Recap: Ode (or prose really) to a Golden Voyage of Sinbad

This entry is actually an old one, but I am currently watching 'The 7th Voyage of Sinbad' (This is the movie where the snake woman strangles herself with her own tail! What larks!), the first ever of the Sinbad movies I have ever seen and I think still my favorite for just that reason. However, I still have a deep and abiding love for 'Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger' and of course 'The Golden Voyage of Sinbad'. It seems all three have a cyclops in it. Must be a favorite monster. So in honor of this movie, I've resurrected this blog entry from January 9, 2006. I hope you enjoy it.

Now I love all old stop action movies from the 50s, 60s and 70s. Jason and the Argonauts, Journey to the Center of the Earth, Mysterious Island, the Sinbad movies. Don't know which is my favorite. The 7th Voyage of Sinbad with the villain named Socorro (one must say this name with Spanish or middle Eastern accent) and the shrunken damsel in distress, with her aunt that gets turned into a giant snake that chokes itself with its own tail, or the one with the ever beautiful Patrick Wayne with the lovelies with the long hair (Jane Seymour & Taryn Powers, Tyrone Powers' daughter) and the baboon that plays chess. But I think my favorite Sinbad movie will have to be the Golden Voyage of Sinbad (I'm sure there's more than these three, and not including the animated movie with the voices of Brad Pitt, Michelle Pfeiffer and Cathy Jones) with the fabulous scene in the temple of Kali where the villain (played by the future, now past, Dr Who-Tom Baker) brings the statue of Kali to life and commands her to dance. And then she does. One foot and then the other. One set of arms and then the other. I musta been 10 when I saw this movie in a theater in Reno, one winter when my parents really wanted to go gambling, back in the day when parents could leave their children, safely and without worry, ALL DAY LONG, unattended, in the children's lounge. My sister, always insisting on choosing which seat in which row to sit, never let me choose, would sit behind me if I deigned to sit before her, and my aunt, 19 years old and our babysitter when mom and dad where gone all day, sat in the row behind me. Well, this time I was just too annoyed with them both so instead of petulantly changing my seat to one next to them, and never, ever did I get an aisle seat, I happily flounced to the exact middle (as far as I could tell) of the theater, sat my butt down in the center seat in the center row and watched our late matinee ENTHRALLED. The chick with the tattoo of an eye on her hand. The tiny alive gargoyle, I so wanted one. The villian that kept getting older with each bit of magic. The king with the iron mask. The duel in the water and the crown that Sinbad found. Wu-we. But before most of that, there was Kali's dance. 'Dance for me, ha ha ha.' One foot and then another. Then her arms. Ooh baby. When those arms started undulating, I couldn't help myself. Stood up right there in front of the whole theater and danced like Kali. She was too damn cool. Until the crowd started laughing. Looked back and there was Renee and Becky (sister and aunt, respectively) with their heads tucked into their shoulders. Ha. Served 'em right. However, I sat down quickly, embarrassed, but I was soon dancing like my girl again, feet and then arms, until she was heinously pushed over the edge, and feet of clay, she shattered on the floor beneath her. Very sad.

Anyway, I digress.

In each of these movies there is always a creature who my heart bleeds for cuz I'm soft hearted that way. The golden statue man in Jason & the Argonauts who essentially suffocates as the sand is loosed for his heel by that dastardly Jason. The baby bird, bigger than my apartment really, that was roasted for dinner in Mysterious Island. The cyclops (proponent of evil) that did battle with the griffin (proponent of good) in Golden Voyage. Imagine my fingers gripping my face as these two fought, egged on by their human counterparts. Oh, the humanity! The cyclops of course had to die, it being evil, but I'll always mourn, with much tears and moaning, a frown wrenching up my face, fingertips to lips, oh the horah, as the light of iniquity dimmed forever from its one huge brown eye.

Gone, but never forgotten.

Rock Med & Brad Paisley

What a name, eh? Paisley!

