excels at, clothing choices for the modern woman may not be among them. Case-in-point:

Wenchwear

Barmaid. Jade. Pirate Queen: Pick your fantasy! Trailing long, flirty ribbons, this frothy peasant blouse and velvet-corset combination attracts second glances (and the occasional tip!). Cross-ribboned bodice assures fit. Crinkle-edged sleeves and neckline, with deep, back-zip closure. Flouncy, lacy, matched apron and bustle. 100% nylon. Machine washable. Imported. Color: Pink/Brown. Sizes: S/M (4-6), M/L (8-12); 25"-27" long (from shoulder). Price: $69.95

PICK MY FANTASY?!? That's awesome. This totally fits nicely into my recurring fantasy about when I am home, waiting on my man - you know, bringing him his beer and rubbing his feet and darning his socks and such. With my mid section laced up so tightly I can't breathe, and of course, my boobs hanging out all over.

And then? Then there's this. Let's be honest - would your exercise collection would be complete without it?

Nude Yoga & Nude Tai Chi

Complete yoga and tai chi instruction in the nude! Skilled demonstrators perform popular yoga and tai chi positions and movements for you to follow-to emerge relaxed, invigorated, and spiritually uplifted. (Adult viewing only.) Color. Yoga: 55 mins. Tai Chi: 40 mins. Combined DVD: 95 mins. Price: $29.95.

There are OH SO MANY things I could say about this. Naked exercise? With all of your wobbly bits hanging out? Must place an order for this NOW.

This, though - this intrigues me:

Votes for Women!

Once the uniform of radical feminists (they rode bicycles!) and suffragettes, this invention of reformer Amelia Bloomer makes its triumphant return - with placketed, pleated front, delicately embroidered with faux-pearl-accented irises to preserve the feminine in "feminism"! Added touches include twin patch pockets, lacy ribbon-tied cuffs, and an elasticized inset that gathers at center back. 100% cotton. Machine washable. Imported. Color: White. Sizes - S, M, L, XL. Price: $39.95

And finally - I present to you the VERY BEST item on the menu. This requires little commentary:

Itsy Bitsy

Tasty too: That's because this scrumptious little bikini is strung with elasticized rows of beaded candies in a rainbow of flavors. Unbeatable for tanning, but, be warned: they shrink in the pool! One size fits most adults.

Run, people. Run right out and buy this now. If it is the last thing you do.

Do you think this is a joke?

No Pole Dancing Here

Today is Saturday, which means my trainer will arrive in approximately 45 minutes, and well, let's just say that we don't use pole dancing around here as a training technique. Oh no. We do hard cardio, lift weights, even do some crazy stuff on the trusty yoga ball that requires the flexibility of a gummy bear. Sometimes, I think my trainer lies awake at night and tries to think of things to have us do that she knows will make us cry - like running up and down 72 flights of stairs whilst skipping every other step, or running sprints on the treadmill while our hearts are about to explode, or THIS - something she refers to as:


--- du du du ---

THE WORST EXERCISE IN THE WORLD*.

I do not know the official name of the worst exercise in the world, so allow me to demonstrate.

Step 1: The unsuspecting exerciser stands tall, smile on her face, unaware of the complete exercise evil that she is about to endure.

Step 2: Once the command is given, the poor exerciser jumps down onto all fours, knees bent, arms straight. Her smile begins to wane.

Disclaimer: This image does not represent the downward facing dog of yoga, nor is it meant to conjure up pornographic images in your mind's eye.

Step 3: With all the will she can muster, the exerciser throws her legs out behind her, landing on the tips of her toes, trying not to cry. Crying would not be tough, and she needs to appear tough at this juncture lest she risk the wrath of her trainer - who might start yelling obscenities like "PICK IT UP, YOU MAGGOT!"

Note the strained expression on her face.





Step 4: With a slight hop, the exerciser pulls her knees back up into her chest, as shown above.


Step 5: Once complete, the exerciser jumps back into her original standing pose, only this time, that smile would have UNDOUBTEDLY been wiped clean off her moistened face, never to appear again. Oh - and her hair would probably be a little sweatier too.

And then.

As if that wasn't bad enough - oh no - the exerciser has to repeat this technique - akin to medieval torture - at least 487,642 MORE TIMES. Or more, if her trainer is feeling particularly possessed of the devil. It's never a good sign when your trainer shows up, walks through the door, and her head makes a complete 360 degree spin upon her shoulders or she projectile vomits all over your shoes. You know you are in for something MUCH more evil than pole dancing when that happens.

