This little phrase describes how I feel about that peculiar dressing they give you with the free salad at sushi joints. It's also a pretty decent way to live your life: ask a few questions and get something good.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
Your Number
So, what’s your number? I didn’t. No, no I didn’t because I wouldn’t. Who would? Who would seriously ask you this and expect a response? A response, that whether low or high, opens you up to all sorts of snicker and judgement. Too low and obviously there’s something lacking in your life, too high and well, of course, you are insatiable and foolhardy. I don’t think I live on either of those extremes but who knows what you might think if I give up my number. Before I contemplate doing this, though, giving up this secret number, I should actually know what it is. I know. I haven’t a clue. That says something right there, doesn't it. I know. I was a bit concerned too, so this weekend, armed with a ‘this is who I am, so whatever is is’ bravado I took to the tabulation. Wistful memories aside, it was a very good exercise. Comparing and contrasting, it was remarkable how many of them were the same or very, very similar. We all go back to our comfort zone, right? So predictable, am I.
You want to know, right? Are you ready? Promise no judgement. Because, I’ll tell you right now whatever number you scroll down to isn’t going to end there. Oh no, not me. I can’t help myself. Just this weekend I added another 3. I know I need help, but really, you can’t pass up these opportunities! It would be foolish to walk away from them, especially when they give you such pleasure – you simply want more. Need more. I know someone out there understands me.
Here goes.
Right now.
Almost ready.
Should I do this?
What the hell. The truth will set you free.
71. Seventy One. LXXI.
Surprised? Expected? Reasonable? Shocked? Well, no matter. It is what it is, as they say. I make no apologies. I offer no explanation.
I own 71 pairs of shoes.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Friday, January 20, 2012
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Wander
Racy/Scintillating
Scandalous/Erotic
Titilating/Enticing
Hot/Sexy
Steamy/Sultry
Flirtatious/Arousing
Sensual/Seductive
Alluring/Provocative
Tempting/Exciting
Inviting/Lascivious
Stimulating/Suggestive
I mean, really, where else is there to go on a cold and dreary Tuesday morning?
Scandalous/Erotic
Titilating/Enticing
Hot/Sexy
Steamy/Sultry
Flirtatious/Arousing
Sensual/Seductive
Alluring/Provocative
Tempting/Exciting
Inviting/Lascivious
Stimulating/Suggestive
I mean, really, where else is there to go on a cold and dreary Tuesday morning?
Thursday, January 12, 2012
4 Books, 12 Days
Compiling a vacation reading list is important business. You need something engrossing but not entirely heavy. Light and fluffy doesn't get me going on vacation, especially a beach type vacation because if there's anywhere I can truly concentrate it's on a beach, or by the pool, for countless hours a day, without a care in the world. At home, with a million thoughts running through my head I often have to re-read the last few pages of that chapter I just put down the night before. Spastic brain.
I often try to pick books that denote some type of connection to where I'm going. I read Bel Canto in South America, Palace Walk in Egypt and, of course, Zorba The Greek in Greece. I know, corny, but somehow it makes me feel more there. On this trip, though, I had a mission - no, not reading Michener's tome Hawaii - a mission to whittle down the pile. You all have this pile. That pile of books, whether on your night table, dining table, corner of your spare room, that never seems to deplete and thus completely belittles the fact that you actually DO read. You keep adding, and reading something else and finishing one and adding three. It's endless and my pile has been really getting to me not only because I want to get back to the library (to get my money's worth for all those taxes I pay) but because I want to dig into these stories! I want to read these books! So, off I went to Hawaii with:
Little Bee by Chris Cleeve
Open by Andre Agassi
Sarah's Key by Tatiana de Rosnay
Father of the Rain by Lily King
Yes, that's right I PACKED four books. I was almost dragged into a heated conversation recently by someone who now refuses to take real books on holiday because of baggage weight restrictions. Yes, I can get into a heated discussion about this, but this shouldn't be surprising. Seriously? What is in your suitcase that you cannot pack a damn book, or four? Take out a pair of shoes! Yes, in my land of logic, books > shoes because you're on holiday! You don't need to bring ALL YOUR SHOES! In any event, I pack books and even with my upcoming iPad purchase I will not e-read (but you already know this) because I am clumsy and the iPad will drop or I'll get water on it and in both cases I will cry because I am a clumsy idiot. This e-reader business also takes away the 'readers of the world unite solidarity of silent nod and knowing glance' when you see someone reading the same book as you. I love this, don't you? Of course you do! Who doesn't pack books!? Back to the books ...