So several years ago I met a man who became a friend. This man was an EMT (emergency medical technician) and after learning that I was an RN encouraged me to join him in the volunteering effort called Rock Med. After going with him to a Perfect Circle show at the Bill Graham (or as I continue to call it--the Civic) Auditorium in SF, I decided that I would indeed like to volunteer. I went to another show at the SJSU Event Center, but I never made it to orientation as I was planning to be in Europe on holiday. This happened at least once more. Then, when my friend again started to encourage me to join, I started grad school. So now four or five years later, I have finally managed to send in my application and go to a couple of shows, volunteering as an RN at venues all over the SF Bay Area. Essentially, we're a clinic working at rock (and other) shows giving free medical assistance, et al.

But mostly I get to see free shows.

So if you don't know Perfect Circle, they're...er...emo. Goth maybe. And goth/emo kids are kinda depressed and view the world through low hanging, lank forelocks as they tweak out. This is a universal phenomenon at all these types shows. At the Outside Lands Festival, my first official show as a bonafide volunteer, I learned that though there were the obligatory ETOH imbibers, there were actually as many hand and foot and leg lacerations, as told by our clients, from being 'pushed' against a barricade or falling down, but were in actuality from jumping the chain-link fence because they couldn't or wouldn't pay for tickets. They thought they had us fooled. Silly sods.

Anyway, after that particular show for which I volunteered two days and was able to enjoy Tom Jones, West Indian Girl, Incubus, and Jason Mraz (and Dave Matthews, but I've seen him before so I was ok to miss the show) all for FREE, where I got to be a nurse on occasion, I signed up to volunteer at a show closer to home, at the Shoreline Amphitheatre in Mountain View. This show was Brad Paisley.

Now I'm not a big country/western fan so I had no idea who he was. I googled him after signing up and have since then learned that many of my coworkers are big fans. Once I figured out he was a country music star, quite popular, and with a new romantic album out (all happy with his young, cute wife) I quickly decided that this show would be far more entertaining then that boring emo crowd of many years ago. I envisioned the Blues Brothers as the Good Ole Boys when they sang both types of music, country and western.

I was not disappointed. Most people were drunk. There were several who had been assaulted in some way, some from afar by flying glass beer bottles (which are prohibited at Shoreline) and some from nearby, but flying fleshy fists, or leather and steel encased boots. I got to start three IVs, my favorite thing, and gave two injections. So fun! Washed some glass shards from a woman's hair, cleaned out some lacerations, and watched as some of our patients improved by the end of the night (these were the patients who came to us plastered to the nth degree before the show started at 7.30 and stayed till long after it had ended, and everyone was going home at midnight) and walked away from our 'clinic/ER', almost sober. Very gratifying. And they were all so grateful for our help.

Though I'm not a fan I was hoping to catch a little of the show, see what Mr. Paisley is all about. But who knew country/western fans were so very serious in their celebrations?

Well, in summary, I had an awesome time. I love starting IVs! And on such big adult veins they practically smack you in the eye! Mmm, good times.

My Brother’s Keeper

I don’t really need advice, but I’m going to put this out there in the hopes that I might learn something of others.

I am the youngest of four. Out of my family of origin, including my parents, I am the only one who finished college. My parents were manual laborers. My father a mechanic by trade, by default. My mother a housewife, before the days of ‘stay at home’ moms. She cleaned motel rooms and houses for people while I was in high school. Put me through private education. Mostly paid for my entire ten year tenure as an undergraduate from which I graduated debt-free.

So from my parents, and quite possibly from my mom’s mom and a few uncles on my father’s side, I learned, as did my eldest brother, the belief that we must work for those things we want and need, be it food, wealth, education, or even leisure. I learned that I can’t get something for nothing. I also learned to not want or trust what comes freely. Except perhaps love. And through it all I learned self-reliance and self-sufficiency.