Gah! Someone remind me why I have been subjecting myself to this for the last 6 or 7 months?!? Does this evil exercise have an official name? Something I can perhaps turn into a 4-letter word?



Sigh. I hope we don't have to endure of the worst exercise in the world today.



* ...with a twinkle in her eye that I imagine is not unlike a look you might get from Satan himself.

What if?

What if...I had been brave enough to play that part in the school play in 5th grade - the one they gave to Amy what's-her-name after I quit because I couldn't bear the thought of people watching me? Would I have come out of my awkward shell sooner? Let go of some of that unnecessary childhood angst?

What if...I had tried harder to socialize in High School? Instead of walking around with a cloud over my head and a scowl on my face that would ward off even the blind? Would I have better memories of it than I do now?

What if...I had married the first or second boy that came around and settled down right away, without finishing college, without traveling the world? Would I have found happiness in the simpler things? Or would I have grown to regret the things I didn't try?

What if...I had wasted less time on that one "unrequited love" in college and focused on getting better grades? Or perhaps channelled that energy into learning to love more about myself? Would I have subjected myself to less trivial suffering? Perhaps shed fewer tears for nothing?

What if...I had been able to cut through the crap that my ex-husband spewed from his lips during EVERY.WAKING.MOMENT? Would I have wasted 6 years of my time trying to fix and support and love a soul that was beyond repair?

What if...I had never bought into the whole left-wing idea of "girl power"? That, perhaps, instead of worrying about having a real corporate career of my own, I had focused on making a family my enterprise?

What if...I hadn't jumped back into the dating pool so soon after the death of my marriage; hadn't allowed myself to fall for someone who was so obviously NOT for me?

What if...I had never had that miscarriage?

What if...I had decided that I would allow them to cut open my throat to treat my thyroid instead of swallowing a radioactive cocktail that wreaked havoc on my health and my health, and, er, did I mention my health?

What if...I had spent more time at my grandma's bedside during the last months of her life? Would I have really tarnished the happier memories I had of her? Or would I have found out something new and sweet about her that I didn't already know? Something I could carry around with me forever that was just mine?

What if...I really, really learned that taking all of those left-hand turns at Albuquerque* brought me 'here', and 'here' is good - 'here' is okay, 'here' is happy? What if I stopped letting my 20/20 hindsight get me down, and I learned that right here, this spot upon which I stand today, is right where I am supposed to be?



* I thought perhaps a reference to the Looney Tunes might be appropriate here. :)

On Coming Home...Again

I just got back from Phoenix last night - another rousing bit of business travel, only this time, we were in the pit of hell. Damn! It is so hot there!

You know how it is usually SO GREAT to come home? You know - come home to your house, or to your bed, where all of your stuff is? You don't have to worry about hiding your toothbrush from the hotel maid, or whether or not you forgot to bring something important...like deodorant or whatever. At home, all of that stuff is there.

So yeah. It is usually so great to come home. Only this morning, as I opened the fridge for a spot of breakfast, this is what I was greeted with:

Now seriously. That is just rude. And disgusting too, I know. My refrigerator has become a petri dish of experiments, probably things that will re-introduce the boil inducing black death or diarrhea friendly cholera or typhoid mary into civilized society once again. And me? Instead of cleaning this shameful mess up? I just sighed, closed my eyes and then the door, and decided that breakfast was only for champions and not crazy singletons like me. Singletons who, um, could do with a keeper. Clearly.

For Those of You with BLOG-OJO

I've lost my blogging mojo. Or my blog-ojo. It's AWOL. Gone. Kaput.

Coming up with ideas to post about regularly is making me certifiable. That may be a tad of an exaggeration, but I am nothing if not the best exaggerator of life (anything to make a story better, right?). I thought that being marginally insane would provide enough fodder to last a lifetime, but certifiable? That would open up a whole new world of bloggability. Alas, lately, I haven't had anything as embarrassing as lunching on the occasional bus to write about. Even my non-existent "verbal filter"seems to be failing me these days, and frankly, that is just plum amazin'. I am always dining on my feet, ahem, as they are in a constant state of mouth-inserted-ness.