I was moved to the point of real tears by all four of mine. (Not the same as clumsy idiot crying. REAL emotion crying.) Who cries on vacation!? In Hawaii!? No matter. I became totally engrossed in these stories and while I'm not a Nigerian refugee, professional tennis player, American ex-pat searching for truth or a daughter of an alcoholic father, I could relate to each of these stories in very real way - they were about struggle and questions and perseverance and coming out the other side a bit better than how you went in. They were about love and hope and how combining the two when you're weak can make you strong. I didn't want them to end. What happened!? Tell me more!!
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
God's Country
Why speak when you can show?
Maui Sunset.
On The Road To Hana.
Waimea Falls.
Random Good Luck, just outside Kaupo.
Doubting this is God's Country? Here's your clincher:
Ice Cream, 930am.
Aloha, my ohana, Aloha!
Maui Sunset.
On The Road To Hana.
Waimea Falls.
Random Good Luck, just outside Kaupo.
Doubting this is God's Country? Here's your clincher:
Ice Cream, 930am.
Aloha, my ohana, Aloha!
Monday, January 9, 2012
Pure
When you're in a place of clear sky and blue ocean, bordered by mountains, enclosed in natural beauty and wonder it's hard not to feel something outside yourself. It's not quite spiritual, it's almost a reflective gratefulness to be able to be here, not only in this particular place, but on Earth itself - witnessing wonder and miracles of the natural and man-made kind.
Hawaiians are truly a wondrous people. Open, giving, friendly, warm. It saddened me to learn that by 2030 a native Hawaiian will no longer exist as most everyone is of mixed race. The "pure" Hawaiian has become so diluted that it will be extinct by 2030. This fact doesn't seem to bother anyone here because it's not about pure breeds, it's about pure spirit. This spirit, what Hawaiians call the "Aloha Spirit", isn't about what you were born into, what you have or what you want, it's about how you are, what you be. This resonates no more than the word 'aloha' itself. While the word 'aloha' has become a bit toss-a-way for us outsiders, casually used for hello and goodbye, the meaning, or more so the feeling, behind the word aloha isn't toss-a-way at all - it lives so deeply in the hearts of all Hawaiians we must believe that the Hawaiian spirit, the Aloha spirit, won't die regardless of what the statisticians say about this wonderful, glorious dying race.
A, ala, watchful, alertness
L, lokahi, working with unity
O, oia'i'o, truthful honesty
H, ha'aha'a, humility
A, ahonui, patient perseverance
These weighty words are behind every single aloha uttered by every Hawaiian. So, my ohana, another beautiful Hawaiian belief: we are all part of each other's ohana, each others family. This is how Hawaiians address groups of people, whether truly related or not. We are all connected, all related, all one with this Earth and each other. We are all part of a family. So, now, my ohana, this Aloha spirit must become a creed. A way to live your life and fill your heart and by doing so we ensure that the wonder of the Hawaiian culture and its people never dies.
Aloha, my Ohana.
Hawaiians are truly a wondrous people. Open, giving, friendly, warm. It saddened me to learn that by 2030 a native Hawaiian will no longer exist as most everyone is of mixed race. The "pure" Hawaiian has become so diluted that it will be extinct by 2030. This fact doesn't seem to bother anyone here because it's not about pure breeds, it's about pure spirit. This spirit, what Hawaiians call the "Aloha Spirit", isn't about what you were born into, what you have or what you want, it's about how you are, what you be. This resonates no more than the word 'aloha' itself. While the word 'aloha' has become a bit toss-a-way for us outsiders, casually used for hello and goodbye, the meaning, or more so the feeling, behind the word aloha isn't toss-a-way at all - it lives so deeply in the hearts of all Hawaiians we must believe that the Hawaiian spirit, the Aloha spirit, won't die regardless of what the statisticians say about this wonderful, glorious dying race.
A, ala, watchful, alertness
L, lokahi, working with unity
O, oia'i'o, truthful honesty
H, ha'aha'a, humility
A, ahonui, patient perseverance
These weighty words are behind every single aloha uttered by every Hawaiian. So, my ohana, another beautiful Hawaiian belief: we are all part of each other's ohana, each others family. This is how Hawaiians address groups of people, whether truly related or not. We are all connected, all related, all one with this Earth and each other. We are all part of a family. So, now, my ohana, this Aloha spirit must become a creed. A way to live your life and fill your heart and by doing so we ensure that the wonder of the Hawaiian culture and its people never dies.