Not so my two surviving siblings. They were trouble-makers from the get-go, unwilling to take responsibility for their actions or decisions. Of course, they’re older now and they’ve learned that consequences are always inevitable. They are also trying to teach their respective children from their own hard lessons.

Still, these two sibs continue to ask mom and dad for the occasional hand-out, what they call a loan and what my mom knows to be a gift. Now don’t mistake her, mom is not a soft touch, but both my brother and sister have young kids and mom won’t let those kids suffer because of poor decisions on my sibs’ parts. I understand from listening to them and observing them that they don’t like to ask for money. Shame perhaps. That work ethic learned from our parents coming through, but yet they ask when they’re in need. I don’t ask how dire a need; it's none of my business.

I have up to this time, been free of such requests, and that’s a good long stretch, but what do you when finally some beloved family member asks for money? Which happened via voicemail because I just can’t figure out what that interesting little trilling noise is until hours later.

Point is, I don’t want to not give my brother money, but nor do I want to set a precedent. What do you do and how do you do it when this happens to you?

This weekend past

The Conference.
This past week I went to Boston for a conference sponsored by Harvard University and Boston’s Children’s Hospital. It was somewhat educational. Mostly it was expensive--$600, not including airfare and accommodation. There were no breaks, not even 10 minutes ones between speakers or subjects, no refreshments available after the ‘continental breakfast’ of dry carbs and mediocre coffee, and no soy milk. There was no soy milk. The only refreshment available was the jug of ice water placed at intervals along the tables in the conference rooms. No sodas, no juice, no continuously refilled carafes of coffee at a supposedly upscale hotel at a conference sponsored by Harvard and Boston Children’s. Disappointing to say the least.

However, I went with five colleagues who were all able to withstand my bossy ways and who accepted without questioning that when I travel I step down from my vegan pedestal to ‘vegan lite’ and eat the occasional cheese product or pastries made with eggs and butter. Also, in case y’all are unaware, oysters are plants. Kind of like a coconut or lychee, but these grow on rocks in the ocean. Tasty oyster plants. Same can be said of clams and mussels.

Anyway, I spent the weekend in Boston, a place I’ve never been and enjoyed myself immensely. I wish I could have spent the entire time touristing around, but then I probably wouldn’t be able to be reimbursed by work for travel and accommodation or write off some of my expenses come the Ides of April.

I loved the history and the beautiful architecture of the homes and the park/Boston Commons and the cemeteries. I probably wouldn’t mind living there, but I would probably change my mind after realizing that I couldn’t drive away from the snow when I got tired of it without actually leaving the state.

Cheese.
So up to a few years ago, I was a carnivore and I loved it. I loved meat and cheese. I mean, what a combination! But then I decided to become a vegan. Save the planet! Be kind to animals! Lactose intolerant! But travelling can be very challenging especially when stuck in a hotel without a kitchenette. We eat out everyday, of course, and I had things like bread and cheese for breakfast after months of getting used to plain fruit and fresh squeezed juice. So to not drive myself crazy or any of my companions I concede to be vegan lite while travelling. Did you know that cow’s milk cheese is practically a staple ingredient in many dishes? Yes, it is. And by the end of the weekend I was actually tired of eating it and deeply wished to return to my vegan ways.

I’ve eaten fruit and veg today. I feel so light and satisfied.

Hydration.
I’m a water drinker. I love water. I love the way it tastes and the way it glides down my throat and the way it refreshes me, internally, externally, spiritually, emotionally. It’s damn good. I generally drinks lots of water though the majority of my water drinking ways takes place at home where I have easy and free access to filtered water in glass glasses.

At work I drink less. First thing, JAHCO is healthcare’s answer to facsism. They are short dictators who have nothing better to do than enforce busy work and take delight in making work harder than it should be. Now one of their rules, which I don’t actually have a problem with though many people can’t seem to grasp, is that there can be ABSOLUTELY no eating or drinking in patient care and working areas. This means that after a few hours, because I don’t have easy and quick access to something to drink, I become dehydrated. Some times to the extent that I guzzle water from the time I get home at 430 pm till bedtime, and am sometimes quite cranky and light-headed.