Weblogs being what they are*, well, it was bound to happen eventually, right? I mean - even reading my roommate's journal in college got old eventually, and that, my friends, provided some of the best laughs we ever had while trying to study. I didn't think this "writer's block" would happen to me so soon - what with all the fantasmical writing there is out there to partake of. Ah - the inspiration! There are bloggers who have archives coming out of their ears - some going back years. Bloggers who have turned their online journaling obsessions into money making, advertising empires, and still others who have hundreds of commenters showering them with e-lovin' and e-high fives and whatever. All very stimulating, rousing examples.

And let's be honest. Among such great A-list types, I am a mere blogging virgin. I haven't put in my time, haven't established a general theme to blog about; I am all over the subject map. I gotta find a groove. A niche.

Blogs are, of course, highly subjective. What entertains some people may seem like an utter waste of time to another. I personally really enjoy them - when I stumble onto one I like, I find it hard not to go back to the first posting and read the whole thing until I am current, because, well, I think it's totally fascinating that there is a published view into the insane workings of other people's minds. Am I right? We are all insane, just in varying degrees; some of us are just more exhibitionist about it and, um, brave enough to put it online for the vast expanse of the world to read.

So where was I going with this, you ask? Well, it seems that just the other day, I was nominated for a little blogging award. See:


Aw shucks. I am so flattered! You can imagine my surprise given my loss of the all important blog-ojo as of late. Thanks to young blogger NamesAreHardToPick for the shout out!

So it turns out that you are supposed to spread the lovin' and give this same award to 5 of your favorite bloggers. And me? I tend to be drawn to the rich and famous writers of blogdom, the ones that have been around for awhile, and have received kudos from other rich and famous bloggers, not just little ol' me. But what the hell, right? When there is a lull at work and I need a distraction, these are the folks I tend to head to first - blogs I stumbled upon because of some crazy Google search I made, or because of word of mouth, or perhaps because someone I love to read linked to someone else and then to someone else and so on. Frankly, I am blown away with the stamina some of these folks have, and I bow before them, oh wise ones:

1. Kristy Sammis, from She Just Walks Around with It world: Kristy's blog is the first blog I really read in earnest. Some of her older posts are DAMN hilarious - like this one about sundresses (I passed this one around to all of my best girls in the office one day and we laughed until we had tears), or this one about low-rise pants.
2. Of course, everyone in the blogging world knows about Heather B. Armstrong of Dooce.com. She is a blogging mogul - famous for getting canned for writing about her website. She also lives in Utah, and like me, is a less-than-active Mormon (to put it delicately), so her reflections on growing up in the LDS faith crack me up.
3. Love this guy - Neil Kramer from Citizen of the Month. Every one of his posts is oozing with cleverness. I wish I had his imagination!
4. Then there is Laurie Perry, aka Crazy Aunt Purl, whose divorce postings made me feel like less of a freak when I was enduring the disintegration of my own Jerry Springer-esque nuptials. She's a crack up.
5. And finally, I must give a shout out to the gals I know personally, because our tiny little blogging community has become one of the main ways we stay in touch. So to Kate, Camille, and cute Blondie - you guys are totally original and will always be my favorites.
   

So there you have it! Even though my idea well has run dry (a temporary setback, I hope), I hope to someday live up to the likes of folks like these**.




*Um, the online journals of perfect strangers that allow you to secretly peek into their personal lives like a voyeur, only except legally and without the stalking, because ew, thanks to my ex-husband, I have had enough stalking to last a lifetime.

**What a brown-noser.

Merchandise Gone Wrong...Very Wrong.

I think it might be possible that I have now seen it all. See:

Mwahahahaha!

This is the "Hug Me Pillow" from Overstock.com. If you'd like to check this little gem out for yourself, go here. Here is the description they give (makes me want to run right out and buy one NOW. You?):

"The perfect snuggling companion, the Hug Me pillow provides comfort as well as peace of mind."

Because, um. A wonky arm pillow would totally calm me down at night. Seriously.

I plan to buy one of these for each of my favorite girlfriends for Christmas, even those of you who are married. You can never have too much huggage, right? You know, because what could be a better present than actual peace-of-mind in a box?

Of Us - Making a Difference

If you are an American Express cardholder, you might have heard of this project they were funding called "The Members Project". Ellen Degeneres starred in a commercial with a group of other actors to promote it - remember? The one where she claimed her swimsuit went up in flames? Hilarious. She's such a crack up. So in a nutshell, cardholders got to nominate projects that were important to them - like planting a million trees, or restoring our National Parks, or whatever. Impressive marketing campaign, if you ask me. Corporations have certain monetary requirements that ensure they give back to society anyway, so why not allow your customers to choose how to spend that donation for you?