Aloha, my Ohana.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
The Ocean
Yes, I know, this song has nothing to do with the ocean. Who cares. I love this song and I love the ocean so here you go ... just listen and feel it pound, just as the 20 foot waves are pounding against the rocky shore as I sleep at night, literally rocking my foundations.
I've never felt so calm.
Tell me you don't wish you had seen this band live. I mean, come on. COME ON.
I've never felt so calm.
Tell me you don't wish you had seen this band live. I mean, come on. COME ON.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Me Not Me
Why am I perfectly comfortable cavorting around town in 4" stilettos but get massive blisters wearing flip flops for two days?
I don't want that to be me.
Yes, I'm a city mouse by heart but I'd like to be a beach (eek, no not the country!) mouse too.
More practice in the flip flops? Other flip flops? No flip flops? In truth, I really don't like flip flops. That thwack thwacking of your sole hitting its sole is loud and offensive. Sshh, shoes, sssh. Better the refined who's there click click of a well adorned heel, no?
But. Whatever it takes, I will do it. City Mouse is out of the city, scurrying through sand and surf amidst hot sun in a tropical paradise. City Mouse needs her feet and blisters simply won't do. Do you see now? How it happens? City Mouse obviously needs another pair of shoes.
You can take the mouse out of the city, but you can't take the city out of the mouse.
I don't mind at all if that's me.
I don't want that to be me.
Yes, I'm a city mouse by heart but I'd like to be a beach (eek, no not the country!) mouse too.
More practice in the flip flops? Other flip flops? No flip flops? In truth, I really don't like flip flops. That thwack thwacking of your sole hitting its sole is loud and offensive. Sshh, shoes, sssh. Better the refined who's there click click of a well adorned heel, no?
But. Whatever it takes, I will do it. City Mouse is out of the city, scurrying through sand and surf amidst hot sun in a tropical paradise. City Mouse needs her feet and blisters simply won't do. Do you see now? How it happens? City Mouse obviously needs another pair of shoes.
You can take the mouse out of the city, but you can't take the city out of the mouse.
I don't mind at all if that's me.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
More Than This
What are you doing, Bryan Ferry?
You, along with David Bowie, are the elder statesmen of cool, the epitome of suave, the shit. The IT.
And now, you're cavorting around - to the riffs of Duran Duran, no complaints on that here - in H&M ads? Okay, fine I get it, sort of, you're with your handsome son and you dabbled in this modeling thing years ago with a great campaign for Burberry, but that's Burberry! Classic. British. Burberry. H&M? Swedish? Trendy? H&M? Really? I'm no fashion snob and listen, you are likely the only man on Earth that could rock a velvet tuxedo like that but it's not about fashion. It's about you. And them. They, this, this H&M is so common! You, you, Bryan Ferry are not common. You are so almost peerless in your stature of being that my synonym parade could go on forever. That would be fine with me. This H&M thing is not fine with me. I don't want you to be one of us. I want you to be uncommon and elevated from all the fray that is common. We need that. Something to uphold, to strive for, to compare all our poor boys to. Stop this Bryan Ferry. Stop this now. This isn't you. YOU ARE BRYAN FERRY!
Why are you doing this, Bryan Ferry?
You, along with David Bowie, are the elder statesmen of cool, the epitome of suave, the shit. The IT.
And now, you're cavorting around - to the riffs of Duran Duran, no complaints on that here - in H&M ads? Okay, fine I get it, sort of, you're with your handsome son and you dabbled in this modeling thing years ago with a great campaign for Burberry, but that's Burberry! Classic. British. Burberry. H&M? Swedish? Trendy? H&M? Really? I'm no fashion snob and listen, you are likely the only man on Earth that could rock a velvet tuxedo like that but it's not about fashion. It's about you. And them. They, this, this H&M is so common! You, you, Bryan Ferry are not common. You are so almost peerless in your stature of being that my synonym parade could go on forever. That would be fine with me. This H&M thing is not fine with me. I don't want you to be one of us. I want you to be uncommon and elevated from all the fray that is common. We need that. Something to uphold, to strive for, to compare all our poor boys to. Stop this Bryan Ferry. Stop this now. This isn't you. YOU ARE BRYAN FERRY!
Why are you doing this, Bryan Ferry?
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