I arranged with my colleagues to sit on the aisle seat during our flights back and forth, letting them know that I wouldn’t necessarily mind sit elsewhere as long as they were aware that I often get up to stretch my legs and use the facilities. It worked out fine. But as it turned out my functioning kidneys, and active, and possibly pea-sized, bladder became something of a running joke. We kept a tab on how many times each of us went to the lavatory. I was always the clear leader. Our first day in Boston was actually a free day, the conference scheduled for Saturday and Sunday, so four of us (another two showed up that night) went on a historic trolley ride. I always find these fascinating and enjoyable. As we were buying the tickets I had a very faint inkling of the need to tinkle. An hour and a half later, not having got off once though I saw many things I wished to investigate more closely, we got off the bus. The first words out of my mouth were, ‘if I don’t find a bathroom soon, I’m going to cry’. So we went off toward Faneuil Hall, a sort of indoor/outdoor market that was crammed full of people. I asked the first person I could find who worked there were the nearest bathroom was and was subsequently directed to a place half way through the market. I thanked him and sprinted off. I dodged. I ducked. I was like a moving target maneuvering around various old people with out sized sweaters, primped white curls, and orthopedic shoes, occasionally called out apologies. My friends lost track of me a few times but eventually caught up. Later one of them, entertaining the two late arrivals, explained that I practically trampled old ladies underfoot, spinning them about where they stood (they moved so slowly, it took everything in my power to not shove them to the sidewalk, I mean they moved so slowly, and often paused right in the middle of the walkway and did nothing but block my path!). She was so entertained by the story she told she had to wipe the tears from her eyes.

Home.
The plane took off 20 minutes early and arrived an hour before schedule. I went grocery shopping and then spent time with my cats before unpacking, cleaning up and relaxing. I slept well for the first time in weeks. I love home.

Random Man Rant.

It’s been an interesting few months. Well, interesting to me, but nothing to write a book about. Which is kind of sad. Several months ago, while beginning to date New Man, I realized and accepted that Dr. Elusive, aka CL, is something of a grand passion, without really being so very grand. More like big or deep or tall or even slightly mind-boggling, because I know that I don’t love him more than I would a friend and yet I always want him. Always. I in no way want to marry him and I doubt if I’d want to introduce him to any of my friends as anything other than my friend, and just scrub over the benefits part too. But verily, there is no time when I do not want him. I’m not necessarily talking just sex either, which is the boggling part, though we are exceptionally compatible in that regard.

Anyway, though I may have come to this conclusion for myself, CL seems to have been too busy to catch that little epiphany, and unless my BFF’s conjecture is wrong, that he just made up this change in status (read FB ‘in a relationship’) to appear more beguiling to women, he’s embarked on a new relationship, which he hasn’t done since his divorce 5ish years ago, with some woman that neither of us have seen yet. Supposedly he was going to the Outside Lands Festival with her, but when I met him there for a brief moment, there was no one there that behaved like a girlfriend. Hmm.

While waiting and wondering about CL, I have continued to socialize. New Man. Young Guy. Old Ex.

Let me tell you about New Man.

We are not compatible. And I don’t think he knows this. Or maybe he does but he just wants more sex. Which means he doesn’t know. Because we’re not compatible. Now I’m not saying I haven’t had good times with him, but I’ve had better times with other men. And let me just emphasize that size always matters. Always matters. Size always matters. To believe otherwise would be admitting to profound naïveté. Also, why are some men so pointy? And I don’t mean their genitalia. Unyielding and pointy, tongues, lips, fingers? It’s not comfortable. And why, when I tell them exactly what to do in order to increase my pleasure, they work at for ONE WHOLE MINUTE, if that, before moving on to something else that really I could do completely without.