I've been following this particular project because of my love of all things Africa. Today the winning idea was announced and awarded whopping $2 million dollars to implement. The idea? Officially entitled "Children's Safe Drinking Water" - the plan is for American Express to partner with Unicef to provide facilities that will ensure kids and communities do indeed have safe water to drink. Although the specifics of the actual implementation haven't been released, I am totally doing the happy dance knowing that somewhere soon, this BASIC need - the one we overlook everyday when we bend over a water fountain or turn on our taps - will soon be available to kids and families who need it. Assuming they spend it wisely, which is always a concern, but I have this tendency to be a skeptic when it comes to money actually making it to Africa anyway.

I have pictures from my trip to Kenya, specifically in the slums of Nairobi, and there is RAW SEWAGE EVERYWHERE. And the kids? I have this mental image of a time when we were playing "Duck, Duck, Goose" with a group of kids there, and they were all running around BAREFOOT through it. That haunts me to this day.

So I say kudos, American Express. And kudos to all the cardholders who voted. See what happens when we band together?

We can make a difference. Go here if you'd like to see for yourself.

And the Race is On...

This weekend my family and I went to Wyoming to partake of the horse races, something we do once a year or so. And man, do I have oh so many things to say about the folks in Evanston, but just in case you or anyone you love comes from there - I will just say this*:

OMG. Could there be a more godless, trashy place? Where does one buy the "uniform" they wear there? Who decided that the bra was an optional part of the uniform? Also, do they have dentists there? Was Evanston the birthplace of the tattoo and the crispy/curly permed hair? Could it be that this is where they backed up the dump truck full of EVERY chauvinist, dirty-old-man in existence?

I am sure there are some nice people there too, but we sure as hell couldn't find them. It could be time for Noah and his ark to pay the town a visit, and coming from de-sensitized and fairly godless me, that's saying something.

So where was I? Right. The horse races. I took my new camera because it has this fancy sports setting, so you can hold the shutter button down and the camera will just click away at your moving subject until your little camera-happy-heart is content. Even if you don't love horses or horse racing, you have to admit that these pictures are awesome:

Look closely at the dirt these trotters are kicking up - Excellent!

This little 2-year old is ready for his flying lessons, right? Gorgeous!

So the other part of the horse races is the betting - or if you like, the gambling. And me? I'm not all that versed in the art of taking my life savings to the track and then flushing it all down the toilet like they do in the movies. I like to be conservative with my money when it comes to gambling, and this is especially true when it comes to horse racing. I don't understand the odds or all the fancy bets you can make - like the Quinella or the Exacta or the standard Win, Place, or Show bets. My dad, on the other hand, likes to experience his horse racing like it is a finely aged wine. He takes the time to study the program for all of the finer details. Like for instance, how many races has the jockey won? How much does the jockey weigh? Who is the trainer? Or if you were to make a trifecta box bet, how many combinations of horses would you have to pick (and in his head he is really thinking "and then if you take the cube root of 942, divide that by 12, the dilemna of world hunger has been solved AND you can win THIS MUCH actual money by picking horses X, Y, P, and Q...Eureka!"). It's enough to make your brain explode, watching him logic it all out...all the thinking with the thinking and such.

Then there is my mom, whose strategy is to pick out the prettiest horse - the one who has the fanciest prance and the sassiest attitude, plunk down her money, and hope for the best. The end.

So we all tried to employ these varied methods in our gambling too. In the end, my mom won something like $20 bucks, and my brother-in-law took home a whopping $130 - all of which they did by making $2 or $4 bets on the horses that were simply "gray" or "black" or just plain beautiful, or maybe by finding the jockeys who didn't have goofy french-man mustaches or those whose uniform numbers/colors were more appealing. Sigh. Me? I spent $20 and won $3.80, after trying to play both the statistics game and the less scientific methods my mom and brother-in-law employed. And my dad's methodical approach? That didn't really help him out either - he only won $4 or $5 bucks.

But. It was an excellent people watching opportunity. Stacey and Clinton of "What Not to Wear" would TOTALLY have their work cut out for them there!

* Like I can really censor myself. Once the vomit starts, it's not like I am going to swallow it back down, right?