Back to New Man. Not compatible. Apparently, he’s a musician. Has a studio in his spare room. Five or ten guitars. Acoustic crap nailed to the walls. I know many musicians. I know many people who make a living in the music industry. None of them perpetually drum their fingers to the music playing on the radio. All the freaking time! Sets my teeth on edge. I used to try to take it as a Lucy & Ricky thing meeting Rock Hudson, but yeah…teeth are beginning to crack. He’s also something of a minimalist. Not actually a problem, the minimalist thing, but he goes on and on about how he needs to downsize his book library (but not his music library, which isn’t all on his computer) because he just can’t fathom carrying them around from home to home, books that he may never want to read again. Does he really move that often? Ok, so he just moved, but other than that? And is he so picky, so apathetic that he doesn’t read books more than once unless he essentially has some bookish orgasm? Of course, he continues to buy CDs. So he just downsizes books. Now I don’t have a problem with him having a love of music (except for the finger drumming thing) and a large music library, but books… Yeah, I just can’t respect his lack of love. Why I’m even considering maintaining a friendship with him is yet another mind-boggling thingy.

And also, and this is something that irritates me about many people in general, he has stated a few times that he could probably become a vegan, since he likes and eats a great deal of tofu (like that’s a number one criterion to being vegan!) except that he absolutely loves cheese. “Just can’t give it up.” Well I say…

…BULLSHIT!

That is such a weak argument! Anyone who really knows me knows that I was the ultimate carnivore! I loved meat! Perhaps I still do. I was called the mouse by my family because of my excessive love of cheese. France is one of my favorite places because they have a course just for cheese. How fabulous is that? So if that’s your excuse for not being able to give something up, it’s because you don’t want to give it up. So don’t give me that craptastic excuse that you just can’t give something up because you love it. If you don’t want to be a vegan, and many people don’t, I don’t give a crap, but be truthful about it for craps’ sake!

And last, before I move on, one evening over dinner (and I continue to see him without any loving because as a person he makes a good friend (maybe, this book thing is almost sick making), but as a man he is incompatible as both a boyfriend and a lover) he asked where I would live, where I would buy a house, if I so chose. I named a few neighborhoods and cities and he said he was surprised that I would want to live in such areas. Now what he said isn’t necessarily a bad thing and everyone makes assumptions. I definitely do, even when I try not to. But this assumption really pissed me off. How presumptuous! Thinking that because I like Throbbing Gristle and live in a characterful apartment that I wouldn’t like the ‘burbs. And really I get it that motorcycles are noisy and disruptive! Don’t need to go on and on about it. Or anything else for that matter. And stop apologizing for music I’ve listened to, like when I saw Lenny Kravitz, (‘oh I’m sorry’), because no one needs to be sorry. I'm not. I like Lenny, and Dave Matthews, and many others! Industrial and alternative is not the only thing I listen too! I’m eclectic that way! And he sells his books! He must own twenty! If that! How sorry is that?!

And while at dinner, he wouldn’t remove his hat. That’s just wrong. Said he was having a bad hair day. Couldn’t wash it till the next day and he needs to blow dry it after. So no books, drums his fingers, and high maintenance hair. Need I go on? He’s a man for craps’ sake! If I had known that he wouldn’t remove his hat while at dinner at an indoor restaurant, I would have eaten alone. That’s just all kinds of wrong.

My BFF, M, told me once long ago that quirks, personality traits, etc., don’t usually bother someone in love. May even be considered endearing by those besotted idiots. Well, I am definitely not in love. Never was. Ever. At least with New Man.

Then there was Young Guy. A brief cougar flirtation. I wonder if I’ll see him again.

Then there’s Old Ex. Completely incompatible. Still, we have a history and there’s no lull in our conversations, unlike New Man with whom I actually feel a loud silence developing even during our conversations. And I am exceptionally comfortable with silence in general. Old Ex is extremely Type A. I used to be extremely Type A, but really, I’ve mellowed. And even though I remain type A for myself , I try to be flexible with everyone else, random man rant notwithstanding. He says he’s mellowed too, but still there’s something a little too inflexible about him. And he’s highly allergic to cats, which just means that I get my bed to myself come bedtime.

I'll blog about other stuff soon.

Hawai'i, the big island

Kona Brewing Company

Driving south along the west coat

Somewhere near Capt. Cook

a back sand beach

The Coffee Shack on Hwy 11

Kona white sand beach

Portland

Dirty Sanchez

Gavin

Powell's

Suicide jumper over the Columbia

One of McMeneman's many pubs.

I like it.

Less Random, More Specific

So those annoying sensations of adolescence have thankfully passed. I’d blame the waxing and waning of the moon, but it’s just not that time of the month right now. And besides, since I started eating more raw foods, I’ve noticed that the phases of my personal moon don’t affect me as they used.

Anyway I feel better. It helped that on Thursday, when I didn’t think we’d see each other; we ended up spending the entire night together. We meaning New Man and I. Seems one of those texts messages went askew causing that irritating lack of communication. We were just going to meet for drinks Thursday evening as he had plans later that night, but then his plans fell through and then, unfortunately, I had three manhattans. So, yeah, we stayed the night together because I was way too drunk to go anywhere and he played the gentleman and covered me up with a blanket and laughed away my concerns about remaining vertical (because horizontal spins uncontrollably). But the next morning we were able to greet each other with a certain level of enthusiasm, except for my lingering hangover.

The hangover would have been doable if I hadn’t had to stagger, literally, out of bed at the unholy hour of 9am, and get ready to go up to San Francisco with my nieces and nephew. (So just a quick flashback—I have worked all this week with little time after work to do anything. On Wednesday, my brother’s oldest girl graduated from high school so after making arrangements to leave work early, I speed walked to the Rose Garden, just up from where I live, sat in the sun for an hour and a half and then made hasty plans with various family to have dinner in celebration of Reggie’s big day. At dinner, I asked my brother’s kids if they wanted to come to SF with me on Friday, my one day off before returning to work for another four days in a row, and take in a museum or something and they were all quite pleased to go. I worked on Thursday and had vague plans to go home after work, quickly tune up my bike and go for a ride somewhere before spending a quiet evening at home doing laundry, but one of my colleagues asked if I were interested in taking a little refreshment at a local watering hole and of course I said yes because happy hour is just so happy. There we proceeded to have some tea, a la Long Island, when I received a text from New Man asking if I were free for dinner. After making dinner and drinks arrangements I zoomed home via bus 62, dressed in jeans and a low-cut V-neck black sumpin-sumpin and met NW at our friendly neighborhood bar where there was a whole crew of men that I’ve socialized with for about a decade. Now, I’ve never done anything but drink with these men, and perhaps just a little harmless flirting, but nothing more. Well, very recently, after not stopping at the bar for a few months—actually it was the night New Man and I met—I was notified by one of my friends that one of our mutual friends had just been served divorce papers, and that it had all the earmarks of being intensely acrimonious. So I text messaged this friend and since then he’s been sending my increasing flirtatious texts which I laugh off and take with a grain of salt though I know that he is actually being serious. So Thursday night was not as relaxing as I had vaguely planned and Friday was spent with my sobrinos in SF. And I was so very tired though the hangover was gone after the hydration set in. Was that quick enough?) Then because I was so very tired and hadn’t done any of those things I usually need to do to on my days off, I had intended to spend a leisurely evening at home with my cats and my laundry in preparation of going into work today and for the next three days, but then I got a call from Doctor Elusive.

Da-da-DA.

So. Okay, during that 24-ish hour period when I was wondering about New Man and concerned that I was feeling way too concerned after such a short time, I kept reminding myself that aside from his general company and the smooches, I felt very little romance with regards to him. We clicked in many ways, but really, as I reminded myself, I felt more attraction, physically, chemically, whatever with Doctor Elusive or Trainer Guy than with New Man. And perhaps more telling, even as we kissed—and stuff—my rational mind would compare and contrast New Man with various past lovers. Not a good sign. Because when I’m with CL, aka Doctor Elusive, I think of nothing else but him, if I manage to think at all.

So because he had been on my mind for a couple of weeks, as my mind persisted in comparing and contrasting, I really did want to see him. He invited me out to a movie, but when I asked what he wanted to see it was essentially porn starring me and him.

Well, let me tell you, that wasn’t gonna happen because I’m dating (though it’s not exclusive, at least not to me, dating generally isn’t) New Man. So I kidded myself that it would be a movie only. Boy, was I kidding myself. I was so incredibly tired from my day with the kids in the City that when I toddled into his house, I immediately fell into his arms, feeling very comfortable, very relaxed, and so very happy to be with my friend and intermittent lover.



We stayed in and watched TV. And then we stayed in. And then we watched TV. And the entire time I thought of nothing else but him. The entire time I thought of nothing else but him, when I thought at all.


And you know, one would think I would feel myself to be in a dilemma. But I don’t. There is no dilemma. I prefer CL. This I’ve known for many years. I like New Man, just not as much as I might. I’m certain that I will eventually break it off with him, but as I don’t feel as though there’s anything exclusive between us, I’m not necessarily worried. This might be frowned upon by some people, but there it is.

More random men

Now don’t get me wrong. I like men. I like going out with men. I just don’t like dating them. You know, like Charlotte said, I’ve been dating for 20+ years now and I’m exhausted.

So I’ve been stepping out with a new man and though I was uncertain initially, I must say that I’m quite taken with him now. But I just have to know, do we all revert to teenagers when it comes to dating? Only thing that seems markedly different is the amount of ready cash, the availability of a reliable car, no curfew, and possibly some ‘skillz’. Otherwise, with ever increasing technology available, there is ever increasing technology with which not to communicate. Grrr, I say, grrr.

So now my equilibrium is whacked. I generally go through life being more or less carefree (given that I’m a pediatric nurse and I pay all my bills on time), I endeavor to take nothing personally (and about half the time, maybe more, I succeed), I laugh at everything (it’s all just so funny), and try to be flexible with life and the people I meet along the way (this is probably the most challenging, but I still manage a certain flexible aplomb). But even with mature, frank dialog and a lot of leaning into each other, et al., still cutting-edge technology has only paved the way, albeit in pretty green and gold wafers, to feelings of suckiness and insecurity.

I hate dating.

So I have to remind myself of certain truisms. Like, I wasn’t interested in him, at all, when I first clapped eyes (but he grew on me, ya know?). And that I was perfectly happy before that Sunday when we met. And that I’m a complete person all by myself.

That’s what’s killing me now because we only met a few weeks ago, and even last week I could’ve taken him or left him, but this week I just keep wondering when and/or if he’s gonna call. Should I invite him to dinner? My non-vegan man of the almost month? A movie? Hiking?

In other news…twelve years hard labor! Did you hear? Those two American journalists in North Korea? Twelve freaking years! Oi. I hope some negotiation is still going on. Can you imagine? It must suck to be them (and I mean that in the most empathic way possible). And what’s up with this weather? Mind you, I’m not complaining. I like the pleasantness of the mid-70s with chilly evenings, in June, but it’s worrying me that there’ll be some majorly unpleasant heatwave next month, and the month after, and the one after that, that will last a week or longer (I’ve been predicting climate change since I was ten.) and I don’t have central air-conditioning and I generally like it that way.

So back to me. Or should I do as Vince Vaugh kept telling Jon Favreau: wait as least three days before calling (because you know, I’m so money). But we’ve already talked, and seen ‘Up’, and went to BFD. And, oh joy of joys, I saw his place (he’s very neat) and kissed (quite compatible). So though I didn’t snoop for an hour or so, and I don’t really feel the need though I went on about it in another entry about the easiest way to get to know someone, really is to snoop around in his or her home (nothing illegal mind) and kiss as soon as possible (I’ve ended budding relationships after a horrible first kiss, it can be very telling), I feel quite satisfied.

Still. What’s up with this not calling thing? No text messages either. Well, that’s not quite true. We did TM briefly last night, but he’s already got plans for the week (work furlough) and as far as I can tell, none of those plans include me.

Grrr, I say, grrr.

Several hours later.
Well, I feel a little better, not quite so adolescent. We've communicated a little more. I've attended a family dinner and had two glasses of wine. I must soon go to bed for work tomorrow. I'm thinking of giving up my cable again. I liked not having a television to suck up all my time.

I'm feeling better. Still...one more kiss...

Clocks!

Oh damn! I forgot and I took all these photos which I don't have time to download cuz I'm too tired cuz I went to a jewelry party tonight and socialized in person instead of staying at home and reading blogs.

Anyway, yes, Betsy, I'm watching the clock, at least earlier I was, but not from 6.30 to 8.45, waiting for things to pass so I can eat yummy food again.

Half way through

So day five of ten on the detox and still not really hungry though I must say that I miss eating and my butt is tired of sitting on the toilet.

I was rereading the book to prepare myself for the end of the ten days only to realize that the fast continues on for a couple of more days as I slowly allow my body to get used to food again. Juice. Fresh squeezed orange juice on post-detox days 1 and 2. Juice. That's it. It just doesn't seem right though now I'm only taking lemonade. That's it, just lemonade. Unless you count the salt water that I drink in the AM to kindle my behind.

So two days of juice before I can have soup. I may have to cheat. I mean it's not like I have a whole lot of toxins build up. I've detoxed before. I don't smoke. I don't drink much caffeine. I'm having no headaches or other aches or issues from a lack of daily poisons (and I mean that in a somewhat affectionate tone).

What I'm doing now is gauzily dreaming of the yummy food I will eat when the time comes. Like my yummy cream of kale soup. Or any number of other yummy recipes that I've downloaded. And then of course the Vegetarian House in downtown or the vegetarian curry, hot, at my local watering hole. Mmm. Can't hardly wait.

Well, even if I don't have a great many toxins to rid myself of, I'm at least gaining a deeper appreciation for food and eating. Mmm.

Let the Detox begin

Today is the first day of a liquid fast/cleanse/detox. This time I'm doing the 'Master Cleanse' and have slowly eaten most of the perishable food in the house. Now all I have is lemons. Over the past few days I've been eating less and mostly just raw foods. And except for last night when I was up later than I ought considering I was on call for the morning and was quite upset about the music (oh the freaking music!) and didn't actually ever fall asleep until after the 5am phone call telling me I wouldn't be needed for the day so I was exhausted and achy and nauseated this morning, I now feel fine if maybe a little hungry, but nothing that isn't easily tolerated or disregarded.

Anyway, I'm anticipating doing ten days. I mentioned this to a couple of friends on Wednesday when we had dinner at the Vegetarian House in downtown and they were shocked! Oh my god! Ten days? Isn't that dangerous? How will you get your nutrients?

What? Only Jesus and Mohammad are allowed to fast?

But really, this is a well documented fast/detox. Also, since becoming a vegan last year and deciding more recently to eat more raw foods, as well as more greens, I've had to teach myself about how the body works with regards to eating and nutrients, etc. Which is kind of funny considering I should have a working knowledge of all this as I'm a nurse. Heh.

So I have these three days at home to get started on this here cleanse before having to figure out what I need to do in order to continue on at work.

And while I do that, I'm going over the list of missing music... Still so very sad.

Also, I am going to try to get to everyone blog. I've been happily reading and doing other stuff since my computer had been running extremely slowly and was aggravating me no end. Of course, then I had all my music. Still so very sad.